#footmark

[norman-m]

[les-cafards]

砂場の小鳥の足跡とまた栗鼠の鳴き声のみ

[declamationark]

Danny gets punted into the DC universe for some reason and proceeds to haunt Gotham because it’s gothic and there’s this hero cave with a bunch of cool tech (he misses Sam and Tucker) and this big family (he misses his mom and his dad and his big sis). He helps the vigilantes there with their battles and writes info he learns from spying on rogues on sticky notes (he misses clockwork) to leave by the files in the batcave. He thinks he’s being slick and stealthy but all the batfam realizes he’s there and basically pspspspspsps him into the family and somehow Danny never catches on

[murderbees]

as a enthusiatic member of programs in TRON should have blood,

I propose they bleed a processed form of energy. Their lightlines function similarly to circulatory systems. The color of their energy usually matches their lightlines.

It glows slightly, usually somewhat neon at first. Then as it evaporates/dries, it darkens and eventually leaves a dark grey soot film behind. It's not the easiest to wash off.

This is definitely not an excuse to draw characters covered in blood/energy, not at all

[elderwisp]

new footprint on the chest cc who foot going on atlas’s chest?

[k00292810]

Photography,

• After attending Deborah’s photography seminar i wanted to use the latex piece I made to communicate movement through visual images/videos

• Using lighting I emphasised the traces of movement on the pieces to highlight the traces they had made

• From this I developed several images which have further developed my concept of traces made by movement

[10969mfs-sinro]

Primal Footmark 2024 booking is now open

[flying-postcards]

Sent to BELARUS on 19th of October 2024

[milquetoast27]

The Emotional Reticence of Holmes and Watson

Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, two shy Victorian men, maneuver their vulnerable feelings of affection for one another in an expertly flawed and human manner crafted by Arthur Conan Doyle. First and foremost, I am examining their use of "my dear Watson" (91 times in the canon) and "my dear Holmes" (14 times).

The first time Holmes ever uses "my dear Watson" in the canon, it's actually in a rather sarcastic tone.

"What is your theory, then, as to those footmarks?" I asked, eagerly, when we had regained the lower room once more. "My dear Watson, try a little analysis yourself," said he, with a touch of impatience. "You know my methods. Apply them, and it will be instructive to compare results." (SIGN)

Note: for The Great Game, this absolutely isn't the first time Holmes has used this phrase, but from the narrative perspective, it is absolutely the first time Conan Doyle put this phrase to paper, which is more relevant to this examination.

Holmes uses this phrase with a touch of exasperation, which even in itself holds some love within it as he encourages his friend to utilise his own beloved methods. And even in this first instance, while Holmes's tone indicates some displeasure, the personal address ensures that it isn't a genuine blow. But the intimacy of "my dear" is quite daunting, isn't it? so Holmes utilises the veil of sarcasm to break the barrier, in the spirit of "look, I've said it now. Now I may go and say it as much as I want."

Oh, and he does. The frequency of 'my dear Watson' slowly builds through the canon and peaks through FINA, HOUN and EMPT. It isn't surprising, considering they hold some of the most critical points in their relationship.

• "My dear Watson, you were born to be a man of action." (HOUN) • "Not for the world, my dear Watson. I am perfectly satisfied with your company if you will tolerate mine." (HOUN) • "Then these are your instructions, and I beg, my dear Watson, that you will obey them to the letter." (FINA) • "My dear Watson, I owe you a thousand apologies. I had no idea that you would be so affected." (EMPT)

It is evident, that it is after this barrier is broken in SIGN, that Holmes feels comfortable to use this address in such a sincere manner. In fact, it is apparent that it is in particularly emotional circumstances that Holmes is more likely to call for Watson through any means at all.

So, how about Watson?

His use of "my dear Holmes" is almost exclusively out of shock or surprise whenever his 'Johnson' claims anything particularly outré. Again, while Watson is in disbelief, and most probably doubtful of Holmes's claims, the personal address softens this blow to say that no real harm is done between them.

• "My dear Holmes," said I, "this is too much." (SCAN) • "My dear Holmes!" "Oh, yes, I did." (SPEC)

The first real instance of Watson using this phrase sincerely is in FINA.

"You are afraid of something?" I asked. "Well, I am." "Of what?" "Of air-guns." "My dear Holmes, what do you mean?"

Holmes is acting more than out of the ordinary to put Watson in some kind of concern and this question comes no doubt more from worry than simple surprise. He even asks again, "but what does it all mean?" which highlights his wish to be by Holmes's side, even in danger.

The first and only instance of a good-hearted affectionate address comes to Holmes in HOUN. However, interestingly, it is only through the written word, in Watson's letters to Holmes from Dartmoor.

• Congratulate me, my dear Holmes, and tell me that I have not disappointed you as an agent. • Such are the adventures of last night, and you must acknowledge, my dear Holmes, that I have done you very well in the matter of a report.

Watson's method of breaking the barrier is to send it remotely through his pen, which is, after all, much less daunting than saying it directly. It is absolutely worth noting that Watson has also used this language when specifically wishing for praise - it shows us that he feels the closest to Holmes when he is able to follow his own methods.

