#i have an explanation but it's funnier if i leave it at that

[ddandelionfluff]

moonlit recollections | viktor x reader

modern-ish? au; fluff; no relationship established; it's my first time posting pls forgive any mistakes; englishmajor!reader; inspired by Astrophil and Stella Sonnet 71

***

Who will in fairest book of nature know

You knock on his door at two in the morning, startling him out of the coffee-fueled haze he had been in for the past few days. Your voice carries through the thin door, asking if he was still awake. Joints creaking, Viktor pulls himself out of his desk, self-consciously smoothing out his too-wrinkled shirt and running his hands through his too-long hair as he opens the door, stopping quickly. The inside of his dorm is a mess, and if you saw it, you’d probably start trying to help him clean.  

He draws a breath as you look at him and laugh, the corners of your eyes crinkling as they trace his hair.

“You look rough.” An admonishment.

He shrugs.

“I have an exam tomorrow,” An apology.

“Which is why I’m here,” You say by way of explanation, which does not actually explain anything.

His brows furrow as he leans against the frame, taking some pressure off his leg. “I do not understand. We did not have a study session planned today.”

And even if you did, it wouldn’t have been at two in the morning.

You laugh again, a short, incredulous sound, and Viktor wishes he was funnier so he could be credited for it more often.

“No, genius, I’m here to get you to take a break. Also, you did miss our last session, so you owe me.”

How virtue may best lodged in beauty be

So here he was, following you through the dark university buildings as you, for the lack of a better word, broke into the arts lounge.

“It’s not breaking in if I’ve got the keys,” You justify, keys jingling in your hands. Viktor studies you as you fiddle with them, your face scrunched and tongue poking through your lips in concentration. You hadn’t taken off the lip oil you usually wore for moisture, and it glittered under the flashlight’s scrutiny.

“Hmm?” He says, realizing that you had said something, and that you were standing.

“Is the sleep deprivation getting to you, Viktor?” You tilt your head, eyes roving over his face, searching for the obvious signs of exhaustion painting his features. The purple under his eyes, drawing his face in even harsher lines, the line of tension between his brows. The way his features tended to draw into themselves like a plant unwatered. He watches you watch him, tracing your lips, touchless, trying to remember a word that wasn’t your name.

“I think it is,” He admits softly, afraid of letting you catch onto him.

You smile, hands finding the doorknob and twisting. You leaves the lights off, navigating through memory and the stray light of streetlamps streaming in. Viktor stumbles behind you, feeling his way through clumsily.

The doors to the balcony had been left open, a major oversight you grumble about as you slide them open. The air is chilly, making you shiver as it slithers past the warmth of your sweater. His sweater, Viktor notices. He had lent it to you a week ago, at your last session.

 Let him but learn of love to read in thee,

You had shown up to the library soaked through, the rain outside painting the world gray with its weeping. You tried to hide the shivering, but it was clear in the way you clenched your teeth, body drawn together with tension as you laughed off his concern.

“I don’t need my sweater, go change in the bathroom,” He had offered, both pitiful and exasperated at your lack of planning. With a sheepish smile, you had accepted the help, promising to return it as soon as possible.

Sunk into worn leather couches warmed by the nearby fireplace, you’d almost disappeared under the wool. As your hands danced across the page of the textbook in your lap, underlining and annotating the poem as you explained the basics of close-reading, Viktor couldn’t help but notice how you halted to push the sleeves up now and then as they got in the way.

It was supposed to be an easy class, but as of late, it had been taking up more time than his core courses. Not that Viktor could be bothered. You two had been in the library for hours now, on the couches near the fireplace—a frequent haunt. It was the best place to curl up with your anthologies in your laps, the lack of tables allowing  forcing Viktor to lean closer to see what you were pointing at, and—unbeknownst to him, for you to sit so your thigh would press up against his. Though he wasn’t aware of your design, he was plenty aware of the electricity firing up his nerves, even when the warmth of the fire threatened to drag him under.

He yawned, confused. Not only because he couldn’t make sense of your explanation or the sonnet itself, but also because he wasn’t used to the extreme bouts of fatigue that overtook him around you. It must be the literature, he had thought to himself, the words were literally putting him to sleep.

Stella, those fair lines which true goodness show.

“Tired?” You’d asked, sounding equally exhausted and perhaps a little hopeful. But Viktor had shaken his head—he’d needed to get through it that night, for the test was less than twenty-four hours away. The first one, his chance to set a standard for himself and to make an impression.

“Confused. I still do not understand what this last line adds to the poem. It is so…” Viktor had sighed, mouthing the line. “…random.”

“Well,” You’d started, tucking away a stray strand of hair. “If you look at the rest of the sonnet, Astrophil has been focusing on the virtuous parts of his love for Stella, basing it in admiration of her character and beauty from this very pure, respectful perspective. Almost like he was worshipping a deity rather than, I don’t know, loving a person. Keeping that in mind, what do you think the sudden interjection of desire might mean?”

Even half-asleep, you made the perfect teacher. Viktor wondered if he was making you question your decision to be an educator with his idiocy. Mulling over your words, he’d tried to formulate a response that would please you.

There shall he find all vices' overthrow,

That was the most difficult part of this subject—finding an appropriate answer. In his field, there was only ever one. But here? It felt like he was shooting in the dark, randomly putting together semblances of analysis in hopes of making the puzzle fit. It frustrated him.

“Hm,”—is what came out. Sighing, he’d tried again.

“Well, desire in this case would refer to a…carnal feeling, would it not?” The word was awkward against his tongue as he’d looked to you for approval, lighting up slightly when you nodded. Congratulations, you absolute genius, you remembered a basic definition, he thought sarcastically. It was a clear testament to his skills that even such a rudimentary recollection made you happy.

“Desire expresses, well, a desire for sustenance,” He’d continued. “So, it is being starved by the virtue of Astrophil’s love for Stella, then? Is that it?”

You smiled, teeth peeking out from behind your gloss-painted lips. “That is one interpretation, and a pretty good one at that.” Then, you’d paused, leaving Viktor confused again. A good interpretation did not mean the best one.

Not by rude force, but sweetest sovereignty

“Some might say that it’s a reminder that any true love can’t just be focused on virtue and purity, but also needs to encompass more carnal, ‘lowly’ aspects to be complete.” You explained, noticing his look. “But it really doesn’t matter what interpretation you argue for, as long as you have a strong argument.”

“But which is the better answer?” Viktor had asked incredulously, a hand threading through his hair.  

You laughed lightly. “There isn’t one, I suppose. Just whatever you can argue for.”

“That makes absolutely no sense.” He said with finality.

You shrugged as you scribbled down the analysis in his margins, leaning over so your hair was too close to Viktor’s face. He drew in a sharp breath, smelling the fresh scent of your shampoo.

“It’s just an exercise in close-reading, Viktor. The entire point is to discover the poem,”—you’d punctuated this statement with a flourish of your hand, rings glinting—"not to tie it up and beat it until it gives you the ‘right’ answer.”

Your voice had taken on that trademark gentleness, the tone it always took when you talked about anything you loved. Poetry, your favourite book, even a particularly good cup of coffee. It made Viktor’s chest ache, like it was pulling into itself, trying to shy away from you. He wondered if you could ever talk about him in that tone.

He’d been silent too long, eyes resting on your face absentmindedly. You laughed, snapping your fingers in front of him. He startled, sheepish. You’d been talking.

“Wanna call it a night?” You’d asked, shifting to face him properly, knees still tucked under your thighs.

Viktor had shaken his head. “No, I still do not feel entirely confident about this test,”

“Relax, Viktor, it’s only worth four points. Have fun with it,” You yawned, leaning your head against the couch, right beside his shoulder.

He’d mimicked you, leaning his head back to relieve the ache in his neck. “I would have thought that our semester-long acquaintance would have shown you how impossible that is.”

You had shrugged, blinking slowly. “Worth a try,”

Silence was a blanket over the two of you, your eyes shut lightly while Viktor tried to draw his away. He’d dreaded the end of this quiet, when you inevitably opened your eyes and sighed, a complaint about how you still had to go home and make dinner slipping from your lips. And Viktor had, once again, been too afraid to betray himself, to ask if you wanted to come over for dinner, to punctuate that question with the fact that his place was closer anyway. Instead, he’d stolen glances as you packed up, stopped you from returning his sweater, assuring you he’d just take it later.  

Of reason, from whose light those night-birds fly;

“Do you remember when we first met? You looked exactly like how you do right now,” On the balcony, you pull him out of his thoughts, leaning against the railing. He steps forward to join you, the cold metal a welcome shock compared to the nearly uncomfortable warmth your presence inspired in him.

“Are you trying to tell me I look horrible?” He replies flatly.

You shrug, smiling. “Maybe,”

He laughs, swallowing the faint bitter taste of self consciousness as he takes his place beside you.

That inward sun in thine eyes shineth so.

He’d been late on the first day, having to brace far too many stairs for his liking. The night before had been spent sleepless with pain in his leg, and the stairs that morning only made it worse. The only seat left was beside you, in the second row of all places. Cane thumping embarrassingly as the professor paused, Viktor had dropped beside you, trying his best not to disturb your arm as he settled in. The old hall, tucked away in the windowless basement of the Arts department, had creaky chairs and tiny pull-out desks, quite different from the state-of-the-art labs Viktor was used to. Despite his best efforts, his arm bumped against yours as he brought out his notebook.

You’d startled slightly, throwing him a small smile as he muttered a hasty apology. He began trying to decipher the page number by looking at your book, half-hidden by the arm you rested your head on. Unfortunately, you’d noticed that too. With another kind smile, you’d reached over and turned the book to the right page, pointing to the exact sonnet being discussed.

Though he thanked you, the lecture still flew over his head.

He could feel your eyes on him as you put your things away extra slowly, as if to match his pace in an attempt to not embarrass him further. If so, it didn’t work. He’d been painfully aware of the delay he was causing.

 “Are you in this faculty?” You’d asked as Viktor stood up. He was a deer caught in headlights as you swung your bag onto your shoulder.

“No, this class is, eh, a required option,” He’d said, feeling the paradox of the category.

“Really? The engineering students usually take the lower-level literature courses.”

“How do you know I’m in engineering?” Viktor had asked. Being easily discerned didn’t sound like a good thing.

You’d laughed. “Don’t worry, it’s only because I know most of the literature students, we’re a pretty small group.”

“Fair, but I could be in maths, or biology,” He’d titled his head. Around him, new students had started piling into the room. The two of you had been standing here for a while now.

“Well, you smell like motor oil and formaldehyde, so I think I got it half right.” You’d winked, stepping past him. You smelled like jasmine and books.  “I’ll see you around?”

And, not content to be perfection's heir,

And you had seen him around. The next lecture, you’d grabbed a seat closer to the entrance, saving the one beside you for him. He saw you as soon he entered, drawn to familiarity. Stopping just a step away, he noticed the bag, self-consciousness seeping in for a second as he wondered if he wasn’t as welcome as your last conversation had led him to believe. Perhaps that was just politeness, to help him save face? He had taken up a lot of your time.

Somewhere in the middle of his internal conflict, you had looked up from your book.

“Oh, hi, I saved you a seat!” You’d said cheerfully, a hint of tension in your smile. Later, you would tell him you were afraid to come off as too eager to be his friend. He found it unbelievable that someone could be embarrassed of wanting to be kind.

Viktor had never been so grateful for both his inability to decipher literature or his disability than the effect it had on his friendship with you. After the egregiously long reading list was distributed, you’d turned to him:

“I was thinking of going to get the books after class, do you want to come with? There’s quite a lot of them, so it would be easier for us to carry them together.”

Only when you were walking back to his dorm did he realize that in his eagerness to form an acquaintance, he had skipped over something quite obvious.

“You do not need help carrying these,” He said, slightly accusatory.  In one arm he carried a tower of half of the total required books, and, he realized again, only the thinnest ones.

 “Well, I didn’t want to come off as patronizing by asking you if you needed help,” You said, voice strained. From embarrassment or the effort, he could not tell. “Besides, my reasoning was so half-assed, I thought you saw through it.”

Viktor’s annoyance had only lasted a second before he noticed the breathlessness in your voice, no doubt from carrying almost double the weight you’d have to if you’d bought only your own books.

“Well then, I think I owe you for this,” He’d said, trying to keep his voice even. The truth was, even with you taking on so much of the burden, his arms and legs ached. There was no way he could’ve made it all the way back without your help. “Thank you.”

Now, you were definitely embarrassed. “You don’t have to thank me, any friend would do the same.”

Friend. He had other friends, but Viktor had still warmed at the fact that you’d decided his company was worth pursuing.

Thyself, dost strive all minds that way to move,

Now, here you were, a semester’s worth of study sessions and late-night talks later, still finding each other’s company worthy. Even as you stood silently, admiring the city’s skyline, basking in the presence of the other wordlessly.

“I must apologize,” Viktor begins suddenly. You shoot him a quizzical look but let him continue.

“For missing our last session,” He explains. Now your lips part, but Viktor continues. “No matter how busy I had been, I should’ve let you know I couldn’t make it. But I had just returned from an exam after two sleepless nights and fell asleep despite myself.”

You turn towards him, concern drawing your eyebrows together. “Viktor, why would you need to apologize for getting sleep? Speaking of which, why are you depriving yourself of rest?”

“I need to study, you know how it is,” He waves a dismissive hand, trying not to get anxious over the fact that he was currently wasting time.

“I must admit, I do not know how it is,” You reply. It was true, Viktor had noticed the delicate balance you struck in your own life, somehow always finding the time to socialize and keep yourself healthy without failing all your courses. Though you always said it was because your degree was easier, Viktor didn’t believe it.

