#i still need to clean the carpet though. i don't really have the tools to rn and it is genuinely disgusting

[flamagenitus]

The internet in my accommodation went out three times today and as a result I have cleaned my studio and begun a creative project I've wanted to do for nearly a year. Concerned about what that says of my daily habits

[fountainpenguin]

"Picture of your face in an invisible locket... I had a bad feeling. But we were dancin'... swaying as the room burned down." (x)

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New Dog's Life chapter today! ~ 3rd Life series fan-season

Chapter 32 - “Starve (Etho, Scott)”

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

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I am once again bringing you scenes of Etho cuddling up to SnifferMyFeet while Sniff growls reminders that even though he has Joel's memories and misses being Boat Boys, he wants Etho to treat him as a separate person.

If I had a nickel for every chapter Etho's touched this man and thought of Joel, I would have 8 nickels. I'd have 40 cents. That's as much as 1/4 of our story. And that's terrible.

#smalletho - Etho once again working through his touch starvation and Boat Boys Issues™ Many references to Joel, but he doesn't appear. Large flashbacks of him and Etho in next week's chapter, though! <3

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

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This preview section jumps into shippy vibes- Proceed at own discretion.

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Etho - Fox

Status: Holding out a hand

Self-taught programmer, full-time hero

💙  🧡  💚

So, uh. That string tidying, huh? You're setting yourself up for disappointment if you want to do that with an endermite hybrid. They're the best in the business and they'll mock you the whole time you set up. Sniff's smug and giggly about it, too, as Etho pushes him down on the bed and hangs back to study him. He's really tattered the code on the bottoms of his bare feet. I mean, shoe code gets tattered too, but usually those soft parts of a skin design hurt more.

"You gonna use your mouth?" Sniff asks, eyeing him up.

"In a shocking turn of events, the programmer has tools for fixing loose code. They're in the other room." Etho takes Sniff's wrists and pins them above his head for a second, then takes his ankles and stretches them out. Classic textbook pose for the work, even though they'll probably move to the carpet for obvious reasons before they start; he doesn't need weak pixels dropped all over his bed. "Stay," he commands, and Sniff sticks out his tongue and double flips him off without moving his arms. So Etho can't be mad.

But he does lean over, sliding one hand beneath Sniff's cheek, easing it behind his head. He curls it back around and lifts it just enough to scrape his palm across Sniff's brow, beneath his floppy dark brown hair. It's thick and feels like swamp plants in his hands. He still smells like well-treated water. Chlorine. Like one of Gluon's hotel builds with the fancy pools. Or the waterpark server. Never did find out why. Etho breathes against him without pulling back. Despite the wet scents, Sniff's warm soul's like fresh-baked bread against his hand.

"Oh my goodness… You're so pretty. You are so pretty…"

The metaphorical light fades from Sniff's mismatched eyes. Etho pulls back, waiting for a pinch or slap. Sniff turns his face away. Only his Joel side's visible at this angle as he squirms. "Get your eyes checked, Eefo… I saw my reflection when I got my water. I'm stitched together with hand-me-down parts. You don't mean that."

"What if I do, though?" He crouches lower by the bed, bringing a hovering thumb to Sniff's scalp. Sniff glances at him, then away. So Etho breaks that barrier. Slowly, the thick part of his hand eases down to touch Sniff's head. Sniff scrunches up his eyes again, giving the faintest little nod. Etho holds very still a few seconds (Sniff's pixels are so loose on his skin, which was the whole point of this cleaning project anyway) before he speaks again. "I'm sorry you can't see that yet. Body issues are tough; I've got issues too. Sometimes my fox traits get away from me… Been thinking about modding out, but it takes centuries of paperwork." His next stroke of hand (a circle on his head) is firmer, sharper, and Sniff mutters something under his breath as his cheeks freckle up with blue again. Cute. "If it were legal, I'd probably just unthread. I'd miss the bullet paths, but you make vex life look so easy. So good." He draws his hand around in one last loop, then eases it down Sniff's cheek (on his Grian side) to his neck. "Hey, take a closer look next time you're out. There's a lot of interesting people out there. Some wear faces that aren't even humanoid. Have you met MumboDrone or iCam? … And you know, it's just a skin."