Conan Doyle shows us the ways insecurities and pressures can collaborate with our most earnest and deepest affections. Holmes and Watson aren't perfect beings, but navigate through their web of reticence and inner desires to find an unspoken but profound dialogue between them.

[edosianorchids901]

The Disappearance

@sherlocktember2024 prompt - "goose"

It was never entirely unusual for Watson to lose track of Holmes while they were on a case together. Holmes had a habit of dashing off as soon as he thought of something that must be investigated, and did not always wait for Watson. Indeed, it often seemed as if he didn’t even realize he’d left Watson behind.

So, it was no surprise to turn around and find that Holmes had vanished. Watson hesitated in the drawing room, studying every inch of it. Was Holmes climbing the mantel again, or crawling underneath a table? Surely, he was searching for hidden compartments or passages, somewhere that certain stolen property might be concealed.

“Holmes?” Watson called, uncertain and a little anxious. He always became anxious when he wasn’t sure where Holmes had gone, especially given a certain three-year disappearance. “Are you here, old man?”

Holmes did not seem to be here, unless he was being difficult in order to make a point about something or was so consumed that he couldn’t respond to the call. Watson finally found the impression of his boots in the rug, and followed those footmarks outside.

He was not entirely certain why Holmes was outside. A notorious, expert burglar had been killed when he happened across a particularly vigilant groom from the stables of the house he was trying to rob. With the man dead, the police had searched for his stash at his country residence before declaring the matter hopeless.

Holmes, of course, hadn’t given up so easily. But surely the hiding place must be somewhere in the house?

It had rained earlier in the day, and the mud made Holmes’ footprints easier to trace. Watson moved slowly through the garden of the grand country house, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. This was the simplest way to find Holmes, as there was no way to anticipate whether he’d climbed onto a building or was running across the entire countryside in search of a clue.

The trail led to a wide lake at the edge of the garden, the shore sheltered a respectable oak tree. Holmes sat on a bench under the oak, one finger touched to his lip as he gazed out across the water.

Nearly breathless with relief, Watson joined him, and followed his gaze. He didn’t see much. Some ducks in the shallows, and a very nicely sized goose closer to the middle of the pond. Certainly no obvious signs of a place to hide stolen property.

He glanced at Holmes again. Holmes hadn’t reacted to him at all, or shown the slightest sign that he’d noticed Watson’s presence. He must have noticed—he noticed everything—but he was concentrating.

Watson resisted the urge to ask what he saw. Even when his stomach rumbled, he did not point out that they’d missed lunch. He simply waited for Holmes to acknowledge him.

After a time, Holmes turned to him and flashed a quick smile. “Well, Watson. What do you make of it?”

Watson looked at the garden, and then at the lake again. “Charming view.”

“Is it?” Holmes gave the lake a startled look, and his lips twitched into another smile as he rolled the handle of his cane from one hand to the other. “No doubt you noticed the goose.”

“I noticed that it looks delicious,” Watson said ruefully. “We have missed lunch.”

“My dear Watson, now is not the time for lunch!” Holmes sprang up from the bench, stabbed the end of his cane into the mud, and left it behind as he marched into the lake.

“Holmes!” Chest seizing with alarm again, Watson jumped up too. “My dear chap, whatever are doing?”

“Recovering stolen property!” Holmes shouted back as he waded deeper. “You ought to have me fitted for eyeglasses for failing to notice this at once, Watson. I have clearly lost all my skill.”

He grabbed the goose by the neck, and started to drag it to shore. For a moment, Watson could only stare in shock.

And then he realized it. “My God, Holmes! That’s not a real goose!”

“Well spotted, Watson.” Holmes clambered out into the mud and flung the “goose” down beside him. “It is a wooden construction, with certain articulated parts that move naturally in the breeze or with waves, so that a casual glance at a distance might presume it is the real thing.”

“And with the pond at the back of the property, even people who came to the house would be unlikely to notice.”

“Precisely.”

“But how on Earth did you notice?”

“The goose had not moved in our time here, for one thing.” With an irritated snarl, Holmes ripped his gloves off, flung them down on the grass, and slid his fingers across the painted surface. “The path to this bench was very well worn despite having little in the way of attractions. Furthermore, I observed certain painting supplies in the corner of the drawing room, and as you can see this has been recently repainted.”

Watson couldn’t see that, not for sure, but had no doubt that Holmes was correct. “I suppose that being in the elements wears it down.”

“Excellent, Watson. You scintillate today.” Holmes paused, working at the goose’s wing. “It was also clear from the edge of the pond that someone had been climbing in and— Hah!”

He tugged, and the wooden wing came off. Jewelry spilled out across the grass—rings, bracelets, necklaces, even a coronet. A few ornate, decorative knives followed. And there were still more stolen goods stashed inside.

“Astonishing, Holmes!” Watson cried. “Lestrade will be speechless once he sees this. This is truly a triumph, old man.”

“I ought to have realized the truth the moment I glanced at the pond. So many ducks and only one stationary goose? No, Watson, I am hardly deserving of such praise.” Despite the self-directed criticism, Holmes still looked pleased with himself. “At any rate, we may turn this case over to the authorities, and see about obtaining a belated lunch for you.”

“Wonderful!” Chuckling, Watson helped Holmes back to his feet. “Why don’t we find somewhere that serves goose?”