“Unfortunately,” He sighs exaggeratedly, “we cannot all be gods of excellent time management.”

You laugh. “Not time management, just an easier program,”

Viktor shakes his head. “After taking just one of the courses that make up your schedule, I must disagree. I would have failed without you.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, sure, Vik.”

The nickname makes his heart stutter, even though you’d used it a thousand times. The lack of sleep truly was getting to him. In the silence that followed (because he couldn’t think of how to continue), you sigh.

“What’s the end for you, Vik?” You ask, looking at him sideways. “What’s the point of all this—the sleepless nights, the skipped meals, the self abandonment?”

The question was uncharacteristically heavy, and he wonders for a moment if he should inquire after you. But then again, it was half-past two and you were here, with him, instead of getting the minimum eight hours of rest you subscribed to, so perhaps that was a non-question.

Instead, he ponders the question you’d asked, mulling the words over in his mouth before speaking. He hadn’t really vocalized it before. “Well, I want to help people, I suppose. Help them and be remembered for it.”

You hum in understanding, expecting him to continue. And he does.

“I suppose I’ve felt…invisible. For most of my life, that is. Most people were embarrassed of looking at me, and the universe itself seemed to be telling me that I didn’t matter. So I made myself matter. Became the smartest in the room, the most accomplished, excelling intellectually so that no one had a chance to notice anything else.”

“Did it work?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

“I…do not know,” He admits, laughing slightly. “The recognition, the awards, the opportunities—they help, but the attention only lasts a few minutes, and it’s always…incomplete.”

“How so?”

He hesitates slightly, scared of the words about to leave him. “People don’t see all of you, I suppose. Just your mind, and your work. They still shy away from all the parts of you that don’t fit in,” He motions towards the cane still clutched in his hand, and the leg that now ached tenfold.

You hum in understanding, your eyes now finding his. “Like people only value you for what you can do, rather than who you are.”

“Exactly.” For a moment, Viktor is in awe of your ability to understand people, before he notices the tension in your shoulders and the tight way you’d said those words.

“What about you?” He asks. “What do you hope to achieve from all this?” 

Who mark in thee what is in thee most fair.

You take a breath, exhaling deeply as you look around. “Same as you, I suppose.”

“I was referring specifically to all this,” He waves a hand, gesticulating to your surroundings. “Taking care of so many people, in so many small ways. It must add up. It must take time away from studying, from actually working towards your goals.”

You laugh, but it’s more of a formality than genuine mirth. “I don’t really have big goals like you, a need to be remembered in history for doing something great. I don’t care about a classroom of kids studying history decades in the future, I care about my siblings remembering me the moment they’re, I don’t know, illegally drunk and have no ride. I want to love and be loved now, in the immediate. Screw legacy, or whatever,”

 Somewhere during your brief monologue, the fire behind your eyes had started blazing again. The traitorous ally that was the air in his lungs betrays him, as it usually does around you, but Viktor wouldn’t be surprised if he could just survive on the sight of you alone. Your shoulders tense, face taught, defenses raised, a vestige of having to defend your choices and your life from those who could never truly understand you. As much as he wished to reach out, ease the tension holding you tight, it was exhilarating to witness—the ferocity that inspired your love.

“What?” Your eyes meet his, finally, after roving everywhere else for the past few minutes. He realizes he’s been staring too long, too quietly. Licking his lips, coming up empty for words. Woops.

“Is there something on my face?”

A shake of the head. “No, no. You’re fine,”

“Alright,” You say, suspicious. “You don’t think I’m stupid, do you?”

“Of course not!” Viktor scrambles to correct you. “I was just…at a loss for words.”

“Whatever you say, Vikkie-boy,” You sigh, faking exasperation.

Viktor cringes at the nickname, which was novel.  “Please never use that term again.”

You pout, a teasing glint in your eye as you lean towards him. “Aw, you don’t like my new pet name?”

“Yes,” Viktor replies, deadpan. Partially because he cannot, with any self-respect, entertain such a monstrous butchering of his name, and because you were entirely too close to him. Close enough that he can see the pores in your skin and the pupils of your eyes, and the glittering liquid in your waterline.

So while thy beauty draws thy heart to love,

He catches the exact moment you notice it too, the proximity. Your gaze flits somewhere lower, and though he would like to flatter himself, Viktor resists the thought that comes. He hears your breath falter, tripping before correcting itself, your lips parted slightly.

Another thought, loud and overwhelming. Much harder to resist. Much harder to think past. So he doesn’t—think, that is. Doesn’t speak. Lets the silence and your confusion stretch on for a few more moments as he takes you in.

“You’re acting a bit strange,” You say, voice and eyes low. It sounds divine.  He could listen to it all night. “You wanna go to bed?”  

As fast thy virtue bends that love to good:

Viktor shakes his head. There’s never been anything he was surer of. Perhaps he should feel a bit guilty that through your profession of your morals, your defense of your values, he could only think of stepping closer to you. Of taking your breath away. Of, perhaps, taking care of you, for once. Repay you for all your favours. Perhaps he should feel guilty that instead of engaging with you intellectually, he could only think of softness, in your hair, your lips, your skin. But then again—

He recalls dimly the poem that started this all, its lines blurring past him to the beat of his own heart.

But "Ah," Desire still cries, "Give me some food!"

He could do it. Step closer, quiet the tidal waves in his mind that left him so mute. There was a ninety-five percent chance you wouldn’t mind, a similar chance you would enjoy it.

It wouldn’t feel like a forest fire, he could imagine that much. A hearth, perhaps. Steady and warm and comforting, the warm space between your lips where your breath mingles with his—peppermint and coffee, the taste of the chocolate you’d been nibbling before a palimpsest he could trace with his tongue.

He could do it.

Could he?

[tfa-headcanons]

I don't think stairs exist on Cybertron

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Halloween prompts year 2 day 29

Dont get him wrong, Danny had some big feelings about finding out his mom had cheated on his dad. He had even bigger feeling about the divorce and the whole shipping him off to live with his bio dad.

He wasn't going to lie. The new school was actually really nice and he had made friends quickly, though at first it was tough to weed out the ones who just wanted to get close to the Wayne family name and not him as a person. He didn't get to chat with Tucker and Sam a whole lot due to thier schedules but he and Jazz always made time for eachother.

His life had surprisingly taken a massive upturn. Vlad had been arrested soon after Danny warned the Waynes about him, making Danny believe either his dad it felt wierd calling him that but da-Jack made it perfectly clear he should never call him that was Batmans sugar daddy or somthing or maybe the Waynes got kidnapped so much that the bats bugged the whole place. Danny hoped not, he had done a whole karaoke thing with Jazz during thier video call the other night and he really didn't want anyone to hear thier shared cat screeching.

Jazz was super happy to learn Danny had joined the Volleyball team and Astronomy club. He used to play Volleyball in middle school and played defense a lot. He was even the best on the team but he stopped playing after one too many times of his parents forgetting to show up or causing a ruckus whenever they thought a ghost was nearby.

But it was better now

The portals were shut down by the bats. The GIW where expertly obliterated from existence. His parents are getting court mandated mental help. There are no more ghosts. No more ghost hunters.

And no need for Phantom

Danny doesn't think he's ever felt this free. He could go out to eat with friends with his way too big allowance that his...dad gives him and he didn't have to worry about having to ditch them to go fight a bad guy. He could eat dinner with a family who was a little awkward but surprisingly open to him and the food was delicious and didn't attack him. He could actually sleep at night and feel safe doing it. His siblings liked spending time with him and getting to learn anout him and thier "bonus sister" Jazz.

He had no reason to use his powers.

Until the grandfather clock he was walking past swung open like a door and he locked eyes with Nightwing coming out of it. They just stared at eachother before Danny just said, "I don't want to know which one your dating. Just know I have a bat and im willing to use it in the most ungodly of ways." And walked back to his room.

He wouldn't be a superhero, but he was willing to be a supervillian to protect his new family. Or in this case make sure Nightwing, a rumored playboy, knew better than to go breaking hearts in this household.

[imavikingo]

kinda personal (again)

The other day I was scrolling through ig reels and a dude talked about how you don't really need to know every single thing about anatomy to draw accurate/good proportioned bodies, but instead have a good sense of spatial awareness and... Fuck man. I don't have that.

I suck at it so badly in every sense of the word... Like I have had a ton of bruises for being clumsy and hitting myself with furniture or things. I often miss a step and fall of my ass (one memorable time I fell down the stairs like a turtle -bc I had a backpack- and couldn't stand up. Fun times). I also can't seem to draw things without having to check over and over with references (And I still can't get them to look right! And don't get me started at perspective or backgrounds. I've literally cried for/because of those fuckers. That's also why I get so weirded out/perfectionist/nitpicky about my own stuff. Because I can't seem to look at it with "normal" eyes. I've tried, it doesn't work). I often have difficulties with a lot of shit because of it and then some (yay for having a roomba brain, I guess).

And it's not something I can really get better at fast or without a lot of work and time (and patience! Something I also lack, because who has time for that. I need things like yesterday! Chop chop brain. And shit... I can't really wait for stuff man) sure I can have some cheats and help (and the delightful use of references, muaks) , but I can't get better at it in a timely manner (meaning now or soon and for forever. Because I constantly forget how to draw and how to paint and other stuff. It's a real struggle. Also for me to use references means to do a finished drawing and that means fatigue and suffering and nitpicking and self doubt). I never knew about this when I was younger and I never thought it was weird or a symptom of something else. I was always just clumsy, couldn't differentiate from left and right and drew weird proportioned bodies besides other "weird" shit. I didn't have a clue because people (adults) didn't have a real problem with my behavior or way of being because I was overall a good student/kid and had good grades and was mostly quiet (I don't blame them nor my parents, it's just weird to be like that since forever and suddenly realize I can't function like I should as an adult or that I have disabilities that have always been there. The chronic pain doesn't help either, but hey! I'm trying and my life is normal-ish so it isn't terrible. It's just annoying and difficult sometimes)

The point is!!! I'm shit at spatial awareness and I get frustrated because I want to be better at it without the constant fight and struggle!

[ghost-orion]

in honour of pride month i will confess that for a good few months i thought kellin quinn was a woman. i'm so sorry king

[demon-of-side-quest-hell]

life is just the infinite monkeys hypothetical on a grand scale.

[lilium-nepalense]

No ok hot take your all wrong. Neither Leo or Donnie is the older twin. They switch it around everyday even.

Splinter choose all thier ages based on height and at the time they where both the same. Simple explanation: twins! Leave it at that and back to his shows.

Leo and Donnie spend the rest of thier young lives trying to one up eachother on who's older.

Leo: im taller !

Donnie : that's not how ages work ! And your not even taller !

Leo: oh yeah ? Well I am cooler and more awsomer so that makes me older twin.

Donnie: No it doset!!!

as they got more annoying about it Raph decides to have them flip a coin for it every morning. They have been doing it ever since.

Somtimes it's used as leverage

Mikey: Donnieeeeeeee spend time with us you've been up in your lab all day!!

Leo: come on ! Don't you want to hang out with your favorite little brothers !

And somtimes it's used as a weapon

Donnie: as the older twin of today I get all authority and your opinion dose not matter

Leo: what !!!

Could Donnie very well work out who's older from blah blah blah science? Yes ! He could ! And maybe even did. But consider he dosent want to. Consider him wanting to connect with not only Leo but also Mikey and raph on a deeper level.

Think about days where Donnie is the older twin and connects with raph by shouldering responsibility together. Seeing the effect splinter has on his older brother and filling in the gaps. Consider days when he's younger and goofing off with Mikey trying out some crazy experiment with the faith that the older brothers will be there if they need.

Think of Leo and his relationship with Raph. Being Raphs right hand man on the team backing him up and fixing flaws in his planing. Working together to keep Donnie and Mikey safe. Days where being the younger twin means being babied like one and connecting with Mikey about not being trusted to make decisions (especially withing the first season of the show)

Days where Leo steps up to be a pillar for Donnie when he needs it and Donnie stepping up for Leo when he needs the same.

All these actions are things they would have been doing anyways. Supporting eachother and the rest if thier family. But it's layered with a flavor of older or younger for ease of connection.

Sure Mikey and Leo connect about not being trusted but isn't it better if they are also both the youngest ?

Sure Raph and Donnie connect over the huge specific loss of splinters supoort (as do all of them but these two in particular are pretty similar) and isn't it better if they where older together ?

In the end I don't think anyone really knows who's older at any given moment and the twins will flip it around for what's better or funnier in the moment. Because they are insane like that and don't care what anyone thinks.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

I’m Your Fatal Sin

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Setting: Prison Era

Warnings: Typical TWD violence, descriptions of injuries

Summary: Daryl doesn’t like you going outside the safety of the prison.

Prompt: “I will leave now, or I’m going to say things I will regret later.” (Had to write in Daryl speak but it’s the same thing!)

A/N: Second request by @alldevilsarehere90. I took so long writing the first one that I did the second they asked for…and took equally as long. Apparently, “drabble” is not a word I’m familiar with and I should just call these novels. The prompt is waaaay up in the beginning but I just kept going. Sorry again, my friend! Also, I have not had this checked for errors and my brain is too tired tonight. I’ll go over and fix stuff tomorrow…. Because no beta, we die like men.

*gif is not mine

You watched him pace the length of the room, fingertips rubbing roughly at his temples as if he was fighting off a headache. That would be you, Y/N. You thought, biting back a chuckle. Your group had arrived back at the prison, battered, bruised, and bleeding but hearts still beating. You counted that as a win. 

Daryl was not so easily mollified. 

