#express thumper

[sapphiel]

what species/race is thumper? (and how does he do the eye-bouncing thing?)

According to @splatjack himself:

Also his eyes just go down the black parts of his face however way he wants.

[creepymarshmallow3]

Small art of Thumper |° °|

[allaniscool]

It's been a while(again), but I have another silly animatic I made!

[cntplymyguitarr]

I hate that being queer always has to be a fucking THING. In a non-homophobic family, in a blue state, in the 21st century little me still had doubts. "maybe I just want attention." "maybe I just want to be cool" "im only doing this because all my friends are" spoiler alert dipshit, all your friends are gay because birds of a feather flock together! Straight people don't have all gay friend groups.

"But I only like girls sometimes!" Yeah, you only like boys sometimes too, that's called ovulation.

"What if i'm wrong" You are 13 years old I promise no one is holding you to the statements you make about yourself right now.

"I've never been with girls before" You've never been with boys before, you like girls, you think they are pretty and you want to fuck them, you also would like the entire world to know this because you're passionate about love like every other teenager.

"But what if I just have an affinity for women like a gay man." Yeah? you have an affinity for coochie? As like? and artistic expression??

Your mother doesn't have to be right about everything, the shitty adults on social media don't have to be right about everything. Teenagers do not "queerbait" that's not a thing. You know the consequences for liking women and that desire remains.

The reason you feel so uncomfortable with saying your straight is because straight women don't eat pussy! Not because you just want to say that your gay, it's because you know it's not true!

I wish I could just like women! I wish I could fantasize about them without it being a fucking political stance. I wish I didn't have to live with the knowledge that there's people who "love" me who think that I'm evil. I wish there weren't other queer people asking me to preform my sexuality! Fuck You! Your feelings about your own identity are not my problem!

[shalomniscient]

ever so often, arlecchino finds you outside in the house's sprawling garden surrounded by the children. at any point, you could be showing them any manner of creature you've somehow managed to grab (gently, of course). just the past week it was a crimson finch that had accidentally flown into the window, and before that it was some lizard (green horned, she can almost hear you say indignantly) that had unfortunately not managed to scurry away from you in time. the children all watch with rapt interest as you cradle the little critter in your palms, softly relaying the assortment of miscellaneous facts you have stored somewhere in that brain of yours. it's an endearing sight, and one that arlecchino indulges in whenever she has the time, or feels the fatigue of staring at inane documents press against the backs of her eyes.

today, however, she watches sat beneath the shade of a willow tree, one leg crossed over the other and fingers curled around the handle of her teacup. it is a rare day of reprieve, and she spends it here in the mild fontainian mediterranean sun, her typical uniform shed in favor of a billowy white shirt and slim-fitting, high-waisted breeches. something has piqued yours and the children's interest, and all of you gather near the garden wall. she can hear the children whisper excitedly as you crouch down, and then they gasp as you stand up.

she raises a brow in interest herself. whatever it is your holding, it seems a little larger than your usual finds. however, with the crowd of children around you, it's difficult for her to actually see what it is you're holding. you spare her a glance over your shoulder, then a minute tilt of your head. a wordless invitation; come. and she does, easily, a thorny bloom to the sun, setting her teacup down with barely a sound and rising to her feet. her heels have been traded for something more casual, and her typical imposing stature has reduced somewhat--though the children still obediently part when she approaches.

"anything of note?" she asks. she studies your face carefully; from the curl of your lip to the creases at the corners of your eyes to the slope of your brow. of all things, she finds it is mischief that inhabits your expression, and she mentally prepares herself for whatever ridiculously endearing thing you're about to show her.

that 'ridiculously endearing thing', as it turns out, happens to be a rabbit--a rather plush, black-and white rabbit, sitting perfectly content in your arms. you're supporting the creature with one hand beneath its chest and the other beneath its hind legs, holding it close to you. some of the children gently pet the downy fur along its back, and the rabbit's black-tipped ears twitch in response, almost pleased.

"we found a little guest beneath the hedge line," you answer, glancing down affectionately at the creature. "the children were hoping they'd be allowed to keep it."

arlecchino snorts. "the children, or you?"

"rude," you shoot back, though the smile on your lips is still present. "come now, we've already thought of a name."

"is that so?" she drawls, her eyes narrowing a fraction at the rabbit. its own eyes, previously closed in contentment, open, and almost seem to challenge her. her fingers twitch behind her back.

"it is," you say, and there's a lightness to your tone that arlecchino knows is a harbinger of some form of mischief. her eyes meet yours, and they gleam with mirth. arlecchino wonders if the sun is ever envious of the way it is outshone. "would you like to hear it?"

she sighs, looking away. "proceed."

"thumper seems rather cute, no?" you answer innocently, batting your lashes, and internally arlecchino cringes. thumper. a name from a popular children's book, one that even a woman as cruel as the former knave would keep in stock in her library. a name, famously, that was attributed to the companion of the book's titular character, bambi.

bambi, which was also the name of the spider she once had as a child.

you notice her brief foray back into her memories, and draw her back with a soft laugh. thumper's ear twitches, and the little beast nuzzles closer against your chest. "no? well, we could always name him after you. you both seem to look quite alike, wouldn't you say? hm, how about per--"

"thumper is fine," arlecchino cuts you off, exasperation underlining her tone. there is an almost-scowl on her face, though the relaxed line of her shoulders gives away her true feelings. "the... creature, can stay. so long as it is properly cared for."

the children whoop and cheer, and your eyes soften into a thankful, tender look. thumper, now thoroughly loafing in your arms, wags his stubby little tail. perhaps he is somewhat cute, arlecchino muses, extending a hand to smooth down his fur--

--only for the traitorous little beast to lean away, cracking open an eye to glare almost witheringly at her. you coo as he presses close, and arlecchino's eye twitches. she doesn't know if rabbits have the capacity to make smug expressions, but she's willing to swear upon the tsaritsa's name that the damn creature is making that exact expression at her right now.

in hindsight, it's been a while since she's had rabbit stew.

[pathologicalreid]

Hiii I was wondering if you could write a part 2 or a sequel to the fic your wrote a little ago called next of kin. I loved it so much 😊😊😊 thank u!!! <333

stepping up | S.R.

after taking custody of your younger sister, spencer steps up in his role as caretaker

part one

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: flangst content warnings: previous murder of parents, emphasis on not having a dad, maya is bffs with jack hotchner, spencer is an empath, not proofread word count: 1.58k a/n: for a while i wasn't giving my requests summary's but now im getting back into that because i realize I Got Too Silly. thank you for requesting! i love you!

You jumped as your younger sister slammed the door to the garage shut behind you. Keeping her purple backpack slung over her shoulders, she trudged up the stairs and retreated into her bedroom. The six-year-old was either unaware or uncaring of the way you immediately followed her path to the stairs.

In your periphery, you saw Spencer peek his head over the back of the couch, making quick note of your troubled expression before he snapped his book shut and joined you. Hesitating, you looked up the stairs at the landing, the dim light of her lamp left a pinkish glow at the bottom of her door, but there was no noise coming from Maya’s bedroom.

“She didn’t say anything the whole way home,” you murmured thoughtfully, placing a hand on your chin. You’d thought she’d be happy when you picked her up as a surprise – you and Spencer had just gotten back from a case a few hours ago. Your cousin – who usually took care of Maya when you were away – had offered to pick her up from school, but you hadn’t seen her in three days and needed to see her.

