#but the point is they lay way way more eggs than are ever meant to become adult spiders

[blujayonthewing]

unfortunately spiders are a pretty popular part of traditional gnomish cuisine

[justporo]

Instead of Roses

It's your birthday! And oh, your vampire knows how to treat you so well - in every kind of way.

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: Well, technically my birthday is already over by half an hour - but we'll say it counts. I wanted to write a *small* self-indulgent thing for myself as much as you as a treat. Don't we all know how these things go in the end around here... Have tooth-rotting fluff that turns into smut! Enjoy!

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You) Warnings: explicit sexual content, porn with feelings, vaginal fingering, nipple play, vaginal sex, creampie, aftercare Wordcount: 3,1k

~~~

You woke from Astarion softly kissing your cheek. His lips on your face feeling like a feather caressing it. He whispered against your skin in between kisses, making his way down to your throat. You felt his cool breath brush over your skin, leaving goosebumps on the nape of your neck.

Being softly dragged from your dreams you needed a few moments until you could make out what sweet nothings your vampire kept murmuring against your pulse point before he pressed his lips to the delicate skin there again.

“Good morning, darling,” Astarion mumbled again when you slowly opened your eyes and began stretching with him leaning over you, loosely caging you with his arm he was propped up on. “Happy birthday, my sweet,” he continued, his words so low they were merely more than a rumble in his throat.

“Hm, is it?” you murmured back sleepily and turned your head a little so you could look at your lover. Astarion was smiling ever so softly at you, curls still messy from sleep but his crimson eyes glimmering happily at you. He was shirtless - but had pants on for some reason - while you remained pleasantly naked beneath the covers.

You rolled your neck and stretched your limbs - like a cat would after getting up from a good rest. Astarion eyed you lovingly, smile growing into his signature smirk. He was definitely up to something - but when wasn’t he?

“I know you said you didn’t know when your actual birthday is,” he explained, cocking his head to his side observing you as you raised your eyebrows at him and couldn’t resist a deep yawn that rolled over you - and another big stretch. “So I thought: wouldn’t today be just perfect?” Astarion concluded and kissed you fully on the lips before nuzzling his nose behind one of your pointy ears, tickling you.

You shivered and chuckled and tried to push him off. But this only resulted in the pale elf wrapping his naked arms around you and tickling you more with the tip of his nose at the nape of your neck.

Wiggling in his arms you tried to escape him but it was no use.

Rolling around your enormous bed while the vampire was teasing you - his hands joining in to tickle you at your waist - it threatened to turn into full blown melee combat. Even with your hand in his face and fingers spread to push him off, Astarion only laughed and doubled down on his attacks by trying to nibble on your fingers - damned vampire.

But as you looked around for a weapon other than a pillow that, shoved in a vampire’s face, emitted a loud hiss from the predator but nothing more, your eyes wandered over something on your nightstand. And suddenly you smelled it too!

Stopping your efforts to escape Astarion - and he apparently deemed you sufficiently teased by tickling - you saw that a nice plate of scrambled eggs with veggies, a bowl of fresh strawberries and a nice steaming cup of tea was placed there. Along with a single white blossom that you recognised from your tiny garden, placed in a random chalice that usually was meant for wine.

“You made me breakfast?” you asked, feeling how warmth filled your chest at the image of a half-naked Astarion standing in the kitchen of your small townhouse to prepare food for you. You moved around a little until you were laying on your side. Astarion softly wrapped his arms around you and scooched up to you until he was spooning you. He pressed another kiss to the crown of your head.

“Of course, isn’t that what spouses do for their partner’s birthdays?”

Your heart was about ready to melt.

You craned your neck to give your vampire a kiss.

The eggs were a bit burned you had noticed. But it all smelled delicious and he’d prepared all your favourite things for you. He was really trying so hard - and succeeding even harder.

“You’re the sweetest, Astarion!” You beamed at him.

The vampire looked very pleased with himself.

“I know. Aren’t I just the best” - you hummed in agreement - “handsomest” - another hum but with lips curling into a teasing pout - “most forthcoming” - you huffed lightly - “and smar-”

Grabbing a nearby pillow you smacked him in the face with it. “And so humble too,” you replied sickeningly sweet as Astarion hissed at you once more and shoved the pillow out of his face - his hair even a little worse for wear than before.

You giggled while the vampire acted as if he was brooding - the corners of his lips dragging up betraying him though.

“Insolent little mi-”

But once more you interrupted him by straining to turn around to grab his face and kiss him. With your mouth moving against his you tried to convey how much your chest was swelling with love for him at this lovely gesture. How much you adored him.

And just to be sure: “You’re the best, Astarion,” you whispered against his lips while you felt the vampire’s hands start to roam under the covers while he hummed happily - not only soothed but pleased.

His hands kept wandering as the kiss deepened and slowed. And you gasped lightly into his mouth, as you sensed what he was about to do.

“I have more in stock for you, my sweet,” the vampire murmured against your lips when he broke the kiss as you felt his fingers purposefully slide down your naked form beneath the covers before quickly diving between your legs. You turned your head away once more, closing your eyes and felt how Astarion moved his head to lightly bite down on one of your pointy ears.

“So much more.”

His voice was almost a growl directly in it. You were still on your side, Astarion wrapped around you. He pressed his lips to this spot directly below your ear and made you shudder.

“Oh?” you almost moaned as the vampire’s long fingers stroked along your core, already getting wet from that and his sinful promise.

“Did you get me roses too?” you tried to tease him. But the way his index began circling your clit was making it hard to keep even an edge of sass towards the vampire in your voice.

Involuntarily, you bucked your hips with a gasp when his fingers stroked along the sensitive bud between your legs more forcefully. You rubbed your ass against his crotch, snuggled up behind you. Even through the covers and his pants you felt that he was just as hard for you as you were wet for him.

“No roses, my heart,” Astarion replied, lips directly at your ear again.

“I thought I’d give you something even more pleasant instead,” he whispered and in time with his words let two of his fingers enter you, taking you by surprise.

A moan was ripped from your lips. You threw your head back and arched your spine.

“How thoughtful of you,” you replied breathlessly as you felt your lover’s fingers wandering to your clit again, covering it in your own slick. Astarion just laughed haughtily, knowing exactly the effect he had on you.

The heat pooling between your legs as you absent-mindedly pressed your thighs together for even more friction was quickly becoming like lava. And Astarion didn’t give you much of a break. His other hand was working its way to your boobs now. It began to squeeze them, the vampire’s long fingers spread out, squishing them together as more lewd sounds spilled from your lips.

“Fuck,” you cursed when at the same time his fingers entered your cunt again and with his other hand he rolled your hardened nipple between his thumb and index.

“Who, love?” Astarion teased. “Me?” Another finger entered you. “You?” His other fingers pinched the hardened peak of your breasts. The groan caught in your throat.

“Both, you bastard,” you pressed out followed by a desperate moan as the vampire worked your body like a musician did his beloved instrument. Caressing and teasing simultaneously, lovingly but with force plucking and stroking to elicit the sweetest notes from you.

Gods, you needed more. You tried to open your legs to give your lover better access to work his magic but felt the bed sheets restrict you. With a frustrated groan you kicked them away, aided by Astarion momentarily letting go of your breasts. But once you were freed of all fabric his hand was quickly back where it had left off, kneading your tits as they felt heavy with lust.

You opened your legs wide for Astarion with a dreamy sigh as he pressed himself against you from behind harder now, rubbing his hardened length against your ass. With a grunt he bucked his hips into you as he rewarded your eagerness by stroking your clit with the pad of his thumb now.

He was doing this for you, you knew. But as his grip on you became stronger, a little more desperate and you felt his hard dick press against you, you knew this was as thrilling for him as it was for you. And that made the moans coming from you almost turn into growls while you arched your back harder, desperate to give you both some more friction to work with.

To be desired and loved by a man like him-

Just knowing this made you almost unravel fully beneath his deft fingers.

Astarion had buried his face at your neck, his lush curls softly tickling you and sending electric shivers through you.

For a while the room was filled with nothing but breathless, needy sounds from each of you.

“Astarion,” you moaned as you were practically grinding against his hand, trying to get more of this delicious sensation. Your vampire merely groaned in response - barely taking in how desperately his name was rolling off your tongue.

Your lover’s hands were all busy with offering you all the pleasure he thought you deserved. And seemingly his mind was all filled with you as well as his face was buried in your hair, his gasps and moans brushing over you. You felt his hardened length twitch in need even through his clothes.

“Astarion,” you exclaimed again, even more desperation in your voice now, feeling as if you might perish on the spot when his fingertips hit just that spot as they dragged over your clit again.

“What is it, my love?” he replied, voice almost as desperate as yours.

“Me-,” you gasped and bit your lip hard as the way your nipple was teased sent another jolt through your entire body. The vampire just made a quizzical sound in response.

 “Godsdammit,” you pressed out as he gave you not a moment of peace with how his hands worked your body. You could barely form half a thought.

“Fuck me, Astarion,” you almost shouted in frustration, your hands helplessly curling in the sheets. The tension inside you became almost unbearable.

But thankfully your partner finally moved to fulfil your request.

Astarion only shortly moved away from you to wiggle out of his pants while cursing profusely. Just by the way the bed was swaying under his struggles showed you how desperate he too must have been to answer your plea.

Quickly, you let your own hands take the place of your lovers’ so as to not lose any steam: squeezing your own tits with a moan. And with the other feeling how obscenely wet he’d gotten you. You  were a heated, desperate mess already - and you weren’t nearly done.

Soon after, you felt Astarion roll around again, his arms wrapping around you once more, his hands covering yours, lacing with them. His dick was hard as granite as he moved to let it slide along your hot, wet folds.

For a few delicious long moments your lover was rolling his hips into you, making his twitching length slide along your slit again and again - precum mixing with your wetness - while his and your hands together played around with you.

Your pleasure became his and vice versa, as if there were no bounds between his body and yours.

The sounds you made rose in pitch and lewdness as you revelled in the sensation and how wonderfully debaucherous it felt to be touched and caressed like that by the love of your life. And yet you didn’t even have him where you wanted him.

“Gods,” Astarion breathed as he took you in. How you writhed in his embrace: so needy and yet giving him so much. His movements almost halted, to bewitched by you. So you reminded him of what exactly you wanted.

“Fuck me, Astarion,” you pleaded with him again, grinding against his cock and his hand now to get him moving again. “Fuck me hard.”

Astarion’s breath caught in his throat at your harsh and enticing demand.

“Fuck me until I see stars,” you kept begging, your words like the beckoning song of a siren in the vampire’s ears.

Oh how sweet you sounded as you requested such frivolity, tempting him.

And Astarion wasn’t one to resist temptation. Not if it was so much more rewarding to give in. Not if it was you.

Suddenly he could barely move fast enough to comply, even with his roguish quickness and dexterous hands.

His fingers that had been teasing your tits together with yours grabbed your already lifted leg to give him easier access to your core. And between your legs your hands quickly worked together to lead the head of his impatiently jerking cock to your entrance. But not before you hadn’t let your hand stroke along his erect length, earning a helpless grunt that almost became a whimper from Astarion as your palm dragged along his cock and then his balls.

“Fuck,” he swore.

And somehow you found it in you to reply even as the head of his cock was sinking into you. “Who?” you teased, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You or me?”

But the vampire had the upper hand now as he bucked his hips to sink into you to the hilt with a single hard thrust. “You,” he growled back as you yelped in surprise. “In every sense possible.”

You tried to grip for something - for balance or to help you cope with the sudden sensation of how full you were, you didn’t even know. But Astarion didn’t let your hand, still joined with his between your legs, escape. So just the other curled in the sheets until your knuckles showed white.

Still trying to catch your breath you already felt how he almost fully withdrew from you. You mirrored him by slowly breathing out

But Astarion caught you off guard again, thrusting into you again, forcefully. His hand wrapped around your leg spread you further for him as he did it again. Slowly but vigorously rutting into you in a ragged rhythm that left you near breathless.

“Astarion,” you managed to utter between two thrusts. You were barely able to cope with how hard he fucked you now but still the way his name fell from your lips coaxed him on. Meanwhile you nearly lost your mind by how well you fulfilled your wish.

His thrusts became faster and harder still as he lifted you almost off the bed in his eager need to feel you. Feel you as fully and entirely as he could.

The hand between your legs, still entwined with yours, made your fingers circle around your clit together again as you had forgotten about it; too lost in how roughly he fucked you.

With every single thrust he hit so deep he was already making good on making you see stars and you knew your release would shatter you completely - not just stars then but a whole universe.

Nearing the edge and with the vampire plunging into you forcefully and fast now, you gave up on trying to keep your balance. But your vampire kept you close and steady, rearranging his other arm not spreading your legs for him so you were snuggly with your back against his chest.

And so he could keep moaning into your ear while the sounds you made became more and more  desperate whimpers: almost unable to keep up and also still begging for more. There was nothing left to form words anymore. Just him inside you and at the same time all around you as you felt the last of your threads came undone.

Your joint fingers between your legs mirrored his strong, fast pace and then-

You came with a scream and your voice breaking as Astarion kept fucking you through your orgasm. Floating somewhere far above your body, shuddering helplessly as the pinnacle of lust shook through you, you felt how Astarion came as well, dick twitching and spilling inside of you while he moaned your name over and over again like a credo. And even then he kept thrusting again, twice, thrice more in slow and hard movements, drawing out your orgasm for you and you drifted up even further.

Until you toppled over together in a shuddering, breathless mess, too exhausted to speak while you slowly returned to your earthly body.

Astarion carefully helped you lower your shivering leg and his arms held you carefully as you were almost laying on your stomach, him above you.

Still breathless and void of speech, he pressed a kiss to your cheek as you had your face buried in the pillows you were laying on.

Your vampire withdrew from you and began whispering soft loving words to you while his hands began rubbing your body.

When you finally had the breath and the mind for it you sluggishly mumbled something into the pillows.

“What’s that, my sweet?” Astarion asked who even with his vampiric senses couldn’t make out your words.

You turned your head slightly. “I said I love you, Astarion,” you repeated.

“I love you too, darling.”

“And then I said that I fear the eggs are cold now,” you repeated truthfully and yawned as a wave of blissful exhaustion from the earth shattering sex you just had washed over you.

From your lowered position you saw how your vampire stared quizzically at you. Then he burst into laughter. He slowly climbed off you and off the bed.

“Well, you insisted I’d fuck you first, so whose fault is that, my sweet, hm?”

Laughing more, he dodged the pillow that came flying for his head. Then he grabbed his pants and pulled them on.

“But just because it’s your birthday,” Astarion said with a pointed look, a dramatic sigh and a smirk on his lips “I’m making you fresh ones.”

And then with a wink he was off.

You smiled broadly - so hard your face hurt - and stayed there for a moment longer, reminiscing about how much you loved this stupid idiot.

Then you jumped off the bed, grabbed something to throw over your naked body and ran after Astarion to keep him company while he would inevitably burn another round of eggs for you.

~~~ If you enjoyed this you can support me by reblogging this! You can also support me on Kofi (pinned post on my profile)! ~~~ Taglist (DM if you want to be added please): @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon @hereliesblackdragon @ayselluna @ajokeformur-ray @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @rikuyrk06 @marina-and-the-memes @somewhatclear @miss-rebel-without-applause

[opal-owl-flight]

Ooh boy, so, how do all the agents feel about the 70mil quota? And the fact it's at 90 mil last I checked....

Also, agents favorite grizzco weapons?

(They dont have fave grizzco weapons bc they dont want to associate with this sleazeball corporation KWJWKJ

More stuff abt the feelings below, though!)

Watching the decimation happening before her, Neo3 can only lay on the ground and cry. Thats everyone. Everything shes done. Shes known. Stolen away in a single night. All her power is nothing before the might of the eternal hunger of this banal evil.

What else can be done?

Her captain comes over, carrying a single egg. She starts, theyre not supposed to be on the field.

Is...it over?

They held the egg close, their voice, barely above a whisper. An apology.

"Im sorry."