He had stayed behind on this run, having only returned from hunting just as your group was heading out. He wasn’t happy that you were going out without him. It was all so amusing to you, personally. When the two of you had first met back at the quarry, you had taken one of the squirrels he had brought back, held it by the tail, and smacked him upside the head with it after he had said something particularly offensive. It was even funnier that you couldn’t remember now what it was that he had said. Regardless, he had retaliated by soaking you in the blood he drained from the rodent he had been skinning. Even in his anger back then, you had caught the look in his eye. 

You weren’t afraid of him. 

Your friendship started then and there. You spent more time in the Dixon camp than you had with your own boyfriend. That had not gone over well. Mark  was the younger brother of one of Ed Peletier’s friends. The moment Daryl had found you doing laundry and saw the shiner you sported, you were given your own small tent next to his and Merle’s. When the perpetrator had come looking for you, the Dixon brothers had formed an immovable wall in front of you. 

You still weren’t sure if Mark had been killed by a walker like Merle had said. 

Regardless, you were free. Daryl took you under his wing, teaching you to hunt and defend yourself. When he had finally handed you his beloved crossbow, you had laughed and asked if you needed to buy her dinner before squeezing her trigger. 

“Stop.” Daryl had huffed, amusement gleaming in those blue eyes. 

You had been out with the younger brother when Merle had been left abandoned. While you were angry, you knew how belligerent the man could be, so Rick’s explanation hadn’t seemed too far fetched to you. You went with the group to try and bring him home. You had taken the brunt of Daryl’s verbal aggression with grace, knowing he was in pain. He would never hurt you. That much you knew. When emotions were running high, Daryl floundered and would try to escape them by any means necessary. Even if that meant bucking against someone he cared about. 

Still, you stayed. 

Months had passed. You didn’t even try to keep up with that anymore, focusing more on the change of the seasons. It felt less like losing something if you only changed your perspective. The group became a family. You had lost the farm and wandered throughout the winter before finding the prison that was your home now. 

You and Daryl had remained steadfast, but he continued to open up, bit by bit. First with Carol, then with Rick. Him coming out of his shell made you happy, watching him become more and more comfortable with the others. You’d be lying, though, if you said you didn’t worry about being replaced. 

Then, after choosing the cells you all would call your rooms, you came back from your first shower to find the mattress missing from the one you had selected. Daryl was sitting on the top step that led down to the lower level, waiting for you. 

“Did you take my mattress, Dixon?” 

“Yep.” So nonchalant, like you had just asked if the sky was blue. 

“You gonna tell me why?” You pressed, kicking his hip gently with the toe of your boot. 

“Ya stay where I can keep a eye on ya.” He shrugged, continuing to fiddle with his crossbow. 

“What if I wanted my own space, huh?” You sat next to him and bumped your shoulder into his. 

“Cell ain’t goin’ nowhere. S’there if ya need it.”

You never seemed to need it, perfectly content on sharing his perch with him. You had brought things back from runs; books, pictures, and little what-nots that now decorated the area. He never complained beyond the occasional scoff or eyeroll. 

And time marched on. Your role in the group was just as vital as anyone else now. You took watches, went on runs, and helped clear the fence. You lost sleep, gave up your portions of the rations to make sure everyone else stayed fed, and you sustained injuries. You weren’t afraid to get your hands dirty for the good of your family. 

Which is exactly why you were now perched on one of the tables in the cafeteria, watching Daryl pace a hole into the concrete floor. 

“No one died, Dixon.” You leaned back with your palms pressed against the table, collected demeanor the polar opposite of his pulsing anxiety. 

“Ya coulda, though, Y/N!” The man snapped, his longer hair shifting to cover his face when he spun to look at you. 

“Calm down before you have a stroke.” You mused with a smile. 

“Can ya be serious for five fuckin’ seconds?” 

You could have sworn you saw smoke boiling out of his ears. Damn, he was mad. “I am.” You sat up straight with your best attempt at stoicism. “Stress can absolutely trigger a stroke and—” You had started laughing while he stomped over to you and grabbed your shoulders.

“Stop, goddamnit!”

“Okay, okay.” You patted his forearm and willed yourself to choke back the amusement. “We’re all fine, Daryl.” Lips pressed into a thin line, he gave you a nod, one that continued even as he released your left shoulder to roughly flick the bandage on your thigh that concealed a deep cut Hershel had earlier stitched. You were taken aback, eyes widening at the tendrils of pain that snaked out from the tender wound. “Ow.” You deadpanned. 

“Coulda been a lot worse, Y/N.” He seemed calmer now but his gaze was still intense, shoulders high and nostrils flaring. 

“I know that!” You finally snapped back, twisting around until he let you go altogether and stepped out of your space. “Christ, Daryl, I could die just going to piss! I know how dangerous the things we have to do are!” You hated arguing with him but sometimes, brandishing your own anger was the only way to get through to him. He watched you, obviously chewing on the inside of his cheek before he brought his thumb up to inflict the same abuse. 

“Nah, not you. Not anymore.” He shook his head and started to walk away. 

“What the—” Pain radiated through your leg when you hastily hopped down a little too roughly in your attempt to keep up with him. “What’s that supposed to mean? Daryl? Daryl!” When he made it clear he had no intention of stopping, you had to sprint to cut him off at the door, pressing your palms against his chest to force him to a halt. “Where are you going? What did you mean?”

“M’tellin’ Rick ya ain’t goin’ out there no more.” 

Your eyebrows shot up, mouth falling open. “Excuse me?”

“Ya heard me, Y/N.” He made to step around you but you moved with him. “Go get offa that leg.” He ordered in an attempt to persuade you into relenting. He knew better. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Who the hell are you to say where I can and can’t go?” You seethed. Now it was you who was fuming and pacing, though it wasn’t as intimidating with your profound limp. Daryl crossed his arms and squared his shoulders. You suddenly wanted to punch him square in the nose. 

“Ya ain’t got no business out there. Ya can do plenty here to help.”

“Says the man that goes off hunting alone every other day!” You hissed. Your fists were clenched at your sides. 

“That’s diff’rent.”

“Oh, please, enlighten me. This I’ve just got to hear.” You laughed emptily and mimicked his stance. 

“Ya just ain’t goin’ and that’s that.” When you moved to cut him off again, he was ready. His arm caught you at the chest and kept you from crossing in front of him. 

“Goddamnit, Daryl! This isn’t your decision!” You yelled, trailing after him once again. You grabbed his wrist but he shook you off. “I want to help!”

“Ya can help here!” He shot back without looking at you. 

“Would you just stop?!”

“Nah.” 

“Why the fuck do you even care?!” 

That stopped him in his tracks, nearly making you crash into his back. His fists were clenching and unclenching at his sides, his posture radiating with tension. He turned his head to the side and focused on something, anything but you, speaking to you over his shoulder. Somehow, this made you more nervous than his livid pacing. 

“Ya even hafta ask?” You didn’t respond, utterly confused. The archer gave you more time than necessary but when you remained silent, he shook his head and changed course, heading outdoors instead of to the cell blocks. “Do whatever ya want.”

Your anger dissipated. “Daryl, wait. Where are you going?”

“M’leavin’ now or I’ma say things I’ll regret later.”

You called his name again but the only reply was the slam of the heavy metal door. 

Your search for him didn’t last long. You knew better than anyone that there was no finding Daryl when he didn’t want to be found. In his absence, you did the only thing you could do: sulk. 

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Carol queried, adjusting the basket of laundry on her hip after she stopped by the picnic table you had been perched at for the last 3 hours. Your only response was a heavy sigh. “Staring at the woods won’t make him come back any faster.” Your head shot up to reveal her knowing smile. Aside from you, Carol was the only other person to even relatively understand the younger Dixon. “What’d you argue about?” The silver-haired woman deposited the laundry on the table and took a seat across from you. 

“He doesn’t want me to go on runs anymore.” A quiet reply while you toyed with some twine you had been using to hang up things around your space inside. 

“And that bothers you?”

“Of course it does!” You snapped before quickly muttering an apology, though Carol didn’t seem affected. “It feels like he doesn’t trust me.”

“You know that’s bullshit.” Your mouth dropped open in disbelief. To your recollection, you had never before heard the woman utter even a syllable of a curse. She, of course, only offered a cheeky grin. “What? You think I can hang around you two and not pick up something?”

“Touché.” You nodded. 

“Listen, Y/N,” she started and took your hand, “Daryl cares about you, more than he lets on.” She wouldn’t mention all the times he had come to her with questions. How he would mumble and blush when trying to figure something out to make you happy. How he would actively look for at least one thing to bring back for you from a run. “I think you should try to see this from his perspective.” Just like she had told him to see it from yours. “I think then you may be able to compromise, yeah?”

You nodded with a small smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll think it over. Thanks, Carol.”

“Good.” The woman stood and grabbed up the basket. “Besides, you’re both insufferable when you’re fighting.” You reached out to give her a playful shove as she walked by and then patted the hand she laid briefly on your shoulder. 

She was right. You didn’t want to keep fighting with Daryl. It made you both (and apparently everyone else) miserable. You’d have to come up with something in the middle. 

The sky had faded to a pale lavender with the orange hue of the setting sun peeking over the trees. It was getting late and Daryl hadn’t returned. Your fingertips were sore from drumming on the table. Just as you stood with the intent to grab a weapon and go after him, a silhouette emerged from the treeline. There was a distinct outline of a crossbow on their back. The relief was immense and had you sinking back down onto the bench with your hand clutching the front of your shirt. 

Your eyes stayed trained on him as he made his way past the walkers outside and entered the gate that was promptly closed behind him. From a distance, he appeared fine albeit a little dirty. He walked slowly with his head down, but he had been out all day, so you hoped that was nothing more than fatigue. He made it a little closer than you thought he would before he raised his head and his gaze went straight to you. 

“Hey.” You offered, standing slowly. He gave you a nod and you thought he may walk on by, but he stopped just shy of the table. “You okay?” Another nod, his eyes seemingly studying your boots. “Look, Daryl—”

“I was wrong.” It came out so quickly that you had to think about it for a moment before you made sense of what he said. “Earlier. Was wrong. Ain’t got no right to tell ya what to do.” 

This time, it was you who nodded. “I know why though.” He looked up, blue eyes peering from behind his hair. 

“Ya do?” 

“Yeah. You want to keep me safe. You care about me.” You smiled, small but genuine. A strange look crossed his face but was gone a moment later. Was that disappointment? 

“Right.” He had started to chew on his thumbnail. 

Licking your lips nervously, you continued. “I’ll do no more than two runs a week. And only when you’re going too.” You were absolutely certain you caught a ghost of a smile. 

“Fair ‘nough.” He was shifting from foot to foot now, thumb still pressed against his lips. You had been so focused on the problem at hand that you hadn’t noticed the anxiety radiating from him in waves. Something was off. This had been too easy. 

“Daryl, are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Mhm, just—just tired.” His eyes said as much. You placed your hand on his bicep and ushered him along toward the door. 

“Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving!” Had your focus not been ahead, you would have seen the way he only smiled once he looked down at you. 

“Got some formula for Lil Asskicker.” Daryl rounded the end of the aisle you were knelt in, displaying the four cans in his pack before closing it up and placing it on his shoulder. 

“That’ll last her about 3 days.” You quirked, causing Daryl to snort behind you. “She’s growing like a little weed.” There wasn’t much left in the way of over the counter medications but you had scored some infants Tylenol and gas relief drops, as well as medication for the adults. “The food was pretty picked through. I got a couple of cans of fruit, though!” You placed three more bottles of tylenol in your bag and stood, your knees protesting the movement. 

“Y’ready then?” Daryl turned to head to the front of the old store. Glenn and Maggie were set to meet the two of you in the parking lot. 

“All set!” You confirmed, adjusting the backpack straps on your shoulders. You jogged to catch up with the archer, bumping into his side while pulling your knife from its sheath. Daryl smirked and ruffled your hair before gently shoving you away. “Pretty good haul, I think. Maybe we could stop by that gas—”

“Sshh.” The bowman had gone rigid, his hand just in front of your mouth. “Ya hear that?” It was faint at first but the closer the two of you moved towards the front of the store, the louder the thumping and moaning became.

“That sounds like an awful lot of walkers, Daryl.” You rounded the broken down checkout lanes to bring the doors into view and felt your stomach drop. The light that should have been filtering through the dusty glass doors was completely snuffed out by the multitude of bodies shuffling past. A glance at the archer found him tense and mirroring your expression. “Glenn and Maggie—” You whispered urgently. 

“They’ll wait ‘em out. Ain’t their first rodeo.” He had lowered his crossbow to his side. “Ours neither. Get comfy, girl. Might be here a bit.” He hopped up to sit on one of the conveyors while you walked through one of the other lanes to look at some of the old magazines. From the corner of your eye, you saw a small piece of bright orange peeking out from under the checkout shelf. 

“Oh my god!” You shrieked in an enthused whisper. 

“What?” Daryl was on his feet, crossbow leveled with his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You were already on your knees to retrieve the object of your excitement. “Reese’s cups!” You sprang up to your feet, waving the small package around triumphantly.��

The archer let the crossbow fall to his side, his face hidden behind his palm. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Big word, Dixon. I’m proud.” You bumped him deliberately with your hip as you walked by, hopping up where he had just been perched. The man leaned his weapon against the shelf where the cash register was positioned and sat beside you. You didn’t ask if he wanted the second treat, just handing it over habitually. You always shared with him. He accepted it with a smirk you didn’t see since you were already taking the first bite of the stale candy. “Buttery baby Jesus.” You moaned, eyes rolling back. 

Daryl barked a laugh, almost dropping the Reese’s. “M’not sure I wanna know why baby Jesus is buttery.” He was shaking his head when he caught your bewildered expression. “What?” He questioned around the first bite. 