[norman-m]

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Meetings

Daryl Dixon x reader | SMUT🔞

Prequel to The Bridge Home, where daryl meets a werewolf surrounded by walkers and quickly becomes friends.

Daryl was out on one of his many hunting trips, preferring the woods over the fake normal life people were living within the Alexandria walls.

Hunting kept his head quiet, the rustling leaves and sounds of nature calmed his mind and helped him focus on his prey.

Not that he had much prey to track out here with the increase of walkers. Lots of game ending between the jaws of the undead before Daryl's bolts made their way home, only managing to snag a rabbit and two squirrels he had strung up over his shoulder.

He was tracking multiple sets of dragging footmarks that all went the same direction where the groans could be heard.

Trying to get a clear view was difficult, but it was possible to see the walkers were all going after something. It had to be a great deal of food if they all gathered.

He stalked the undead, taking them out with his crossbow one by one until he got close enough to handle the last few with his knife.

He shot and stabbed through the row of undead, dead set on getting to the food before them but losing his footing at the sight of the prey they were after.

He jerked himself to the side just as a walker dropped to gnaw at him and stabbed it through the head, managing to barely get upright to take the last two walkers out and drop back to the ground with a tired huff.

He knew what he sat down next to, he had no chance of outrunning those creatures especially on his ankle.

Next to him you moved. Large paws pressed against the ground to raise your frame and move to the human who just got rid of a group of undead with ease, if you didn't count the twisted leg.

With every inch you got closer you felt his heartbeat go crazier. If he was scared his outside didn't show it.

Daryl sat with his head rested against a tree, looking up at the sky and catching his breath, trying to focus on anything but the pain in his leg or the impending doom that was stepping closer.

You sniffed around the human, having spotted the game he had on him the second his figure appeared and decided he would have to be kind enough to share.

He now had his eyes shut, breathing heavy through his nose as if he was waiting for something bad. You stuck your snout against his side to nudge his arm away and felt him twitch and gasp. He stayed tense while you plucked a squirrel off the rope he wore and moved to eat it.

Daryl tensed at the touch of his side, holding his breath and waiting for--

The crunching sound of bones breaking, that was clear as day aside him now. He opened one eye to take a peek and saw the creature chow down one of his squirrels, tail happily wagging.

With the food gone you got back up and moved to sniff at the human's leg. You watched him get hurt to help you and you just stole his food, being helpful was almost a must now.

You poked your snout against his leg, needing to undo his leg wrappings before you could get to his ankle and lap at the skin, hoping it'd help the healing. The little bit of food was already working its magic and it felt like less of a burden to hold up your own body.

"M'gon end up being dog food.." He sighed to no one in particular as he glanced over your form. "Jus' don't waste anythin'. Don' wanna become a walkin' corpse."

You gave him a look, slowly blinking as you stared right into his eyes.

So you were friendly.

Daryl's ankle turned out hurting more than expected and had a hard time moving around, even to retrieve his bolts.

You in the meantime had set off but stayed close, he could see you watch him as you did whatever it was you were doing.

When you came back with a large stick almost doubled over in laughter. "Aint playin' fetch witya." He held on to a tree as you came up to him, happily trotting with the stick between your teeth.

You stopped in front of him and took the stick from your mouth, raising to your full height and looking down at the human before you. “Here. Helps.”

You held out the stick to him, blinking while he stared at your furred chest that was now level with his eyes.

“Ya talk. Tha’s new.” Your voice shook him back to earth and he accepted the stick to use as a cane. “Thanks.”

“I go with you. Just a bit.” It was nice to find a human who wasn’t so scared of you they tried to kill you, so you decided to keep this one as friend.

You walked with him for as long as your surroundings allowed you, not getting too close to the communities and the roads that connected them all.

Daryl had to take time off to let his leg heal, spending his days restless inside the walls and carving many dozens of new bolts to keep himself busy.

He was back outside the walls the second the doc gave him the okay. But not without taking his now officially walking stick you gave him. He carved any protruding bits off and made a handle of wrapped leather. It functioned like a real cane now.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to find each other again that day, even with you staying away from the loud, rumbling bike he rode.

“Stick. Good.” You were excited to see he still had the stick you brought him and made it look pretty. Such a human thing to do, adding pretties to useful items. It was something you unlearned over the last years living everywhere.

“Ya got a name?” Daryl’s voice was barely above a whisper as you sat down in the tall grass scanning your surroundings. “Dun’ wanna keep callin’ ya Dog in mah head.”

You let out a huffed laugh before sharing your name, surprising yourself you even remembered it. Daryl told you his as well, along with random tales of his travels he shared as you tracked different animals.

The day ended with a deer for each of you and a deal to try fishing in two days, agreeing on a spot near the river where you’d meet.

You went to the river the evening before you were supposed to meet, restless and unable to sleep. Even the late night dip in the river didn’t rid you of the hot flares that kept you restless.

You couldn't believe your body was betraying you like this, you really had to go into heat just before meeting with your new friend..

'Relax, behave.' You tried your best to hide your discomforts, you weren't going to ruin the mood or hide away and have him search for you.

If you could survive in the woods with the dead trying to eat you for so long, you could survive one morning of fishing with a human.