Gently, Spencer placed a hand on the small of your back, ushering you up the stairs with him trailing close behind. With the two of you standing outside the door, you placed your hand on the brass doorknob and let your hand sit there, listening closely as you registered the small whimpers emanating from inside your sister’s room.

Unable to tolerate it, you wiggled at the door just to find that she had locked it from the inside, “Maya,” you said, consciously keeping your voice soft. “I know that you probably want to be left alone right now, but we need to know that you’re alright,” holding your breath, you waited, hoping that she’d open the door on her own and you wouldn’t have to go hunting for the key.

You were afraid that she was being bullied, she transferred to a new school in the middle of the year and was frequently absent in the beginning, but they didn’t make a guidebook on how to ease a child into a new school following the death of both of her parents. Luckily, Maya was placed in the same classroom as Jack Hotchner, so you knew she’d always have at least one friend around.

Just as Spencer was asking you if you wanted him to go get the room key, the lock clicked and the door slowly opened, revealing your younger sister. Her backpack had been discarded on the floor and her face was bright red, she had been crying.

Shooting yourself in the foot, you hesitated. You just stared down at your sister while she lowered her eyes, watching the floor. Despite the fact that you and Spencer had more than willingly taken her in, Maya was still an orphan. She was a six-year-old whose most prized possession was a stuffed bunny named Thumper, but she was an orphan, nonetheless.

Next to you, Spencer knelt down to the floor, meeting Maya at her height. Tentatively, he reached up and took one of her hands in his much bigger one, “What’s wrong, Bambi?”

Your chest ached at the nickname he had bestowed upon her, keeping your eyes focused on the both of them as Maya retreated back into her room, yanking her hand out of Spencer’s and tossing herself onto her canopy-covered bed. Sharing a concerned look, both you and Spencer made your way into the room.

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you sat at the desk across from her bed, and Spencer sat on the flower rug that she kept in front of her dresser. You opened your mouth to speak, but before you got the chance, Maya blurted, “I don’t have a dad!”

Eyes widening, you seemingly choked on air as your eyes darted from where your sister was now sitting up on the bed to where Spencer stayed still, looking equally as startled as you. Jumping up from the bed, she dramatically dropped to her knees in front of her backpack, unzipping the largest pocket before producing a green folder and thrusting a paper in Spencer’s direction.

Smoothly, Spencer accepted the paper from your sister, turning it right side up in his hands before skimming the print. You wheeled the desk chair over in his direction, eyes flickering over the flyer as you realized what it was for. The school held an annual daddy-daughter dance for Valentine’s Day, and your sister had been handed a flyer.

Once you had gotten through the holiday season, you convinced yourself that you could get yourself and Maya through anything – evidently enough, that had been a mistake. This, this made you angry. The administration knew exactly what your sister had been through, and the fact that they still chose to hold this event.

Her biggest worry should be what theme she wanted her seventh birthday party to be, not being left out of a school event because she didn’t have a parent to go with. You checked the time on her Hello Kitty alarm clock, knowing that the school administration would still be around until the end of the workday, you made a mental note to call them and file a complaint.

Concerned with your next steps, you hadn’t even noticed that Spencer had shuffled across the floor, using his fingertips to wipe tears from her face as she looked up at him with big eyes – Bambi. “I could go with you,” Spencer offered, cupping her small cheeks in his hands as he knelt in front of her.

Frowning, Maya shook her head rapidly, “You are not my dad,” she insisted, stepping back and away from Spencer, she crossed her arms in front of her chest, closing herself off.

Your boyfriend nodded in acknowledgment, this had led to a lot of confusion, as Spencer didn’t want to take over the role of father in Spencer’s life, so Maya frequently introduced him to people as her brother. There were a lot of lengthy explanations as to who he actually was. “No,” he responded simply, “I’m not, and I don’t have any intention of trying to be your dad. You already have a dad, right?”

Stepping back toward Spencer, Maya nodded, “Yes, but he’s gone.” Her arms dropped back to her sides, and your chest ached at the euphemism.

“Did you know that I didn’t have my dad around when I was growing up either?” Spencer asked, speaking tenderly to your sister as he tried to navigate this situation. You stayed completely still, trying not to move lest you interrupt the negotiation process.

Maya’s eyes widened in surprise, “Really?” Her small voice came out in a whisper like the information that she and Spencer were sharing was a secret, Maya called whispering adult talk, because that was how you and Spencer always spoke about work.

Reaching up and gingerly tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, Spencer nodded almost indeterminately, “Mhm, not the same way that your dad’s gone, but I know what it’s like to not be able do all of the fun dad things. If you’re alright with it, we can go together to the dance.”

“You don’t have to,” Maya whispered timidly, the standoffishness she had displayed earlier completely replaced with nerves.

Your boyfriend nodded, “I know, but I would be honored if you would let me,” he said, taking both of her hands in his. “We don’t have to go at all, but I want to make sure you know that you never have to be nervous about asking me for things.”

She pondered this for a moment before giving a sly smile, “Can I wear a pretty dress?”

“We’ll get you a new one,” Spencer assured her, looking over at you as you sighed, holding a hand over your chest while tears pricked at your eyes. “Does that mean you’ll let me take you to the Valentine’s Day dance?”

Jumping up and down excitedly, Maya beamed and threw her arms around Spencer who, in kind, hugged her tightly, rubbing a hand up and down her back, “I get to go to the dance, and I have no homework! This is the best day ever!”

Laughing lightly behind your hand, you grinned at your sister who was, after all, only six years old. “Your sister and I don’t have to work until tomorrow, do you want to do something?” Spencer offered, reaching out his hand and pulling you over to the two of them, allowing Maya to tackle you to the ground in a bear hug.

“Can we go to the park?” She asked, looking up at you with wide, curious eyes.

You nodded, “Absolutely we can, and we could go out for dinner after too if you want,” you offered, looking over at Spencer as he grabbed the dance flyer and pinned it to a corkboard in your sister’s room.

She gasped in surprise, even though the two of you rarely told her no – one of the dangers of raising an orphan. “Can Jack come?”

Laughing lightly, you quickly realized that your trip to the park was going to become a BAU family affair while you rose to your feet, wiping your clammy hands on your jeans, “If his dad says yes, then we can take Jack with us.”  

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Chapter 26

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Mainly just pregnancy stuff

A/N: I hope I pulled this off while keeping our archer in character. Be gentle.

You knew it was bothering him, it was evident in the way he moved. The jerking slices of the knife as he made bolts while he sat cross legged on the old railing across from you. You were perched on the porch swing—he had all but jumped up and down on it to make sure it would hold you safely—just watching him, guilt flaring to singe the inside of your chest. He wanted to go on the run, get the things that you and the baby needed, but you were scared. Hershel had said the baby could come any day. It was at your insistence that Daryl wasn’t going. You didn’t have to try hard, mind you. He was worried about leaving you as well.

Still, it wasn’t sitting right with him for the others to be risking their necks for his baby.

“Maybe you should go.” You finally said, picking at your thumbnail. You saw his movements come to an abrupt halt before continuing.

“Nah. Ya need me here.” He sniffed, starting up on another piece of wood. He had legitimate bolts with his crossbow, so you could only assume he was just trying to keep his hands busy. He was so undeniably torn and it was showing.

“I think you should. You know what I need. You’ve read the books. Maggie will be there to help with the medical side of things, the list Hershel made.” You sat up straighter, attempting to massage the little foot away from your ribs. Of course, Daryl noticed.