“They told me it couldn’t happen. That it was impossible.” You whispered, eyes wide. The look on his face said he was waiting for you to continue. “You… you laughed.”

His expression deadpanned. “Shtop.” He mumbled around the chocolate and peanut butter. 

“I’m serious, Dixon. We were all wondering when we would stumble across the reanimated remains of your sense of humor.”

He swallowed and bumped you with his shoulder. “I hate ya.” 

“I love you too.” Your lips pressed against his cheek and pulled away just as quickly. The man went rigid, eyes straight forward. You didn’t seem to notice, wandering around the front. 

His blue eyes began to follow your movements, the tight feeling in his chest overpowering the butterflies fluttering madly in his stomach. His face was burning all the way to the tips of his ears. No longer hungry, he delicately wrapped the remaining Reese’s cup in its wrapper and put it in his bag to give to you later. 

You had knelt down to look through a basket labeled ‘return to stock.’ “Score! Batteries!” You exclaimed, mostly to yourself, and quickly shoved the different sizes into your pack. Behind you, the archer cleared his throat. 

“Think they’re gone.” He was motioning toward the door when you turned to acknowledge him.

You twisted to the other side to find nothing but dull light creeping through the glass. “Nice! You ready?”

“Uh—yeah. Yeah, let’s go.”

You both shouldered your packs and grabbed your weapons, moving almost silently through the door. Glenn and Maggie had undoubtedly hunkered down as well, so it was anyone’s guess who would arrive first at the meeting spot. Daryl followed behind you, walking backwards to ensure the area you couldn’t see stayed clear. 

“I think we’re good. It’s this way. Maybe Glenn and—” You rounded the corner, voice cut off into surprised shriek as two walkers tumbled into you. The back of your head met the concrete with a sickening crack and black spots danced across your vision. There was a loud bang to your left that you couldn’t place. Your body moved almost on autopilot, fumbling for the weapon you had dropped while you held one walker back with your forearm and kicked back the other with your free leg. You could hear Daryl screaming your name above the blood rushing in your ears. “D-Daryl!” You managed around the bile creeping up your throat. What seemed like several minutes later, the weight above you vanished and your gun was thrust into your hands. 

“C’mon, girl! Up we go!” 

Daryl’s hands were on you, pulling you up haphazardly by your arm. His voice sounded muffled but strained, like he was shouting under water. The world tilted and spun, and you felt an arm tighten around your back that you hadn’t realized was even there. You blinked hard, willing your surroundings to come into focus, but Daryl’s jarring movements were aggravating the already present nausea. Before you could warn him, you listed to your right and retched, the bile burning the back of your throat. 

“Shit!” 

His voice was a little clearer now, but you must have thrown him off balance. You tumbled down, only barely catching yourself on your palms before you would have smashed face first into the puddle of sick on the asphalt. Daryl crashed into your back a second later but quickly averted his weight so he landed beside you. A string of curses left his mouth as he pushed himself up, your eyes trying to follow him but stopping short on the smear of crimson where he had fallen. 

“Daryl, are—are you bleeding?” Am I bleeding? You were being hauled to your feet again, the motion almost too much. Your vision grayed at the edges and you felt a strange tingling in your limbs. Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out. 

“Over here! Hurry!”

Glenn. You had never been so relieved to hear his voice. It was short lived as you felt yourself fading. Your body was shifted again and now the world was upside down, a strong grip pressing into your ribs and the side of your knees. The last thing you saw was the herd of walkers closing in before it all went dark. 

You awoke with a start, sitting up halfway before the pounding in your head made its presence known and you fell back with a grunt. 

“Easy.”

Daryl. Thank god. You risked opening your eyes, finding him to be looking down at you from straight above. Scenery was flying by just beside his head. You were in the car, your head pillowed on Daryl’s lap. “Glenn? Maggie?” You asked quietly. You didn’t think you were physically capable of talking any louder. 

“We’re here, Y/N.” Maggie’s voice came from the front seat. You felt her gentle touch in your arm and you immediately relaxed. You had all made it. 

“What happened?” You asked, trying to keep your eyes focused on the archer when they wanted nothing more than to close and let you be dragged back into oblivion. 

“Other half’a the herd came down on us. Ya cracked your melon when two’a ‘em took ya down.” 

Worry and fatigue laced his voice but as you studied him, you could see the clear indicators of pain. Daryl always hid it well but you knew him better than anyone. 

“You hurt?”

He shifted in the seat slightly and winced. “Ya must’a squeezed the trigger when ya went down. Shot me.” 

Your eyes blew wide and you were instantly moving, trying to sit up. Your body seemed to disagree with that plan of action. “Where are you hit? How bad is it? Damn it!” 

“Whoa! Hold up!” He pulled you back down, calloused finger smoothing the hair away from your face. “M’alright. Got the back’a my leg. Hershel’ll take care’a it.” You stared at him with wide, exhausted eyes. Were you actually lying on his wounded leg? 

“I shot you?” You could feel the tears collecting on your lashes, guilt eating away at your insides, colliding with the nausea so hard that it made your vision swim. “I’m so sorry.” Your fingertips found his jaw, barely brushing the prickly hair there before your arm became too heavy to hold up. 

“Ya didn’t do it on purpose, Y/N.” 

“I would…never…” You suddenly felt exhaustion pulling you under, Daryl’s pleas for you to stay awake fading into white noise as blackness swallowed you up once again. 

It had been three days since the run. Two had seen you lying in bed with Hershel doing periodic checks to ensure that the concussion wasn’t something more serious. Daryl had been there too. He would only leave when threatened by Carol, forced to go rest himself. He never stayed gone long.  Rick had finally dragged an extra mattress in and placed it in the corner. The archer finally allowed himself to fall asleep and that’s how you found him when you had awoken near the end of day two. Hershel arrived to check your vitals and found you propped up on your elbows, watching Daryl sleep. 

“How long has he been there?” You asked quietly. The old man smiled and released your wrist, satisfied with your pulse. 

“It’d be easier to tell you when he wasn’t in here.” He mused while shaking two pills from a bottle. The sound didn’t disturb the bowman in the slightest, a testament to his exhaustion. “Take these.”

You trusted the old veterinarian and took the offered medication, just assuming it was for pain. Your eyes never left Daryl. “His leg— did it—will he—”

Hershel patted your own leg and waited for you to finally look at him. He shone a small light in your eyes and smiled again. “He’ll be fine. And so will you. You both just need to rest.”

You nodded and laid your head back on the pillow, turning on your side so you could keep Daryl in your sights. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep. You didn’t hear Hershel leave. 

Now, you were perched in the tower. It was the only thing Rick would allow you to do after Hershel released you. The sun had long ago set and the prison was dark and silent, save for the moans of the walkers shuffling around outside the fences. You had learned to tune them out when you were out there, allowing yourself to enjoy the fresh air and the quiet peace the night offered. 

“Hey.”

You jerked around with a start, vision swimming only slightly as Daryl came into focus just beside the door leading to the ladder. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and chewed on the opposite thumbnail. 

“Hi.” You smiled at him but it faded as he limped toward where you sat, hissing as he took a seat next to you. “Still hurts?” 

“I’ll live.” He was looking out over the field and into the trees for a moment before turning to you. You avoided his gaze, and you knew he knew. “Ya alright?” You looked back at him and he tapped his finger against his forehead. 

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I’m feeling much better.” A smile graced your lips once again, not quite reaching your eyes. Daryl nodded, his thumb to his mouth again. “You were right, you know.” His brow creased in confusion but you looked away, finding the treeline before continuing. “I shouldn’t be going out there anymore.”

The archer shook his head and moved his hand back to his lap. “Nah, Y/N. What happened was—”

“My fault.” You nodded resolutely, ignoring the twinge of discomfort it caused. “I wasn’t careful. I was distracted. I shot you.”

“That was a accident.”

“That doesn’t matter, Daryl!” Your voice escalated. The tears stinging your eyes threatened to fall. The walkers beyond the fence zeroed in on the noise and began to gather. The bowman glanced over, assessing the situation. When the fence held the extra weight, he looked back to you, your cheeks now wet before you angrily wiped at them with the back of your hand. “I’m a liability out there. You need someone better to—”

“Hey,” he cut you off, with a hand on your knee, “ya got my back out there. You do.” Daryl ducked down his head, searching for your gaze. “Ya got yer shit together. Y’know what yer doin’ out there. There ain’t no one I trust more. Ya hear me?”

Confusion twisted your expression. You turned to face him, careful that your legs didn’t bump his. “Then why?” You asked with a gentle shake of your head. “Why did you fight me so hard about going out?” You watched several emotions skitter across the archer’s face, but he settled on one: guilt. He scowled deeply, bottom lip caught between his teeth with his gaze anywhere but on you. “Daryl?”

“I, uh—” You saw a spot of blood on his lip before his tongue quickly erased it. “I just—need to know you’re safe.”

He wasn’t making much sense. “If you know I can take care of myself, why are you worried?” 

His face began to redden, the color spreading down his neck and up to the tips of his ears. “Damnit, y’know I ain’t no good with words, kid!”

“Obviously. Because I’m not a kid.” You chuckled, your fingertips brushing his cheek before you used your palm to coax his head to turn. He kept his eyes stubbornly downcast, his hand immediately lifting his thumb towards his mouth. You intercepted and gently pushed his hand to his lap, keeping your own over it. “Just say what you mean.” 

Daryl swallowed hard, his jaw clenching while he slumped in the chair. You knew where this was headed. He was trying to process something deep; something important. When faced head on with emotions, there was only one thing Daryl could count on: his anger. When his fingers folded into a fist below your hand, you didn’t let him pull away. 

“We don’t need to talk about this. Let’s just table it for later, alright?” You smiled gently and moved to turn yourself forward, away from him. 

This time, it was him that stopped you from pulling away. “Nah.” When you turned your face back to reassure him things were okay, he met you there. His lips pressed against yours firmly, almost aggressively. This definitely wasn’t something he had planned. Soon enough, the pressure minimized and you were able to react. Your brain was currently short-circuiting but you managed to move your mouth against his, finding a rhythm in the hungry dance. 

Of all the things Daryl could “say” to you, this was definitely not on your bingo card for the year. His hands gently held the sides of your neck, calloused fingers sliding up your skin to tangle in your hair. Your own hands found purchase in the front of his vest, using it to keep him close to you; afraid that he would change his mind now that you had accepted his confession. And that’s what this was. 

A confession. 

Daryl was a man of action, not words. He had been for as long as you had been a part of his life. So this? You could decipher this pretty easily. He cared about you more than a friend. He was willing to be vulnerable with you. He trusted you. He worried about you. He wanted you close by and safe. He loved you. Was he in love with you? That was the only question left. You definitely didn’t mind waiting for the answer as long as he could keep kissing you like this. 

You tried to pull back to breathe, but he held fast, tongue licking into your mouth the moment it opened to protest. Drawing a deep breath through your nose, you couldn’t help but let out a content sigh and allow yourself to taste him as well. Tobacco smoke and a hint of spice that you found delicable, craving more as you began to take charge. Releasing his vest, you opened your palms and pressed him against the back of the chair. Your lips never left his, even as the angle changed for you to be standing over him. He had released your hair and settled his palms on your hips as you lowered to straddle his lap. 

You had begun to wonder just how far this would go when your full weight settled onto him, and he yelped (in a very manly way, if anyone asked) against your mouth. You pulled back, tripping over his boot and crashing toward the floor. Daryl tried to stop your descent, managing to catch your bicep which led to your hand gripping the front of his vest while your leg was still trapped behind his. You successfully pulled him off the chair, the pair of you meeting the concrete one right after the other. 

You laid there for a moment, stunned and assessing the situation. When your eyes met Daryl’s wide blue gaze, you couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up from somewhere deep inside. The entire prison could probably hear you but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Especially when you heard the brief chuckle from beside you. 

“Great first kiss, Dixon.” You let your head gingerly fall back, the stitched wound beneath your hair still tender. “Top notch.”

“Shut up.” There was no heat behind the words. In fact, he sounded rather relaxed. “First, huh?” 

You grinned at the stars, wondering how red his face would be if you chose to look at him at that moment. “Of many.” 

He hummed in reply. You started to rethink your words, worried that you were putting too much pressure on him, but then you felt his finger brush over the back of your hand. He didn’t do more than just press his hand against yours but allowed you to wrap your index finger around his. For several moments, the two of you laid there, silent but comfortable in it. 

“I’m still on watch.” You finally said, already missing his touch when he moved his hand away. “I guess I should be, you know, watching.”

“Mhmm.” He replied. You turned your head to watch him struggle to his feet, hurrying to get up yourself to steady him. Once he found his balance, you let go and took a deep breath. You didn’t want this moment to end. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“‘Course.” He gave you a look that meant you should have known the answer already. 

“Night, Daryl.” You plopped back down onto your chair and looked out through your binoculars while you waited to hear the door close. When it didn’t, you turned to find him still standing a few feet away. 

“You, uh—if ya want some company, I could—y’know, stay.” He was blushing again, rubbing the back of his neck like he had when he’d first arrived earlier. You’d never tell him how adorable he looked. He’d likely murder you in your sleep. So, you smiled and nodded before patting the other chair. 

“Yeah, I’d like it if you stayed.” As he limped back over, you felt a warmth rise and settle in your chest, one you hadn’t felt since before the world ended. Actually, this was new. This was different. This was the beginning of something. Something beautiful born out of darkness and death. Something you’d fight like hell to hold onto.

And you’d never have to fight alone.

[livewithyura]

okay so I have this really dumb idea: Jin Kazama x pregnant wife reader (post tekken 8) who is like super clingy always wanting Cuddles/kisses/massages and make it super fluffy

✧ Jin x Reader [ Tekken headcanon!]