Daryl arrived shortly after your peptalk, giving you a quick wave hello that made your ears perk up in excitement. Quick strides had him next to your form that laid curled up on the forest floor.

"Mornin' lady." Daryl came to sit beside you, watching your body language and quickly making out you weren't comfortable. He debated rubbing your head in comfort, but with the way you flinched at the raise of his hand he quickly withdrew.

"Ya know we dun hafta fish, righ'? If yer feelin' sick ya can stay on land." He started busying himself with removing his shoes and socks, rolling up his pant legs in preparation to go into the water. He had left his winged vest with his boots as he took his fishing spear and started towards thr water. You watched him as it took him only a short moment to catch his first fish, moving out of the water to kneel in front of you and handing over the fish.

"Ya should eat if yer feelin' bad." He placed the fish at your snout but you turned your head to the side. "No sick."

You moved to take the fish and place it in the box Daryl brought before making your way into the water. It helped cool your body, but the way you kept missing the fish had you frustrated.

Daryl stopped to watch you for a bit. How you shook out yoir fur and stood on all fours in the shallow end. Your back was turned to him and your tail was up in focus as you stared into the water.

It was by total accident he had a clear view of your lips, so puffy they were visible between the fur below your tail.

Daryl turned away in a second, heat rising to his cheeks, unsure how to feel about seeing that, even if he didn't seek it out.

You sensed a sudden change in Daryl and turned your attention back to him. "Alright?"

Daryl still couldn't look you in the eyes as he told you he was fine. "Ya know it's fine ta ask me to leave, righ'? Can't be fun for ya havin' a guy 'round now." It all made sense, why you kept your tail down in discomfort and dove right into the water after putting the fish away.

With a frustrated whine you slumped down at the edge of the water, half submerged with your head just outside of the water's edge. "Sorry.."

"Ya got nothin' ta be sorry for." Daryl had come back out to sit down where he left his shoes. "S'all natual. Jus' don'wanna make ya uncomfortable." He watched your tail sway in the water as he let himself air dry, watching as you got up and now stood much taller than him again.

The way he looked up at you through his lashes, through those few strands of long hair that always hung in his face made you want to jump him even more than your body already made you want it. "Help me?"

The way Daryl's eyes widened at the insinuation, stuttering through his next words. "I uh.. I ain't done.."

"Is okay." You moved to step over him and lower yourself to your knees above him. "Just wanna feel." Your tail wagged softly, brushing against Daryl's legs. With a soft touch you felt down his body, through his jeans already feeling his body was up for the task, his head just needed to follow along.

"Want to, please?" You hated that being in this form for so long caused these things to happen, you needed the help.

Daryl gave himself a moment to go over his options, but quickly deciding he didn't want to leave you like this and agreed to help. You made it clear you didn't mind his lack of recent experience.

With a careful nod he agreed to your request. "Yeah, I'll help ya."

Getting the answer you hoped for you let out an excited whine, wagging your tail like crazy but quickly taking your hands to your mouth in apology. The last thing you should do right now was sound like an animal. Your ears drooped with the mistake, not looking Daryl in the eyes until his hand settled on your leg and he smiled up at you.

"Can't promise I'll be any good." He squeezed your thigh to comfort you, but mostly to keep his hands busy. He felt like he wasn't even gonna manage to undo his pants with how shaky he was feeling.

Not only had he not done anything even remotely intimate since the world ended, he was about to do it with a creature that could easily tear him to shreds.

"Can I?" Your attention went to the button and zipper on Daryl's pants, plucking and prying to opening it and pulling at the fabric to get all his layers off.

"Ah. Help, please." You didn't want to scratch him or tear any fabric, so you needed Daryl's hands to assist in taking off his pants.

"Yeah, okay. Up." With a pat to the thigh you raised up on your knees again, watching as Daryl took one leg fully out of his pants and left everything dangling on the other.

The second his ass his the floor again you sat back down on him, pleading for him to do something. Your hand came down to his cock but pulled back, deciding it was better if he did it himself because of your claws.

"Yer fine, go ahead." Daryl's hand moved on top of yours, guiding you towards his length and letting you wrap your clawed fingers around it. At Daryl's sharp intske of breath you wanted to pull away, but he made sure you kept your hand on him by rubbing at your hip and brushing his thumb over your hand so you could position yourself on him as he helped you hold him upright.

Daryl watched himself in your hand, feeling so small. Your hands could easily wrap around his neck entirely, and somehow the idea of having such a large beast be so gentle with him only spurred him on to keep going.

With one smooth downward motion you sank down on him, stretching you just enough to have your tongue loll out of yoir mouth and pant with a smile.

Daryl let out a deep groan at the tightness, hands gripping at your hips with his fingers tangling in the longer fur at the back. "Ffuck.. s'good.." You were rolling your hips on his, panting and nodding in agreement. "Good. Yes." You went to bend down and nuzzle Daryl's neck. "Helps."

The scruff on his chin felt so good against the top of yoir snout, it was like your entire body was oversensitive and every little touch sent a jolt straight to your core.

You shoved your head hard against Daryl's shoulder, making him lose balance and lay down flat on the ground. You quickly had your claws digging into his shoulders as you kept riding him to relieve the ache, almost howling out as you hit your first peak of the day. You slumped down to your elbows as you kept up your pace, watching Daryl underneath you grab at which ever bodypart he could grab at to keep himself grounded. His grunts matched the roll of your hips, muffling the second his eyes and then lips caught your perk teats.