“S’wrong?” He was climbing off the rail and made it over to you in one long stride, giving you a once over before he sat down. He didn’t ask before taking over for you, lightly rubbing over the little form of toes with the smallest, gentlest of smiles. You’d almost consent to constant discomfort if it meant you’d see more of that expression.

“Thumper has a personal vendetta against my ribcage.” Your head found your partner’s shoulder, watching that same laser focus that had moments ago been on the wood he was carving now honed in on you. For a moment, you were just a couple expecting a baby. For a moment, the world hadn’t ended. For a moment, you had managed to find perfect. “I love you.”

Daryl’s hand froze but for a mere heartbeat before his fingertips continued chasing little toes as if he were playing a game with the baby, when in reality he was simply trying to divert the tiny digits away from your ribs. “So ya keep sayin’.”

“So you keep saying. Is that all you’re ever gonna say?” You weren’t angry, not even frustrated. There was merely a soft curiosity that sat in the back of your mind; along with the little voice that assured you Daryl was yours and you were his, even if he could never say the words.

“Dunno.” It always unsettled you when he spoke so quietly, small and fragile as if he feared his words would end in some sort of pain. God, you wanted to bury his father in a gopher hole, maybe even his mother and brother. It was normal for a person to be unsure of feelings, to question and explore before accepting what they were, good or bad. Daryl didn’t have that capability. He questioned. He explored. And then he feared, good or bad. He didn’t think he deserved good and he was so attuned with bad that it’s what came naturally in his own reactions. Perhaps he thought you were trying to fix him, when that couldn’t be further from the truth. You didn’t see anything broken. You saw someone who had never been shown what love was supposed to feel like. He wasn’t broken, he just needed to learn, and Daryl was good at learning. 

Still you persevered, your fingers finding their way into his hair, delicately tracing the scar from Andrea’s bullet. “Do you love me, Daryl?” Maybe narrowing it down to a simple yes or no would make it easier for him. Maybe you were pushing him. You would need time if the answer was no but you would be okay. He cared enough to be with you, to raise Thumper as a family. In the end, that was all you needed.

But then his hand stilled on the center of your swollen belly and he lifted his head to seek out your gaze. Even with all the emotion stirring in those stormy pools of blue, you could easily see the fear, but there was something else. You continued to run your fingers through his hair, the color darkening somewhat as it grew. Even with that comforting gesture, you held his gaze, heard his breath stutter, watched his lips move so, so nimbly without a sound. His free hand came up to brush back your own hair, tenderly tucking it behind your ear. As he leaned toward you, the corners of your mouth lifted into a welcoming smile.

“Y/N, I—”

“We’re heading out!” Glenn called from the doorway before stepping onto the porch. Daryl pulled away fast, his hands on his knees, eyes downcast. 

You were going to absolutely torture Glenn before you murdered him.

“You sure you don’t wanna go, Daryl?” Rick had joined Glenn and was checking his weapons before he finally looked up.

Daryl, though, only had eyes for you; his bowed head angled to see you, questioning. 

You sighed with a smile, giving him a nudge with your elbow. “Go. Try to find those bra pad things. Cloths suck and they hurt my nipples.” There was no deeper shade of red that could color his skin. You laughed, loud and true. “Go. We’ll be fine.” Licking his lips nervously, Daryl nodded and left the swing.

T-Dog held out the archer’s bag and crossbow. “Thought you might change your mind. Went ahead and grabbed these.” He only received a nod. 

The group began to descend the steps, but Daryl paused at the end, looking back to you. He closed the distance in seconds, a finger hooking under your chin to lift your face higher, even though you were already looking at him. “Be back ‘fore dark. Promise.”

That earned him one of your sweetest smiles. “We’ll be waiting.” You patted your belly. The rough hand at your chin, moved to your jaw, his thumb stroking the apple of your cheek. “I love you, Daryl. Be safe.” He hesitated, long enough for something to stir in your chest. Hope? Excitement? Then he merely nodded and was gone.

You and Lori were given the least strenuous tasks. She was not far behind you. A few weeks, her belly almost as prominent as your own. Luckily, you found it helped for folding clothing before stuffing them in the correct bag. Your bare feet were propped up in a chair across from you, your ankles swollen, squeezed by the socks that you had to wear to keep them warm. Your body just ached all over. Thumper Dixon was playing field hockey with your internal organs and the nausea you had definitely not missed was threatening to make a comeback. You just felt awful.

“The last month is the worst.” Lori commented while packing away some of Carl’s clothing. “And it’ll take a while after the baby comes to feel human again.”

“Growing a human fucking sucks.” You groused, one of Daryl’s few shirts lying spread over your torso. “And goddamnit, I have to pee. I always have to pee.”

“Means you’re hydrated at least. Silver linings.” Lori tittered. If anyone had been watching the two of you battling to your feet, it would have been worthy of more than a few chuckles.

“Thanks for going with me. Daryl would have a kitten if I went alone.” When you straightened, there was an immediate feeling of change in your body that had you looking to Lori, eyes wide. “Holy shit, I can breathe but I feel like I’m gonna piss my pants and my hips hurt.”

She smiled and placed her hands over her own round bump. “The baby dropped. You're carrying differently now. I wish we had a mirror.” 

“Carrying differently? What do you—oh.” You immediately noticed when you began to massage the taut skin that the swell sat lower. You suddenly couldn’t remember a word the old man had said. Were you about to go into labor? How would Daryl know? You couldn’t do it without him.

“Easy, Y/N.” At some point, the other woman had crossed the small space and put her hands on your shoulders, your stomachs brushing against one another. “It just means the baby’s getting ready. Though, I think after this run, Daryl should probably consider staying behind on any others.” You nodded, trying to get your breathing under control. In through the nose, out through the mouth. “Let’s go take care of business and then let Hershel do his daily thing, okay?”

You nodded again, a jerky motion while you trembled. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” You followed behind her, trying to keep your mind on the fact that if you didn’t empty your bladder within the next couple of minutes, you would still be incredibly anxious but you would be so with wet pants. “Maybe the little gremlin can’t reach my ribs now.”

You felt like crap. All day, you felt heavy and sluggish, swollen and nauseous. By late afternoon, you just couldn’t stand it anymore. 

“Carol.” You spoke her name quietly, leaning onto the dusty countertop to pillow your head on your folded arms. You saw the concern on her face when she turned from canned foods with which she was planning small meals. You couldn’t even wave away her worry. “Do you need my help right now? I think I’d really like to lie down.” 

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” She came to place a hand on your back, rubbing softly. It only succeeded in making your yearn for Daryl to be there, easing your fears in his own Daryl way. He would probably already have an aneurysm when someone told him that you’d done work, light as it was. And then you needed to tell him that the baby had indeed dropped. God, even if you didn’t tell him, he’d notice with that keen eye of his. Your stomach had shifted, still round but lower. There was so much pressure on your pelvis that you thought the bones might separate at any moment. Lori had promised that what you were feeling was normal, that it was simply new and you would take a day or two to adjust unless the baby decided to make its debut before you could.

“I just don’t feel well.” You stood straighter, nodding that she could remove her hand and you were fine. “I’d rather have Daryl come back to me feeling like shit and resting than to me feeling like shit and trying to help get things done.”

“I can’t argue with that.” She laughed. 