❒ ⁀➷ Request open [ tekken only tehe ]

❒ ⁀➷ Answer : Gosh How I love this big guy . Your idea is heartwarming 😔! Jin would be a good husband but I believe he has a little 'clingy' part of him because bro he's literally a mama's boy . This is not a fully one-shot , gotta write some explanation on bullet points!

❒ ⁀➷ Notes : This is my first time taking tekken request , so believe me I'm not that expert!

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ Morning routine with Jin

You're waking up to do something But Jin Holding your wrist and drags your back to bed. This man refuses to let you go. Your freedom of movement becomes more restricted after he learns about your pregnancy. It's not about control or dominance in the relationship for him . he simply wants to protect you. It can be a bit frustrating when you can't even lift a teacup, as he becomes quite anxious and protective.

"No . 5 minutes" "5 minutes what?" "Stay in bed" And he will rest his head on your chest .

This man tries earnestly to cook for his wife. There was even a time when he accidentally left the stove on fire , Burn the toast , He's so clumsy in kitchen but you're there to help him . At first , he won't let your feet cross the kitchen until he almost set the house on fire .

He will hugs your from the back while kissing the back of your neck . "I will not let that happen again , princess . I swear I will be better in cooking" He will have determination in cooking . Pullin up a hero quotes like "I won't burn the toast anymore , that's my promise" while clenching his fist . [ don't bother him when he's in his main character mode ]

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ Jin's habits!

He will ALWAYS kiss you while you're doing something . You're reading book? Watching movies? Paint your nails? BRO HE DON'T CARE , He will kiss you anyways. He even will make you both do soft kisses under a blanket in evening . "y/n..." "what?" "How about a kiss?" "Again?" "um--yes?"

Cuddles? Oh he loves that , He will prepare a movie night for his wife just to cuddles with his wife . "we're watching a horror movie , if you're scared you can sit on my lap" the monotone voice of his make his speech more funnier and he's not even blinking when he said that. "SHUT UP AND WATCH THE MOVIE MANN"

He also will do the house chores "Um you know how to use that washing machine RIGHT?" "I'm aware . I mimicked everything my mother did."

After that he demanded a massages , you can't refuse as he always do the ENTIRE house chores . "Y/n..." "What?" "Can I say something.. inappropriate?" "go on" "I'm obsessed with your touch"

He will take care of you . He will clean up your vomit with his expressionless face . He will also steadying your body as you start to stand up or walk . He will make sure to fulfill your request . You want a weird food? He will buy it . You want a relaxing bath? He will prepare it for you . You want a soft pillow? He will buy it. Just called his name , he will be there right in front of you . "Ok , what now Princess?" . He would said that while looking at you.

He will also lend you his baggy hoodie when the temperature is cold.

He will not let you go out alone , he will be there no matter what . "I'll shield you from anything that could harm you, princess. Just give me a call if you want to go buy groceries." he said that while he's resting his head on your lap . "Alright , big guy"

And also , if he want to go somewhere he will drag you . He will never leave you alone . "You.Me.Training.Let's go"

If you refused , he will carry you himself.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ Night routine with Jin

You guys will spend the night together . Sometimes , watching movie. Sometimes you guys will have a coffee together or your fav beverages while staring into a starry sky . Talk about philosophy and future plans . Until you fell asleep , he will carry you to bed . Pull the blanket for you and looking at your face until he fell asleep .

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ Bonus!

He's clingy since he's a mama's boy . BUT He will NEVER admit it . He will act tough and firm in front of you with his words , but all he need is your love .

"Jin , I just want to go pick up flowers in front of our house" "Okay"

10 minutes later....

"Y/N WHERE ARE YOU?"

"You're little bit clingy , you know that?" "No? I'm not " He said that while his arms around your waist .

I also believe he's so protective because that's what he is , he don't want the tragic moment happen in his life again .

↺Written by yura why you event want to copy and steal this crap? /you can reblog!

[jusiri]

Listen, what are wells if not one giant window into the ground?

Anyone who has spent any amount of time with the httyd books and/or fandom quickly realizes that there are a lot of mistakes and continuity errors. I personally love it and find it endearing and hilarious so here is a list (ongoing as I continue rereading) of my favorites:

Gobber loses half a foot of height between books 1 and 2

Between books 1 and 2 the pirate training program gains 3 pupils but then proceeds to lose 1 in between books 2 and 3

In book 2 Alvin the Poor but Honest Farmer says he came across Grimbeard the Ghastly's coffin while planting potatoes. However, in book 5 we discover that most vikings believe potatoes (aka the vegetable that no one dares name) are imaginary because they only grow in America which is a land far to the west that they think doesn't exist because the world is as flat as a pancake and if you sail too far in any direction you'll fall of the edge of it.

In book 5 Hiccup visits Old Wrinkly in the bottom of a well because he's taken a vow of silence. Hiccup then apparently hears voices yelling through an open window at the bottom of said well? To my knowledge you can't put windows in wells but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[artytaeh]

OH I READ YOUR POST WRONG, I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST ABOUT HANDMADE GIFTS

ahem, correcting myself

mattheo would love funny gifts, the ones that mean a inside joke from both of you or that are simply silly and funny to both of you

regulus would love receive new books that he never even knew about, and I fear he would ask you to read out to him (and forcing you to have voices to each character!)

blaise would love getting clothes, especially If they are a silly little sweater that you crocheted, or those 'i love my girlfriend' t-shirts, If you printed your face all over on a shirt he would wear it proudly 🫡

flowers would be cute but mattheo riddle, to me, has such a hard time giving gifts to other people he cares about.

flowers are cool and sweet— but what if you're allergic to these specific flowers and you don't know about it? what if you dislike these the most?

alright, then maybe clothes— no, he might get you something that you'll hate, and wear it out of pity. then, maybe a plushie? or some sort of jewelry? mattheo panics that you'll secretly hate them too. he's terribly insecure about it.

( theodore and lorenzo came to hogsmeade with him in the morning once, to offer some emotional support. they only left hogsmeade late at evening, because theodore was ten seconds away from punching mattheo— almost dinner time, and mattheo fucking riddle is still picking a bloody gift. even lorenzo had given up on helping him. 😭✋ )

so really, i think that mattheo would find safety on getting gifts that only the two of you understand. besides, your laughter is his favorite sound; so it's a win-win situation! he feels less insecure about gifting you something that makes you laugh.

and mattheo absolutely loves to receive these gifts too, like you said! he'd have a whole shelf dedicated to it, i promise you.

⭑ ⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

you cannot tell me that regulus wouldn't have a full bookshelf organized by color or alphabetical order. screw that, regulus would have his own complex way to neatly organize his books, a system that he had told you about, and quite frankly— after ten minutes of passionate explanation, as if organizing them that way was logical, you...

... you failed to understand it at all. but smile and nod, guys. smile and nod.

i feel like the habit you mentioned — having regulus requesting you to read out loud for him — would start as a way to compromise. as in, this situation was the way you found to solve an argument.

reading is something that regulus enjoys a lot; if you argued that he rarely spent time with you, regulus would try to mix both pleasures together— his reading time, and the quality time he spends with you, his beloved.

besides, he loves your voice. would give you a book, and lay his head on your chest (be it laying on top of you on his stomach, or resting his back on your torso, body between your legs, half-reading the paragraphs as well).

would be such a brat about it too. doesn't have any shame to show his exigency regarding his reading experience.

regulus: not like that. that voice doesn't suit her character, it's supposed to sound elegant.

reader: but i—

regulus: and she has an accent too. it was mentioned two chapters ago, so you have to make an accent too.

⭑ ⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

once again you're so right about blaise. i feel like that man would leave his bed, sweatpants and a tshirt that proudly states: I ︎♥︎ MY GIRLFRIEND, with a heart shaped photo of the two of you.

the stares he receives from his friends. it's even funnier because blaise looks completely unbothered— if he notices the look on their faces, he'll smile smugly at them: 'what, jealous?', and will call them loveless & bitchless if one. single. mean. comment. leaves their mouths.

would have a mug with your face printed there. even better if blaise finds a way to add multiple photos to the same mug. the proudest boyfriend ever, wants everyone to know that you date him, and that he's obsessed with his mamas.

now, crocheted blankets or sweaters are his treasures. should the slytherin common room be endangered, blaise takes your crocheted stuff before he leaves. would lose it if you had sprayed your perfume on a blanket you crocheted— my man won't ever wash it.

on your last ask you mentioned that blaise is really into music! so imagine having you crocheting those two green leaves (help idk how to explain it. 💔) that people put on their headphones. blaise would beam with that.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

May I please have a Wally with a reader that is somehow sentient and aware with knowing they've somehow got stuck in this tv show and are heavely aware Wally has something to do with it?

So they're extra closed up about themselves, stay home a lot to avoid the puppets in overly social gathering (like they can handle two or three of them but not all at once as it's too overwhelming with happy shizzles and stuff), yet that doesn't mean they don't talk at all to them. They don't keep their mouth shut either when something's bothering them, like when they get annoyed when Wally stares too long at them and makes a comment about it or genuinely admit they dislike Home with how disturbing it seems to them.

Wally somehow doesn't mind as he's genuinely interested in them and wants to become their friend as best as possible, not for any reason with manipulation, just pure friendly business. But as the reader knows he's the main star of the show they're forced to play in, they know the camera follows him almost always, thus they avoid him like the plague which causes a cat and mouse play between you two. Wally trying to get closer to you with perhaps making paintings and gifts for you while you just casually dip out of there while somehow looking like you don't hate him.

(It would be even funnier if you somehow became the second favorite character of the show as you stand out a lot with your attitude and being the only human being there, perhaps even attracting teens to watch the show with your remarks at the puppets for a certain someone not even having a nose or eyebrows and your monotone voice singing and having no energy with dancing once you somehow get stuck in a song sequence with the others (kind of like red guy from dhmis)

Funny thing is, sadly for Wally, is that you get along well with Frank and Eddie as they're the more calm ones, Eddie still joyfull a lot, but more calmer than Julie and Howdy perhaps are.

So there's Wally, staring with the most confused and slight jealous eyes as he watches you joke around and actually smile with the duo/couple(?) while you always give him a frown that's somehow even deeper than Franks.

Sorry for the slight ramble and long explanation (I'm a fanfic writer myself), just wanted to give a summary of how I see it and wondering how you'd think this would work out.

Btw, reader doesn't hate Wally, they're just warry and uncomfortable with his stares and Home in general, and with the knowledge that's he's one of the reasons they're stuck here. They soften up to him a little eventually, like letting him hug them shortly or talking more casual with him, but no way he ever sees them entering his house.

This was so long I'm so sorry.

Anyway, have a great day/night!

Oh don't worry I think this is a great idea! I like how fleshed-out it is!

...........

You have only spent a week in the neighborhood...before realizing something was terribly, terribly wrong with the world surrounding you.

At first, this place seemed like nothing but sunshine and rainbows--full of fun, joy, color, and friendship. A place that one could only dream of living in all their life, free of worry or strife.

It felt comforting and safe, so when you started having these weird feelings that not everything was as it seemed..you figured you were just nervous about settling into a new place.

But when the folks here asked where you were from, you'd end up drawing a blank...starting to question where you really did come from. So you'd simply tell them you're just "out of town" and leave it at that, although you always sounded uncertain about it.

And there's something else that was especially peculiar: every activity the neighbors did almost always stopped at the end of the day. It seemed strange to you since there's plenty of things you could do. Like campfires or stargazing!

So one evening, you asked all of your neighbors why they rarely hung out during the night, and they had relatively normal responses: Eddie says it's tricky to deliver mail at nighttime; Howdy was too tired from working at the bugdega all day; Barnaby and Sally had to plan their next stunts, tricks, and plays; Julie and Frank wanted to get their "beauty sleep"; and Poppy needed to take care of things back at the barn.

All seemed to be perfectly reasonable answers...

Until you got to Wally.

He looked as though he was ready to respond...only to fall quiet and stare off into space, as though he was in another world. But the fact that his pupils seemed to dilate gave you the chills for some reason, and you calmly tried snapping him out of his trance.

Then he did, and quietly said something about Home "disliking" it whenever he stays out too late. And he bid you goodnight before leaving.

That exchange was the moment you realized something was very off about him beyond his staring habits. It's like he didn't know exactly what to say.

As if...it's such an unusual question for him, but normal to you.

And out of nowhere, the truth hit you like a truck:

This whole place was just one big TV show, with all of you trapped inside as the unwitting stars who were meant to follow certain "scripts" during your daily interactions.

You don't know how or why you knew that, but it became clearer when you constantly got the feeling that your movements were being watched.

You could sense eyes on you even when you were alone.

And sometimes you'd hear indistinguishable voices of adults and children alike while you slept, unable to discern whether they were merely in your dream or existed in reality. It must have been the former, considering none of the other neighbors said they heard anything.

To you, these people...these "viewers", sounded like they were in a faraway land--an unreachable place where you couldn't call out to them for answers no matter how hard you tried.

You knew nothing about them, but they knew everything about you.

Your character had become so fascinating to them from the moment you arrived in the humble neighborhood. You've actually become the second favorite almost instantly, given the uniqueness you've brought to the colorful cast as a human merely wearing an average-sized costume.

They've observed that your personality makes you relatable to young teens, attracting them to the show. Many of them got some chuckles out of your dry and semi-self aware humor (in that you'd joke about how Wally's missing his eyebrows and nose when everybody else has them). It was an immediate hit.

Even when you got pulled into some silly musical number with the rest of the gang, you just spoke in monotone and put lackluster energy into dancing when the camera panned over to you--much to the dismay of your "neighbors".

The viewers just couldn't get enough of you. They adored you.

And they can't stop watching.