She smells the devastation in their scent. Their mask hid nothing. And at that moment, they didnt even try. The marks of dried tears glowed on their face. Their voice is hoarse. Their form slumped, exhausted.

She knows theyve been trying to negotiate peace between the surrounding nations for several years, at this point. Alongside everything else.

Theyre fighting her fight.

What a dishonorable salmonid she is. Laying herself down like this, sneaking around - but she knew better than to do anything rash, now. She knew that will get her killed, or captured, or worse. She cant...she cant risk her captain getting injured again. They just got better.

"Really, I am."

At their soft words, she moves closer to them. Gentle, yet calloused hands, pick her up into a gentle hug. In this hug she can smell their guilt. In this hug she can smell their despair, their powerlessness. And yet...the scent of quiet fury simmers beneath.

They were just like her, in ways she didnt know yet. They too, ran away from their clan, after believing themself a dishonor to them. To save themself. They too, were dragged into a war their ancestors waged. Forced to carry the hopes and dreams of an age long gone.

The dream has changed, but they fight on, all the same.

She hugs them back, feeling the scars under their gear, the oldness of their body. Theyve been fighting longer than she has. With what she can only imagine is a spirit that can rival an elder survivor.

Shes a survivor, too, even if her means were more dishonorable than she wants it to be -- this over-reliance on others to fight her fights instead of doing it all herself, especially an elder survivor -- Has she stooped that low? Elders were meant to stay back, to watch over everyone. This one can barely fight for long anymore. What kind of salmon is she? (Just like 3, shes yet to fully realize the value of accepting help.)

And yet theyre here.

A squid who smelled of yearning, haunted by a past that they drag the dead weight of, ever forward.

Haunted by the specter of what they couldve been. Haunted by their mistakes. Yearning to be a squid that theyre not, anymore. To take the harm their entire nation has done and carry its consequences, all on their own. Be that hero, just like before.

...

And despite all that, their painful joints and trembling form, memories that drown them in yearning, theyre here. Still here. Fighting for their future. Her future. Everyones future.

"...Rest...now." they whisper. "Even one...saved...is still a life."

Their hands trembled, too. Maybe thats why theyre not signing. She held the egg they saved, gingerly, in her hands.

It reflected her face. It reflected her captain.

Its so fragile. All of it.

[citrusandcyanide]

Can't Lost You | L.G.

Part 3 Final

Pairing: Lip Gallagher x f!Reader

an. This took so long to get out cause my classes almost broke me this semester lollll but also I had two possible ways to end this and it took a long time to decide how it would go. This is the last part. I appreciate all the love on the first two parts. I promise I'll write something happy next <333

Synopsis. Reader finally makes her decision to stay or leave for college.

words. 1.2k

Warnings. angst angst

Part 1 Part 2

You woke up in a half drunk daze in Lips bed. The events of last night were as blurry as your vision through the tears you knew clouded your vision at some point in the night. Snippets of your conversation came back to you slowly as you stared up at Lips ceiling. And then it comes back to you, the feeling of his lips against yours, and his hand against your cheek. Lip’s arms guiding you to lay down on the bed. Your hands immediately went to your chest, clinging onto the fabric that still clung to your body. You silently thanked God that meant the kissing was as far as you went. Sitting up, you looked around the room, finally noticing the empty space beside you. He wasn’t there which partially relieved and puzzled you. Slowly you stood up and made your way downstairs. 

Upstairs had been far quieter than you had ever remembered the gallagher house being. The silence was unsettling. Familiar voices filled the kitchen as you descended the back staircase. Lip stood at the counter with a plate of eggs in front of him. To your surprise Mandy was cooking the eggs. Upon your entrance, Mandy turned to you and smiled. 

“Rise and shine, princess,” Mandy greeted you with a quick hug before motioning you to sit down next to lip. Your hug was weaker than hers, but you hoped she would attribute it to having just woken up. You knew Mandy sometimes shows up early, but after last night the air in the room felt heavy. You couldn’t help but look over to Lip, who was not trying to hide avoiding your gaze. Mandy put down a cup of water and a mug of coffee on the counter for you.  “Lip told me you drank a little too much last night. I couldn’t help but check in with you when I got her. You were sleeping like a baby. I couldn’t wake you even if I tried.” 

“Yeah.. Yesterday was blurry,” you replied, picking up the cup of coffee and taking a seat next to Lip. Mandy’s laugh triggered a headache, bringing your attention to the hangover that was getting stronger as you woke up more. “Where did you sleep Lip?” 

“Couch,” He replied quick and quiet. You gave him a look out of the corner of your eye. He just kept eating his eggs. You were too tired and hungover to try to interrogate him on the events of last night. Mandy’s presence also made you want to avoid the subject. The guilt in your chest was slowly building up as Mandy proceeded to make you a plate of eggs and toast. But Lip’s silence was more concerning. Why did he sleep on the couch last night? And why did I fall asleep in his bed? 

“What were you guys doing? Y/n doesn’t drink unless its something big,” Mandy asked. You and Lip froze, waiting for the other to answer. You brought the mug to your lips, hoping he would break the silence and answer. 

His words from last night repeating in your head. 

‘Y/n if you stay, I’m yours.’ 

‘You’re keeping me here’ 

‘I love you’ 

The words “I’m yours” practically throbbing to the rhythm of your headache.

“Y/n’s going to Berkeley for College,” Lip Answered. Just before the coffee could make it out of the mug, you froze. You felt dizzy again. You must of misheard him. I’m going where? You placed your mug down with a deep breath and turned to look at Lip. His face was neutral. You had no idea what was going on in his head. He turned to face you, for the first time this morning looking directly at you.  “We were celebrating.” 

Your lips turned sour, hating the feeling of his that still lingered there. This was enough to make your decision clear. Last night you let your boundaries slip farther than you would ever allow again. Lip was at your feet begging you to stay and you just heard him say you were leaving. Announcing the opposite of what was decided when he kissed you. Who were you kidding? Nothing was decided. There was nothing promising you would stay. There was nothing promising he would be yours. It was just a kiss. You were drunk. It was blurry.  It wasn’t the alcohol that made you believe him, that you would be his that easily. You couldn’t blame it on that. You were waiting for him to say it, hoping he would tell you to stay. But here you are, in his kitchen hungover and delusional. His girlfriend is standing in front of you making you breakfast. And he is telling her, you are leaving. Lying and saying you were celebrating. You had to convince yourself it was all lies. This was enough. 

You heard Mandy cheer which snapped you out of your thoughts. “So you’re actually going?” She asked you with a big smile on her face. In that moment you knew your answer. You were going to erase everything that happened last night from your memory. And you were going to try to do the same for the years you wasted on Lip gallagher. 

“Yes,” You said firmly. “I’m going to Berkeley.” 

You quietly excused yourself from the table and thanked Mandy for the breakfast. You said your goodbyes to her, promising to see her at school. Lip kept quiet as you gave Mandy a hug. When you pulled away, your eyes locked with his. You weren’t going to waste anymore time on him. There was no use in a goodbye. Your silence said it all. 

Epologue: 

The next day you heard knocks on your front door. You didn’t answer him. There was not going to be an apology this time. You had nothing left to say to him. For the next few weeks, you’d get voicemails from Lip, asking where you were and if you’d speak to him. Everytime he called, you’d never reply. After awhile you stopped listening to the voicemails completely. Then they stopped. He didn’t try to approach you at school, even though you could feel his presence when he was around. Once you graduated, you stopped seeing him completely. He respected your distance and kept away. The rest of the Gallaghers seemed to respect that too. You attended Berkeley, moved across Chicago and left your hometown behind. You got the freedom you wanted, and life without Lip was just as pleasant as you imagined it. Lip, however, wouldn’t let go completely. He’d send you text messages every now and then asking you how you were. Sometimes the messages would contain apologies, begging for your forgiving, pleading for you to come back. You didn’t reply. Your silence said it all. 

[gffa]

What I mean when I say, "I think we have to have learned our lesson by this point [with Star Wars shows and 'Deep Lore']–whatever deeply complex ideas we try to come up with, the shows themselves basically never match anything near that level of detail, depth, or complexity." is exemplified by the excitement over the Zeffo references in Ahsoka. Basically, hieroglyphs in episode 7 of Ahsoka that translate to "praise Kujet", who was a sage from the Zeffo people who are an ancient, mysteriously vanished people from the video game Jedi: Fallen Order and Kujet specifically has ties to having a great amount of power on Dathomir in some form. It's very tempting to want to take this and think that Filoni is going to build something major out of these connections and I'm saying, we have got to have learned our lesson by this point. Filoni does not care about the supplementary material, nothing in this series or his episode of The Mandalorian or The Book of Boba Fett or even particularly any of his TCW/Rebels work have born this kind of connectivity out. He likes to include things, like there's an almost-nod to Revan in TCW, but it's not meant to go anywhere, it's just cool. The recent Obi-Wan Kenobi series included a planet named Jabiim, which was a significant planet with an important story in the Legends Clone Wars era, but within the show, that connection does not affect anything, it's just the name of a planet, a cool nod. Hell, I wouldn't even necessarily put money that Filoni himself chose the nod to Kujo/the Zeffo/JFO, it could have been a set designer who was frantically looking up anything to do with Dathomir on Wikipedia and thought it would be a cool easter egg to put in there. Or maybe it was Filoni, it's not impossible that this is a deliberate signpost to where this is going! But I think looking at the established patterns of these shows and how little these easter eggs have ever born real fruit and temper our expectations. Go wild with the speculation, that's great! But Star Wars is not laying out a roadmap where you can find the clues and guess the ending by the easter eggs, they're fun little discoveries, but I don't believe for a single solitary second that Felony is counting on us to pick up on the clues to put together a strong case for worldbuilding. And I'm not saying this to be a pill about it, either! I just think we'll build more satisfying theories if we understand that the source material itself isn't always going to build up the way we wish it would, that instead we'll have more fun if we treat these as extra bonuses, rather than the real foundation of what the "lore" of Star Wars is!

[kalcifers-blog]

Broken Birdcage - Pissa fic by Kalcifer

Hurt/comfort

CW: all of the side effects of being locked in a cage with no real way to take care of yourself? Self hating issues, mild suicidal thought (nothing is graphic but it is in there so be warned!!!)

(please let me know if you guys want me to write more fics I honestly had so much fun writing this :DD)

He did not know how long it had been since he was first trapped.

The hours crawled on into days and the days bled into nights and nights shuffled into what had to have been a week.

It couldn't be more than a week, could it? Philza couldn't tell at this point. His talons bloody from the scratching against the walls, his right shoulder bruised from slamming himself against the sealed door. His throat horse and strained from screaming.

At some point he had to force himself to stop crying, he realised the first night that he had an extremely limited water supply, one that would not last very long. Crying meant dehydration, which meant he was back to his old, long habits of forcing everything so far down he felt numb.

Everything was numb at this point, it was the only thing that distracted him from the violence that poisoned his blood. Not just at the Federation that kept him here, or that took his darling eggs from him. No, the hatred he felt for himself was so much more apparent at that moment.

He couldn't help but look back to that last night they shared, just hours before his capture. How gently he was held as Missa showed him how to dance- his heart had been racing the whole time, the pictures he snuck of him when he wasn't looking, wasn't appreciating just how stunning he looked in the moment. Leaving him behind with that empty promise that he would see him again soon.

Of course it was a trap. How could he have been so stupid to fall for it? He's never going to see his eggs again now because of it. Or Etolis or Forever or Fit or Tubbo- or.. or Missa. God how could he have left Missa with an empty promise like that.

Phil choked back another sob, he never did get to tell him that he did love him.

He wasn't sure how much Missa truly knew how much he loves him, Missa was always so open about it- he was just so unapologetically proud to be that close to Philza. He should have said something, he should have appreciated every moment they shared because now he was trapped and would never get to appreciate him again.

He slipped off into dreams. Long hazy dreams that felt so real, but slightly uncanny at the same time, they where like memories just not his memories, because these where not moments he got to have with the person he should've called his husband.

Gentle moments before getting up in the mornings, sickingly sweet domestic bliss of times they should've spent as a family together- eating dinner and then putting the kids to bed to spend an evening where they did nothing but silently appreciate the others company. Philza could even feel his ghost grace his skin and kiss him in a way he could only dream about.

Because this was a dream, and he woke up back in the birdhouse. Still hurt and sore and that ache in his eyes from crying and the pain that coursed through his wings since they had been clipped similar to the hope chipping away with every passing moment.

He screamed once more, this time at his Lady, begging her for some kind of release- some way to not feel the way he does. Maybe that way he would know if his beautiful eggs were in her care.

His Lady did not respond to him, the same way she never did when he asked her of such things, he knows he'll eventually be greatful for her decision. But in the moment, the avain can only feel the cry of his unkempt wings and the hurt he feels in every bone of his body and that curdling, roar of inescapable violence that poisoned his veins.

He knew that when if he ever got his talons on that fucking bear, he'd rip it to shreds with nothing but his bare teeth.

But there was nothing he could do, but lay and wait and hope for sleep to come over him once more, hopefully he'd go back to Missa in his dreams and feel the phantom touches of his ghost comfort him once more.

It was like that- alone, curled up on the ground, unwashed, unkempt and waiting for his Lady that he heard it- voices- outside? They where so close just on the other side of the wall.

Sparks of hope shot through him like electricity- he tried to yell out but there was no yell left in him. It didn't matter though because it seemed like they knew he was there. All Philza could do was pull himself onto his shaking legs to stand up- leaning against the wall as he did so. The lack of any food for days eating away at his strength by the second.

In the end, the rescue team didn't even attempt the door- they just busted the wall down using some TNT. Phil couldn't help but joke to himself that it was so beautifully chaotic of them, not wanting to wait another second.

The first person to greet Philza was his beloved partner- the person comforting him through his ghost this whole time. Phil could only collapse into his shoulder when he got to his side. That look in his eyes- though covered by his skull mask- is not one he could, and won't, ever put on Missa's face again.

Missa was beyond worried to see the state of his husband- he looked so broken down, so tired, it was clear by the looks on everyone else, especially Tubbo's that none of them had ever seen the man like this. And all he could do was run those gentle finger through tatted hair and whisper promises into his ear.

Missa had to carry him home- he was moments away from collapsing again that he couldn't risk even letting him attempt to walk for himself. Philza had basically torn apart the Gapples they gave him, and the healing potions and water.

It didn't mean that Philza wasn't still hurting all over, in fact the opposite was true- if anything the healing potions did absolutely nothing to drown out any pain, all they did was heal the injury causing it. Meaning Missa spent their whole trip home constantly checking over Philza's broken beautiful face for any signs of discomfort.

They had spent hours together. Missa helping Philza heal and recover and led him back to a open and welcoming bath and nest.

It was just an hour or so later, once Missa heard the sounds of the bath being unplugged and the sounds of slow movement when he saw Philza re-emerge, still hurt and bruised, but significantlt better. He didn't say a word, not from a lack of trying, but the look in his eyes said everything that was needed to be said

Philza stood shakingly in front of him, with damp, unbrushed hair and dripping wings, wearing an old robe. Missa couldn't tell if it was the robe or the general vulnerability that made Philza seem so much smaller than usual.

No words where said for no words could be spoken for Philza to ever fully express how much he loved the man in front of him. Especially after today. It wasn't long before Missa suddenly felt his arms wrap themselves around his middle as the blondes head nussled into his chest. Gripping him so tightly as if he'd disappear at any moment if he didn't.

The taller of the two whispered sweet promises to the avain. Kissing his forehead as gently as his fingers traced the others face and held him impossibly closer.

The lines of hurt on the avains face remained, but they lifted ever so slightly as Missa kissed him in that ghostly familiar way. The way that sent him crying into his shoulder once more, the way that made him know for certain that he was not going anywhere.

They both went to bed that night, cuddled up tightly against each other. Missa tracing circles into Philza's side, relaxing him and making him chirp. Missa didn't bring it up, hoping to hear that beautiful bird song for the rest of time.

It was Philza who fell asleep first, exuhsted from- everything and now with the comfort of knowing that Missa knew. Missa knows just how much he loves him.

And he's going to make sure he never forgets that.