Carol was about the only other person in the group that Daryl dropped any of his walls around. With Rick, it was all business. There was respect there, but not yet friendship. You could see it though, the subtle changes in your hunter. He was getting comfortable around these people. It was a snail’s pace but if they were anything like you hoped they were, he would be granted their patience. God knew, he had earned it. 

“Come on.” Carol urged. “Let’s get you settled.” 

With each step, you whined, feeling less and less like the woman you had been only months before, like she had been left behind somewhere, starved or trampled by a herd. “I hate this. Is it wrong to hate this?” You grimaced at Carol who only chuckled breathily, her hand resting on your cheek.

“It’s not wrong. This is a lot. Our bodies do a lot.” A couple of soft pats and then she bent down to straighten the bedroll and arrange the blankets. 

You were watching, actually finding yourself excited to be off your feet and deciding that a nap wouldn’t be so horrible when there was a strange feeling low in your belly. It started as a gradual tightening but soon turned into an unyielding cramp, your stomach hard beneath your hands as you grabbed for your sweater. You gasped Carol’s name, could hear her clearly calling for Hershel but you couldn’t seem to respond, swallowed up by every fear that had been looming like a dark shadow for the past few weeks. The pain wasn’t even horrible, not like you had imagined at all. But it was terrifying. The only thing you could think of to do was hold the area that housed your little Thumper and whimper out Daryl’s name.

A bed had been cleared, dusted, and made for you in the downstairs room. As you laid there, resting, and stared at the half empty cup of water on the bedside table, you overheard Beth and Carl animatedly re-telling how two walkers had shuffled by the driveway gate. The children had hid and remained quiet, reporting that no others were seen once those two had moved on. You weren’t naive enough to hope that it didn’t mean more were coming. The group would need to pack up and head out likely within the next day or so. 

“Braxton Hicks.” Hershel had stated matter-of-factly. He had expressed that he was actually surprised you hadn’t experienced them before then, added that maybe you had but they were so mild that you just didn’t notice. You had two more instances over the course of three hours but nothing since then, though your body seemed to be in a constant state of dread, waiting for another to happen; for it to be more than what Hershel had said. You were waiting for something to be wrong.

Beyond the dusty, tattered green curtains, you could see the light fading. Daryl would be back soon. Would he blame you for bringing this on by doing a little work? Would he be angry? He’d be beside himself with worry, that much was a given. Hershel had said you could do small chores, that it was good for you to be moving, but what if Daryl didn’t see it that way? The morning had started so perfectly. The conversation had been left unfinished but it didn’t seem to have been heading anywhere bleak. 

“Ugh.” You didn’t know what was more exhausting, your body or your brain. Each time you closed your eyes, your mind ran rampant with each and every wildly negative scenario it could possibly conjure. You groaned and rolled to your other side despite the effort and apprehensiveness of even moving. Letting your eyes close yet again, you fought against the intrusive thoughts, forcing images of what Thumper might look like instead. A little girl with Daryl’s eyes and your smile. A little boy with unruly light hair like Daryl’s had been, a constant scowl. You laughed softly, wetly, shedding a few tears around your smile. No matter the sex of the baby, you hoped for Daryl’s eyes. They were the one thing to always gave him away, no matter what expression he wore. With a baby that couldn’t communicate needs and wants, you would at least have that in your corner.

At some point, you must have dozed off, opening your eyes to the sound of the old truck Daryl was driving. Looking to the window, you could see the faint light of dusk giving way to the moon. He’d kept his promise, albeit barely. You didn’t care as long as he was back. Shifting and struggling, you finally made it upright just as you heard Glenn’s all too cheerful voice, though you couldn’t make out the words. Rick’s few words trailed right after. Then there was Daryl. He spoke but then there was nothing more than hushed tones. Hershel offering the day's events, most likely. A thud was followed by echoing stomps of boots pounding against the hardwood floors.

“Where is she?” Daryl roared, closer to the door.

“She’s fine, son. She’s resting. This is normal. It just caused a bit of a fright. She just—”

“Where. Is. She?!”

The old man must have nodded or pointed because the next thing you knew, the door was swinging open with Daryl’s silhouette backdropped by the soft candlelight in the other room. His shoulders were heaving in what sounded so close to sobs that you squinted your eyes for a chance to catch his expression before he moved, startling you with how quickly he had one knee on the bed and was leaning in to check you over himself. He was filthy, mostly dirt and grime, but spots of walker blood and a cut across his cheek that was no longer bleeding. 

“What happened?” You asked, reaching for his face but letting your hand hover in fear of hurting him.

“Don’t matter. Ya alright? Baby okay?” He was breathless, either from his haste to get to you or maybe just with worry. He was touching you without hesitance, his hands in a mad rush to feel your face, neck, your belly. You watched his eyes go wide and knew exactly what it meant. “Why’s it look diff’rent?” 

“Thumper dropped.” His eyes were dancing back and forth as he flipped through his mental catalog of reading material and Hershel’s words. Relief was evident in his posture when he recalled what he had been searching for, but he was still tense.

“Hershel said ya was crampin’. The fake shit. Does it hurt now?” You shook your head and watched him finally sink onto his hip beside you, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Shouldn’a gone. Ya didn’t need to be alone through that.” 

“Hey.” You leaned as far as you could, to guide his hand away with one hand while the other used his chin to turn his face toward you. “I wasn’t alone and we’re okay. It’s just my body getting ready.” Daryl’s head tilted, his expression displaying his gratitude for your attempts at consolation but also heavy laden with guilt for leaving you there. “Daryl, you had to go.”

“Didn’t hafta do nothin’. Could’a stayed right here where ya need me to be.” 

He hadn’t asked what you had been doing. Maybe it wasn’t that important to him after all. He seemed to be more concerned with what happened and how you currently felt than anything. You truly needed to start trusting him as you wanted so badly for him to trust you. Your palm left his face and wrapped around the back of his neck, not needing much pressure to pull him to you for your lips to press against his. It was gentle and chaste, his hand leaving your belly to cup your jaw.

“We’re okay and you’re here now.” You soothed, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Just—no more runs until Thumper’s here, okay?”

“No more runs.” He agreed, his eyes closed, forehead against yours. “Ain’t leavin’ ya again.” His hand lowered back to your belly, rubbing back and forth. It was always the most tender thing you’d ever seen from him. You didn’t think him the type but he actually seemed to be calmed by the action. “D’ya need anythin’?”

“Just you.” You let him help you lie back, but he didn’t follow. 

“Need to clean up. I’ll be quick.” He made to stand up but you grabbed his forearm and pulled yourself up again, not stopping once you got there. He gave in to your incessant tugging and wrapped his arms around you. “You’re gonna need to change too now.” You sniffled, trying hard not to cry, but you were just so overwhelmed with relief that he was back in one piece, that nothing bad had truly happened, that he was going to stay. “Don’t cry, woman. M’here.”

“I know. I’m just—I’m happy. I have you and Thumper. And—I don’t deserve you, Daryl Dixon.”

Daryl scoffed, rubbing his cheek against the crown of your head. “Ya deserve way better than me, Sunshine.” He took a deep breath that actually shifted you against his chest and then he was tightening his embrace. “But I love ya. An’ m’here unless ya tell me to get lost.” He pulled away before you could say anything, heading quickly for the door with one last look before he walked out. You were stunned frozen, silent. 

He said it.

He said it and you could feel that he meant it. His actions had always conveyed it, but hearing it from his mouth was everything. 