Sniff putters his lips, staring towards the ceiling. His fingers lift, dancing across the backs of Etho's knuckles. "You just want me to stay late again. Gods, you're so lonely… Listen, fella- I know my strings are a wreck. I was an endermite before a vex; be pretty messed up if I couldn't tell. I'll let you clean me up, but I'm not playing sleepover. You can't make me."

"Mmhm." Oh man, I want to press my head on yours. He really wants to, noses brushing, hair tufts scraping, but he refrains, you know. He's kneeling, balanced on his heels, and Sniff's saying 'Yes' to the hand but looking unsure. So he won't. "Stay as long as you want to. Just let me clean your code and then you can leave. I promise I won't be mad."

"You smell like bread dough…"

"Yeah? My code wouldn't taste too good right now. Squeaky clean."

"Oh, that's too bad." Absentminded. Distracted. Etho eases back his fingers.

"Are you okay?"

Sniff clicks into focus again and then swishes up, sitting on the bed instead of lying down. "Yeah, thanks. I'm good, actually. The water helped."

"All right. I'll be right back with the cleaning stuff." He leaves without another touch, pausing only to switch off the portal still glowing in the corner. He leaves the desk lantern glowing like it is. It's fun, in the dark. The light's so low, it's like a fox's den in here.

The nice thing about being a programmer? He has no end of scrapers and combs to choose from. He pays the living room a visit to get the tray from the coding desk's drawer and some rolled-up pieces of carpet (ignoring the less than subtle smirks Beef and Pause give him as he strolls by). Etho brings the whole tray to his room and sits on the bed with Sniff, just talking to him and explaining how effective these tools are for different things. Sniff seems to recognize a lot of them, which is no surprise, honestly. Since Joel doesn't do logouts, he has a whole cleaning routine. It takes him forever.

"You know," Sniff says, digging through the tray, "using combs is cheating, actually. I can do the cleaning with my teeth still attached. I bet foxes can too. I mean, it's code work; all the code-eating species can do it." He flicks his gaze to Etho, who kneels across from him, tail waving in the air. Etho doesn't answer, so Sniff goes on. "You know what's fun? 'mite bundles."

"'mite bundles,'" Etho repeats. "Like… Endermites inside a bundle? Is that fun? That's a new one to me." Where is he going with this?

"Yeah, it's when you put endermites in with some of your supplies and go out on adventures. When you want your supplies, you have to dump everything on the ground and try to use your stuff without getting bit. If you get bit, you have to send your coords to server chat. Easy way to get killed, so you'd better not. You can play it in Between, too. Pig has an endermite living in his studio. For every time it bites him, he has to keep his weapons in a chest for an hour when he gets home. It means I can do whatever I want to him, really. Usually he just runs. Sometimes we duke it out bare-fisted. Have you ever seen him with a black eye and a tooth knocked out? Just me, I guess- It probably doesn't carry when he leaves the server. He looks so goofy when he smiles; I'm chuffed to bits with that. Gods, you wouldn't believe the bruise he left on me this one time he pushed me off an end ship. He smirked about it for days, no joke. No, actually. Can't believe his head even fit outside the server."

Etho smirks back, hidden in the mask and hidden by his fingertips. His chin rests against his hand. "What'd you do to him? You didn't let him get away with that, did you?"

"Hell no! I picked up a shulker and I slammed him on the head with it. I bet you didn't even know you can peel 'em off the wall- they're so clingy. What'd he do then? I think he put down a bed and blew himself up trying to get me with it. Oh, he's so lame. I like him so much."

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top]

[lindszeppelin]

I think we've said it before that Kate was great for Austin when Elvis came out. He never experienced that type of fame before. It can be very overwhelming being thrown into the spotlight like that. Austin has been around a long time but A level status was very new for him. It made sense, at that time, to have him on a tight leash so to speak. She would make sure he wasn't uncomfortable on the carpet. He didn't get distracted. People didn't over step their bounds, etc. She was good at telling people no. She helped clean up the unintentional mess over the VH friend debacle. Things like that.

However,

Something seemed to have happened after the Dune press tour, that caused a shift. Because this recent press tour was different. Obviously at some point behind closed doors, Austin put his foot down. He wants more control over his image. He's not afraid to speak for himself. I think all in all after two blockbuster movies, he's a lot more confident in himself (not arrogant or thinks he's too good). He still needs guidance, as that is the job is a publicist. But he doesn't want to be controlled. He's talked a lot recently about this rebellious nature he has to do the complete opposite of what people tell him when he feels like he's being backed into a corner. So I'm wondering if Kate and him just don't see eye to eye as much anymore. I think Alex, his newer publicist, works for Kate's company. Kate may be shadowing her to make sure she can take care of Austin. I think Austin and Kate still care for each other, but professionally may have outgrown each other. Just speculation...