[meabh-mcinness]

I would like to ask since you're one of the few suppliers of good balam content I've seen. How big do you think balams breeding kink is?

First off, thanks for the complement!

Second off, the answer is just yes. This man’s breeding kink is so big. Literally, unless I meet him in real life, and he tells me otherwise, you cannot convince meet that he wouldn’t live just to breed his significant other if possible. Like, Nishi has recently confirmed that he still has long phone calls with his parents in his free time. He is such a big family that I refuse to believe he wouldn't enjoy filling up his partner and watching them grow with his childe.

I can very easily picture something along the lines of this;

Dull nails clawed at the sheets underneath you, almost ripping them to the point of exposing the interconnecting branches of the nest beneath. Your knees and forearms hurt from taking not only the brunt of your weight, but also the force of the long and deep snaps of Shichirou's hips meeting yours. You would certainly be bruised, but you couldn't care less at the moment. 

"Please," you pleaded. "More... Give me more." 

The size difference between the two of you meant that he had to scrunch up considerably to be able to spoon you properly, much less utter in your ear, but he leaned over anyway. Forearms braced around you, hot breath and sharp fangs brushing your lobe as he talked to you. 

"Patience darling. You're so perfect, let me enjoy it." Another particularly drawn-out and powerful thrust had you mewling into the blankets beneath. Small hands scrambling for purchase as his strength, still held back even now, left you careening forward with every jab. 

"So wet, warm, and tight. You're just built to take me, aren't you? My little human, so deprived. I want nothing more than to sate your needs. Fill you up till life's taken in you. Leaving you heavy with my brood. " A gentle nip on the tip of your ear was followed by some shifting, one scaled hand tracing down your body, pausing briefly to circle your stomach before continuing onwards. Only stopping when it reached the sensitive bundle of nerves right above where you joined. A favored spot of his once he discovered the pleasure it brought, back before, when he was still nervous to take you in such ways. 

He could see it now though, his hands splayed in wonder over your belly swollen with his lineage. Could practically already feel the baby moving inside you as you went about building a nursery nest. Watch you putter around with ever increasingly swelling breasts, keeping a careful eye on the little ones already born as they played. After all, he couldn't settle for just one babe. 

 Would your human side win out and produce live young? Or would his inherent gargoyle genes prevail, and you'll be forced to contend with egg-laying? Would they look more like you or him? Or, maybe, even a perfect blend of the two of you? 

The second his clawed hand started circling your bud, you felt the ever-building taut coil in you finally snap again for the third time that night. Pleasure rushed through veins better than any drug ever could as you came with his name on your lips. The fluttering of your walls clutching at him was enough to bring him to fruition as well, snapping his hips a bit harder than he meant to. 

Gasping your name out like a prayer before turning his mouth to your shoulder. Large, sharp fangs cut through your skin like butter as he rode out his high with you. It would be impossible for you not to feel it, from the throbbing of his dick to the absolute warm flood that left his body into yours, filling you up just as he had said. 

When you both were finished and done shuttering, he finally released your shoulder from his grip, licking up the blood that started piling up, making sure to cover every last tooth mark. It had been a rather lucky discovery to find out demon saliva had the same healing properties for humans that their blood had for demons. Satisfied with his work, he carefully unfurled himself to sit back on his knees and admire his handiwork but made no move to unsheathe himself. 

You lay there dazed, still in the headspace left behind by the orgasm that left your body shivering in its afterglow. Even from this position with your back to him, your oh-so-vulnerable back that stirred something in him again, he could see the slight bulge in your lower belly that was further proof of your joining. And he couldn't help but, in his mind's eyes, see it even bigger and rounder, rather than the cylinder shape of him. 

'Well', he thought as he gently turned your body over, still sheathed so deep inside you, 'there is only one way to ensure it comes true'. Leaning over again, he tended to the other side of your neck, nipping and suckling as he made his way down your body to your breasts. Looking up briefly, he caught your eyes, filled with both apprehension and desire for what was to come. After all, the night was still young, and you-

"Aren't done yet, darling."

[merakiui]

I am going feral over the egg & octatrio posts. Oml the one where darling is a mer who has to lay eggs in human form mmmmmm

I keep thinking about the beloved bully tweels teasing you when you are filled with eggs (mer or human)

Like Floyd coming up and surprise hugging you making sure to squeeze lightly around your belly, or Jade lying about something being on your uniform just to feel the eggs, making sure to tease you a little by whispering to you before pulling back like nothing happened

I am a complete degenerate for the octatrio-

Aaaaa yes yes!!! They tease you so much. Even Azul has his fun and it's always at the most unexpected moments. He probably uses magic to make you trip over nothing and then swoop in like a shoujo manga love interest to catch you and say something smooth like, "Be careful now. You wouldn't want to hurt the little ones." all with that annoying smirk-grin!! And to cement the point, the arm wrapped securely around you will tighten ever so slightly just so you can feel the pressure of his grip on your egg-filled tummy hehe. He knows a little tumble won't hurt you; merfolk are meant to be sturdy and strong, but even so now that you're in human form he can never be too careful. He won't go overboard with teasing, but he certainly enjoys being playful.

Jade is subtle about it in a way that appears like the both of you are in on some covert inside joke (which you technically are). At lunch, he'll offer you some of his food with the excuse that "you should make sure to eat plenty more than just your fill." You suspect he intends to add more to that reasoning of his, but he simply shuts his mouth and smiles while holding his fork out to you as if expecting you to readily take the bite. He knows you're strong and capable, but that doesn't stop him from offering his arm if you need to lean on him when carrying so many eggs in human form becomes exhausting. You'll swat him away, insisting you'd rather suffer through fatigue than let him help you. You can never be too sure with him; there's always a price attached to his offers. If he isn't aiming to fertilize your eggs, his goal is to get them for cooking purposes. Shameless as ever, he'll lean down to whisper in your ear when he fixes your uniform, softly explaining just how good it would feel if you let him help you. His hands ghost over your waist, fingertips brushing your stomach and applying just enough pressure to disturb the eggs nestled within, and then he's pulling away with that same polite smile.

Floyd is not very subtle. Whether he's wrapping you in a hug or shamelessly yanking your shirt up to poke at your belly in an effort to count each egg he feels, he's very obvious about his interest in you and your eggs. He uses you as an excuse to get out of things. If Azul tries to get him to work extra hours at the lounge, he says he'll be too busy fucking the eggs out of you. If the professors ask why he's been doing so poorly in his exams lately, he'll say it's because he's taking care of his egg-bound shrimpy! If any guy tries to get rough with you, Floyd returns it tenfold, bloodying his knuckles and shattering teeth and jaws in the process, all while going on about how none of these small fry know how to treat his shrimpy and the baby shrimpys with respect! >:( Floyd also has a tendency to become very restless when he knows you have eggs, always bouncing his leg in class or clenching and unclenching his fists. The instinct to fill you up with so much cum and fertilize all of those pudgy eggs consumes his thoughts nonstop.

[evolutionsvoid]

(Eucella, I realized there was a section I need to add to my Harpy entry! I knew I was forgetting something! I know you don't like adding more to things, but please! I will keep it short, I promise!)

When it comes to mating for harpies, these birds rely on song and presentation to woo a partner. As the season grows near, the males will go out in search for nest materials, looking to build a fine home that would attract a female. They start with the basics: sticks, grasses, leaves, cloth and other mundane building blocks. They start construction up in the trees, in the higher branches where terrestrial predators cannot reach, while also sticking to some cover so that they remain out of sight of flying carnivores. A flock of harpies tends to stick together when it comes to nesting and raising young, so these nests will be built amongst others, typically staking out a chunk of trees to call their territory. After getting the basic structure of a nest built up, the male will then look for decoration. Colorful objects and shiny trinkets will help make his home eye catching and appealing, so this is when harpies get to their tricks of stealing baubles and other small things. Each male tends to have their own definition of "pretty" so no two nests look alike. It is better that way too, because some times neighbors may like a certain decoration and try to steal it for their own nest!

In time, the mating season will roll in and hopefully the male will have completed his nest by now. At this point, the single females will be on the look out for a potential mate, so the male harpy needs to let them know they are available. They inflate their air sacs and use them to sing out to the females, who will then listen to the song to see if this suitor is up to snuff. From their performance, the females get an idea about size and health, which will let them know if it is worth checking out or passing by. If the female likes what she hears, she will swoop down to the male and be ready for the next step. At this point, the male leads her to his prepared nest and shows it off. He will eagerly hop around it and even pick up special pieces to give her a closer look. She will move in for a close inspection, often pecking parts and testing structural integrity. If the nest fails to impress her, she will fly off and leave the male to try again on another female. But if she likes what she sees, the two will take part in a little song and dance, which is the final part in choosing a mate. They follow one another in singing and playful hopping, which is meant to forge the bond between them. If all goes well here, the two shall mate and it will be for life. Harpies keep the same partner for their entire lives, only ever getting another one if their mate dies. Once this is complete, the united pair than work together to further build up the nest, with the female adding her own touches to it as well.

Then the day comes when she lays her eggs, typically laying two to five of them. Once they are laid in the nest, the male will be the first to incubate them, while she goes out to get food. At this point, the two harpies will switch back and forth, with one going out to gather while the other stays to keep the eggs warm and safe. Partners often bring food back with them to share, even when taking over the nest shift. After enough time passes, the eggs will hatch and out comes the little harplets!

There are many cute things in the world, but harplets have to be near the top of the list. Look at them! They are so round and poofy! All that down makes them such chubby little things! Ooooooh, so cute! Now where are the stuffed animals of these?! I would buy a dozen of them! Ack, Chlora, stay on track! Anyways, the harplets will emerge from their eggs and the time comes for raising the kids. The role switching will continue, with one parent staying at the nest while the other gathers food. But this time, they're hunting to bring back grub for their little ones, and they are quite hungry! Harpy parents work hard for the first few weeks, constantly bringing back food to give to their chicks. But eventually, things start settling down and a good schedule is set. Once the harplets have grown a little bit, it comes time to teach them the ways of the harpy!

While the other parent is out getting food, the other will start to show the young ones some tricks and performing in front of them to watch. It can be simple things like preening or picking up sticks, but then it starts growing more complicated as they pass on all that they have learned. In some cases, the parent that returns home will also bring back "difficult" food, like thick rind fruit, hard shelled nuts and insects with special defenses. They will then show the harplets how to tackle these situations, demonstrating right in front of the nest how to get the good stuff on the inside. And all this time, the harplets will watch with endless curiosity! That is another thing that makes them so cute! They are always watching and wondering, keeping their eyes on anything that draws their interest. I remember when I climbed up a tree to get a closer look at harpy nests for observation, and all the harplets just stared at me for hours! The whole time I was there, they would hardly look at anything else, always following my every move! It got to a point where I think the parents were shooing me away because I was ruining lesson time!

It should be noted that while harpy nests have two parents to raise the young, the entire rookery puts in an effort for every harplet. Harpies that have not gotten mates will often help around other nests, and even take part in training the young. It is pretty much practice for when they raise their own chicks, as they watch the parents and see how it is all done. Harpies will also band together to defend their territory from predators, everyone teaming up to scare away threats from any nest. And if one mated harpy loses their partner, others will step in to help keep their young fed. It is an incredible system of teamwork, and goes to show how intelligent they are! Be warned, though, that this same smarts and working togetherness can be used against those who wrong them. Threaten their nests or kill their young, and the whole flock of harpies will label you an enemy for life. They will attack you on sight and cause all sorts of mayhem if they find your own "nest." Birds of prey who have taken their chicks will have their own nests harassed when their season comes, as the harpies dish out revenge. As cute and wonderful as harpies can be, do know that they can get nasty if you give them reason to! I don't blame them, as I would do anything to protect those precious little harplets!

Chlora Myron

Dryad Natural Historian

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

"Harpy and Harplets"

[brandwhorestarscream]

Playing extremely loose and fast with the established stuff here :D yes this was mostly to make Megatron suffer, but it was also inspired by the bound Queen in Aliens vs Predator.

So I was thinking, it starts with miners sent to look for energon. Instead, they find xenomorphs. The facehuggers proceed to do what facehuggers do, and amongst the afflicted miners, there is one named Terminus.

When the chestburster emerges, Terminus feels oddly attached to the little being, despite the mess it left his chest. Especially when it takes on a much more recognizable Cybertronian form. He names the little cybermorph Megatron, and for a time, things are as happy as they can get.

But the Senate has ears and eyes everywhere. They know what xenomorphs are, they've seen how the other cybermorphs react to Megatron, and they know what it means. So they take him.

The other cybermorphs aren't left alone. They get taken as well, and many mnemosurgeons sacrifice their needles in order to make them forget. And Megatron? Megatron is kept chained and drugged, rendered docile, and nothing more than the faintest presence in the Hivemind.

The way they knew this was through a particular cybermorph named Overlord. Overlord had always been... off. He'd cheerfully killed the miner he had emerged from, and as it turned out, while he was part of the Hivemind, he wasn't bound by it.

So, for the price of occasionally giving him some troublesome mechs to play with, he'd happily sire as many cybermorphs as the Senate could possibly want. Those he didn't get to play with were used as incubators, and the Senate thought this was an excellent solution.

With Megatron not exactly present in the Hivemind, the newborns imprinted on what could be considered their handlers instead.

Perhaps things would've continued on this way for a long time, but one day, a first-generation outlier cybermorph caught the faintest trace of a thought about a Queen.

This faintest hint drove Soundwave into an obsession to find out exactly what it meant, and when he finally found out, exactly how he was going to get his Queen free.

Ok I'm gonna take this opportunity to springboard and pivot. I really don't care for Overlord as a character (he's uninteresting at best, incredibly obnoxious and not in a charming way at worst), SO. If anything if gonna happen to him, it's gonna be this:

Phase Sixers don't exist in the traditional sense: Megatron never ordered their creation. So, if they ever come into existence it'll be as autobot weapons meant to counteract the cybermorphs, but that's not important

Hear me out: instead of Megatron being a captive (which... doesnt really work. There's no way to dampen the hive mind to the point that no one can hear/feel him unless he's dead), Overlord is made from Megatron. Samples gathered from blood spilled on the battlefield or maybe a raid on an abandoned nest or facehugger goo extracted from a rescued prisoner. Idk, something: the autobots (read: some crazy son of a glitch that definitely doesn't have Optimus's permission) have some of the queen's genetic material. They use it to make their own, twisted version, hoping to fight fire with fire

The thing they create is Overlord, mixed of Megatron's genome and maybe his so called 'handler'. They're very confused when, even after crossing the threshold into sexual maturity, he's not producing any eggs. They bring in captive incubators to try and kickstart his instincts. Nothing. They put him under anesthesia and quickly realize he can't lay eggs: they fucked up his genome somehow, and he's infertile. Instead, he's incredibly virile. The incubators they brought, instead of being impregnated via facehuggers, find themselves instead pinned under the half-broken "queen" and forced to take his spike after the handler pumps him full of aphrodisiac. Discord coined the teem "super transfluid": i.e. any partner he takes is guaranteed to concieve. The resulting morphlings have his accelerated growth rate and toe the line between drones and full mecha, and are proper parasites. Rather thsn being born the traditional way, they eat their way out of the gestation tank.

This is all I'm willing to give to Overlord. Take it or leave it

[dante-oak]

Game Review: Journey

I’ve recently replayed Journey by Thatgamecompany and decided I couldn’t just keep all the feeling about it tucked away. If you haven’t played the game yet, I highly recommend playing before continuing. Most of what I’ve writen is full of spoilers and references specific elements of the game.

My first playthrough of Journey was back in 2017 when a friend left his PS4 at my house for a weekend. I’d never heard about the game then and I can’t quite remember why I started playing it, but boy am I glad I did. It’s weird to think just how much a game like that can change things, and it made me look at the world through new eyes.

Most people live their lives from one thing to the next. There’s always some goal to achieve. Journey shows us how arbitrary it all is. I was so curious as what lay at the top of that mountain during my first playthrough, wondering if it would live up to the hype or if maybe it would just end there, with just a congragulations, but the truth was so much deeper.