Thumper rolled and kicked before going still, reacting to all the emotions you were feeding to them through your bond. When you laid down again, it wasn’t hard to fall asleep. No wicked images formed behind your eyes. Just those words replaying in your head, a baby’s tiny hand gripping a large finger. A child’s giggle. And then his voice again.

Your eyes didn’t want to obey when you bid them to open, the mattress dipping beside you, the sheets moving. A warm arm pulled you against an even warmer body, enveloping you in a veil of safety.

Everything would be okay.

Because you loved Daryl.

And Daryl loved you.

[slut4sugu]

𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄..𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄! — piercer & tattoo artist kiribaku! x black fem!reader

A/N: here is the long awaited PART THREE Sorry for not coming back to this one sooner it’s just I had writers block for this one for a while and I never got around to doing it. Here it is!! (Sorry if it’s not good good wrote on this one diff days + watched arcane while wrapping up lol.) vi CMERE bae I’ll treat you right istg

genre + including: fluff, kiri being a flirt, kiribaku, reader has a pet bunny, black!femreader, cuteness lol.

part one . part two . current . part four

after katsuki revealed to you the truth about his relationship with ejirou, you had an lightbulb moment before realizing the situation you were in. “Wait you both want to go out with..me?” You pointed your manicured finger at yourself in slight shock, still trying to wrap your head around it all. While katsuki sat up with his toned arms folded across his chest, “what are you the picky type?” He teased, yet still looking at you with that same unreadable expression. Yet his gaze still managing to make you feel small as fluttering began to stir in your stomach. “No no, that’s not what I’m saying, it’s just I’ve never..” you sighed in embarrassment, “I’m not one who gets asked out a lot. Especially not by two guys at once.” You rambled with an anxious laugh.

“Well nothing is set in stone yet, if you’re not comfortable with all of this we’ll understand. It’d be a shame though since you’re such a cutie.” Kiri explained, his voice easing your nerves and still making the situation you were in all the more nerve wracking. You smiled softly at the two, “I know, it’s just an adjustment is all…yknow, I would love to join you both for dinner. I do have to get home and tend to my bunny though.”

Katsuki scoffed playfully, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "A bunny? Don’t they die hella easy?" Eijirou chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "It's probably adorable, just like its owner." He winked, causing a heat to creep up your neck. You giggled nervously, pulling out your phone. "His name is thumper, little rascal but I love him. You said fondly, the sweetness in your words reaching both the men infront of you. Causing a glance to be shared between the both of them. “Actually I have a picture..." You scrolled through your photos, finally landing on a picture of a fluffy creature with long bunny ears. Both men leaned in, intrigued.

The smell of cologne and slight smoke filled your nose, causing your heart to race as you tried your best to not lose it infront them. Ejirous eyes flickering to your glossed brown lips momentarily with a flash of desire before looking back down at the bunny on your phone. "He looks like a damn turd," Katsuki muttered, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. You gasped in slight offense, “Thumper is not a turd blondie, he’s a stinker at best. A sweetheart all round.” Eijirou laughed heartily at your defense of Thumper, his infectious energy easing the tension building in the air. “You’ve got to admit, it’s a fitting nickname. He looks ready to cause a little trouble,” he teased, nudging Katsuki lightly, who wore an expression caught between mock seriousness and playful mischief. You couldn’t help but blush at how readily they engaged with your little world, their closeness giving you a sense of belonging you hadn’t expected when you’d first walked into this overwhelming situation.

Kiri leaned forward, his curiosity piqued as he asked, “What kind of trouble does Thumper get into? I can totally envision him planning an escape mission from his cage.” You then seeming found yourself animatedly rambling tales of Thumper’s little escapades—how he once managed to dig his way under the couch and steal a sock, or the time he chewed on the corner of the carpet while you weren’t looking. The laughter that erupted was genuine, and you felt a rush of warmth flood over you, slowly dissipating the earlier nerves.

Suddenly, Katsuki’s teasing demeanor softened as he watched you speak, the way your eyes sparkled with passion mesmerizing him. “Honestly I couldn’t picture my life without him and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” A thrill of excitement mixing with the realization that you might soon be sharing more than just an evening with these intriguing guys. Anxiety from moments before slowly dissipating, replaced by a warm, fuzzy feeling.

<3

"So, about dinner..."

"How about tomorrow night?" Eijirou suggested, glancing at Katsuki for confirmation. Katsuki nodded, tossing the keys to the shop to ejirou after locking up. His gaze now fixed on you as you look up from your phone. "Seven o'clock. We'll pick you up, and I’m cooking.” His tone was assertive, yet there was an underlying gentleness that you found surprisingly reassuring. You agreed, a sense of anticipation bubbling in your chest. This was definitely uncharted territory, but for some reason, you felt a strange sense of excitement about it. After taking a few pictures of your new tattoo you thanked katsuki and kiri again for their time and the 25 dollars off your service for reasons of “your appointment not taking too long”

You beamed happily as you all agreed for you to come over to dinner the following night, the anticipation bubbling inside you like a fizzy drink ready to overflow. The cool night air nipped gently at your skin, but it was a mere distraction compared to the warmth radiating from the two of them walking with you on either side. Their presence wrapped around you like a cozy blanket, heightening the fluttering sensation in your heart and the twist of excitement in your stomach. "Thumper's prolly shittin' all over your place right now 'cause yer taking too damn long," Katsuki quipped, breaking through your revelry with his signature blend of humor and mischief. You glanced at him, unable to suppress your laughter as you flipped him off playfully, feeling a delightful spark igniting between you.

"Really? You want me to go that badly that you're dragging Thumper into this?" you teased back, shooting him a mock-serious glare as you fished your keys out of your pocket. The mention of your mischievous little rabbit brought back fond memories, but you couldn't help but feel the warmth of friendship—and perhaps something more—blossoming amid the playful banter. Ignoring the chilly breeze, you found comfort in the casual ease of the moment, the laughter echoing softly in the night while the thrill of what was to come wrapped around you like the stars above. Each step toward your car was a stride toward an evening filled with warmth, excitement, and a sense of belonging that made your heart race just a little faster. “Look at you two gettin along, don’t forget about me cutie.” The redheads voice suddenly in your right ear making you nearly drop your keys as you unlocked your car. “Never! I look forward to hanging out with you both tomorrow night. However I’d be very disappointed if I got food poisoning from katsuki here.”

Katsuki sucked his teeth in retort. “Food poisoning? You should count yerself lucky you have an opportunity to taste my dishes, tiny” His smirk was infuriatingly charming, and you couldn’t help but chuckle as you slid into the driver’s seat. The way the moonlight caught his messy blonde hair made him look almost ethereal, a stark contrast to his tough exterior. Kiri’s flirty smile as he teased katsukis boldness was also ridiculously attractive. Ejirou’s strong and broad shoulders paired with a few healed scars on his forearms made you wonder what he’d look like without that black fitted tee on. Being around these two would definitely be an adjustment for your poor heart.

As you locked your car doors and rolled down the window to continue the banter, you could see the spark of mischief in his crimson eyes. “Please, you could burn water if you’re drunk enough, remember that time I-” “Shut up dumbass.” Seeing the tips of katsukis ears go pink made you giggle. Focusing back to you ejirou shot you that handsome smile once more, “take care okay cutie, we look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Right Kats?” Ejirous relentless teasing with katsuki was almost adorable the way he could shut up the fiesty blonde with just a nickname was honestly admirable. “Tch, ignore spiky’s dumbass and.. don’t take too long tiny.”