The way he was licking and sucking at you, thrusting up his hips along with your rythm had you mewling, barely able to keep yourself upright.

You were whining and howling, unable to form any words with how good it felt to have Daryl fucking into you from below. One of his hands pulling at the fur at the back of your neck and the other set at the side of your ribs while your hands were holding on for dear life, claws tearing through the fabric of his shirt and cutting through the skin of his shoulders.

"Gonna cum.." Daryl's muffled voice barely reached your ears as you were so close yourself you had to focus on not tearing Daryl's flesh off the bone. With your chin pressed against the ground to muffle your howl you came once more, walls clamping down on Daryl's cock, earning a loud moan against the fur of your chest and a rough thrust of his hips before he stilled and finished deep inside of you.

Daryl's body slumped against the ground, arms unwrapping from your frame as his chest rose and fell steadily, catching his breath.

Ever so carefully you lifted yourself off him, softly wincing as you disconnected your claws from Daryl's now bleeding skin and falling down beside him.

"Helped. Love." You carefully scooted closer, laying your leg over his hip so he'd be at least covered up and nuzzled his neck, leaving gentle licks along his skin.

Daryl smiled up at the sky as a hand came up to your jawline to scratch at the fur. "M'glad tha' helped." His head turned to the side to be able to look at you properly, checking once more for any discomfort but he found none of that. All he saw was a content smile and adoring eyes that were seemingly doing the same to him as well.

With a quick glance at Daryl's lips you moved your head just a little bit to be able to press the front of your snout agains the corner of his lips and sneak in thr smallest of licks before shying away again.

Daryl's hand still rested on your jaw, gently moving it back towards him as he turned to meet you and pressed his lips softly against yours.

A soft, loving purr left you before licking a broad stripe over his lips and getting up to take a dip in the river, desperate to clean yourself up.

Daryl followed slowly, wiping the forest dirt off him before getting dressed.

"Yer gon' be good ta fish?" Daryl stood at the edge of the water, watching the gentle ripples coming from where you moved around and didn't see you step in to shake out your fur and got a good shower.

You heard him yell in surprise and stopped dead in your tracks, looking up at him wiping the water off him and moving his hair out of his face as he gave you a look that had you almost cry of laughter.

"Sorry!" You held your hands up to your face to hide the laugh that you couldn't hold in, and to your luck you spotted an amused smile appear on Daryl's face too.

"Yer lucky I like ya, furbrain."

The two of you spent a good while fishing and hanging out till sundown, having ended the meeting with fire roasted fish for the both of you.

"Hmmm good." You sat with your side against Daryl's, chewing on your roasted fish. The taste was so good, it made you miss cooked food.

After Daryl got everything packed after the day you said your goodbyes, agreeing to meet again in two days for more hunting and hanging out.

Little did Daryl know you'd be taking off his clothes again, hidden away behind thick greenery with your snout down his pants. The thrill of your fangs right at his cock worked in strange ways, it heigtened the intensity of every little touch. To his surprise it made him want more.

Even after your heat cycle passed the two of you kept up the fun hidden away deep in the woods inbetween hunting, fishing and killing walkers.

Daryl met you further out on his bike, camping gear packed on the back of the bike as he drove over dirt paths with you rushing through the trees, easily keeping up with his bike.

The ride wasn't a long one, and the area they ended up in was a quiet one. The few stray walkers were quickly discarded and everything was perfect after that.

The night sky was clear, the fire crackling warmed the two of you just right, and having Daryl cuddled up in your arms, feeding you small bits of roasted meat was more than anything you could ever wish for in this ruined world.

Once the sun had fully set and the sky had turned almost black, Daryl had laid down on the sleeping bag he brough and pulled you down along with him.

One arm rested under his head as the other one raised up and pointed at a passing cloud. "Kinda looks like a fish."

"Fish? Heart." You pointed along with him, following the shape with your fingers to show him you were right.

"If ya say so, is a heart." His hand came back to rest on his stomach as he watched the stars, silently thanking them for bringing you into his life. While yes, he had to hide you and keep you a secret, he was happier. It was easier to focus and he was seeing more good in living again.

Your eyes were set on Daryl, admiring the human who could almost out-hunt you on a daily basis and had that perfect balance of rough on the outside and golden on the inside.

"Hey-" "ya know-" you both spoke at the same time.

"You go." "Nah, you first." Daryl insisted you go first, moving onto his side so he could give you all the attention.

"You want to, be my mate?" The question was a simple one. And it beat Daryl to the one thing he had planned for the night.

He nodded hia head, unable to keep the smile from forming as he went to bury his face on your neck and move to give you a kiss. "Yeah. I'd love to."

With an excited squeal you pulled him in fkr an even tighter hug and licked his lips, giving him all the kisses you thought of giving him when you were alone.

Not much stargazing was done that night. Just laying in comfortable silence, wrapped up in each others' arms.

Daryl had gotten his sleeping bag zipped up and laid down in it to keep the cool night air off him, but didn't stay like that for long as the zipped got undone and a pair of arms pulled him back. You had wrapped your arms around his frame and held him close to your chest, purring softly. "Happy like this."