During the climb you see so much. The metal markers give an ominous atmosphere to it all, friendly kites help you explore the ruins of an ancient civilazation, through meditation you understand a bit more context of what happened, all while wondering why you’re the only one there.

Nearing the end, you show up on the murals, and it feels like a prophesy, but playing again I realized… It’s not. That it’s already happened. You’ve already ventured to the peak time and time again, and it seems like the peak of the mountain is thriving and full of life.

I do wonder where the others are, as the only ones you see are the large characters in white in your visions and the peak. It makes me think a bit of the Egg Theory, especially considering you can become one of them by collecting every sigil.

By the time you get to the snowy area, you feel deeply connected with the strive for the top. It’s important. You have to make it. It feels like a mission, like they’re counting on you. Then the dread of the leviathan-like machines with their watchful gaze and the ability to strip you of the only thing assisting your willpower.

All of that weight on your character’s frail shoulders makes the final climb through the snow so powerful, so intense. You’re almost there, you’ve almost made it. It takes a moment to realize you’re slowing down, that the storm is too much. There’s no cover, no where else to go. No waiting out the storm.

The sense of control you have over the character on the screen cracks. At this point, I felt my eyes well up. It felt like there was such a struggle to get to that point. So much hope and fear, so much willpower. Was it all for nothing? During my first playthrough I remember the tears streaming down my face as my character passed out.

Part of me thought I’d done something wrong, maybe I didn’t get enough sigils, maybe I went the wrong way… Then, when the elder showed up, lifting me up from the ground, I felt all the weight lift from my shoulders. I wasn’t alone in my journey.

As the clouds spun around my character and the creatures flew by me, I wondered what was next, hands clammy in anticipation. Then… The sun. Blue skies above it all. As the creatures turned into gentle hammerheads, my scarf filled with life, and my powers became greater than ever.

I thought it was the end. That I’d gotten where I needed to be. Though part of me wondered if I had died, I didn’t notice the top of the mountain still looming over me for a moment. As I approached the crevice, my heart felt heavy. Was the point not to achieve paradise? What else could lie beyond the ice?

If I had been crying before, now I was bawling. Beyond the ice was the start. As my character (now a star) flew back through all the way we’d come, it felt cathartic. It was all for nothing, but it didn’t mean I failed, it meant I succeeded! I remember going to my room and starfishing on the bed, staring at the ceiling just thinking about it all.

Life is hard. When we’re trying to achieve an unknowable peak, a societal standard, or undecided success, it’s even harder. Doing it all alone is harder still. Thing is, that while our journey is ours alone, we’re not alone in it. And in the end, all of our acomplishments will be lost on our bones.

So lets enjoy the view, take is slow and gentle, or fast and fun. Remember everyone’s on that mountain and we all need a little help sometimes. Focus on the journey. Getting there is as small a part as starting.

[breathe2-fr]

Field of Dreams (pt 2)

Read Pt 1

-----

Baerka and Spelldancer built their nest in an old tree, which stood at the top of a hill in an open field, leaning over a small pond. When they'd first found the tree, Baerka thought it was dead. The trunk had been hallowed out so fully that both of them could fit inside comfortably - but it didn't take long for him to decide to dig deeper for a bit more space. The strange thing was that, as they spent more time there, the tree seemed to come back to life. He didn't notice the changes at first, but realized they seemed to happen when Spelldancer would dreamshift. It was as if when she went to and from this dream realm, maybe bits of magic would spill out, and it happened so much that it revived the old tree. It slowly began growing leaves back, which drooped long off the branches - a willow, it turned out. And once all the leaves were back, they began shifting in color. It was hard to pin point their exact color then the light hit them, but Baerka was certain it shifted between lavender and aqua - like Spelldancer's scales. Then came a night when she went to the Dream Realm and Baerka followed. He hadn't mean to - what he had meant to do was sleep in the tree hollow. But he felt something strange opening inside him when he lay with his eyes closed, and didn't fight it off. Neither of them were sure what changed, but the Dream Realm was open to him now. Though it was fantastical, Baerka found the realm to be volatile - he hadn't adapted to the loose magic the way Spelldancer had. Over time, he would only go in when she would. Though after seeing it for himself, his questions grew more and more.

*** Once the tree started changing color, it drew attention of passers by. Occasionally dragons would stop at the tree, curious. When they'd look inside, sometimes they'd find one or both of the pair, who would often offer their shelter to wanderers who struck their fancy. More occasionally, someone would take up their offer. And even more occasionally, someone would stay again after a single night. Before too long, they built up a modest group. "I suppose that makes us a clan now," Baerka said one day, once it became clear that their newest visitor, a white pearlcatcher with no name, would be staying. "A clan?" Spelldancer was unfamiliar with most dragon customs. Baerka would sometimes bring them up as if she knew, and she would embarrassingly have to ask what he meant. "Dragons who flock together form a clan. There's safety in numbers, if you can trust those at your side." "Have you ever been in a clan?" Baerka frowned and his brow furrowed, letting out his breath before answering. "Yes. But it wasn't long. A clan from the Earth territory found my egg. They always told me my mother's lair had been destroyed, and they found my egg in the wreckage. But... I never really fit in with them. So I left one day." "Even though it was safer with them?" Spelldancer asked, confused. "Like I said, it's safer if you trust those at your side. And it always felt like there was more to the story than what they'd told me. So I had to come back to the Windswept Plateau to find who I really am." "And have you?" Baerka smiled down at her. "I find a little bit more every day."

*** In time, they grew into a small family and needed a name: The Shifting Wind was the obvious choice, inspired by both the Dream Shifting power and their Wind affinity. Spelldancer and Baerka became leaders of a clan, through their kind acts of opening their home to others. The dragons who stayed often were brought in by Baerka's charm, level-headed thinking, and might; but stayed once they realized Spelldancer's power. The two of them were highly respected by their clanmates and, to the pair's surprise, started giving them titles. Things like "king and queen," and "matriarch and patriarch." Baerka laughed heartily when he first heard someone say it, and Spelldancer was shocked and embarrassed at the idea. A queen?! She couldn't possibly be a queen to anyone! She would stutter and fumble her words at the suggestion, which would make Baerka laugh harder. Apparently the white pearlcatcher had started it - he'd taken the name SnowyMorning after Spelldancer had once compared his scale coloring to one. But after Snow started it, the other dragons followed suit without disagreement. The truth was, most dragons in the clan were young and fairly naive in their own right. So whether or not they believed the pair were actual royalty, or whether they were just okay with the idea of making them their leaders, the end result was the same. After all, this fae was gifted by the Windsinger himself with an amazing power - he must be expecting great things from her. So why not call her "queen?" As time went on, they found others in their clan would inherit the Dream Shifting power - so perhaps it was simply contagious in some way? But this development allowed them to expand while keeping their clan's footprint small. Dragons could choose to send themselves to the Dream, and often would when they were hurt, stressed, or tired. The strange thing was, when others entered, they would sleep in the Dream Realm in a protective bubble - they could only wake if Spelldancer reached through the bubble to touch them, popping it. She wondered if she was doing something to protect the others when they entered, but consciously, she couldn't say what. When dragons would return, they would be renewed and clear of mind. Little was understood about this realm, but its healing properties and the protection from immediate danger for their weak were a huge boon to their budding family. It also made it easy to host a clan at a single tree - dragons could take turns stepping in and out of the Dream Realm, and it would appear as if only a small group actually lived together. Dream Shifting was still mysterious, but as they learned more and more about what Spelldancer was capable of, the Queen of the Shifting Wind felt more at peace with how life was unfolding.

[darkcavewriting]

Day 5

The clock on the bedside radio said it was 5:27 a.m. I was not excited by that, in the least. I knew I went to bed early, but it was still far too early for me to be awake. I got out of bed and stumbled off towards the bathroom.  I could see the light coming up the stairs from the kitchen and figured I might as well look and see who was up.  I headed downstairs and there was my grandmother standing at the stove throwing eggs into a pan.

I was surprised to see her up so early, even though she went to bed the same time we did I guess I was just not expecting to see her up before six in the morning, let alone fixing food.  I was cold, but I was still hungry.  I asked her what I could do to help out.  She put me in charge of making coffee for everyone, which was eight people, which meant we would need to make at the very least two pots, so I went to the garage to track down the other coffee pot to make two at once.  I didn’t know for sure if my niece and nephew drank coffee but it seemed like a better idea to make more than we needed than not enough.  Thank god my parents hadn’t thrown out the old pot when they got a new fancier one for Christmas one year.  Otherwise it would be a while before there was coffee for everyone.  And the one thing I can say is that we all love coffee, and without it, we can be awfully pissy, and with the given situations that would not be a good thing in the least.  Everybody was on edge enough as is. While I set up the coffee pots to brew and tracked down the air pot to put the brewed stuff in my grandmother began to make omelets getting out several blocks of cheese and other ingredients like bacon and mushrooms.  I knew that there was going to be no way I was going to be going hungry while I was home, which was good, because there was no way for me to make anything like this in Cheney in my dorm room and that would stink, living off of cereal did not sound too terribly fun to me.  I would have to live off the dining hall food, and I didn’t know how good or bad that was yet.  At least until I got out of the dorm, if I ever did for that matter.  I hoped I would at some point in time, but at this point who knows.  I didn’t even know if I will stick it out in Cheney or if I will move back to Portland during this term. 

Given the deaths there is a real chance that I might.  Although already being admitted to Eastern and getting a bit settled there before all of this went down it would not make too terribly much sense to just leave, but that may be the best course of action.  If I was to leave I knew it would be unlikely that I would get all of the money back for tuition, housing and all that.  However there was a chance that the special circumstances of all this might allow me to be refunded if I was to leave. 

The first pots of coffee were ready and I transferred them to the air pot and set out to make two more pots as I poured myself a cup.  I could hear some stirring from the living room.  I had a feeling that Sara was smelling the coffee and finally beginning to wake up.  I knew that if I was laying there the aroma of the coffee and the cooking of the bacon would be more than enough to rouse me from even the deepest sleep. 

I was right, she came stumbling into the kitchen wrapped up in the little fleece blanket that was laying over her all night.  She looked tired, but I knew that once the coffee and the food hit her she would hopefully feel better, I hoped I would feel better too for that matter.  I knew it was going to be a terribly stressful day, and I was hoping to a certain extent that it would fly by, but I doubted that it would. All the days were likely going to be stressful for the foreseeable future, I couldn’t see any way that they wouldn’t be. That would be hoping for far too much I told myself.  There was no way I was going to get that lucky with this shitty situation.  I knew it would drag on and on, but at least I was expecting it, so it wasn’t like any of it was at all unexpected.

I told my grandmother about the option of possibly not taking classes for the semester.  She did not seem to be too terribly thrilled with that idea but I could tell that she knew that it might be the best and most logical choice for me.  I was thinking of calling Grace and getting her opinion on the matter, but the last thing I wanted to do right now was talk on the phone with someone.  Something to put off till later I thought.  Also far too early in the day to try and call her.  Eva on the other hand, I should probably text. K- Hey Eva, I hope things are going well in Minneapolis.  I don’t know if you might have heard, but my parents died in a car crash.  A day after they dropped me off for school at Eastern.  I’m back in Portland now, not sure when the funeral is going to be.   I had been putting off contacting her because of how much I missed her.  I wished that we were going to school closer together, I really could have used her around right now.  However she was 1,700 miles away right now, and that was more than a little rough on me.  I wished things could have been different. Not that she was my girlfriend but to be terribly honest I did miss Grace even though I had only been gone for a day. There was just something about her that managed to put a smile on my face whenever I saw her or thought of her.  It was a similar feeling to how I got when I first met Eva.  Not that I thought that things may turn into a relationship with Grace, but it did seem that it could be a possibility.  I didn’t know if I was ready for something like that now.  This soon after so many big things happening, but only time would tell.   Everyone was finally up, and the coffee and food was flowing around the table as everyone had breakfast. My great aunt and uncle appeared to have no plans at all and intended to stay around my grandparents house the whole day, at least they would not be in our way at my parents house I thought. They were the last people I wanted over there going through my parents shit. It was decided that we would head over shortly, across town to their place to see what sort of a wreck the place was in, as it was always a cluttered mess, and then to begin to determine what the hell was going to happen with everything. The will after all was somewhere in a file cabinet in the house supposedly. Sara asked me how I was feeling. "Alright I guess, I slept as well as it could be expected." "Thats good, I could imagine being back in your own bed was pretty comfortable?" "Yeah, even though I had only been away from it for two nights it was good to be back in it." After breakfast, my grandparents had me come with them into my dad’s home office where the file cabinet was. Apparently my parents had told my grandparents that the wills were in the file cabinet, I would have never known. Knowing them I would have expected them to be in the safe deposit box at thew bank or something like that. These were copies it seemed as we opened the drawer to find them. Copies were good enough though, they were sealed and dated a little over a year before. “The official ones are with your parent’s lawyer I believe,” said my grandfather.  “But they are identical to these, so that shouldn’t be a concern, there won’t need to be a reading of the will to my knowledge, unless some family member contests what is in here as being unofficial.” The wills were very simple and straightforward. They named my grandparents as long as they were alive the executors of the estate and that they would be responsible for the financial aspect, clearing up all of the bills and the like, but all of the possessions were to go to me, house included. I had a feeling that this might have been the case, and I was not terribly excited. They had so much stuff, it was going to be an exhausting process to assess everything. The thought of getting all of it for myself, I was less than thrilled. I made this very clear to my grandparents. It was something that I knew was going to be utterly exhausting to deal with. "I have no idea what to do with the house,” I said.  “It seems weird to pay for utilities and stuff and not be living here, but it isn’t like renting it out when it is full of stuff is a possibility either." "Well there would be no rush to make any sort of decision on that," said my grandmother. "You could go to school here and live her for essentially nothing by yourself if you wanted." "I have already moved to Eastern got settled for the most part, I might as well try and stick things out there for at least a while you know?" I said. "True, just know that the house is here for you," she said. "I think we could spend a good bit of time down here from Port Townsend if we wanted to, to try and make sure the house is maintained" "I wouldn’t want you to feel forced to do anything like that,” I said.  “We have plenty of time to figure everything out, it isn’t like the house is going to get foreclosed on or anything, just have to keep up on the utilities." “True, and that isn’t so bad, utilities, property tax, homeowners insurance, all things that are easy to deal with, compared to dealing with a mortgage company and changing all that documentation,” said my grandfather.   “Do you know what sort of financial situation my parent’s were in?”  I asked.  “I knew as a family we weren’t poor, but I have no idea what things looked like financially for them, am I going to have to worry about the money to pay for any of the stuff with the house?”