You waved goodbye to the two men, feeling an undeniable thrill buzzing through your veins as you watched the two of them retreat into the night. The laughter shared among you lingered in the air, wrapping around your heart like a warm embrace. Driving away, thoughts of tomorrow’s dinner filled your mind. You could almost envision Katsuki’s culinary chaos, interspersed with Kiri’s soft laughter and teasing jabs. The anticipation heightened with each passing moment, and your heart fluttered at the thought of the night ahead—a night where friendship might evolve into something deeper, something intoxicating.

As you pulled into your driveway, your mind drifted back to moments shared with the two of them—their playful banter, the camaraderie that felt different from any connection you had experienced before. The way Katsuki challenged you, his sharp tongue often softened by the kindness in his gaze. And Kiri, ever the gentle spirit, whose presence felt like a warm glow beside the fire. It was all too easy to imagine the three of you laughing together, the kind of laughter that echoed in your chest long after it ended. You could almost see the way their eyes would light up at something ridiculous, those shared glances brimming with understanding and ease.

Setting foot inside your home, a sense of longing washed over you, intertwining with thoughts of the warmth that awaited you the following night. You sighed, a small smile creeping onto your face as you thought of Thumper, who would no doubt be causing delightful havoc. “Don’t destroy everything, okay?” you whispered to the air, half-expecting the mischievous bunny to hear You couldn't help but chuckle at the thought. Whatever nightmares the poor rabbit had in store for you, they paled in comparison to the excitement brewing in your heart.

As you settled into bed, the moonlight seeping through your window painted a gentle glow across your room. You couldn’t shake the feeling that tomorrow night would somehow change everything. It was a moment of significant potential—a space where laughter could lead to new feelings and connections. The thought ignited a spark of hope, an exhilaration that sent shivers down your spine. Tomorrow was not just another dinner; it was an invitation, a promise of something wonderful waiting to unfold.

[max-nico]

Random Sonic Headcanons

Sonic and Big hangout. Like regularly.

On the same wave length, Big is the one who taught Sonic to fish

Shadow calls Tails to info dump and Tails calls Shadow for the same purpose. They're both semi proficient with each other's special interests because of this

This means Tails is pretty okay with guns and with a little practice could ride a motorcycle, and Shadow can build a nuclear reactor with very little guidance

Amy, Rouge, and Blaze all gossip regularly

Cream is not old enough to join said gossip sessions, but Vanilla hears all about it eventually

Silver likes the food in the past more than in the future so he semi regularly pops into Amy's house with the biggest wettest eyes to ask for like a grilled cheese or something

Tails and Omega discuss explosives and war tactics more than one would think. Sonic... Is unsure how supportive he should be

Omega has very similar humor to Toph from Atla, like I can imagine him, Shadow, and Rouge eating dinner together and one of them being like "yeah, the food is actually really good we should order from here more often" and Omega being like "Yes. I agree. The combination of the avocado blend on the triangular bake tortilla is pleasing to my very real taste buds."

Omega is somehow the funniest in the friend group btw I don't make the rules

Sonic is an early bird and Tails is a night owl

Knuckles, Silver, and Espio hangout a lot

Sonic has never really had a sweet tooth and prefers high calorie savory foods, Shadow has a giant stash of guilty pleasure candies, cakes, jams, macaroons, etc

When Cream gets upset she stomps her feet like Thumper from Bambi

Knuckles taught Tails, Amy, and Sonic how to fight, is currently teaching Charmy, and will eventually teach Cream

Sonic never liked mint until he found out how much Tails loved it, he still prefers not to eat mint flavored things but if anything else comes in mint he's buying it immediately

Amy has had many hammers over the years and keeps her very first one framed in her bedroom

Knuckles is incredibly impressed with Amy's strength and always has been, he unfortunately has the emotional intelligence of a brick so has never once accurately expressed this to her. Doesn't mean he hasn't tried tho

Sonic goes to Vanilla for parenting advice

Tails is a cuddly guy but because Sonic never really liked touch growing up he pretends that he is normal about hugs and cuddles when he is very not normal and never has been

Team Sonic = audhd

I have so many more but I'm afraid the post is gonna get too long uhgggg

Feel free to talk to me in my dms or askbox as long as your nicest to me

[sapphiel]

Now that we have some facts about Jumper, what about Thumper?

Thumper (real name: Julien) is a rowdy 17-year old who's on the Specter Express to see his grandmother that he very frequently visits.

He has a girlfriend, nicknamed Jumper, that he met on the train before, and the two have been hitting it for a while now. The two frequent concerts, arcade hangouts, nightly strolls, or the occasional prank or two. This sometimes results in the two getting into regular trouble.

He's a bit on a dim side when it comes to intelligence, but this doesn't bother him much, if at all.

Thumper likes to crack jokes very frequently, but has a poor filter concerning them, sometimes saying jokes that might get too harsh or personal. But he never means it, and is always quick to apologize should he realize he offended someone. In fact, Thumper finds it difficult to be genuinely and purposefully mean to someone.

Thumper sometimes has ideas of working for the Specter Express some day in the near future, inspired by Kaz.

He did not know Kaz was a woman upon first seeing her, needing to be clarified to him by Jake.

[fuck-customers]

It’s insane how much a lonely upper middle-class 40 year old Caucasian house-wife can talk.

Like, these girls RUN THEIR FUCKING MOUTHS like they’re getting paid per word. It’s obnoxious honestly, and very draining

Like lady, you can relax your fucking facial expressions and I asked you a simple fucking question- I don’t need your entire life story. Seriously, I’ve never met a breed that just YAPS and YAPS and KEEPS FUCKING YAPPING.

Seriously makes me wonder how the hell someone who spews out so many words per minute even got married. Forget marriage, how the hell did they even get knocked up? They managed to stop talking long enough to actually have sex with someone? Crazy…

You just called out every female member of my family. (well the religious side anyways).

Seriously though I think it has something to do with religion. All the ones in my family that did that were bible thumpers.

-Rodney

[koko-canie]

paused while messing around with the express mod and caught thumper looking scared

[foreverlogical]

In a New York Times profile of the Michigan Republican Party, state Rep. Lisa McClain offers a quintessentially stoic midwestern insight about the ailing state party that perfectly sums up the GOP's national dynamic too.

“It’s not going real well," McClain told the Times' Nick Corasaniti.

“The ability to raise money," she continued, "we’ve got a lot of donors sitting on the sideline. That’s not an opinion. That’s a fact. It’s just a plain fact. We have to fix that.”

Though McClain was assessing the divide between the state's monied benefactors, such as former Trump Education Secretary Betsy DeVos, and its Trumpy grassroots activists, she may as well have been talking about national GOP donors' frantic search for a savior as the MAGA grassroots coalesce around Donald Trump for the 2024 nomination.

In fact, Corasaniti's piece—an anatomy of GOP dysfunction encapsulated by the Republican Party in a Rust Belt swing state—mirrors rifts emerging across the country at both the state and national levels. Corasaniti portrays a party coming apart at the seams after its drubbing in the '22 cycle in a state where Republicans roundly lost the gubernatorial contest, every statewide executive office (e.g., attorney general and secretary of state), and control of both legislative chambers. A hat trick, if you will.

The key cast of characters includes:

Tudor Dixon, 2022 gubernatorial nominee, Bible-thumper, anti-abortion activist, and former right-wing news host.

Fervent 2020 election deniers Kristina Karamo and Matthew DePerno, 2022 GOP nominees for secretary of state and attorney general, respectively.