Daryl tiredly smiled at your words, moving his hand to squeeze yours. "I'm happy like this too. I love ya."

[eepyuii]

frostbite — pt. 1

pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slowburn-ish

cw ; some swearing, mentions of wounds & medical stuff, dottore warning (?) he doesn’t exactly do anything but y’know- it’s dottore, sort of proofread

note ; i am so scared, i’ve never posted anything like this on tumblr or at all LMFAO this is my first fic ever and very self indulgent. ive already posted 5 chapters of this on ao3 but i was curious as to how the tumblr ajax kissers would react to it. im sorry if this sort of info tab isn’t very descriptive, im just basing it off what i’ve seen from the viewer’s perspective.

ALSO, for context- tetya= aunt and dyadya= uncle in russian!

constructive criticism is appreciated!

next part | masterlist

“hey, watch your step! snow’s gotten harder and slippier these days…”

“yes, sir!”

“yes, father!”

just as the warning rings out, it’s followed by the dry crunch of heavy boots against snow. it’s not the same soft sound as it was a month or so ago, rather it sounds almost as if the ice gnashes aggressively at the leather boots.

it gnaws at your ears painfully, though you’ve been sensitive to such sounds for as long as you could remember, yet you still flinch.

ajax notices right away. he always does.

“here,” he goes, the cloud of his warm breath visible. turning your head toward the boy, you see that he’s handing you his earmuffs.

a sheepish grin invades your lips as you wordlessly take him up on his offer. mind rid of the god awful crush of the snow, you come up with a brilliant idea.

“last one there’s a rotten catch!” you charge onwards with a laugh.

“ah, n-not again!”

ajax’s father only watches from behind as his son hurries to catch up, a defeated sigh leaves him. “these kids…”

said kids were already reaching the lake clearing at that point. the frozen water already has its own layer of fresh-fallen snow, making it seem like an entire new tundra- that is, until you and ajax brashly create footmarks and snow angels on the surface while his father is still yet to catch up. if he’d been closer you would’ve heard the old man’s grumbles about having to carry all the fishing gear.

thankfully, there were no rotten catches that day.

your best friend’s laughter and your very own echo in your head like bells in an empty chapel, uninvitedly. the entire memory is instead invited by the sight of a father on the street with his own children, he carries a bucket and fishing rods as the youngins run ahead excitedly. you conclude that you should’ve left for zapolyarny palace earlier today.

this morning cannot start off on a bad note, not when the doctor had meticulously scheduled an operation for this very day with your presence prerequisited.

you’re acutely aware of this.

you’re still acutely aware of this when you slam your work bag onto the desk with such force that even the fatui guard monitoring the palace hallway jumps.

and you’re still acutely aware of this when you almost bump into one of your boss’s segments on your way to the operation room, a most certain death that would be if you did bump into him. even as you break your stress fueled stride, the segment blocks the path forward.

“if i didn’t know any better, i would assume this is your first day on your first job. ever.”

you furrow your eyebrows confusedly while the segment coldly scrutinizes you top to bottom.

“even the lowliest of fatui recruits know that the first thing one should do after clocking in is get into the proper uniform.” he indicates with a snark in his tone.

ah- your lab coat.

“yes sir. my apologies.” with a haste in your step previously thought impossible to achieve without actually sprinting, you beeline straight to your office, which is conveniently on the other side of a very long hallway from the operation room. so long, in fact, that it gives enough time for a certain someone to slink into the office room without you even seeing it.

you don’t notice him even as you’re already inside the room. well, how could you with such tunnel vision, powered by your early-morning frustration and innate fear of disappointing the doctor. you’re practically out the door with lab coat in hand when he finally quips.

“uhm, doc?” the voice is shaky but still impossible to not recognize.

god dammit.

the tsaritsa was truly not on your side today. with a deep inhale, you do your best to keep a neutral expression as you turn around to face the head of red hair that haunts your dreams. or rather nightmares.

“how may i help you, lord tartaglia?” you still hated that title.

“well heh… this is the head nurse’s office, i believe you can help me by exerting the very function of this room?” the harbinger puts on a friendly front, acting like he can’t feel your burning glare. within it, you start to gauge at what’s brought him here, few surface-level scratches and even fewer cuts that are ever so slightly deeper present on him.

“i’m afraid i’m running late for an important appointment with the doctor, you’ll have to ask one of my subordinates.” you state matter-of-factly and start turning to leave again.

“w-wait, please!” he reaches out to stop you and the hand lands on your bicep, rather than your wrist which would’ve been a quicker latch. huh. “let me talk to him afterwards, he’ll understand. plus, i’m your boss as much as he is.”

“you’re quite literally not.”

“yeah, i’m not. still your boss though.”

childe is not of as high authority over you as the doctor is, afterall you’re one of the doctor’s assigned assistants, but the way he talks so casually and… playfully makes him seem even less bossy. but you don’t allow yourself anymore time to dwell on it, instead you roll your eyes and give in. your boss almost giddily sits on the examination bed.

the sterilized silk gloves slide snugly onto your palms as you look your patient up and down.

“how did you even manage to get yourself roughed up so early in the morning?”