“We would have to find bank statements, but between what they had in the bank, investments, your dad’s retirement through Portland State University, as well as whatever life insurance policies they both had, I don’t see any reason why you would have to worry,” said my grandfather.  “As best as we know, they didn’t have any real debts, the house and the cars are both owned outright, so I feel that things should be pretty comfortable.” With that we began to sift through the mountains of paperwork that I knew my grandparents would have to assess to figure out what sort of investments, insurance and the like my parents had, to close accounts and get the money to me, or to bills or whatnot. I felt very lucky that they were willing to do this for me. At 18 I knew there was no way in hell I would be able to go through all of this on my own and actually have any sort of real idea at what I was doing, it was a huge relief, almost a weight being lifted off my shoulders.  If it was just me having to deal with all of this on my own it would have been horribly overwhelming.  It was bad enough as it was.   We left my grandfather in the office to make an attempt at organizing the papers and Sara my grandmother and I progressed through the rest of the house. There was so much random stuff everywhere.  Remnants of my dad’s work was everywhere, books, boxes of photographs, printouts of historical maps of cities, there was stuff of his in nearly every room. I knew that there was not any real room for anything in Cheney, and it wasn’t like urban planning what I was going to school for either.  I didn’t want to jump into things, throwing things away, given that at present we didn’t know for sure what was going to be relevant and what wasn’t.  Some of my dad’s stuff may need to go to some of his work colleagues if it was related to stuff that he had been researching, or stuff for classes.   Having my parent’s house meant I would also be able to come back to Portland whenever I wanted and not have to worry about a place to stay which would be very nice. The thought seemed so foreign in my mind that I actually was going to own a house, such a drastic change from a few days earlier. I was not about to complain, the change of events was obviously going to drastically change my life, I just hoped more than anything that it was going to be a change for the better. I could hardly see that it could make things any worse, but only time would tell. We went out to the garage, sitting there was my mothers Subaru Outback, she loved that little car. I had only driven it a few times, but it was fun to drive, and likely a lot more reliable than my own car.  Still, I loved my Plymouth Arrow, no matter how shitty it might be. The garage was a mess, but that seemed to be the nature of garages. All of the yard tools, lawnmower and the like as well as all of my dad’s other tools, many of which sitting unused for years.  Stuff bought specifically fro a given project and then never needed again. There was camping equipment, a small tent and sleeping bags that had had been heavily used over the years. Those I thought could actually make their way back to Cheney in case I ever got the burning desire to go camping. It seemed like a good option to have, and with not having to share a room with anyone at present I had ample extra space to store things. Other than that in the garage there was a freezer of food that there was very little that I could actually do anything with, there was the yard furniture, a table and six chairs, as well as a propane grill and a smoker.  Those would obviously stay here, not anything I could use up in Cheney. "I can’t see any reason to get rid of anything out here," I told my grandmother.  “Maybe the cans of old paint, but the tools and the yard stuff, it would be silly to get rid of that.” "That sounds good, even some of the tools you may not need or use, at least you will have them for the future if you move back to Portland," she said. "There is plenty of room to store them and if you decide to sell them that would be alright as well." I was never a big fan of some of my parent’s furniture choices, and I felt that if I was to keep the house, I would want to replace a lot of it.  True, that would cost a good bit, even if I was to get most of the new stuff from IKEA.  Not that I really gave a damn about the financial aspect, all I cared about was removing the stuff that I know I was never got to use, or that I didn’t like the looks of. The housewares it made sense to keep, the clothing, not so much. By the middle of the afternoon we were all exhausted, it had been a more or less productive day all things considered.  I was glad that there wasn’t any sort of rush to get through all of this.  It was so comforting to know that I could take as much time as I wanted and that I didn’t have to worry about being out of the house by a specific date. We deiced that it was time to call it a day and start trying to figure out dinner, that was perfectly fine by me, figured we would go pick something up and then once again probably call it an early night, which after all of the hectic work, it only made sense.

When we got back downstairs from my parent’s room I was shocked to see steaks and the rest of a complete meal sitting on the table waiting for us. Apparently my aunt and uncle figured that since they weren’t helping with going through things  that they might as well cook us dinner for when we were done.  We had been so preoccupied with everything around the house we didn’t even notice. We all were shocked, they were not noted for always being the most helpful people, but this was a nice change. We were all starved, and the food looked and smelled wonderful. We thanked them and all sat down at the table to enjoy the tasty meal. Everyone had a tired look on their face, tomorrow was going to just as hectic.  My grandmother said that she had finally been able to get a hold of my paternal grandparents in Wales, and that they would be flying in to Portland in a couple days, as well as my Aunt Soren.  Nobody had been able to get in contact with my Uncle Lloyd so it was unsure if he was going to be making the trip for the funeral or not.   After dinner I headed to the couch and just sat there, exhausted, half expecting to fall asleep right there. Sara came over and sat next to me, and said that I should probably call Grace and let her know how things were going here. I really was not in the mood to be on the phone right now, but she was right it was something I should do, even if I didn't want to. I really did not need to come across as an insensitive jerk, at least not now anyways, I told her I would keep her updated so I knew I should. I fumbled around for my phone, headed up to my room and gave her a call. She picked up on the second ring, which surprised me, nobody ever picked up that fast when I called. "Hey sweetie, is everything going alright in Portland?" she asked before I could even say hello. "For the most part, just going through stuff here, my dad’s family will be here from Wales within a couple days," I said. "Also I saw the will today, it looks like I get more or less everything, even the house." "That's wonderful, are you going to move back to Portland?" she asked. "Not right now I don't think, during the semester I will probably be going back and forth a lot, perhaps taking my RA up on a policy that allows me to not take classes because of their deaths, I am not sure,” I said.  “I don’t know if I want to move back here now, I feel like I should at least give things at Eastern a shot and see how I do.” "That might be a good idea, give you a chance to get your head settled ya know, this has been pretty damn traumatic for you, even if it doesn't seem like it now, this is a really major thing going on right now for you and it is bound to catch up with you in the next moth or so, and having classes in the way might not be so good for you," she said.  “It will be nice for you to have a place in Portland to go if you ever want to go back though.” "You are right about that, I do get that feeling that in a while everything could come crashing down, I sure as hell hope it doesn't though, that is the last thing I need," I said.  “I have never lost anyone that was this close to me before.” "True, but you have to grieve, it is not healthy not to you know,” she said.  “Just do what comes naturally, you will have days where you don’t feel like doing anything and on those days you shouldn’t force yourself to." "I will I promise," I said. "Everything going alright with you back in Cheney?" "More or less, I miss you, everything is just kinda boring right now, Elizabeth hasn't been around, shes has been seeing a couple family members over in Pullman so I have had the place to myself and I am a little lonely." "I'm sorry, I wish I was there." "I know you do, but you need to be in Portland right now, you know that." "I know, I know," I said. “I should probably let you go for now, still have stuff to get a little bit done before I crash in bed." "It's alright I know you do, be safe, and take care sweetheart, I will see you when you get back." "Alright, have a good night,” I said as I disconnected the call. It was good to hear her voice again, Sara was looking over at me when she saw me come back into the living room, she could see the smile that I was trying to hide on my face. I know she could tell that there was something between us. Even though I didn't know what that something was. I was sure as well that there was indeed something there, and hopefully it would be something good once I got back to Cheney. I was looking forward to going back but not at all really wanting to leave Portland right now, it was a very odd situation, but I knew it would all manage to work itself out somehow in the end. "You like her don't lie," said Sara, who walked into the room." "Yeah, I do, its probably pretty obvious," I said. "Well the smile sure as hell is a pretty big tip off," said Sara. "She sure as hell better treat you well, if not I won't be pleased," said Sara "You don't need your first relationship away from home ending up being a disaster, I know how little fun that is, promise me that if you ever have any issues or anything call me, you know I am here for you." "I promise, and thank you," I said. "I am so glad that you live so close, it will be nice, I really wish that we could have been a closer family, it is a shame that my parents did not want to be." "That's how they were, nothing can be done about it, at least not now, but we can try and make things stronger between all of us now, don't you worry alright?" asked Sara. "I won't I swear," I said. We both kicked back on the couch to relax and make a general attempt to enjoy ourselves watching a crappy early season football game on the television, Bowling Green taking on the University of Minnesota, two schools we both knew nothing about, but at least it was something to take our mind off of everything else going on around us thank god.  It was a decent enough distraction then again at this point pretty much anything was a welcome distraction from everything going on around us.  I really wish things would return to normal.  I was still trying to figure out if I would head back to Cheney after the funeral or stay in Portland for some time afterwards.  I felt that going back might be the best bet, and then heading back to Portland as needed on my own.  I knew that if my grandparents were able to handle a lot of stuff it would be better in the long run anyways.   Even though it was still early much like last night we were both still quite tired and felt that calling it a night rather early would still be a very wise choice.  I hoped I would sleep as well as I did last night. I felt even more tired, it had actually been a physically busy day after all, which was far more tiring than just sitting in a car all day.  Right now the whole sitting in the car thing did not seem so bad, still boring but a lot less tiring than actual physical labor.  

We folded the couch back out and got ready to call it a night.  I fetched Sara an extra blanket, and I headed back up to my own room.  I decided to read a little before bed, but first I checked my phone, and saw a few text messages and missed calls all from Eva. E- What happened, how are they gone? Call me E- I’m so sorry, please call me when you can E- It doesn’t matter how late, please call me tonight As insistent as she was I felt that I should call her back for sure.  It was late though, past midnight in Minneapolis, but I was hopeful that she would be up.  I pressed the button to call her back and waited. “Kenrick, thank you so much for calling me, what happened?” she asked. I told her everything from the last couple days, how I found out about the accident, coming home to Portland with my Aunt, the not knowing for sure when the funeral would be, and everything else.  It was so much easier to talk with Eva than it was with Grace, because Eva had been around my parents a good deal, and she knew how my relationship with them was and everything.  Hell she had met most of my family in the couple years we were together. “Do you want me to try and come back for the funeral?” she asked. “I would love it if you could, but you just got to Minneapolis and how practical would that be for you to come back here just for it?” I asked. “Who cares if it is practical, I feel like I should be there,” she said.  “I am going to call my parents and let them know about everything if that is alright?” “Of course that is alright,” I said.  “I just don’t want you feeling obligated like you have to come back here for the funeral if it isn’t the easies thing for you to do.” “I will let you know, but I will do everything I can to make it back,” she said.  “I miss you.” “I miss you too, a lot,” I said.  “I really wish we could have ended up going to school closer together.” “You and me both,” she said.  “It would have been nice, especially in a time like this, however I am glad you are in school so close to home so it was so easy for you to get back on short notice.” “Me too,” I said.  “It helps a lot.” “Being out here in Minnesota away from everyone has been a little hard on me so far,” said Eva.  “It isn’t that I haven’t liked it out here this first week, it is just really overwhelming going somewhere so far away where I don’t know anybody at all.” “Well you know you can always talk to me,” I said.  “Even though we aren’t together anymore that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.” “Thank you, that really means a lot,” said Eva.  “You have so much going on right now, I don’t want to be a burden or anything on you.” “You could never be a burden,” I said.  “You will always be very important to me.” “I appreciate that,” said Eva.  “I will call my parents shortly, let them know about what happened, and see if it is possible for me to fly home for the funeral whenever that is.” “Sounds good, just let me know what is going on,” I said.  “Once we have a more concrete idea on when the funeral is I will let you know, I would imagine next week.” “Of course,” she said.  “Try and I have a good night, I miss you.” “You too,” I replied. It felt good to talk with Eva.  We hadn’t spoken much since things ended between us, which made me sad.  From going from talking near daily for a couple years, to this, was just a pretty drastic change in a short amount of time.  I wished that things would have been different for us.  If we could have ended up going to school closer together things likely would have been very different.  Her getting the chance to play hockey at the University of Minnesota though was not something that should be passed up though.  I was so incredibly happy for her and everything she had achieved. I headed up to my room, and hoped that I would be able to sleep some tonight.  Reading for a while helped to make me a bit more relaxed than I had been.  Finally I managed to slowly drift asleep, within a couple hours though I woke up and at first shot up in bed to a sitting position trying to figure out where I was.  Being in my own room, I don’t know why I felt like that.  Maybe it was because the last few days had been so damn stressful.  I knew I needed to try and get a decent nights sleep.  I hadn’t slept well since I left for Cheney.  Between the hotel bed, the dorm bed, and then everything since then, sleep hasn’t been something that was coming easy, or in any sort of restful manner.  

[inn-oceanid]

Being friends with Kunikuzushi ?

Headcannons

Beware of typos and grammatical error cus it’s 4 am-

Kunikuzushi not Scaramouche.

Okay how do I start.

Being friends with the prototype of the Shogun, you of course wouldn’t know that.

It was the time you first saw him walking around in Inazuma City, with a couple of soldiers guarding him. He looked foreign, perhaps it’s because you’ve never seen anyone like him around.

You were at Shimura’s with a couple of friends, the group of soldiers caught your eyes, but what made lay your eyes on was him. His innocent looking face, his long hair, he was quiet. You had subconsciously waved your hand at the boy.

Sadly, he didn’t wave back but just looked at you, his expressions didn’t changed, he wasn’t surprised, confused, but was curious. Why were you doing that to him? Why were you waving your hand, he thought. But after that, his curiosity had never left him until he went back to his creator in Tenshukaku, after his stroll.

He told Ei about this. He told her that there was a girl, who waved at him, down at a restaurant.

“It was very fluttering..” he giggled quietly while placing a hand on his chest, feeling his chest warm up.

Ei who somehow got confused but as well as curious about the puppet’s sudden change of demeanor, she ordered her army to accompany Kunikuzushi every morning to take a stroll and perhaps.. meet with you, the one he was talking about.

“Look after him. He is yet able to communicate with humans, speak for him if you think you must.” Ei didn’t know why, but she felt like she has to. There was something with her prototype’s voice that she couldn’t exactly point out.

The army did what they were told to do, two to three men had took Kunikuzushi down to Inazuma city, to Shimura’s, to you. Kunikuzushi didn’t know about it, he never had an idea, he just followed his creator’s army quietly, without a single thought about anything.

And once he saw your figure once again, his mind that was once empty had immediately been filled up, all about you.

The soldier told him to take a seat one chair away from you and ordered Sakura mochi.

You were looking at him, with this very happy smile plastered on your face as your friends who were beside you would grin and tease about. Do you like him or something? —Awhhh, love at first sight.

But you were ignoring them and decided to speak with the quiet boy, “Are you new here in Inazuma?”

No reply. He just stared at you, but he fully understood your question.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you before, why do you have shogunate armies tagging along.”

“They’re.. my creator’s soldiers.” He softly spoke, eyeing on the mochi.

His reply, hearing his voice made you more excited, although you didn’t understood what his ‘creator’ meant. You didn’t mind, you kept on talking and moved beside him. You showed him the menu, “I think you’re new here. Let me recommend you something really good!” “—Mr. Shimura, can I ask for four egg rolls please?” The owner of course, said yes.

Kunikuzushi liked your energy and enthusiasm. It made him smile, not even knowing why. And you saw how he smiled, he made yours double. You liked him.

This has became a routine, you two would always meet up in the restaurant and talk about many stuffs, since you had a lot of topic in mind, you would never run out of ideas.

Kunikuzushi was innocent than you expected. In a good way. He’d give you the softest smiles and laughs, he’d be amazed and surprised even with the smallest things, he was very nice. And for him, you were his very first friend, after he was created. You were his warmth and energy.

The soldiers knows how you two are close, they’ve watched the two of you. They couldn’t help but be happy for the puppet, they’d tell stories to their shogun.

Kunikuzushi likes it when you pat him, when you shake his shoulders, when you hold his hands. He likes everything you do, the conversation, the strolls, he likes you.

After Ei heard about different but good stories every morning, she then ordered the army to grant you a special invitation to the Tenshukaku. The place is not really fun to look or to be at, but, if you have the access to meet Kunikuzushi anytime, wouldn’t that make things for the two of you a lot more easier? And of course, she still wasn’t sure why she feels like doing these.

You were surprised to see the shogunate army I’m front of your house, looking for you. You panicked to be honest, you didn’t know what you did wrong.

—they only told you about your access to the Tenshukaku anytime to hang out with your friend.

So you’d visit him every evening and bring him small gifts whenever you can. You two usually sit on the stairs or near the statue of the Archon, watching the reflection of the moon wave on the ocean.

Kunikuzushi liked your company, he had grown to adore it, and adore you each day. He was contented, he was happy.

“Hey when we grow up a little bit more older, let’s travel nations together!”

“Nations?” He asked.

“Nations. There are seven nations here in teyvat, Inazuma too is a nation! Outside Inazuma, when you cross huge parts of the water surrounding it, you’ll see places that are completely different from how Inazuma looks! Like Liyue!” “—We’ll travel there soon, okay? That’s a promise.” You brought your pinky.

He brought out his too, but wasn’t sure about what to do so he eyed his finger, as well as yours.

You then intertwined your pinky with him and smiled. —he smiled back, at you, at the promise and at the reflection of himself that he sees from your shiny orbs that felt deep the longer he looks. You smiled at the thought of traveling with him, while he smiled at you.

Ei watched you two from a far. She couldn’t help but to smile as well. She watched her prototype develop feelings, and grow. —although, as she watches, the more she understood that Kunikuzushi was somehow fragile. A little fragile to be her soldier, to be her tool, nor to be a human.