Meshawn Maddock, former co-chair of the Republican Party and leader of Women for Trump, who has been charged in the fake elector scheme.

The DeVos family, longtime Republican Party donors and Michigan establishment heavyweights.

Every one of those is effectively a stand-in for similarly situated Republican players in GOP apparatuses around the country.

Following Michigan Republicans' midterm election implosion, a round of rapid-fire finger-pointing broke out, with MAGA party officials blaming Dixon for a toxic near-total abortion ban position and soft fundraising, Dixon blaming both the party and old-guard donors for her campaign's collapse, and party officials chastising donors for insufficiently funding their cuckoo election-denying candidates.

Corasaniti writes:

A state party autopsy days after the election, made public by Ms. Dixon, acknowledged that “we found ourselves consistently navigating the power struggle between Trump and anti-Trump factions of the party” and that Mr. Trump “provided challenges on a statewide ballot.”

True enough. On the national stage, every 2024 Republican hopeful but Trump is presently trying to thread the needle of enthusing high-dollar donors while managing to peel away pro-Trump voters open to alternatives.Campaign Action

Back in Michigan, establishment type Dave Trott, a retired GOP congressman and former state party donor, dished about the Republican elite's distrust of former GOP co-chair Maddock, a MAGA activist.

"Meshawn was never connected to the donor base, and so having her as the vice chair [of the party] for a lot of us was a showstopper,” Trott explained. "We just knew she would never be someone that would be rational in her approach to state party politics."

In response, Maddock expressed a reciprocal lack of trust in the party's establishment muckety-mucks.

“The state party needs the wealthy RINOs who often fund it to come to terms with what the actual voters on the right want,” Maddock told the Times. Wealthy donors, she added, need to treat the base "with an ounce of respect for once.”

The same could be said of national Republican donors who have never crossed paths with actual base voters and apparently still believe Virginia Gov. Glenn Youngkin can save them from Trump.

That same mutual distrust and disgust between establishment Republican donors and state party officials is also playing out in Georgia, where popular Republican Gov. Brian Kemp warned well-heeled donors earlier this year they could "no longer rely on" the state Republican Party to win elections. Kemp has effectively built a parallel political apparatus after urging donors to abandon the pro-Trump state party.

And then there are the anti-abortion zealots pointing fingers at everyone else for their own deeply unpopular position. Dixon's support for a strict abortion ban doomed her candidacy, just like the efforts of Ohio Republicans to ban abortion there sank an anti-abortion ballot measure earlier this month.

Following that loss, the nation's premier forced birther group, Susan B. Anthony Pro-Life 

America, castigated establishment Republicans and the business community for not pulling their weight in the battle to pass the measure, which would have significantly raised the bar for enshrining abortion protections in Ohio's constitution.

All across the nation, the Republican Party is reckoning with the deal it cut with the devil. In swing states like Michigan and Georgia, red states like Ohio, and nationally, the GOP is cracking up as different factions variously cling to or reject Trump. The damage done may not be fully realized until voters cast their ballots next year, but the Republican Party is entering 2024 in a position so precarious that it almost defies historical comparison.

[dailyincrediboxpolo]

Thumper (Express)

[lainiespicewrites]

The Atreides Era Part 2

A/N: HI. this was supposed to be posted like 2 weeks ago! but I was finishing school and then my BEST FRIEND HAD A BABY! Life has been kind of crazy. But here is part 2 of my series for @hey-its-roseaurum ! for my dedicated followers my normal content will also be resuming soon as well! Enjoy guys!

Warnings: Death? Kinda?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By dawn, the masses had gathered. Or what was left of them. About 3 days earlier some of the camp had accompanied Lady Jessica. They had already gone south. Stilgar was at the center of the gathering along with Paul Atreides. Stilgar was giving a speech. This seemed to be his mantra. Matar and Chani exchanged an exasperated glance. The two lingered outside the group. 

“There is no turning back from this, Matar,” Chani Says. Matar nods at her friend. Her body is rigid but the glassy look in her eyes barely shields the hurt in them. 

“He says, it is for our protection. For my protection. But…” Matar pauses and looks at her friend. Chani tears her eyes away from the circus happening in front of them and gives Matar her full attention. She continues. “If he follows through with this. I fear it is him who will need protection.” She glances back at Paul. He looks like a leader. He is building morale with the soldiers before they make the move to head south. He looks… so sure of himself. But Matar sees right through it. She and Paul had, against her better judgment, become friends. Close friends. He may have a plan. But he has no idea what he’s doing. If he was so sure, so brave. Then why had he come to her? Why did he need Chani? If he was the fearless leader Stilgar claimed him to be, then why could she see the certainty wavering in his eyes when they met hers across the crowd of people around him? 

“Protection from who?” Chani’s question broke through Matar’s thoughts and her full attention was once again brought back to the girl standing next to her. Matar inhaled deeply, her eyes dropping to the sand beneath her feet. It was only months ago they had taken Paul and his mother in. Against her will, she was training him to walk so he wouldn’t get himself killed. Was he really strong enough to lead a war against the emperor? Was it even his choice? He was just a puppet on his mother's string. He made the choice. But it is Lady Jessica who laid the path. Matar paused still. Trying to choose the right words. Finally, she met Chani’s eyes again. 

“Himself,” she spoke. “He is a danger to himself.” Before Chani had the chance to respond the soldiers were beginning to move. Following the two men up the sand dune. Reluctantly the girls followed. A silence fell over them as they watched the young Atreides place the thumper in the ground. About 50 feet away Stilgar repeated the same process. Naturally, the Freman soldiers split off into two one to follow Stilgar and the ones that would travel with Paul. As they started to hear the rumble under the sand in the distance Matar once again caught Paul’s gaze. Without a word, she nodded at him and she and Chani joined Stilgar and the others waiting to jump. She did not look back at him. Nor did she see the brief expression of pain on his face as she had denied him. But it was short-lived.

The rumble was now only mere feet away. The head lifted up from the sand. Not one of them flinched. They all took their cue hopping onto the creature's back digging their hooks in for balance. Whatever reservations Matar had about this decision would have to be put to rest. Any chance to turn back was long gone. 

The ride south was long. And for Matar, quiet. A time to reflect. No matter what outcome she could not picture this move having a positive ending. Paul believes power is the answer. He’d once told her he would give anything to be equal to her. He seems to contradict himself often. More than anything. Matar could not shake the feeling that  Paul’s choice would tear them apart. He promised her it was to protect her. So he could keep her safe and keep them close. But in her eyes. His choice to give himself power and trying to rise above everyone else is doing the opposite. 

When their journey came to an end Matar took the time to get her bearings. She pays no mind to Paul as he sets off toward the temple. Or the shrine, as Lady Jessica had called it. She watched as the other Freman set up camp. Readying themselves for Paul’s instruction. Paul had refused to tell Matar how he planned to attack the Emperor. However, she knew he had a battle plan. Only time will tell. 

Matar found a quiet place on the outskirts of their new camp to set up her tent. She stares at the business of the scene around her. Everyone seems so frantic. Haphazardly setting up their new lives. Eager to play their part in this ridiculous game. Yes, She thought, she was losing him. Losing him to his own greed. The man she saw this morning already seemed vastly different from the man she was with last night. The man who spoke of oceans as deep as her eyes. The man who had plans to take her there. She wanted to believe he was still her same friend. But he made no effort to prove it. 