I will say though, when it was just Alex there was no mention of Kaia at all. But as soon as Kate comes back into the picture people were mentioning Kaia all the time. The fact she knows Austin doesn't want to talk about Kaia, especially while he's working, and she stood there and let it happen. Not cool. I don't know what role Kate has played in this relationship with Kaia. Those two seem awfully close. I don't know if it's normal for someone's publicist to be so close with their significant other. Unless you're married, then I get it. I've heard rumors, Kate may have had a hand in setting those two up? So if Austin is truly ready to move on from Kaia, then I could see how it would effect his business relationship with Kate.

Again, all speculation of my end. But I always remember this quote, "Once is by chance. Twice is a coincidence. Three times is a pattern" and something is up.

I agree with all of this beautiful message. I think Kate did him well in the beginning when he really needed very specific guidance on how to navigate this new territory that he hadn't been in before. She is a ball buster, which is great for making sure nobody stepped in on Austin where they weren't supposed to. However, at this point in the game she's gotta be put on the bench lol. As of late, she has not helped him, and only showed me more that she is letting others step in her place. She is reserved, not doing as much as she was before, and she isn't super leaned in over Austin's shoulder like she was before. The energy has shifted, and with all the recent developments happening in real time lately, we're seeing Austin shift into a new direction. And she's not going to be there for much longer. Maybe she'll be in the background, but we will be seeing other faces in her stead where she once physically was. And that is a smart move. Austin sees he needs a different set of tools and guidance that she can't provide him anymore. It's fine to outgrow certain people, and it's wonderful when you realize you need a fresh set of eyes to help get the ball rolling how you want it. So this is all a smart move by Austin.

And yes as you said, Kaia being out of the picture puts a new pressure on his situation with Kate. Kaia not being needed means Kate not being needed. When he enters into a new relationship, he knows he's going to need somebody else on his PR team at the helm to steer things in a cleaner direction. Because this man isn't gonna be in another PR relationship lol. I know damn well he's ready for a real woman to settle down with, and someone like Kate who was very good at moving the PRship chess pieces is not what's best for Austin moving forward. And he knows it

He is making moves and setting it up for a check mate

[moxfirefly]

If you don't mind. Could I get a 67. "You're bleeding all over my carpet." With Leo, please. Maybe the reader seems super chill but is freaking out inside.

Thank you! Have a great day:)

I really like that one so thanks for requesting it!

Rated Mature (because blood?)

TW: Blood

The hissing noise and groaning were the sounds that alerted you that somebody was in the apartment. Naturally given your relationship with a certain mutant ninja, you really hoped it was him and not some robber.

For the sake of ‘just in case’ you walked out with the baseball bat you kept next to your night table. You walked out and abruptly turned on the lights to get the drop on the figure standing there.

Thankfully it was Leonardo.

Not thankfully, Leonardo was a bloody mess.

Just truly a mess.

You stood there frozen, bat raised above your head. Leo clutched at his side and raised another less bloody hand. “Word of advice, hit me in the dark, it’s better to get the upper hand on somebody in the dark” He groaned and took a step on wobbly legs. “Are-Are you seriously training me right now?” You lowered your weapon slowly, eyes running all over Leo’s frame.

‘Ok, keep your cool, don’t freak out’ your brain yelled at you. Sure Leo had always to some degree shown up to your place with bruises and bumps. The ocasional cut or sprain.

But this though.

He actively bled. He looked worse for wear. There was a steady but slow fall of blood and a stain forming on your carpeted living room. “You’re bleeding all over my carpet” Your tone was off as if a part of you knew this was normal, although inside your mind kept yelling at you to do something. Leo’s gaze traveled to his boots and nodded slowly. “That I am...” Another groan left him when he tried to kick off said boots.

You reacted more quickly now and went towards him. “Did you take on the entire National Guard by yourself?! What the hell happened?!” “You placed one giant arm over your neck, as if you could drag him alone if he actually collapsed.