[rainbowcolored7]

Okay, now that I've had some time to rewatch and mull over all the information we have so far, I'm going to try and lay out my thoughts. It's gonna get long, I'd meant to do a strictly novel analysis of the scene before it aired, but life got in the way as usual. But I'm kind of glad, 'cause now I can compare the two.

There will be discussion of both the show and the novel below the cut, so if you're not interested in the novel or spoilers please pass this post by.

I'm going to start this off by saying that I am truly happy with the changes they've made in the show when it comes to the consensual aspect of the story between Kinn and Porsche. Also, as a warning, I'm going to be pulling personal experiences out to try and get my thoughts across properly. And, I don't do posts like this, like ever, so sorry if I make zero sense or talk way too much. I just have a lot of thoughts, and on the rare occasion my brain allows me to comprehensively share those thoughts, I need to take advantage.

Let's start this off from the beginning of episode 4. Porsche wakes up in Pete's bed, knows he kissed someone, can't remember, and spends the rest of the first half of the episode trying to piece things together. I know we like to joke about Porsche having a single braincell (and honestly sometimes boy... lol) but he's not an idiot and he does know how to read people. You can't be a good bartender or survive taking care of your family, young and alone, without having a decent grasp on human nature.

I think when Kinn called him up to the balcony and started asking him questions he left that conversation with a flickering of oh, I remember something happened and now Kinn is acting strangely (a theme he vocalizes later in the sauna). I think he's thinking, what did I do this time to make Kinn act so strangely (soft and flirtatious and joking around) towards me?

After he sees Kinn with his escort, realizes Kinn is gay, remembers what happened on the pier, and that what happened wasn't something he did but Kinn kissing him, he asks Pete if you should kiss someone you don't like (and the subtitles changed so don't at me...) , or aren't in a relationship with (or perhaps intentionally pursuing because you like them). Now, obviously, you can kiss people you don't like, but perhaps are just physically attracted to, and I'm sure something is lost in the translation. That or I'm just reading too much into it and Pete saying you only kiss people you like, 'cause baby boy, that ain't true. Side note, I have a feeling Pete might come to realize it isn't true when we get to the point of him with Vegas, but that's an entirely different egg to crack open. (I have also not read that far.)

Now, here, is where I want to point out just how differently Porsche reacts to what happened and how fucking ecstatic I am that they changed it completely. In the novel, Porsche struggles with a lot of internalized homophobia, though he's okay with Yok, who is trans, he mentions it took him some time to be okay with her, but he still recoils at people he thinks might be gay or someone of the same gender expressing interest in him. He frequently compliments men's looks, not just in a friendly way, and thinks about how attractive some men are, Kinn especially. In the novel, once he really realizes he's physically and sexually attracted to Kinn, Porsche has a fucking meltdown of an internal crisis over it. He even goes as far as hitting on all his guy friends trying to reason out why Kinn would be behaving the way he is towards him, and why he kind of likes it (but doesn't, but does, but doesn't etc.). The boy is a mess and in complete denial.

I'm assuming a lot here, and reading between the lines, but how I interpreted it was, Porsche had, at some point in his youth, like a lot of queer youth, gotten a lot of negative feedback about same sex attraction that really dug into his bones, and so whenever he feels anything more than friendship towards another man he freaks out and tries to bury it, all the while wanting it so badly he can't stop himself. i.e. kissing Kinn back and allowing Kinn to essentially do whatever he pleases while being vocally grumpy about it. In the novel, he doesn't know who he is when it comes to his sexuality, he's deep in denial about being bi, and actively fights against it.

The show ripped that all away and gave us the true chaotic bi king we love and adore, and who he should have been in the novel imo. Show Porsche is open, honest to a fault, accepting, understanding. Now, we haven't gotten verbal confirmation that Porsche is bi in the show, but from everything I've witnessed so far I feel safe in saying he's bi, pan, or just plainly doesn't give a fuck as long as he's getting pleasure from his encounters. He seems open to Kinn's attraction as well as his own, though to say for certain we will have to wait until episode 5, where I'm hoping they touch on this subject some more, and I hope it's on the good side in line with the changes from novel Porsche we've gotten so far. (I'm down for some turmoil about him having sex with his boss, but please keep the biphobia out please please).

As much as I'd like to get more into the lead up to the real juicy stuff, I just don't have the energy. So, let's get into the gritty of it, shall we? The drugging scene. We finally made it here. A lot faster than I was expecting? Absolutely. Does it still feel organic after the previous three episodes? If Kinn hadn't said Porsche had been at the compound for a month, yes, but since he did, no.

Porsche has been with Kinn, Khun, the other bodyguards, for a whole month. He's been learning, adjusting, actively trying to become a better bodyguard. The reasons behind his change of heart seem to be him finally coming to the realization of what a serious situation he's landed himself in. It's life or death, his life isn't the only one on the line here, it's everyone around him as well. He's clearly beginning to really care about the well-being of his fellow bodyguards (mainly Pete, Arm, Pol) and Khun and Kinn.

Also, after episode 3, it was clear to me that Porsche finds Kinn physically attractive, and I do believe wanting some kind of approval from Kinn was another motivator. He's curious about Kinn, he's attracted to him, he's leaning into it.

Kinn, poor baby, is having a beautiful emotional crisis, and a lot of that I think is thanks to Mile really pouring his entire being into fleshing Kinn out and turning him into a "well" rounded person rather than the power hungry, totally domineering, bastard asshole, very surface, no depth, Kinn we have in the novel. The changes they've made to Kinn are fucking delightful, and I'm adoring the added depth and emotional vulnerability they've given him.

In the novel, Vegas sexually assaults Porsche. Without penetration, but Kinn does find him in his underwear with marks all over his body. This was one of the parts I was most worried about them adapting in the show. (I will note here, I have not read past the official translation of 1/4 of the novel--which ends with my favorite spicy scene so far and god I hope they give it to us!--the rest I have sought out from fans so it's not a complete picture). The change they made was nice (as nice as beginning to assault someone can be...), and I'm glad we didn't have to go that far. They've clearly changed Vegas a bit, though how much is yet to be seen. I'm holding my judgment for now.

Kinn's internal monologue during the drugging scene is, well, rough to say the least. But that can be said for the novel as a whole. Reading it felt like reading a fic written by a teenager from the early 00's, and not in the good way. Kinn seems like a consent King, but after telling Porsche he'd stop if Porsche told him to, he doesn't. He fucks Porsche all night long, to the point of needing to take him to the hospital the next day because he's bleeding heavily and in a lot of pain. It has its hot moments, but it's rough and gross, and I'm so glad it's been changed in the show.

What the show gave us is stunning in comparison. What the show gave us is fucking beautiful imo. Porsche, after remembering Kinn kissed him, after witnessing him with his escort, after listening to Pete, Porsche takes all of that information and once again, leans into it. He goads Kinn, he flirts with him, he asks him questions not any normal bodyguard would ask. "If your brother didn't give me up, would you even think to take me back?" Any other guard wouldn't give a shit, but Porsche needs to know. There are so many reasons this could be, but I think the main factors are a need for approval, his newfound desire to protect this family, his attraction and curiosity for Kinn, and a need to prove himself as a competent man, which he is in all rights when he puts his mind to something.

There's also something to be said about an unspoken and underlying desire to be cared for, something Porsche has never really had for most of his life. He's always been the caretaker, for Che, for his uncle even. I know y'all noticed how good he is at taking care of Tankhun? It's because he's in a familiar roll, he knows how to do this with ease. Kinn on the other hand? Someone who doesn't need coddling and caring for? He doesn't know how to handle that, but after his initial rebellion, after seeing some different sides of Kinn, he wants back in. I think, subconsciously at this point, he sees how Kinn would take care of him and he wants it.

Yes, Porsche is drugged. Yes, being under the influence makes consent iffy, but it does not mean Porsche did not give his consent or wasn't able to. Porsche may not have given verbal consent, what he did do is give consent in every other possible way, and that is what Kinn responded to. Porsche joked with Kinn about wanting to see him naked, playfully slapped his hands away, and each time Kinn respectfully pulled back. Those examples are a clear lack of consent, and Kinn responded appropriately to them. But as soon as Porsche changed gears so did Kinn, still yet with reluctance because of Porsche's state and also his brewing feelings. It wasn't one-sided, it was a push and pull on both ends.

I know there will be some who disagree with me, and that's fine. I'm pulling from my own experiences here, and what I saw in episode 4 was consensual and not rape in the slightest. I've done a lot of things in my 30+ years that I'm not proud of, certainly, but even fall-over drunk, even sky-high on drugs, I was able to give and deny consent. Was it a good idea? Of course not. Do I have regrets? Some. But being young and reckless, well, me and Porsche seem to have that in common. I mean, Porsche is in his early twenties, and my early twenties were quite literally a blur of alcohol, drugs, parties, and bad (but fun) decisions.

Porsche was high as a kite, but he was also coherent. Porsche was the one pulling Kinn in. Porsche was the one verbally and non-verbally saying yes, please, I know you want this, I want it too can't you see? Let me show you. Not to mention, no sugarcoating, having sex when you're high is fucking awesome and, frankly, I don't think this is a first for Porsche. Also, I want to mention, and this is really important, if you throw up while you're high it does sober you up a bit. It dampens the experience and brings you back into your mind. I can say this with absolute certainty, I've done it several times.

Another thing I want to point out in regard to consent is Porsche never once told Kinn no. Never once did he tell him to stop. Porsche was smiling constantly, he was taking initiative, he was undressing Kinn himself, he wanted all of what happened. Will he regret it the next day? Probably. We will have to wait and see. But bottom line, the show changed this scene for the better, a lot better.

Anyway, this was less of an analysis and more of a thought word vomit 'cause I've been wanting to talk about this scene for weeks now, and I'm also sick and tired of people saying it was rape in the tags. Kinn did not rape Porsche. Porsche gave non-verbal consent, and yes it is possible to give consent when under the influence, even if it's not a good idea. This is not the hill we need to be dying on. Let's wait for VegasPete for that, shall we?

Please, do not fucking come for me. I'm down to discuss, but I will not respond to bullshit. Thanks. ❤️

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 8,347 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: the Greene farm Warnings: Language, violence, gore, attempted sexual assault, discussions of trauma, typical TWD A/N: This is Part 1 of the new miniseries! This should be 2 or 3 parts total, and it's kind of intense and a bit dark at certain points so heed the warnings ya'll. Summary: Y/N is considered quiet, standoffish, and even a bit odd by the group, but Daryl knows how much she does around camp to care for everyone. After a traumatic incident while searching for Sophia, Daryl starts to discover why Y/N is the way she is.

Your name: submit What is this?

The group was all sitting around the low campfire, eating some breakfast. The two Greene girls came out with baskets in hand. Beth approached Rick and held hers out. “We have some more eggs for you all. Our hens lay more than we can eat,” she said.

Rick gratefully accepted them with an earnest look and a nod. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”

“And some potatoes,” Maggie offered. Lori grabbed her basket.

“Really, you all are being so kind. If there’s anything we can do to help around the place just let us know,” she said.

Beth was looking off into the distance at you sitting alone, away from the group, your back to the farmstead. “What’s wrong with her?” she asked, without really thinking.

“Beth!” Maggie scolded her.

“Well, I—I just mean she never eats with ya’ll. She seems like she’s always off on her own,” Beth explained, a little sheepish from her sister’s scolding.

The rest of the group was looking your direction now too, many of them asking the same questions in their minds.

“C’mon, now. That’s enough,” Maggie said. “Daddy needs help with the laundry.”

The group watched them head back to the farmhouse and Shane was the next one to break the silence. “It’s a fair question,” he said, chuckling to himself wryly, glancing back over his shoulder at you before leaning in to grab another helping of breakfast. “She hasn’t exactly meshed into the fabric of the group, has she?”

“Shane, give it a rest,” Lori said sternly.

“No offense meant but I don’t think I’ve ever heard her say more than two words at a time,” Andrea said. “You can’t pretend like there isn’t something… odd there.”

Dale hummed. “Not that it’s really our business, but she’s never said anything about what happened to her before we found her out by the quarry. I’ve tried to ask her about her family, what she used to do before all this,” he shrugged vaguely. “Never got a thing out of her. That’s her right if she doesn’t want to talk about it, but it does seem a little strange.”

“That’s all I’m sayin’,” Shane said. “Somethin’ weird with that girl,” he trailed off.

Daryl stood up, annoyed. “Ya’ll are a buncha busy body gossips. If ya’d open your damn eyes for two seconds you’d realize she does more for this group than most of ya combined,” he growled. “She gathered that wood burnin’ in your fire right there. Them mushrooms mixed in with your damn eggs, who the hell ya think found those? Ya think they just magically appeared along with that stuff you’re usin’ to make tea every night?” He tossed his empty plate down on the grass and scoffed. “People who don’t trust easily usually got a damn good reason. ’M outta here.”

Shane watched him go in slight amusement, but most of the others looked a little ashamed of themselves. Daryl was right, of course. You did do a lot for the group. You just kept to yourself. You didn’t make a big show of bringing back some meat or foraged food. You never complained when Rick or Shane asked you to do something. You took more than your fair share of the night watches. And the fact that no one knew anything about your past, the fact that you didn’t talk much, didn’t need any explanation to Daryl. Based on his own background, he could guess there was a reason you were the way you were.

A short time later, Daryl noticed you gathering up your pack and grabbing your pistol and recurve bow. He wandered over as you were snapping your knife into its sheath at your hip. “Ya headin’ out to search again?” he asked softly. You and him seemed to be the only ones who hadn’t completely given up hope of finding Sophia. You simply nodded once.

“Alright,” Daryl drawled. “What’s your plan?” Asking a question that wasn’t a simple yes or no was always a toss-up with you. Half the time he’d get a short answer, half the time he wouldn’t.

“North side of the ridge,” you said. Your voice was always quiet and measured. The archer usually wished most people would talk less, but with you he always hoped to hear more. The little that you said was purposeful and deliberate. There was no idle bullshit.

He nudged his nose up in a nod at you. “Alright. I’ll start by that creek and work along the south side. We can be close by in case either of us gets into trouble with walkers,” he said.

You simply nodded again and gave him a long thoughtful look. You did that a lot. Daryl had the feeling there was a lot going on behind your eyes, but you never spoke any of it. Surprisingly, he never felt nervous or uncomfortable when you looked at him like that. He just hoped someday maybe you’d open up a little bit more. The next moment you had turned and were heading toward the tree line already. Daryl scrambled to gather his gear and set off after you.

He could see your figure ahead, disappearing into the brush and soon he couldn’t see or hear you at all. He set out along the south side of the ridge as planned, picking his way along the creek, scrutinizing every inch of ground and hoping for a shoeprint.

Along the north side you were doing the same. You frequently knelt to examine some little scrape in the litter or soil and as you went you filled the little cloth bag you carried with edible and medicinal plants, berries, and fungi. The day wore on with no sign of the little girl and your frustration and fear grew even as the sun reached its apex in the sky and started to drift back down toward the western horizon.

You turned and started picking a new path back, heading toward the farm now rather than away. The deepening shadows made detecting print or trail more difficult but you kept your focus sharp on the ground as you moved, your bow slung over your shoulder next to your quiver.

You were becoming tired when you noticed an impression in the mud. You knelt, one knee of your jeans sinking into the damp soil. It was a boot print, but certainly not left by Sophia. You stared at the detail of the sole impression and your brow drew down low immediately. You have everyone’s shoe designs memorized. It wasn’t one you recognized. Your eyes drifted up and you could see a worn trail through the underbrush and more prints, heavy in the mud. There were at least three men who had left this trail, and they weren’t walkers. The path was straight ahead with no stagger and you could tell they were picking their way through the underbrush. You crouched and started to follow the trail. You needed to get eyes on these people. They were awfully close to the farm… Close enough, certainly, to see the smoke rising from the chimney and your fire circles.