She was lost in thought. Settling into what felt like a foreign land. Matar did not notice that she was now alone. The other Freman had gone off to follow the young Atreides. Even Chani who had been setting up nearby was now gone. Still, Matar did not notice. Not until her friend’s voice rang out across the way from inside the shrine. At first, she thought she was mistaken. Matar quickly turned around from her tent. It took her only seconds to realize she was alone. And then again… unmistakable this time. It was a cry of her name coming from her best friend. 

Her heart races. Mind going a mile a minute afraid for her friend. Her family. Everyone she knows is inside that building. What has happened? Are they hurt? She took off. She ran from camp and across the sand to the shrine. Throwing open the doors, she runs inside. She follows the sound of her friend's screams but is stopped dead in her tracks when she finds her. As she takes in the sight in front of her feels as though the air in her lungs is depleted. 

Paul is lying on the ground motionless. Chani is kneeling next to him grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him trying to break whatever spell he’s put himself under. The Freman are scattered around the room. They’ve dropped to their knees in devoted prayer. And her… of course her. Lady Jessica stands aside watching the madness. Unphased and waiting. 

“WHAT DID YOU DO?” She hears her friend shout. She watches as Lady Jessica only continues to glower at Chani. 

“It had to be done.” She said. Chani looks back to Paul and shutters through a sob.

 “He’s dead,” Chani states. Matar can no longer stay in the shadows. She runs to her friend kneeling beside her. Her hand quickly finds Paul’s. Her Mouth goes dry when she finds no pulse. No. this isn’t real. Her body starts to shake with rage but she forces it down. She turns her head fixing her glare on the boy’s mother. 

“You killed your own son, and for what?” She seethes. But she’s not done. “That is low Lady Jessica, even for you.” Matar opens her mouth to continue to berate the woman but her words are cut short. 

“SILENCE,” Lady Jessica uses her power of voice to shut the girls up. “It is not your place to tell me what is best for the future of my family. And for your planet. You will thank me. And if you would let me finish… he is not dead.” Matar looks back to Paul’s lifeless form squeezing his hand in hers. 

“You did this! Fix him!” Chani shouts. Lady Jessica shakes her head remaining stoic. 

“The prophecy must be fulfilled …desert rain.” She states. Chani lets out a frustrated groan but Matar stills. She looks at her friend. 

“She is right,” Matar says as the girls lock eyes. 

“Matar,” Chani begins to protest. From behind them. Another vile of the blue liquid is being brought out. 

“I hate to agree with her. With any of this. It’s all bullshit. But we’ve always known about the prophecy. Chani if you don’t do this, Paul will die. You did not force his hand, but you can save his life.” Chani’s shoulders shake from the sob she’s trying to hold in. Finally, she can no longer hold it back and she lets her tears fall. 

“DO IT,” Lady Jessica’s voice rings through the room. Causing Chani to jump. 

She quickly wipes the tears from her cheek, dips her fingers into the blue liquid that has been presented to them and presses them to Paul’s lips. The room falls silent as everyone waits. Matar once again feels like she cannot breathe. She feels a twitch. And realizes she’s still holding Paul’s hand. His fingers slowly start to curl around hers. Then seconds later. He awakens. 

“Usul!” Chani lets out a relieved breath. “I’m here,” She looks back to Matar “We are here,” she caresses his cheek her face no full of concern. “Are you okay? Do you feel okay?”

The room erupts into chatter and Matar feels like her heart is being squeezed inside her chest. He is alive. Her friend her…Paul. He is alive. She looks at him and finds he is staring back at Chani. And for some reason, this causes more of an ache in her chest. Slowly he lets go of her hand and starts to sit up. 

“I’m okay, I feel okay. “ He assures her. His eyes shift to Matars and he gives her a gentle smile. But it feels forced. Matar nods at him, standing back up. Paul turns back to Chani. “Thanks to you.” He says. Matar quickly starts to feel as if she’s over stayed her welcome. Really she never felt as if she was welcome here. And she takes her leave. As she’s walking out the door she hears it. Chani slapped Paul hard across the cheek. Saying nothing else she stands and follows Matar out of the shrine. 

The doors close behind them and Matar stops for a moment to let out a shaky breath, showing any emotion at all for the first time since she entered the building. 

She feels Chani’s hand on her shoulder.

“Matar, he’s okay,” she says her voice soft. This is supposed to be comfort. But Matar’s body goes rigid, and what feels like jealous burns in her stomach. 

“I know,” she bites out. She takes another breath. This isn’t Chani’s fault, she tries to reason with herself. Chani hates the prophecy as much as she does. But she cannot help that she was apart of it. “Thanks to you.” her words come out more bitter than she means them to. She turns to face Chani, letting her hand fall from her shoulder. 

“And what does that mean?” Chani askes, her voice still calm. However, her eyes were sharp staring back at Matar. 

“It just means,” again Matar stopped herself. Chani was her friend. Paul was her friend. She was thankful that she saved his life and surely paul was too. That is all this is. “You were there, and I am glad you were. Usul would have died without you. I’m greatful that you saved his life Chani.” Matar says to her. Chani’s eyes begin to water again. She’s still emotional from the events that have just taken place. 

“I don’t know if I could have done it if you we’ren’t right there with me. Thank you. You are a good friend Matar. And an even better fighter. I can’t believe you spoke to Lady Jessica like that.” she chuckled softly. Matar cracked a soft smile. 

“It was nothing she didn’t deserve.” 

Just then the doors flew open again. There stood the man himself. He looked as if he was still in pain but he was fighting it well. 

“There you are,” He said to them. “C’mon, we have to prepare. We attack  tomorrow. The three of them exchange glances. Matar and Paul lingering for only a moment before she nods. 

“Lead the way Usul.”  She states.  Paul turns walking back into the building and the girls follow. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As always let me know what you think :)

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[emmi-kat]

A lot of folks have expressed the idea that the magic of Halloween is dying. There is a lot of blame being placed on the existance of trunk or treats stealing away the trick or treaters.

I think there are many things at play. I have never participated in a trunk or treat, but I know that community organization is vital to making them work. They require sign up sheets and locations and times to be picked and then promoted so that everyone is on the same page. There are safety measures at hand so that everyone can access the event and feel safe - especially in the scary world we live in, now.

There is a sense of community because it is a community.

How many neighborhoods are a community anymore? How much communication goes on? Planning? Have you even discussed with your neighbors what you can do to make your neighborhood known and accessible and inviting to trick or treaters and parents?

Last year before I moved, we got our neighborhood designated as the trick or treating spot in town (something that they had done before I lived there with great success and then they stopped organizing it, but in previous years they hauled out lighting, gave out cocoa and did hay rides in the back of someone's trailer). It was a guarantee that kids had a safe area to go that they would be welcomed with candy and Halloween spirit. We had so many people thank us for doing so.

There are a lot of grumpy grumps and anti-Halloween bible thumpers (I have more thoughts on these in particular in relation to the dying/killing of a culture that I may make another post about) in the world that people are afraid of accidentally crossing. That's not gonna happen at a trunk or treat. And I believe that with the right organization, we can make neighborhoods more welcoming and largely avoid this there as well.

So if you want to keep the Halloween spirit alive, I urge you to participate in your community. Go to town halls. Talk to your neighbors. Express your concerns and your ideas THROUGHOUT THE YEAR. Build that trust, and those friendships so that when it comes time to organize BEFORE October, that part of the work will already be done.

If a culture or tradition is dying, it is up to those who celebrate it to do the work to save it.