You, on the other hand, weren't aware that you were so popular...and quite frankly, you didn't want to be. It terrified you.

So for a while, to protect your own sanity, you began attending less and less social events, not wanting to overwhelm yourself. You've declined invitations to Sally's and Barnaby's shows, which made you feel kinda bad..but you were just so fearful of everything at the time.

Were any of them aware of their circumstances, too?

You had no idea, and it would probably make you sound like a crazy person if you told them how you really felt.

The only other person to show any sort of "deviance" was...Wally himself.

You didn't know why, but you felt like he had something to do with the situation you're in. Especially given his odd response to you that evening and the fact that...he just apparently loved to stare so much, watching you just like the audience did.

It didn't help that whenever you talked to him or he tried approaching you, you got the chilling feeling that you were being perceived by the audience--as if somebody was holding a camera over your shoulder, wanting to capture every moment the "main character" spent with you.

You'd prefer to spend as little time in the spotlight as possible.

However, being anxious about this world didn't mean you weren't a bit mouthy towards other things you disliked. You were known for being blunt and sometimes a "realist", shrugging of whatever crocodile tears the others may give you just for the crime of being honest and true to yourself.

So yes...you'd always call out Wally if he was staring at you for a prolonged period of time, or if he tried persuading you to say hello to Home if you happened to pass by the sentient house.

Your response? Straight up "no thank you, it creeps me out and I don't like how its window-eye things are looking at me."

The audience may laugh, but it's the truth.

That building scares you.

Despite all of this, though...Wally didn't seem to bothered by it. He likened your sarcastic quips to Frank's, so that was never an issue with him. If anything, he was genuinely trying to help you feel right at home in the neighborhood, hoping to become a friend you could trust and rely on if you needed anything.

It'll just take you a bit more time to adjust, and that's alright!

Sure, maybe his stares were strange to you and Home was well...Home. He understood why those things might seem scary to a new neighbor.

But then again, that's how everybody else acted when he first met them, and now they were all good friends!

He's sure you'll fit right in and find true happiness here. So he made it his mission to befriend you without coming on too strongly, inviting you to quiet picnics and painting lessons, calling you on the phone, and even showing up at your doorstep with gifts.

He even made sure to tell his neighbors to give you space, though he was really hoping you'd stop being afraid of him the longer you spent around him alone.

But while you accepted his presents and showed up to his invites...you just couldn't let your guard down around him. You never looked happy or relaxed, and didn't stay long, usually cutting your time together short under the guise that you forgot to do something important and had to leave now.

Your latest excuse was that you forgot to "walk your fish" even though you owned no such pet. You were a terrible liar, but Wally believed you anyways.

He was a patient man, so he'll wait how ever long it took to befriend you.

...........

"Alright, Home..today I'm gonna gift [y/n] my finest work thus far! Do you think they'll like it?"

Pausing, Wally listened for the creaks of approval and squeaks of reassurances, smiling when he heard them, although Home noted something else.

"Haha..you're right. Silly me. It needs more time to dry..or else the paint will just smudge and make it a not-so-nice gift. Sorry, I'm just excited, is all.." He chuckled awkwardly.

After setting the canvas back on the easel, he wandered over to the window and peered outside, humming a small tune to himself as he rested his arms on the sill.

It took him all day and all night to paint the perfect picture of your favorite animal---which he learned about from an off-handed comment you made a few days ago. His memory was sharp, remembering all the details about the creature, and he believed you'll love what he created as a result!

Surely now you'll see that he's not all that bad. Otherwise he'd be lost on how to convince you.

However, he noticed a rather...surprising sight from across the street, one that even Home had to confirm was happening so he didn't think he was going crazy.

You were actually out and about, having a casual chat with Frank, asking how he got together with Eddie before bumping into said mailman on the sidewalk.

Wally couldn't make out what any of you three were discussing, but Eddie must have said something humorous, as it made Frank groan and hide his blushing face. And you just chuckled and shook your head, patting the latter's back sympathetically.

He felt his heart sink.

You were talking to the couple--joking around, smiling, and genuinely enjoying their company. As if you've known them all your life.

Yet anytime he's even near you in any capacity, he's met with frowns deeper than Frank's and constant excuses to get away from him. Like he was some kind of pest or scary monster.

He didn't understand what he was doing wrong.

Of course, he's happy you're getting along with some of the neighbors, no longer being so shut-in...but it hurt to know he's still stuck struggling, literally begging you to be his friend.

*creaaaak?*

"..no, Home. I'm not jealous. What gives you that idea?"

*...creeak.."

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Wally looked back at the easel, sighing. Part of him wanted to just throw the whole canvas out the window, but....he shook off the feeling, forcing a smile.

He wanted you to have it, even if you didn't like him that much.

So when he saw you finally parting ways with Eddie and Frank, he decided to head over to your house about an hour later, assuming you were gonna be there and needed to recharge from socializing.

He put on his best cardigan and made sure his hair was neat before heading out the door with the small canvas tucked under his arm, covered by a protective sheet. He wouldn't wanna spoil the surprise for you, after all..even if you anticipated it being yet another painting.

For some reason, the sky was grayer than usual today..meaning it's probably gonna rain on his parade.

But he didn't let that deter him.

After arriving to your house, he knocked three times, in a certain rhythm that you've distinctively recognized as him being at the door.

But he was surprised when you opened it right away. "Oh heya, Wally. What's up?"

"Ohh nothing much, neighbor." He chuckled. "May I..come in? I promise I won't stay long-"

"It's cool. It looks like it's gonna rain anyways. Wouldn't wanna ruin your "beautiful" hair now, huh?" With a coy smirk, you let him come inside the house, shutting the door behind you as you turned around to see what be brought you this time.

He looked shocked, almost, standing there like a fish out of water. You invited him in without hesitation...though he tried not getting his hopes up too high.

You're just trying to be polite. In a few minutes you're gonna kick him out for some silly reason.

Shifting your gaze away from his uncomfortable stare, you looked at the painting in his hands, tilting your head. "I guess that's for me.."

Nodding, Wally handed you the canvas, watching you remove the small sheet to see it was a painting of your favorite animal. Your eyes lit up, impressed by the amount of details that went into this one, before looking back up at him. "Wow, man..this is....awesome. How long did it take you?"

"Not very long!" He suddenly chirped, hands clasped together with excitement. "I just hope it fits nicely in your collection! A-Assuming....you...have one...that is..."

Bit by bit, his words began to fall flat with uncertainty, before he completely dropped the act, shoulders slumped.

Why did he bother trying anymore? What was the point?

You noticed his odd mood shift. "Wally? What's wrong?"

"..nothing, neighbor.." Sighing, he hung his head low, a cloud of doom and gloom manifesting over him as he shuffled towards the door. He felt like going back to Home and curling up in a corner somewhere. "I'll...see you later-"

"Wait."

"...hm?"

He stopped and looked over his shoulder, still feeling quite depressed but willing to listen to whatever you wanted to say.

You set the painting on a nearby table, approaching him with your heart constrained with guilt. "Look, Wally..I know you think I hate you or something, but...that's not true."

"It...isn't?" He blinked.

"I'm sorry if I gave you that impression. There's just been...a lot of my mind lately. Things I can't really talk about just yet..I-I don't know. It's hard to explain. But the point is...I really do wanna be your friend. I guess I'm just...a very "guarded" person if that makes sense."

Although Wally was staring at you yet again, you didn't break eye contact, wanting him to know you're being genuine here. "I don't open up easy, but I know you've...helped me a lot, and I appreciate that. I do keep your paintings and I do feel bad for being a jerk to you sometimes. So...think you can forgive me? I'll even allow this if you want."

When he saw you open your arms up to him, he was frozen for a few long moments, astonishment written all over his face.

He just...didn't know what to say. Not only did you actually like his company, but....

He was allowed to hug you??

"..c'mon, pal. My arms are kinda getting tired." You awkwardly smiled, although you blinked as he suddenly latched onto you, letting out a few sniffles.

He wanted to sob so badly, but knew that wouldn't be very "neighborly" of him.

Yet you heard how he sounded, and felt guilty for treating him as some bad guy...when really he didn't seem malicious at all. You wanted to believe he had good intentions.

Whether or not he also knew the truth behind this place...that didn't matter right now.

He just wanted to be your friend.

You'll never be happy if you kept being so afraid of him all the time. That wasn't any life to live, even if you're unsure of whether this was your only life or not.

But you let him hug you anyways, patting his back.

"Th-This is very nice of you, neighbor. I forgive you." He mumbled, cheek squished against your shoulder as he clung to you tightly, never wanting to let go-

"Thanks......okay, you can let go now."

"..o-oh! Right, sorry." Reluctantly, Wally let you go, rubbing his eyes before dusting off his cardigan, breathing a sigh of relief. "Whew! I'm glad we're on better terms now. But...if I may ask..what changed?"

"Ah, well..I was talking with Frank and Eddie earlier..and I asked them about you."

"Huh....?" He pointed to himself, raising an invisible eyebrow. "Me..?"

"Yeah. Since they're more chill than most of the people here, I feel like I can be myself around them." You explained. "Howdy and Julie are kinda too loud for me, so...yeah. Those guys pushed me to reach out to you and try to make this friendship work...instead of the other way around."

'So...that's what they were talking about..' He realized, though he beamed anyways, happy you took their advice.

"Well that's great! I think we'll become great friends, [y/n]!" Smiling, he offered his hand to you, and you shook it as a way of saying you're both willing to start over.

"I..think so, too, Wally." You smiled back, feeling this huge weight being lifted off your shoulders.

"So...do you wanna come visit Home when the weather clears?"

"...I'll pass. But I'll wave to 'em from afar if that's okay."

"It's fine by me, neighbor."

[eri-pl]

A crack origin for Hobbits

Warnings: high levels of crack, Elf-Dwarf relationship, mentions of Sauron.

So my husband asked me how strictly canon is "Hobbits are just Men, but short" and we talked and yes, Hobbits do have some Dwarflike traits but also some Elflike traits—

OK. so, Eregion.

I could go with Celebrimbor, but Maglor is funnier. And he is the only Elf in the Silm said to be married but not any details about it. And Silm was redacted later, I can very well see Maglor marrying someone really inaproppriate in SA and Elrond noting it down as "Maglor was wed."

So, Maglor is taking a break from beach hermiting and visiting his nephew (I don't care the book says "he never came again among the elves" — Elrond wrote the book and I imagine they were on speaking terms and more close than resentful. also, he never officially did, but I imagine it wasn't a big secret in Eregion that he's Maglor. Yes, it freaked the jewelsmiths out.)

And Celebrimbor gets a mysterious visitor and Maglor doesn't like him (and when Maglor agrees with Galadriel, it is something), and Sauron is quite terrified that his plan will go into pieces. So he decides to get rid of Maglor, Maglor's credibility and some of the meddling Dwarves.

Now, in the Legendarium love potions etc don't exist, so I would assume more like "Sauron made them get lost in some mines and confused them with magics, and Maglor falling in love with the Dwarf was a side-effect". Anyway, Maglor falls in love with a Dwarven lady, and she with him (other Dwarves are fine, maybe even survive too). And it's Sauron's fault.

Anyway they marry, and even after their minds clear, they are still in love, because they did build ahealthy-ish relationship in the meantime (let Maglor have some happiness), and, well, they have kids. Who are weird and small and less hairy than Dwarves.

Depending on your preference, it may end with Maglor running away to the beach (especially after learning what happenned to Celebrimbor), or with his wife dying peacefully of old age in his arms or whatever. Or less peacefully but at least they both fight in the war against Sauron.

Anyway the kids are there, and they have marry some Dwarves and their kids are still very similar to the strange mix, and don't look like normal Dwarves, so after a few generations they are their own tribe and leave.

And yes: they are the hobbits.

Cons of this theory:

More tragedy for Maglor and other Elves would laugh at him

Elf-Dwarf relationships.

Hobbits are descendants of a doomed kinslayer (but does that matter?)

Where do Hobbits even go for afterlife??? (New Zealand)

Pros:

More tragedy for Maglor and now we know why he doesn't want to return

Hobbits have an explanation. Also, Hobbits being musical, hard to corrupt, and having a knack for finding treasure has an explanation

Sauron's evil schemming is an important factor in the emergence of the race which later will lead to his downfall. And that's just too good. I almost can ignore the Elf-Dwarf thing for this.

It gives Námo a headache? (I like him, but I also like to make him confused and that's hard XD )

[the-phantoms-kiss]

Pillow talk

Leon S Kennedy x Fem!Reader

Angst - Fluff - Smut - 5k

It was a wonderful night, the breeze was cool as it entered through the window, the moonlight shone happily into the room, and most importantly; I was wrapped up in the arms of the man I loved.

This should’ve been the perfect end sequence in a romance movie after the two protagonists have sex, or “make love”, however in my case, it did little to quell the questions that were raging inside my mind.

“Leon…” I whisper softly, propping myself up on my forearms. “What is it?” His voice was deep and tired. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to ask, perhaps I should wait until he isn’t half asleep. He opens his eyes after a while, noticing my lack of a response, and pulls me closer to him with the arm around my waist. “What’s wrong sweetheart?” He sits up, waiting for anything. “I- nothing… it’s okay. I’m sorry for waking you, go back to sleep.” I kiss him on the forehead and let him lie back down properly, resuming his peaceful slumber.

Before I know it the clock says it’s 2:41 and I’m in the same position I was all those hours ago. The same thought has been repeated over and over again. It’s stupid. I know the answer, yet I can’t bring myself to accept it. I should, otherwise I’ll just be wasting time. I get up as carefully as I can, trying not to wake Leon up, which is easier said than done, and I carefully make my way to a small office room in the apartment.