You ghosted through the woods following the trail, moving as silently as you could. You’d been on the path for probably ten minutes when you could hear careless, noisy movement ahead. You must have caught up with them. Your heart hammering in your chest, you stayed low and crept closer. As you moved around a partially downed tree you could finally see the shapes of two men ahead. They were scruffy and filthy, clearly living on the move in the woods. You needed a closer look. You wanted to see what kinds of weapons they had on them. If you could scout out the group, you could determine whether something needed to be done about them or not.

As you tried to shift to another patch of concealing cover, you didn’t notice your bow catching on a low hanging dead branch. By the time you felt the resistance it was too late. The whole branch pulled loose with a loud snapping sound as it bent and cracked other dried branches and twigs on its way down. The two men you had been watching spun immediately and had weapons raised, rifles pointed in your direction. You were swearing under your breath and instantly on your feet aiming your pistol right back.

“Well, shit! What the hell do we have here?” one of the men asked, shifting a little to get a better look at you. “You alone out here, sweetheart?”

You fell an immediate swell of anger and dread rising up in your chest.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” the second man asked, grinning and revealing teeth that were tobacco stained and yellow.

“What’s a fine little thing like you doing out here by yourself? Don’t you know it’s dangerous? There are all kinds of monsters in these woods,” the first man said, looking you up and down thoroughly. His companion laughed.

Fuck. This was bad. Why had you pushed your luck and crept in so closely? Now you were outnumbered and you knew there was at least one other man somewhere that you didn’t have eyes on.

Your chest was heaving with anxious breaths from the rush of adrenaline. The first man stepped a bit closer again and you responded by taking a measured step back, your pistol aimed squarely at his chest. Now what? Should you make a run for it? Would they shoot you? Based on the animalistic looks in their eyes you knew things could go very bad, very quickly if you couldn’t get the fuck out of there. Your mind was whirring.

Suddenly, you heard a stick crack behind you and you turned instinctively to see a third man now rushing you. He landed a fist into your jaw and your vision went black as you fell to the ground, holding onto your pistol as tightly as you could. The pain radiating from your jaw into your head was overwhelming. You blinked, willing the darkness to clear, but it lingered as you suddenly felt rough hands on you, rolling you over and ripping both your bow and rifle from your back.

You struggled blindly and managed to get yourself onto your back again as the darkness in your eyes faded instead to the outlines of blurred shapes. You could make out the shape of the man standing over you and you instinctively raised your pistol and squeezed several rounds which sounded like cracks of thunder in the close woods. You missed, the scene still foggy, and you immediately squeezed again and discharged another round but the man leapt down on you with a wild yell, knocking your arm to the side and pinning it into the ground. His weight pressed down on you and you were vaguely aware of an acrid smell filling your nostrils, causing bile to rise up in your throat. He pried your pistol from your hand and tossed it away into the brush.

You writhed beneath him, struggling to get clear of his grasp but he was much bigger than you and soon there was another set of hands on you. You were rolled onto your stomach again and your arms were pulled back behind you and held painfully tight.

“We got ourselves a wild cat here, boys!” one of the men laughed. “Get her up,” he ordered. You were pulled roughly onto your feet, still trying to blink away the remaining fuzziness in your eyes and struggling against your captor.

The first man, who seemed to be the leader, paced over, watching you with a look of satisfaction on his face as you still tried to fight loose. His rifle was now dropped casually by his side. He grabbed your chin cruelly and pulled it up so you looked right into his eyes. His fingers dug into the tender spot on your jaw where the other man had hit you. “Ain’t you a pretty little thing,” he murmured silkily.

You yanked your face from his grasp and he chuckled, glancing back at the other man standing just behind him. “She’s a good one,” he said, a sick smirk on his face. He looked back at you and his eyes roamed perversely over your body. “This’ll be fun.”

He turned violent and grabbed the front of your light cotton shirt, ripping it harshly down off one shoulder, tearing the breezy plaid fabric easily and popping off the first three buttons. The man holding you only tightened his grip. Your throat constricted so tightly it was hard to breathe. You felt like your heart was beating so hard that it would surely burst. You could feel everyone’s eyes on your newly bared skin. Next the leader withdrew a knife and pressed the point into the center of your chest just above your bra. You cringed at the feeling of the biting cold metal pricking your skin.

He stepped close into you and moved the knife up to your throat, pressing it to the side of your neck and drawing it lightly across your skin just enough to cut you. You winced and shut your eyes, trying to keep as still as possible with that blade to your throat and you soon felt a rivulet of warmth rolling down toward your collarbone. You opened your eyes as the knife left your throat and he slipped it under your exposed bra strap, rotating it and lifted up until the fabric started to separate along the sharp edge. Finally, it gave and the strap hung loosely down. He sucked in a hiss of breath through his teeth, his eyes hungry and crazed. “This will be a lot easier on you if you just cooperate. Then again… I like a woman with some fight in her,” he snarled. “Your choice.” His companions let out more appreciative laughter as fear twisted your stomach.

You felt yourself going numb. Suddenly, you couldn’t feel any pain anymore. You couldn’t feel the man’s hands pinning your arms back. You couldn’t feel the blood that was now running down your chest. Your eyes drifted to the leader’s cold, blue blade and then unfocused so the scene simply became a haze. And you suddenly realized that they hadn’t taken your knife. It was still in its sheath on your hip…

A short distance away, Daryl had been thinking that it was probably about time to call it a day and head back when he heard a series of loud gunshots. His body went rigid and he turned frantically, staring off into the brush. He strained his hearing to its limit. They’d definitely come from your direction. Abandoning any other thought, he sprung into motion, racing through the woods as fast as he could in the direction he thought the blasts had come from.

Back in camp, everyone else had heard the shots too. Shane turned and looked at Rick, his gaze intense.

“Were those gun shots?” Lori asked, fear in her voice.

“Yeah,” Rick said, rising to his feet and rushing to grab his gun from the stash of weapons in the RV. “Shane, T, Glenn, let’s go! The rest of you stay here!”

Hershel stepped out onto the porch and watched the group of men racing across the pasture toward the trees. He had a bad feeling in his gut. Maggie and Beth came out, the slamming screen door punctuating the piercing silence that fell after the shots.

Daryl smashed through the brush carelessly, his eyes scanning the ground for a trail, any trail, something to follow. Finally, his eyes locked on boot prints that were surely yours. He vaguely registered that there were much larger impressions in the soil too, several different boots much larger than yours. And they certainly weren’t from walkers.

“Son of a bitch,” he cursed under his breath. He froze and scanned the thick greenery. He strained his hearing again, listening for some sound, anything, to give him an idea of what was happening. Please don’t let me be too late, he thought frantically. He took off again but more cautiously, following the tracks you had clearly also discovered. Probably what had led you right into something…

Rick and the others were well into the trees now but Shane stopped everyone. “Rick, what the hell are we doin’ man? We don’t have a clue where Y/N and Daryl are. We can’t just go blindly crashing through here or we’re gonna end up in a bad spot too.”

Rick’s eyes frantically whirred over the seemingly endless tree trunks.

“Wait—I saw Y/N’s map yesterday. She had the whole thing sectioned out into search areas,” Glenn said. “Most of them were already crossed off.”

“Well, which ones weren’t?” Shane urged, checking to make sure there was a round chambered in his gun.

“Uhh—” Glenn’s mind raced. “I think—I think by that ridge, straight north of here. But I can’t be sure,” he trailed off.

Rick rubbed a hand over his face. They all listened for any sound, but the woods were oppressively silent now. “Shit…” he cursed under his breath.

“It’s the best we got,” T gasped, out of breath from the frenetic dash from camp.

Rick nodded. “Alright. Then we head north. Keep your heads on a swivel and your eyes peeled for any sign of Y/N or Daryl.”

Daryl moved as swiftly along the trail as he could. Suddenly, he spotted something lying on top of the litter out of the corner of his eye. Your pistol. Daryl grabbed it and the muzzle was still warm. Clearly, you’d been the one to fire at least some of those shots. “Fuck. Fuck…” He tucked it into his waistband and moved more cautiously now. His heart was pounding and sweat was pouring down his forehead. His knuckles were white on his crossbow. He rounded a downed tree and froze when he saw a dark shape on the ground ahead. His heart dropped into his stomach. Please don’t let it be Y/N… He was almost paralyzed with fear but he forced himself to take another couple steps. As he rounded the brush and straightened up, he knew it wasn’t you but his apprehension didn’t evaporate. It was a large man, clearly dead, completely covered in blood. The hair on the back of Daryl’s neck suddenly stood on end and he spun around, his crossbow up to his eye, ready to fire. But he dropped it involuntarily as he took in the scene before him, his jaw dropping partially open and his eyes narrowing as he tried to figure out what the fuck he was seeing.

You were standing there in front of him trembling from head to toe, your hands out in front of you with your knife clutched in one like it was a lifeline. Daryl could easily see the shakiness in your hands. You were completely covered in blood. Your clothing and skin were soaked in it, like you’d bathed in a crimson river. There was thick splatter on your face, neck, and chest. Your eyes were wide and fixed and you didn’t show any awareness that he was there in front of you. Daryl registered that your shirt was torn down from one shoulder and your bra strap had been cut. He didn’t need an explanation to know what the fuck had happened and rage swelled in his chest, stoking an intense fire. His eyes drifted down to two more bodies lying at your feet, each with uncountable stab wounds and one with his throat cut, his clothing drenched. The metallic smell of blood was in the air and Daryl could almost taste it on his tongue.

Still you showed no awareness that he was there. You seemed frozen, catatonic. He now registered that you had slash wounds through the fabric of your sleeves and cuts on your arms. Defensive wounds where you had blocked a knife attack. There was a purposeful cut partially up the hem of your jeans at the bottom, clearly from one of the men… It was nearly impossible to tell if you were hurt anywhere else because there was just so much blood…

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he murmured. “Y/N?” He took a cautious step toward you. “Y/N? Can ya hear me?”

Nothing. No reaction at all.

Just then Daryl heard the noise of several people in the woods nearby and he planted himself between you and the sound, raising his crossbow. “Ya better get the fuck outta here unless ya want an arrow between the eyes!” he roared.

Rick straightened up. That was Daryl. “Daryl?!”

Daryl gulped. “…Rick?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Shane, Glenn, and T! We’re comin’ to you! Are you alright?”

Daryl glanced back at you again. You were still just standing there shaking. “‘M fine. Wasn’t me who fired…” Daryl swung his pack off his back and dug inside it.

The men crashed through the underbrush and came into view, taking in the scene. “Oh my God.” The words spilled from Glenn’s lips. They were all glancing from the bloody bodies on the ground to your blood-soaked figure.

“Jesus Christ,” Shane uttered, pacing closer and bending to look at the slash wound in the one corpse’s neck. Daryl finally laid hands on his poncho and yanked it out of his bag. He turned to look at you and began approaching cautiously. “Y/N? It’s Daryl. Can ya hear me?”

Nothing.

Rick was slack-jawed as he looked at the scene. “Daryl… be careful,” he cautioned, eyeing the knife still gripped in your fist.

Daryl glanced back at him. “She ain’t gonna do nothin’ to me,” he drawled.

“Do you see this?” Glenn asked him urgently indicating the bodies. “This is insane. You don’t know that! She looks completely out of it, like she doesn’t even know we’re here!”

Daryl’s jaw clenched and he turned back to look at you again. “Don’t ya fuckin’ see her? She’s terrified. Look at her clothes. They were tryin’ to rape her,” he growled. “They deserve what they got.”

Shane straightened up from examining the bodies, glancing furtively over at you. “Maybe but… on the force, we’d call this ‘overkill’,” he said, backing up and exchanging a glance with Rick.

Daryl ignored him. “Y/N? It’s alright. You’re safe. Nobody is gonna hurt ya. Just lemme take your knife, okay?” There was no recognition on your face, your eyes still wide and fixed, until Daryl’s hand gently closed over yours and started to open your hand around the handle of your knife. He could feel you shaking beneath his fingers. “S’alright,” he said softly as your eyes landed on his face and then locked with his. Your brow drew down low, casting a shadow over the vaguely confused look on your face. As Daryl gently took your knife, he could see there was a very deep gash in your palm. It was bleeding heavily. He guessed it was either another defensive wound from you putting your hands up to stop one of the men’s knives or otherwise your hand, slick with blood, had slipped down onto your own blade when you’d been fighting them. “Glenn, get some gauze out of my pack and bring it over here,” he said. He spoke calmly and softly. He glanced back over at Glenn when he didn’t move from his slack-jawed frozen position. “Glenn. Gauze.” Glenn snapped himself out of it and went to Daryl’s bag. The archer gulped and draped his poncho over you, covering your ripped shirt. “S’alright,” he murmured again.

You didn’t take your eyes off his face. He wasn’t even sure if you realized the others were there. Glenn walked forward and handed Daryl the small roll of sterile gauze before backing up slowly. The look in your eyes was haunted and dazed and it left all of them feeling empty and concerned.

Daryl opened your hand flat and your eyes drifted down to watch him wrap the bandage over the wound on your palm. You couldn’t feel it. You couldn’t really feel anything, except Daryl’s hands on yours.

Shane turned to Rick. “Rick, what the hell are we gonna do about this? We can’t just waltz her back into camp covered in blood. You don’t want the others seein’ this… Carl? Lori? Or Hershel. Look at her. She looks completely unstable. This might be enough for him to kick us out right now.” He looked back at you over his shoulder.

Rick sighed heavily. “So, we’ll get her cleaned up first.”

Daryl was keeping one ear on the conversation going on behind him. “She needs stitches on this hand,” he drawled. “And who knows how else she’s hurt. Can’t see a damn thing on her right now. And since ya’ll are more worried about yourselves than her, I’ll take care of it. Why don’t ya just get the hell outta here,” Daryl growled.

Glenn stepped forward. “We are worried about her. But you have to admit that this is—this is—” He didn’t even know what word to use. Daryl just stared at him. You were hugging your arms around yourself now, still shaking. Your eyes were downcast, staring unseeing at the ground.

“Listen, I don’t give a shit what ya do. I’m gettin’ her outta here and taken care of.” He hastily shouldered his pack and his crossbow.

“Just—Daryl,” Rick started, pinching the bridge of his nose, the situation weighing on him heavily. “Clean her up a bit before you take her to Hershel to be looked over.”

The archer eyed him through a narrow glare for a moment before he nodded. He turned back to you, your frame swallowed up in his poncho. “C’mon. Let’s get ya home,” he said gently. Your eyes snapped up to his face again and you allowed him to lead you back toward the farmstead.

He picked a path carefully and finally the two of you broke out from the edge of the forest. The others back in the camp were staring at the tree line, wracked with nerves. Lori straightened up as she recognized movement. “Dale—someone just stepped out.”

Dale, standing on the RV, raised his binoculars to his eyes. “Oh my,” slipped from his lips.

“What? Who is it?” Carol asked anxiously.

“I think it’s Y/N and Daryl,” Dale said. “I can’t quite tell properly, but I think something is wrong with Y/N.” He squinted into the binoculars again. “My God. Her jeans are covered in blood and it—it looks like there’s blood on her neck, her face…”

Carol pressed a hand over her mouth. “Is she hurt?” she asked anxiously. “Was she bit?”

Dale shook his head, lowering the binoculars again. “They’re too far. I can’t tell what’s going on.”

Daryl looked up to see everyone standing almost in a line watching the two of you as you started across the field. He gulped and then put a hand lightly on your back, nervous and unsure of how you would react to the contact. He guided you toward his camp which was closest and was set apart from everyone else’s.

“C’mon and sit down, alright. We’re just gonna clean ya up a bit and then take ya to Hershel.” The look in your eyes was worrying him immensely but you sat down on a round of wood pulled up near the fire ring. He anxiously chewed on his bottom lip, trying to figure out how he could reassure you. “Hey. S’alright. You’re safe.”

You met his blue eyes and he finally saw some sense of relief in them. His stomach flipped at the way they softened and he nodded. He took in the sight of you in his poncho again and realized you’d need something else to wear to go see Hershel that wasn’t half ripped off you. “I’m gonna, uhh—” he cleared his throat nervously. “I’ll put a clean shirt out on my cot for ya. Ya can change in in my tent and then we’ll just clean ya up a bit, alright?” He knew better than to wait for a response and climbed to his feet and disappeared into his tent to set the clothes out. He dug around in his duffel bag until he found one that was still folded tightly, definitely clean, and he set it out for you. You watched the handsome archer reemerge from inside his tent and nod his head toward it. “Alright. Go ahead. I’ll just be right out here.”