“it’s never too early in the morning for a spar! though- hah… even i didn’t expect to take this many free hits.”

“who were you sparring?”

“eh, some junior lieutenants at the northwest wing. there were some new recruits there too so i figured i’d set an example for ‘em.”

northwest wing..? you visibly pause at the revelation.“that’s… on the other side of zapolyarny palace.”

“so?”

“so there’s nurses there too.”

childe himself seems to pause then- you were catching onto him. he realizes he must think about his next actions as carefully as humanly possible.

“ahah… a-are there?”

good one, ajax.

you look down at the alcohol-soaked cotton ball sitting snugly between your tweezers and then up to a scratch right above childe’s eyebrow- seems like the perfect time to treat your patient. the sting comes before the harbinger can even react and much to his dismay, you keep the cotton ball on his forehead even as attempts to lean away from it.

“childe tartaglia,” you start, voice menacing and low. “did you orchestrate a sparring session with low-rank officers and get yourself injured on purpose to come see me?”

“a-ah ouch!” childe hisses. “surely you w-wouldn’t commit medical malpractice over something as trivial as this?” clearly he forgets who you work for, or pretends to at least.

“start talking.”

“okay, okay! yes, i did all that…” the red head sulks with a defeated sigh. pleased by the confession, you move away with your alcohol cotton ball of doom and give him space.

you watch the tsaritsa’s weapon of war crumple into himself, looking off into a meaningless corner of the room.

“i… i’m being stationed to liyue tomorrow.” his voice is entirely different from what it was when this entire ordeal began- quiet, hesitant.

“and?” is your response before you can even think about how douchey it sounds. it’s already too late when you see childe deflate even more and feel like you just kicked a puppy.

“and i wanted to come and give you the news.”

really? that’s all he wanted from this?

“then why go through all this effort of sparring newbies at practically the ass crack of dawn and lose? why not just come here and tell me at once?”

he scoffs bitterly. “like you’d talk to me under normal circumstances.”

the regret you were feeling from your cruel response from earlier quickly bleeds out into incredulousness.

“you haven’t talked to me under normal circumstances since we were fourteen.” you stab back and childe bites his tongue, he won’t retaliate this time. the rest of the appointment is spent in the deadliest of silences as you finish tending to his “injuries”. neither of you ever look up to face the other.

you pack up quickly as to haul ass from the office room as soon as possible. but not before you mutter stoically- “have fun in liyue.”

and childe is left to sit pathetically on the bed and contemplate his astronomical failure.

—

what a wretched week.

the days seem to take a thousand years each to end, the laboratory feels stuffier, the people less tolerable and you swear the pen in your hand feels heavier than a lead ingot.

“are you done sulking?”

oh yeah, there’s also the ruthless fatui harbinger you work under and the equally insulting bajillion copies of him. you know bajillion is a gross overestimation but you also gave up keeping track of how many segments the doctor has a long time ago, they’re bossy all the same.

“not sulking, sir, just… thinking.”

“thinking about the medical records you’re supposed to be overseeing surely?” he taunts and you can only scoff non-committedly.

said medical records were mere reports on several of the doctor’s past experiments and operations, arguably not worth such a commitment of your time or worth a hackling from your boss. either way the words and paragraphs had merged into blurred lines and incomprehensible messes in your eyes about ten minutes ago, you were only pretending to be doing something at this point.

the irresistible force of your boredom drives your gaze to anywhere but the papers in front of you, eventually settling onto a corkboard hung up on a farther wall of the doctor’s laboratory. tired retinas struggle to focus on the blueprints that are stuck onto the corkboard but they seem to have rough sketchings of… body parts? they’re definitely not human, no, instead the drawings indicate they’re robotical. on another blueprint is an unfinished rendering of the full robot body. the shape language is unconventionally stylized, to a point where they almost resemble traditional inazuman patterns or even… the patterns on scaramouches robes-

“l-lord dottore!! i have an u-urgent matter sent by lord pierro himself.”

huh?

“out with it. quick.” the segment doesn’t even bother to face the stammering officer that had bursted through the door right then.

“u-uhm… some of our liyue informants have reported t-that rex lapis suddenly p-perished during the rite of descension,”

huh?

“rex lapis, dying? well,” he drawls amusedly. “that would certainly be a sight. but how exactly does this development concern me? is the banker not available?”

“w-well y-yes… lord pierro specifically requested for your word on the matter a-and perhaps see if one of your s-subordinates could… be on-site?”

dottore’s segment lets out an exasperated sigh while a gloved hand goes up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “unfortunately it doesn’t surprise me that the collective surplus amount of agents we have stationed in liyue harbor proves to be utterly incompetent to the point where the jester himself would come to me for help.”

a feeling of dread settles in your chest as you try to digest the insane information you’ve been given-

rex lapis, the oldest of the seven archons of teyvat, is dead.

pierro, the head of the fatui harbingers, is requesting dottore to send one of his subordinates to investigate the scene.

that’s you, you’re dottore’s subordinate.

which means you’ll be sent to investigate an archon’s death. in liyue.

that’s where he is.

your head feels like it’ll explode any second now. the segment, ever so brilliantly clever like his prime version, seems to have the same idea as you and beams a sharp-toothed sadistic grin.