At his old typewriter, I begin to write a letter, it goes as follows;

Dear Leon,

I apologize for not giving you a proper goodbye, but I couldn't bear to look you in the eyes knowing I'd have to leave. It may not matter to you why it is that I'm leaving, hell I don't doubt you won't notice my absence until much later on, yet I still feel as if I owe you an explanation even if it’s a shitty one.

We've been close since that night in Raccoon City, we stuck through thick and thin on various missions afterward and I've seen you grow and change from the young, sweet, and artless rookie that you were. Don't worry, I've had my own changes, and it wasn't until recently that I discovered just how much I changed from the person I was to the person I am today, I've also noted the change from the person I am today to the person I wanted to be back then. I'm leaving in pursuit of becoming that woman I always wanted to be, that woman that I am deep down. A hopeless romantic who wants nothing more than to start a family in a small town with a meaningless job. This rotten city, and whichever other city you get assigned to has no future for me, at least not one that is negotiable. I will always remember you and hold you dear to my heart, but I’m just not sure I can be here any longer without losing myself. I’ve already lost so many, I can’t lose myself. Please don’t be sad, I’m sure you’ll meet others far funnier than I, others who you’ll be able to bear your whole soul to. Please don't track me.

Maybe someday our paths will cross, till then;

Yours truly,

💋

Leaving my lipstick was my signature, the easiest way for him to recognize me. I neatly folded it, put it inside an empty envelope, and set it on his nightstand along with a cup of coffee, just how he liked it. I drove back home and quickly packed up my belongings, stuffing them into the trunk of my car.

I drove up north, only stopping for coffee and gas every once in a while, never settling in a motel for the night, instead, I opted to sleep in the backseat of my car, dreaming of the day I’d finally be free of these plagues. Faking my death was the easiest part of it all, after all, working for the government means anything is accessible and anything is possible if you talk to the right people.

I wonder if he even saw the letter, he probably thought it was some lame excuse to leave without making him breakfast, a habit we had gotten used to over the years of casual sex and crashing over at each other’s place when we were too drunk to drive home. Maybe it was exactly what he was hoping for, a break from me. I guess only time will tell.

Leon’s POV

The smell of coffee lingers in the air, the bed is colder than usual, and she isn’t singing in the kitchen like she usually is when she spends the night, she didn’t even wake me up at 6. Did I somehow dream last night? I was pretty drunk… but that’s not right, the coffee on the nightstand is-. I sit up and grab the mug, it’s cold like it’s just been there for hours, but it’s the same as when she always makes it. This must be some kind of game, ah, and here’s a letter most likely explaining the rules, a bit unusual that she didn’t tell me earlier, usually when she plays these games she at least gives me a heads up. Jesus, why’d I have to be into a detective?

Let’s see, “ ’Dear Leon’, blah blah blah blah, jeez she really got into character this time, let’s just skip to the good part, ‘don’t track me’ What am I supposed to do then? Hope I run into her? Maybe the clues are hidden in the text.” As I reread the entire letter I quickly realize, that this isn’t another one of her games, this is a goodbye. But… no. She must be kidding right? Some sick prank she thought would be funny? She knows how many people have left me… she knows that… she’s… I don’t have anyone… why would she leave if she knew that? “FUCK” I grab the mug and toss it at the wall in a fit of rage, shattering to pieces.

 *RING RING RING* Great who is it now?! Claire Redfield? “My condolences Leon, she was a great teammate and an even better friend.” “What condolences? Do you know how long she was planning this?!” “I don’t know! I would’ve helped her if I had known… she didn’t deserve to go like that.” “Helped her?! Deserve to go out like that?! So what? You’re just going to help her play the victim now?” “Jesus, Leon! Have some respect for the dead, despite whatever religion you may believe in we can both agree that we shouldn’t blame her for killing herself, the blame should be on us who didn’t even notice something was up.” “Killed herself? What do you mean…?” “Stop acting dumb! It’s all over the news! Those damn bastards couldn’t let her rest even after her death.”

That can’t be right… she would have told me if she was even feeling remotely suicidal… she- THE LETTER! SHE TOLD ME! HOURS OR EVEN SECONDS BEFORE DOING IT! WHY WOULD SHE DO SOMETHING SO DRASTIC! I WAS RIGHT NEXT TO HER! I COULD’VE SAVED HER AND EVEN AT THAT, I FAILED! MERE INCHES AWAY AND STILL I- I failed her- if I had gotten up instead of pretending to sleep if I had opened my eyes when she left the coffee on the nightstand… I could’ve prevented all of this…

2 Years later (2005) 7 years after the incident

MAIN POV

The night was quiet, even inside the bar, the bar was quieter than usual as it was late and most patrons would have work the next day. I loved these kinds of nights, the kind where the sound of people talking and low jazz music were nothing but ambiance noise compared to the rain that was pounding on the windows. The doorbell jingled, and a man came in. I must be dreaming, he looks an awful lot like Leon, sure the blonde hair is throwing me off but the resemblance is there, it can’t be, what’s an old town like this got to do with his operations? Maybe I’m drunk, I doubt it since this is my second glass of wine, but stranger things have happened. As I look back away and out the window a heavy set of footsteps walk up to my table. “Excuse me, is this seat taken?” Holy shit. It’s him. Maybe he won’t notice if I keep quiet and look out the window, maybe the changed hair color will throw him off? Right like his threw me right off track. I shake my head side to side, careful to not show my face. “Thanks.” He pulls out the chair, faces it towards the front of the bar, with his back to the window and sits on it. Umm hello? Can you leave? “It’s a nice night ain’t it.” I guess you aren’t going to leave. I just nod. “Cut the shit, I know it’s you.” He slams his beer on the table and turns his body towards me. I feel the hairs on my body stand at the sudden loudness of his voice. The place goes quiet for a second, and I remain quiet as well. “Fine then, don’t speak to me, I’ll talk whether you talk or not.” I stand up and quickly walk outside, speaking as I do. “I don’t want to talk Leon.” He reaches up to me just as fast, and grabs my wrist before I can get into my car, the rain slowly drenching us both.

 “No! You are not walking away from me. Not again. You may have said everything you wanted to that night but just remember that I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. You left me with what may have been a reason to move states, but to me it was a letter with a reason to end your life, and that wasn’t fair. You knew that I would find out about your death so why make it seem like a suicide note knowing damn well that you had no intention to do so. You left me when you knew! YOU KNEW THAT I HAD NO ONE ELSE. DO YOU KNOW JUST HOW MUCH IT KILLED ME THINKING IT WAS MY FAULT YOU HAD ENDED IT? I CRIED FOR MONTHS NONSTOP AND WHEN I WOULDN’T BE CRYING I WOULD BE DRINKING, BLAMING MYSELF FOR NOT HAVE ASKED YOU WHAT WAS WRONG THAT NIGHT WHEN THERE WAS OBVIOUSLY SOMETHING WRONG. IT KILLED ME. YOU KILLED ME. YOU HURT ME MORE THAN ANY OF THOSE STUPID MISSIONS EVER DID. AND FOR WHAT? WHAT WAS THE REASON? TO END UP WORKING AT SOME MORGUE IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE? YOU WALKED OUT ON ME. WHY? WHY?! YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE TO COME BACK JUST PLEASE TELL ME WHY!

“BECAUSE I LOVED YOU LEON! I STILL DO! AND I KNEW YOU WEREN’T READY TO SETTLE SO I LEFT. I LEFT THAT NIGHT BECAUSE I LOVED YOU AND I KNEW YOU DIDN’T LOVE ME. IT HURT TOO MUCH NEVER BEING ABLE TO TELL YOU OR SHOW YOU JUST HOW MUCH I DID. AND NO, I DIDN’T GET TO TELL YOU EVERYTHING I WANTED TO SAY IN THAT LETTER BECAUSE I WAS SCARED OF WHAT YOU WOULD DO IF YOU KNEW I LOVED YOU. I AM SORRY I HURT YOU SO MUCH. I JUST COULDN’T LIVE THAT WAY AND I NEEDED TO ESCAPE. I WAS SO BLINDED BY MY OWN PAIN I DIDN’T EVEN REALIZE WHAT I DID UNTIL I WAS SEVERAL TOWNS OVER AND I KNEW IT WAS TOO LATE BY THEN. I LOST IT. I LOST IT LEON. I LOST IT ALL. I- I WAS GOING MAD. IT WAS DRIVING ME MAD THE WAY YOU INTERACTED WITH ADA! YOU WERE HEAD OVER HEELS FOR HER AND I WAS SIMPLY THE SECOND CHOICE! EVEN WHEN WE MET YOU WERE HUNG UP ON SOMEONE! I NEVER HAD A CHANCE.”

“YOU’RE WRONG! I NEVER LIKED ADA! ALL SHE HAS DONE IS LIE AND BETRAY MY TRUST!  IT’S BEEN YOU SINCE THAT NIGHT WE MET! AND YOU’RE RIGHT I WASN’T READY TO HAVE A FAMILY, BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN I NEVER WANTED TO START ONE! ESPECIALLY WITH YOU! GOD I WOULD KILL TO HAVE THE CHANCE TO CALL YOU MINE IN ANY FORM!” His facial expression suddenly changes from anger to sadness, and one can practically see the gears in his brain as he thinks of what to say next. He steps closer his eyes now looking down at his own shoes, and when he speaks it’s much quieter than the previous shouting he was doing, his voice is slightly deeper and he talks slower, as if he’s realizing the meaning of his own words as he says them.

“You don’t know how many nights I spent dreaming about the day I could finally quit my job and just ask you to be mine already. So many nights wishing that all of these viruses would just go away so I could finally take you out to dinner and treat you the way you always deserved. I just wish you would have let me tell you that instead of making choice for me. I love you. I love you so fucking much it hurts. Surely you must know that… right?” I pull him in by his jacket, and I kiss him. I kiss him like there’s no tomorrow and he kisses back just as passionately, his arms wrapped rightly around my waist pulling me and closely as possible and it still wasn’t enough. For what feels like an eternity we stand there, drenched and yet it doesn’t bother us, and it isn’t until our lungs beg for air that we finally pull apart. He picks me up bridal style and runs to the passenger side of his car putting me inside, takes off his wool jacket and lays it on me gently before running back to the driver seat and driving to my house. “How- that’s a stupid question it'd be stranger if you didn’t know my address.” He chuckles, but that doesn’t answer my second question, “If you have something to say then say it, I don’t want you keeping any questions from me ever again.” He looks at me, frowning. “How many times did you have to look at my address to memorize the path from the bar to it?” “Too many, honey.” That’s all I wanted, a sweet nickname that I know only I’ll hear. While he drives he puts his hand on my thigh, and it feels so unbelievable right.

When we arrive he runs back over to my door to open it and extends his hand for me to hold, I run to the door and unlock it running inside for shelter as the rain falls in bigger drops, “I’m going to go shower really quickly, make yourself at home.” “Can I join you?” his hand still on mine “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, I’ll be out in a second I promise.” I kiss his forehead, and run to the restroom to shower before I catch a cold. When I get out of the shower I shiver, only wearing a towel, he’s in my room, standing by the fireplace that is now ablaze while he looks at the pictures and trinkets I have on it. “I left some hot water for you, better run and shower before I go back in.” He doesn’t answer, he just motions for me to come closer and when I do he holds my waist with one hand, the other holds out a framed picture of the both us selfie, it was taken on my 21st birthday, we were in a booth in a bar, jeez why are we always at bars? “I have this exact same picture framed on my nightstand. We’ll make it. I promise.” He kisses my forehead, his hair still damp and cold from the rain, after a few seconds he pulls away and goes to shower. Should I bring some wine? What about lingerie? Too much? Yeah, too much. I just want to make it up to him. Candles! Music! Is Jeff buckley too much heartbreak? Chris Isaak? Nine Inch Nails? Too kinky for our first romantic time. Alannah Myles? Yes. Black velvet comes on first too?! Perfect.