He watched you get up and disappear, zipping the door behind you. He paced in front of the fire circle, rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip thoughtfully as the image of you standing there in the woods, frozen, absolutely soaked in blood with your shirt half torn surged forward in his mind and he felt another sickening swell of anger. Jesus. Things could have gone so bad with those men… and they were fucking lucky they were already dead when he got there.

The soft rustling of the tent fabric interrupted his thoughts and you stepped out in his long-sleeved flannel, looking a bit dazed still but more grounded. He nudged his nose up in a nod. “C’mon and sit down,” he said, gesturing to the round of wood again. You sank down on it. Daryl grabbed a bucket of clean water that had been warming in the sun all day. He grabbed a cloth from inside his tent and caught sight of your bloody and torn shirt discarded on the floor, feeling another tight twist between his lungs, like someone had tugged a knot there.

You watched him kneel down in front of you and sink the cloth into the bucket of water, wringing it out before bringing it close to your face. He hesitated short of touching you. “S’this alright?” he drawled.

You gave him a questioning look but finally nodded, just one slight tip of your chin. You closed your eyes as the fabric came in contact with your cheek and Daryl started wiping away the blood. The cloth stained crimson quickly. He cleaned the splatters from across your forehead and your nose and the spots on the other side of your face. With the red stains gone, Daryl could see the shadow of a deep bruise along the side of your jaw. Without thinking he gently clasped your chin and turned your head so he could examine it, a heavy shadow falling over his blue eyes. He sunk the cloth back into the bucket of water and wrung it out again, this time pressing it to the side of your neck.

Despite how gentle he was being, you involuntarily sucked in a sharp hiss of air through your teeth as the cloth found the cut on the side of your neck from the leader’s knife. Your eyes blinked open through your wince.

“Sorry,” Daryl drawled, pulling back to look at the wound. “Jesus… Those assholes had a knife to your neck?” he asked. It was rhetorical and he didn’t expect an answer. He wiped at the blood spatter and you closed your eyes again, trying to breathe deeply and still the trembling you still felt wracking through you. Daryl could hear a shaky quality in your breathing. Soon, your face and neck were clean and Daryl turned his attention to your hands. Your eyes were still shut as he rinsed the cloth out again in the bucket. “Lemme see your hands,” he said softly. You found the deep gravel of his voice comforting.

Out of everyone in your group, you usually felt like Daryl was the only one who really saw you. You’d wanted to get to know him better, but held yourself back. He seemed to seek solitude like you did, and you didn’t want to force yourself into his world.

He took your hand, your palm resting against his, and he swept the cloth lightly over the back of it and down each finger. The sensation sent goosebumps rising on your skin and you glanced up at the concerned and intent expression on his face curiously. You couldn’t even remember the last time anyone had shown you so much attention and care. He took your other hand in his now, the one with gauze around it and the deep gash in your palm. He rubbed the blood from the back of each finger and then flipped it over in his hand. He frowned as he noticed that your blood had soaked through the bandage. “Probably need stitches on this one,” he murmured softly. The cloth tickled over the underside of each finger now, sweeping off the ends. “Alright. Push up them sleeves,” he said, dunking the cloth into the bucket again for what felt like the hundredth time.

“What?” He was startled by your voice and his eyes snapped up to look at you.

He straightened up, one of his eyebrows quirking down at the question. “Ya had a buncha cuts on your arms. We need to clean ‘em up and check ‘em. See if ya need stitches anywhere else.”

You shook your head.

He gave you a questioning look for a long moment and chewed on his bottom lip. “Alright. Ya can do it. I’ll just go tell Hershel you’re on your way in, alright?”

You stared at him for another long moment as he set the cloth on the edge of the bucket, whose water was now stained a dark pink. You glanced up as he climbed to his feet and nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “C’mon up when you’re done and we’ll get that hand taken care of.”

Daryl started over toward the farmhouse and as he approached Carol rushed up to him. “What happened?” she urged him. “Are you okay? Is Y/N?”

He stopped, his hand on one hip. He glanced back out toward the trees and saw the rest of the group making their way back toward camp across the field. “‘M fine,” he drawled. “Y/N ran into some men out there when we were searchin’.”

“Men? What men? What happened? Is she alright?”

Daryl chewed his bottom lip and shrugged vaguely. “I don’t know how to—how to answer that,” he said truthfully.

Confusion muddled Carol’s expression and she glanced in the direction of you over at Daryl’s camp. “Well, what happened?” she asked again.

Daryl looked at her seriously and shrugged vaguely. “Y/N killed ‘em. Didn’t have no choice.” He continued his path up to the house and bounded up the porch steps, knocking on the front door. Carol stared after him, a bit shocked. Maggie answered, looking worried.

“Were those gun shots earlier?” she asked.

Daryl nodded. “Mhm… Hey, can your dad take a look at Y/N?”

“Of course. What happened?” she asked, holding the screen door open so he could step inside.

Hershel was there in an instant. “Daryl. What happened? We heard those shots.”

“Y/N and I were out lookin’ for Sophia. There were some men. She—she ran into some trouble.”

Hershel took a deep breath and nodded. “Is she alright?”

“I think she needs stitches in her hand. She took a good hit to her jaw too. Might have a concussion. I dunno,” he said. He anxiously chewed on his bottom lip again. “I know she’s got some cuts on her arms, defensive wounds, but she wouldn’t let me look at ‘em. Got a cut on her neck.”

“Oh my God,” Maggie said, her hand flying up to her mouth.

“What happened to the men?” Hershel asked.

Daryl quit chewing the side of his thumbnail. “Dead,” he said, watching the old farmer’s reaction closely, but the man’s face was blank. He simply nodded.

“I’ll get my kit. Have her come on in.”

Daryl headed back onto the porch to see how you were doing and you were on your way over. His eyes caught on the dark splatters and stains of blood on your jeans and the slit at the bottom. His stomach twisted. Maybe he should have had you change clothes completely… You were trying to ignore the eyes on you as you made your way over to the house.

Andrea and Lori exchanged a look at the state of your clothes.

“Come on in here and sit down,” Hershel said kindly. “Let’s take a look at that hand.” You offered up your gauze-wrapped hand and Hershel laid it out on the table, unwrapping the already blood-soaked bandage and taking a look at the deep gash. “Pretty deep cut here. Definitely need stitches.” He grabbed a needle from his kit and pricked the end of each of your fingers. They all twitched in response. “You can feel that?” You nodded. “Good. Looks like we dodged any nerve damage. Much deeper and you would have needed major surgery for a cut tendon and who knows what else. Maggie, dear, would you get the sutures set up while I clean this off?”

Nerve damage. Cut tendon. Daryl shifted uncomfortably in his spot leaned up against the wall. You hardly seemed to react to the news at all.

Hershel swabbed at your hand and you shut your eyes against the bite of the alcohol. “Now, Daryl tells me you took a good hit to the jaw. I’m just gonna check it and make sure nothing is broken.” He palpated both sides of your face, across your cheekbones and up your jawline. “Just a bit swollen,” he said. “Did you lose sight when you were hit?” he asked you, grabbing a small pen light and checking the dilation response of each of your pupils. You gulped and nodded. “Do you remember your name?” he asked you. You nodded again. “I need you to answer my questions verbally. I’m interested in your answers but also your speech.”

“My name’s Y/N.”

“When is your birthday?” Hershel asked.

You stared at him. “No one here knows my birthday. How will you know if I’m right or not?”

A small smile grew on Hershel’s face. “I’d say your speech and cognition are fine. Probably a mild concussion though with your eyesight blacking out. You’ll need to take it easy the next few days, rest and fluids, and let me know if you develop any new symptoms like vomiting or nausea, confusion, a worsening headache. Understand?”

You nodded again. “Yes. I understand.”

“Sutures are ready,” Maggie said.

Hershel put on a pair of clean gloves and prepared. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything to numb you,” he said, propping your hand up on a towel so he could see it better.

“It’s alright. I would have told you to save it anyway,” you said. Daryl straightened up from his place against the wall and came to stand next to you. You could feel his eyes on your face.

“You’re one tough cookie,” Hershel said. “Let’s get this taken care of.” You hardly flinched as he passed the needle through…

Outside, Rick and the others were just arriving back at camp. Everyone gathered around and seemed to read on their faces that they were all unsettled.

“Rick,” Lori said, grabbing him into a hug. “What happened? We saw Daryl and Y/N come back. Her jeans were covered in blood.”

Rick looked down at her. “Nothing to worry about. It’s been taken care of.”

“Well, what was it?” Lori pressed him, her eyes still a bit wide and fearful.

Carol spoke up. “Daryl said she ran into some men and they’re—she killed them.”

Glenn and T were avoiding everyone’s eyes while Shane let out a frustrated sigh and paced away from the group, disagreeing with Rick still about the decision not to tell everyone you had clearly gone slasher on those assholes. Provoked or justified or not, Shane felt like that was something everyone should know. He’d gone far enough to describe you as a serial killer before Rick had stood him down. Rick nodded and looked at his wife and then at Andrea and Dale. “Y/N was attacked and she dealt with it. Hershel is gonna patch her up and there’s nothing to worry about.

“What if there are more of those men?” Carol asked fearfully.

“We only ever saw three different boot prints out there,” T reassured her. “But we’ll keep watch like we always do. We’ll be fine.”

Everyone still looked uneasy, but settled back into their tasks. Lori was about to go fetch some more water when Shane grabbed her arm and tugged her around the side of the SUV. She gave him a stern look and pulled her arm from his grasp.

“What?” she snapped at him, a bit unkindly.

“Rick ain’t tellin’ you everythin’,” he said.

Lori just stared Shane with a guarded expression. “I trust my husband. And you used to, too.”

“Yeah, well… What happened out there today? It should concern everyone.” His expression was dark and Lori felt her sense of unease grow.

Shane rubbed a hand over the stubble on his face. “Y/N just—” Shane let out a sigh that had the edge of a growl to it.

“What are you talking about?” Lori pressed him in an undertone. “Are we in danger?”

Shane straightened up and pressed his lips into a thin line briefly before meeting her eyes. “Honestly? I don’t know. But I’m not taking my eyes off that girl.”

Inside, Hershel tied off the final stitch and snipped the suture. “All done.” He applied a layer of antibacterial ointment and wrapped your hand in a fresh dressing. “Try to keep it dry. And I mean it,” he gave you a pointed look, “take it easy for a few days. Daryl, you hold her to that. Anything else you need me to look at? Your arms? Daryl said—” You shook your head no. “Alright.”

The archer straightened up as you climbed to your feet. “Thank you,” you murmured to Hershel.

Daryl held the door for you and you cringed at how everyone’s eyes were on you immediately as you stepped out onto the porch. You avoided them and started heading in the direction of your camp. Daryl was still in step beside you and you hazarded a glance in his direction.

He could read a question in your eyes. “I’ll keep ya company for a bit if that’s alright... Besides, ya should be restin’ and somebody needs to make sure ya take care of yourself.” You didn’t say anything, but that also wasn’t a refusal. Daryl could tell you were still reeling a bit, and he wanted to be there just in case.

You arrived at your separate camp area and watched as Daryl immediately went and stirred up the coals in the fire, adding more wood and soon having a nice blaze going. You headed for your tent and glanced back over your shoulder at him. “Just gonna change,” you said softly. He nodded and went about heating something for you to eat along with water for tea. He was sure you had collected more ingredients and remembered that your bag was still sitting at his camp. He jogged to grab it and brought it back along with your bloodied and torn shirt, not sure what else to do with it. When he got back, you were sitting by the fire in clean and comfortable clothes, his shirt resting over your lap. You held it out to him as he dropped your pack beside you.

“Thanks,” he murmured. The fabric was still warm from your body. “Dunno what ya wanna do with this,” he said, holding yours out in turn.

You stared at it for a long moment before your fingers closed on it and Daryl watched as you immediately tossed it into the fire. In a moment, it was only ashes and embers. He sank down beside you and felt you studying him. He turned and met your eyes and was surprised when you spoke. “You aren’t afraid of me now? Like the others?” you asked softly.

“Nah. Why would I be?”

Your striking eyes focused back on the crackling campfire and the embers dancing upward on the warm torrent of air. “You saw what I did. Why wouldn’t you be?”

Daryl peered at you curiously for a long moment. “Ya were only protectin’ yourself. Can’t say I wouldn’t have done worse if I’d been there,” he drawled, and you could hear anger in the tension in his voice.

“I blacked out,” you said suddenly.

“When they hit ya? Ya, yer gonna have a good bruise tomorrow.”

“That’s not what I mean.” You cradled your injured hand absently in the other. “The last thing I remember was the one starting to cut my jeans and then—then I was just covered in blood and they were all dead. And next thing I know you were taking my knife from me.” You shut your eyes for a moment. “I don’t remember anything else.”

Daryl considered the regretful expression on your face. “Don’t matter. Yer safe. That’s what counts. Those men? They had it comin’.”

You looked up at him in surprise and he simply nodded and then grabbed a mug and filled it with hot water for you. You accepted it and dug into your bag, pulling out the small sack of foraged herbs from the day. You dropped a few berries and leaves into your mug and cradled it with your uninjured hand.

It was nearly sunset and the quality of the light was cooling, oranges turning to reds and then fading into deep purples and inky blues. You allowed yourself to frequently study the archer as he shoved a bowl of reheated stew into your hands or added more wood to the fire. You felt surprisingly at ease with him there and he didn’t seem at all bothered by the passing of so much silence. Maybe the concussion just had you slightly numb, but you didn’t think so.

“You aren’t going to ask me?” you finally said.

Daryl looked over at you and he felt a stirring in his chest at the way the firelight was catching the shine and colors in your hair and the soft shape of your lips. “Ask ya what?”

“How I—Why I—” You didn’t even know how to phrase it really.

Daryl watched you struggled for a moment. “Ain’t none of my business. But if ya wanted to talk about it, I’ll listen. Not gonna lie and say I haven’t wondered about what came before ya were with the group.”

You had been on the verge of speaking it but suddenly lost your nerve and sipped at your tea again. Daryl watched you withdrawing again and rubbed a hand a bit nervously over the back of his neck. Darkness had fallen completely now. “Well, I’ll leave ya alone. Yer probably sick of me anyway,” he drawled. “Get some rest, alright?” Daryl had climbed to his feet and started to head in the direction of his own tent but your voice froze him.

“It’s not that I want to be alone all the time…” Daryl could hear the crackling of the fire in the silence that followed. “It’s just that alone usually feels safer.”

He glanced back at you, turning partially. “Ya. I know the feelin’,” he said gently, pacing back.

You looked up at him and something about your expression, your wide eyes, went straight to his core. “Stay,” you said quietly. “Please.” You chewed on your bottom lip for a moment. “Being with you feels safer…” you admitted, timidly.

Daryl felt an ache in his chest and nodded. He grabbed a seat beside you again and puzzled over this unprecedented turn of events.

You seemed to come to some decision suddenly and looked over at him intensely. He caught your eyes briefly and then watched as you pushed up your right sleeve. At first all he saw were the knife cuts, crimson against your skin, but you turned your forearm toward him in the firelight. “This is what I didn’t want you to see,” you said. You gulped. You’d never told anyone, never shown anyone, literally never talked about what had happened to you since you got out. You’d vowed that you would just move on, but the longer you suffered in silence the worse it seemed to get, until you felt like it would consume you. And then today, with those men, you’d just completely lost it. It had triggered something, a memory or maybe more like a nightmare, and when you came to you were bathed in blood and didn’t even recognize yourself, couldn’t believe what you’d done. Enough was enough. Maybe if you spoke it, admitted it, dealt with it in some way… maybe it’d get easier.

Daryl stared at a scar on your forearm. It looked like a brand and the skin was still slightly pink, showing that it wasn’t that old. It was four numbers. 1048.