“why my assistant here does seem to be available, wouldn’t you say?” he turns a serpentine stare over to you.

“err… i don’t think i could leave my post here, sir, i am the head nurse after all-“

“nonsense, i doubt the bumbling idiots of this palace will find themselves into anything more troublesome than a papercut while you’re gone.”

oh the irony of hearing that after your… situation the other day. you huff defeatedly, standing up to start packing for your impromptu trip. the mysterious blueprints in the laboratory long forgotten.

—

morepesok hasn’t changed a bit since you left.

which, as much as you love your hometown, isn’t saying much- morepesok is as uneventful as it gets. in such a small seaside snezhnayan village, the only points of interest are the painfully traditional values of fishing and family.

the visit to your parents’ house is brief but comforting, some teary goodbyes and heartfelt words about how pleased and proud they are of what you’ve accomplished for yourself- achieving such a high position in the fatui ranks by merely helping people. you don’t even consider telling them about the doctor.

but what makes you feel worse is the visit to ajax’s family home. it’s like the house has been frozen in time, the place where you spent years of your childhood is intact and unchanged- except for some newer family pictures, of course.

teucer, tonia and anthon are the ones to greet you first, then ajax’s parents come along. huh… ajax. you hadn’t even noticed the switch your brain does whenever you’re back home. here, he’s ajax but in zapolyarny palace, he’s childe or tartaglia. but there’s no time to dig yourself a deeper hole in that topic because you’re presently being pampered like a very own daughter of the house by his parents.

“my dear, look at you! you look so grown and mature… have you been eating well?” his mother walks up to cup your cheeks with the most genuine parental love. she, like the rest of the environment, looks exactly as you remember her, with a few newer white strands betwixt her bright orange curls. well, remember is a strong word.

“tetya, it’s only been a few months since we’ve seen each other, i’m all the same.” you laugh and she reciprocates.

“yes yes, i know… and- oh! as a matter of fact, we saw ajax just this week, said he was being transferred to a northland bank all the way in liyue!”

and when you thought you could not feel shittier about this.

“it is a shame to have our ajax so far from home so suddenly but at least we still have you, dearest!” she grins, pinching your cheek with more vigor than you’ve seen apparent in fatui sergeants.

“hey!” the three younger siblings call out in unison.

“yeah, a-about that, tetya…” you start hesitantly. “i’m… also being transferred to liyue. there have been some unexpected developments and i’ll just be on field to check up on things.”

ajax’s mother huffs incredulously. “by the tsaritsa’s name! they must hate mothers over at that palace!” she shakes her head with disappointment. “speaking of which, have you gone to see your parents yet?” you only nod. “good good… well anyhow, are you in a hurry, dear? i could make you some hot chocolate and then you’re free to be on your way.”

how could you ever deny your tetya’s hot chocolate?

the rest of your stay in the household is spent chatting with the family and playing games with the younger kids, as well as drinking a cup of hot chocolate so delicious you almost cry. the afternoon is nearing its end when you’re walking out the door and teucer is bawling his eyes out at your departure, or maybe he’s just tuckered out.

“have a safe trip, kiddo.” ajax’s father pats you on the shoulder firmly.

“thanks, dyadya, i will.”

“oh! and take care of ajax, make sure he doesn’t get in over his head.” this time it’s tonia who pipes up and the rest of the family nods in agreement.

“bye bye, everyone!” you’re already at the house’s front fence, waving back as fiercely as you can.

the only thing you don’t notice is the knowing look that is shared between tonia and her mother when she mentions ajax.

[villainfixations]

things I'm really glad they added to the hunger games series movie adaptations:

Lucy Gray's footprints just suddenly stopping at the end when Snow is hunting her, just like Lucy Gray's footprints disappeared in her ballad:

They followed from the snowy bank,

Those footmarks one by one.

Into the middle of the plank,

And further there were none!

Effie feeling 'imprisoned' in 13 and how she's so miffed by the whole living quarters. Yeah Effie's amazing btw

Katniss's dream in 13 about Peeta. Just like in the train in Catching Fire, except it's in the Everdeen living quarters. It reminds me of how in the book Katniss says that when things are particularly bad for her, sometimes her brain will give her a good dream.

Katniss just sucking at acting for the propos. Its so funny.

All the districts, throughout the original trilogy, that rebel - 11 after Rue died, 7 with bombing the peacekeepers, and 5 with the dam singing the hanging tree.

There are definitely more but these are the ones I can remember rn. I might add to this later idk

[skyriderwednesday]

The end of Charles Augustus Milverton is absolutely wild to me like--

“Yes, there were two of them. They were, as nearly as possible, captured red-handed. We have their footmarks, we have their description; it's ten to one that we trace them. The first fellow was a bit too active, but the second was caught by the under-gardener, and only got away after a struggle. He was a middle-sized, strongly built man -- square jaw, thick neck, moustache, a mask over his eyes.” “That's rather vague,” said Sherlock Holmes. “Why, it might be a description of Watson!” “It's true,” said the inspector, with much amusement. “It might be a description of Watson.”

We know very well that this is literally a description of Watson, and Holmes says this to Lestrade's face while Watson -- who I can only imagine is sweating pints -- is SAT ACROSS THE TABLE FROM HIM.

[10969mfs-sinro]

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