As if on cue Leon comes out of the bathroom with a towel covering his lower half, I just can’t help it and I run into his arms pulling him in to a kiss once again, he must’ve been feeling the same way because his hands immediately land on my hips and he pulls me flush against his chest, my hands on his hair. He picks me up bridal style and carefully throws me onto the bed, climbing on top of me, his hands roaming any bare skin I have, his kisses growing sloppy and eventually moving down my neck occasionally nipping and leaving his mark, kissing back up my jaw and nibbling right below my ear, the sound of his heavy breathing makes me rub my thighs and he instantly notices, pulling them apart and throwing the towels which hung loosely around us onto the floor. It was like he was analyzing which part he should go after first. His kisses go between the valley of my breasts, and he carefully pinches both nipples at the same time, his tongue leaving a trail as it goes lower and lower, “Leon, please,” My voice barely above a whisper, “I wanna be yours… I’m going to make you mine.” His lips right above my clit the vibration still going through. And he kisses it, slowly at first, his fingers never leaving my nipples, then he speeds up, instead of kissing it he’s just flicking it with his tongue, running circles on it, sucking, and blowing on it afterwards. My moans grow louder, it’s too much, his touch is too much, and it’s about to be more. “So many nights I dreamt about this.” And without a warning one of his fingers goes into me, as he curls and moves it in and out, adding a second one and doing scissor motions, his lips now repeating the same actions from before but now on your nipples constantly switching between them. “Leon it’s too much- I-“ “Cum on my fingers.” I don’t need to be told twice and he just speeds up his ministrations as my legs shake.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good tonight baby, you’re never going to be the same.” I moan and twist his hair between my fingers. After I’m done he pulls out his fingers and licks them clean, “God how I’ve missed your taste.” And before I know it he’s between my thighs again like a starved man, curling his tongue inside and his hands massage my hips keeping them from bucking, his nose rubbing against my clit every once a while and his tongue runs over my walls like he can’t get enough, “Leon don’t stop please- you- you- feel so-“ My legs shaking again, thighs crushing his head and he groans, the vibrations going through my entire body. And as I come down from my high he’s licking every last drop, “So pretty when you cum” without warning he’s shoving his dick in me, one of his hands holding my legs on his shoulders and the other holding my hips, angling them up getting in even deeper, setting a sharp and quick pace. I pull him in with my legs, his hands now pressing my thighs to my chest and his lips meet mine for a messy kiss, both moaning into each other’s mouth the new angle has both of us seeing stars and I involuntary clench around him every once in a while making his knees buck, “Fuck, keep doing that and I won’t last.” “I don’t want you to last.” I scratch my nails on his back and his scalp, and he moans in my ear. “You sound so pretty when you moan.” And he blushes hiding his face in my neck, groaning and moaning. “I- I’m close- Leon-“ “Cum for me.” And I snap, my walls gripping him tighter than he could imagine, and he cums as well, his knees bucking and his body shivers on mine. His hands bruising my hips but I couldn’t care any less. After a few more seconds of him pistoning in and out he finally falters, and he lies on top of me for a while, now it’s just our heavy breathing and the long-forgotten CD still playing in the background. As he pulls out he lays his head on my chest and covers us both, I softly run my fingers along his hair, his own fingers drawing shapes on my skin. “I love you.” We both spoke simultaneously, “Jinx” “That’s not fair.” He jokingly frowns, “Nuh uh, can’t speak, I said jinx.” After some silence I speak up again. “Do you remember when we first met?” He just remains silent, “I know you’re awake.” “You said I couldn’t speak.” “Fine.” “Leon,” Saying his name slowly, a kiss on his forehead, “Leon,” repeating it even slower, a kiss on his nose, “Leon.” Barely above a whisper, a kiss on his lips, “I think about that night every day.” He replies. “Do you remember?” “Crystal clear.” The memories flooding back to me.

We met in a bar a day before the incident, a town outside of Raccoon City, I walked in “Can I get whiskey on rocks?” I ordered, and a voice came from next to me “Are you even old enough to drink?” The man was unbelievably good looking, but obviously out of it. “Excuse me? I fail to see how that’s any of your business.” “I’m a cop. It is my business.” He flashes his badge, “A drunk one. You’re no better than I am.” He chuckles “You didn’t answer my initial question.” “I did you just didn’t like my response.” “I could take you to jail right now.” “In that condition? You’d probably crash before we even got in the city.” “I can drive just fine.” “You sure? Because by the look of your dilated pupils, you’re either drunk or in love.” “Or?” he smirks, “As if.” The bartender is way too tired to pay attention to either and simply passes you the drink, you hand him cash, “You’re not even going to ID her? And they say we’re the corrupted ones.” “Listen here, if you’re just going to come in and talk shit with our customers then feel free to make your way out.” The bartender responds, of course, he’d have your back, you’ve been a regular for months. “Fine. I guess I will.” He stands up immediately feeling dizzy as he slightly stumbles out of the bar, I follow behind him I can’t afford such a handsome guy getting himself killed on the road. “Let me drive. You’ve obviously had too many and I’m sober.” “After that whiskey?” “Believe it or not some of us actually have a tolerance to alcohol. I didn’t finish it anyway.” He sighs outside his car, taking a moment to think, he puts his hand on his head and hands me the keys walking over to the passenger side.

“Where to?” “Any hotel nearby.” “Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you off at your house?” “Don’t have one.” It’s dark out and the road is empty other than the occasional gas station, “So… what brings you out here anyhow?” “To the bar or to the city?” “Both” “Mainly work, I’m starting my first day as a cop tomorrow in Raccoon City.” “Wow, I could’ve been your first arrest, lucky you.” “So you admit you’re underage” “I’m 20 alright lay off it, say you don’t look old enough to drink either.” “That’s because I’m 21.” “Aha! You’re no better than I am.” “At least I waited.” “First of all I call bullshit, and second of all getting wasted isn’t exactly waiting. You drank tonight more than I’ve drank in these past months. What about the bar? A celebration for your new job?” “My girlfriend broke up with me yesterday, needed a drink to forget. What about you? Do you go there often?” “I’m sorry to hear about your ex. Well, college is hard and family doesn’t make it easier so we all cope in some way or another.” “Ah family, I can relate to that.” “They didn’t want you to be a cop?” “They’re dead now but I’m sure they wouldn’t be proud. They were wrapped up in crime more often than not, a cop helped me out that night though, and helped me get into an orphanage.” “That’s sweet” he smiles, god he’s cute. “What are you studying in college?” “Mortuary science.” “Isn’t that just lovely.” I laugh and he looks at me with these huge puppy eyes. “Don’t think I’ve seen you smile this whole time, you’re pretty cute when you smile.” “Only when I smile? Good golly.” He laughs again, “Didn’t even deny it.” I whisper under my breath as I shake my head, “You’re always cute, you’re just too sassy for me to see it.” I just blush and keep quiet for the rest of the ride, turning on the radio to play some jazz quietly in the background as the rain starts pattering down the windshield. At one point he simply passes out, man is he adorable when he sleeps, his eyelashes are so thick, and his faint freckles are scattered around his cheeks and neck, man his ex must’ve been blind and deaf, don’t know how she could just give up on this cutie. As I see a nearby motel I notice the gas tank is close to empty and I park at the motel. “Excuse me how close is the nearest gas station?” “About 4 miles up north, but I wouldn’t recommend walking out there this late, with the heavy rain and the recent murders in the city it is too dangerous to be out.” “I’ll book two rooms then,” As I finish up paying I walk back out to the car to get the stranger, recent murders huh? What if he’s the killer? Nah he’s too sweet for that. He could be acting… I’m sure it’s fine. “Are you awake? I got you a room, seems we’ll have to be neighbors for the night since this car isn’t going anywhere.” No answer. Guess I’ll have to carry him, man he feels like a steel wall, god, I’m going to be sore tomorrow. After carrying him to his room and push him onto his bed his hand grabs onto mine, and he pull me onto the bed with him wrapping his arms around me, whispering a name, still very much asleep. After a while I manage to get his arm off of me and to my room as quietly as possible knocking out on my bed.

In the morning I wake up to the sound of the sound of knocking on the door, as I peek out I see the lady from last night, her husband is offering to drive me to the gas station and I quickly agree and get in his truck. The drive to was quiet filled with occasional small talk, on the ride back however, he stared asking more personal questions, putting his hand on my shoulder every once in a while. When he parked he kept the doors locked looking over at me as if he’d seen his first meal, “If you’d like, I can help you fill up” his tone lower and he leaned towards me, “No thank you, I’m running a bit late could you-“ “Listen princess, my wife is probably taking a nap right now and I think it’d be in both of our interest if we had a little fun.” I quickly move my hand and unlock the doors, but he grabs my wrist tightly before I can open it. “Let me go! My friend is a cop and he will arrest you!” He chuckles and my god it is the most disgusting sound I’ve ever heard. Oh yeah? Where’s this friend of yours at?” “Right here.” A familiar voice responds from behind the man as his door swings open and he gets pulled out of his seat, and before the man could even fully raise his fist he gets punched in the nose, falling back unconscious. Seriously badass. He quickly runs around to my side and opens the door, holding his hand out for me to take and I gladly do so. “Thank you.” I pull him into a hug and he reciprocates the action, after pulling away he holds his hand out “I’m Leon Kennedy, sorry I didn’t introduce myself earlier.” I introduce myself and shake his hand. After filling up the tank we drove back to the bar, the same place I’d left my car the night before.

We stop at a diner to eat lunch, his treat of course since he turned out to be a gentleman, lending me his jacket when it got cold outside and walking me to my car as we said our goodbyes, both knowing we didn’t want to go our separate ways. I give him my phone number and he does the same, and with that I’m in my car alone, and he’s in his equally alone. It wasn’t until I got half way back home that I realized he’d forgotten his jacket, and I would’ve kept it if it didn’t contain his badge along with other belongings. Thankfully I knew he’d most likely be heading to the police station over at Raccoon City so that’s where I’d be going for the rest of the day, I didn’t have anything planned anyways so it’d be a fun roadtrip. By the time I was only half an hour out of the city it was already dark and I needed fuel stopping at a gas station which coincidentally had Leon’s car parked right outside it. I got out ready to surprise him when out of no where a bloodied woman came to my window banging her head against it, not knowing whether to help her or seek Leon inside the dark gas station I climb over the passenger seat and run towards the building turning back to see a swarm of them hurling towards me. As I turn an isle I walk into Leons back, he quickly turns pointing the gun right at my forehead, “DON’T SHOOT! IT’S ME!” He doesn’t even respond he just grabs my hand and leads me out to the nearby police cruiser which was luckily on. I get into the passenger seat and he gets into the drivers, quickly stepping on the gas pedal. After we were seemingly in the clear he speaks up “What were you doing there?” Not angry but obviously shaken by the experience, “You forgot your jacket, I was going to drive to RPD and leave it there but I spotted your car at the gas station.” He looks down at me, noticing the jacket still on me, “Oh, thank you.” I take it off and hold onto it for the rest of the ride, we were both quiet, trying to process what we’d just seen. Eventually stopping outside of another diner within the city. From then on it’s all just history. 

3 Years later (2008)

"Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer keeping yourself unto him for as long as you both shall live? If so, answer I do."

“I do.”

"Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer keeping yourself unto him for as long as you both shall live? If so, answer I do."

“I do”

“You may now kiss the bride” 

And with a searing kiss, we begin a new chapter in our lives.

AN: I pulled an all-nighter so please like and reblog 👏🏻😭

[seaofreverie]

Sparkstember Day 2: A Woofer In Tweeter's Clothing (The Louvre)

Another very solid album! I think I've heard some say that it's not really that good besides a couple standouts, but I must respectfully disagree!! More down-to-earth and less of a bag of delightfully mismatched oddities than its predecessor, yes, but that still doesn't really diminish its value in my eyes. Yeah, it doesn't really have many low points for me but it also definitely does have those couple of total classics that totally stand out (and interestingly, I realized while writing down my favourite songs that I could consider every single one on the first half of the album a favourite. Not that the second half is necessarily worse... but still interesting to actually have it spelled out and visible like that and be able to think about it). And all in all Woofer definitely continues with a very similar kind of feeling and imagery as the previous release so I'm definitely a big fan of that aspect! I really like this album a whole bunch and revisit it a lot. Just making it clear here... just in case... that yes, I do like it, even if I don't have that many specific things to sing praise about this time, maybe? Or at least not as loudly. Who knows!

But ok, there actually IS another very important thing I can't forget to mention about Woofer. Because this is THE impressive Russell vocal moments album for me, or maybe more appropriately, Russell making sounds that are both impressive and intriguing in nature. That defintely makes it stand out even among all the other early 70s albums (which also have their own fair share of such moments of course). But I'll say more on those specific moments below.

And also, continuing the topic of seasons associations here too (for as long as I remember to inculde these here, I might forget about it pretty quickly however, maybe it's just that with some later albums the associations aren't as pronounced and important! Yeah, it could be that), this album is totally autumny to me, a sunny and warm sort of autumn but when most of the leaves have already fallen down. For once it's not the exact moment when I started listening to it that becomes the associatied season, huh? But even then, I can still hear some elements of late winter / very early spring here as well.

Favourite songs (and other highlights):

Girl From Germany (this is just THE sound of the summer kind of song for me, it just makes me instantly happy. Which I guess is kind of funny considering its subject matter but that's just how it is with Sparks and I think we all got used to that at this point)

Beaver O'Lindy (!!!!! no explanation needed, right)

Nothing Is Sacred (suuuuuper underrated, I especially love Russell's entire... whatever is going on at the end here, it's one of my favourite moments on the entire album)

Here Comes Bob (this is silly but at first whenever I heard this song I always pictured the character Bob from Animal Crossing going on a little stroll so that definitely makes it funnier)

Moon Over Kentucky (another timeless CLASSIC. I don't even know what to say about it, it's just so good. And has plenty of those vocal moments too for sure)

Batteries Not Included (not... really a favourite but I still wanted to give it a mention, because I think there's something very cool and unique about it, even besides being sort of a funny little... ugh, I hate to use this word but, novelty?? song (I can't find a better word for this that doesn't come af sort of derogatory but I hope you can see what I mean with this haha)). Oh, and of course it's the first on the list of "short intro" type of Sparks songs, which I always find quite great and memorable whenever they show up over the following years.

[kiwinatorwaffles]

// very vague/mild crisis at hyrule castle spoilers, directly after completing regional phenomena

the part where you have to fight a boss and the sages come in person to defend you is really cool and all and im pretty sure the "canonical explanation" for how they all showed up in link's time of most need is that the secret stones signal them when link is in trouble yada yada and the sages are summoned and whatnot. but. i have a funnier proposal:

the secret stones are basically zoom call cameras. the sages can all see the shenanigans link are up to and can communicate with each other, but link has no idea that they can see him. so while he's off doing stupid shit and dying to the dumbest things all the sages are just watching the legendary hero who dispels darkness trip over his feet after trying to shield surf with butter.

yunobo watching link fall to his knees after realizing you can only bring one rock roast to bedrock bistro at a time, riju watching link try to lure a molduga with a time bomb but setting it off on himself, tulin watching link accidentally dive straight into the ground after forgetting to pull out the paraglider, sidon watching link drowning because he thought he could catch all the fish etc

sidon asks the gang if they should just tell link that he should probably undeafen himself. everyone else agrees that it's just funnier to leave him in the dark so they can keep watching the soap opera that is link's shenanigans in hyrule