“Not quite, it’s a long story... get me to the bathroom if you can please” Even a beaten mess he still took the time to not let you carry most of his weight. Once in the bathroom he sat at the end of the tub and watched you bring out a first aid kit. “I’ve only ever stitched small stuff Lee, shouldn’t I get Donnie or Raph here? Why are you alone?” You mind was a million an hour even if your voice was back to as calm as you could muster.

Leo placed a hand on yours and gripped it gently. “I’m going to need you to just keep this between us, please? His blue eyes begged you. “Lee, how are you planning to hide all of this when you get home?” You gestured to all of the damage he was sporting. Leo smiled, pain etchings at his features. “I’ll find a way, just help me with this, can I crash here?” You took out gauzes, alcohol wipes and the stitching equipment. He once again held your wrist and ran a thumb over your pulse. You stopped and sighed, looking at him with concern.

“Okay, but this better not be something you take up. Whatever you’re doing ‘on your own’ shouldn’t have to be like that” You knelt in front of him and took stock of the cut at his side, the more fleshy side that wasn’t as hard as his plastron. “I know what I’m doing Y/n, I just need you to trust me” He bit down on the inside of his cheeks as you began to clean the blood away.

An hour and several bloody gauzes and tools later and one much needed shower for him, Leo was sitting at the couch of your living room. He was the picture of misery and the pain was a road map. The bruising on his face, the cuts from blades and weapons, sometimes you wondered if the work was truly worth how much he and his brother hurt themselves.

You brought him some painkillers and water, setting it on the end table nearest him. You sat down with him, even like this he always looked at you as if you were the center of his world.

It hurt you to think the world was doing this to him. A degree of anger always spiked in your brain when you thought how the actual citizens would react to him and his family, they would surely not bother to care the blood and time they had spread across town to protect those very same ignorant folk.

“I hate this, I wish you didn’t have to do it” You reached for his hand and held it, Leo squeezed it affectionately. “I know, I can see it in your eyes every time I show up like this” He gulped down the water you had given him along with the medicine. “But you’re not quitting any time soon, aren’t you?” Your voice was sullen.

Leo didn’t answer, he simply pulled you closer and held you.

You rested on his shoulder avoiding the wounds closest. The two of you stayed there, your mind never shutting up about how maybe one day, Leo might not climb in through that window. Your eyes fell on the bloody stains on your carpet, your eyes welling up with tears.

‘Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it’

[thewalkingfanfictions]

Softly, Barely a Whisper -- Daryl Dixon x fem!reader (part one)

Softly, Barely a Whisper — Daryl Dixon x fem!reader (pre apocalypse) (part one)

Part One/ Part Two/ Part Three

Description: (Name) moved in with her uncle, the Sheriff of a little town in Northern Georgia, to escape an abusive household. While living with her uncle, she meets Daryl, a redneck with a heart of gold and a life very similar hers. Fluff and angst and awkward shy Daryl Dixon ensue.

⚠Warning⚠: great amounts of bad language, past mentions of abuse, past mentions of rape, there's probably more, this'n's kinda a mess. Don't read if you get triggered easily.

Genre: angsty fluff?? Hurt/comfort?? I've no idea. Is awkward Daryl a genre?

Pairing: teen!Daryl Dixon x teen!fem!abused!reader

A/N: hey, sorry I've been gone for forever, I suck at commitment. I also suck at naming things, hence the title. I wrote another long motherfucker of a "oneshot" and therefore am breaking it into chapters like I did with Impromptu Cuddles, so look out for the other chapters soon enough. Enjoy.

Words without A/N: 3242

<—————————————>

"Sure thing, Daryl. You can use whatever ya'd like, just make sure you put it back afterwards. The doors unlocked and yer more than welcome to go in for a drink or anythin' if ya need it." Bill Coleman, or Sheriff Coleman, as most knew him by, called out as he moved to open the door to his cruiser.

The Sheriff was an interesting character to the youngest Dixon. He had hardened features and a voice like a gravel truck that immediately implied a harsh disposition, his eyes were constantly squinted into a look that resembled judgment, and the vibe he gave off was just generally unpleasant; but, in all reality, Bill Coleman was probably the gentlest man Daryl had ever met. He understood the workings of the Dixon household without ever having to be told, and did what he could to make life any bit easier for the teenager. Whether that be arresting the senior Dixon whenever he found possible, or offering Daryl a place to stay in his home over the weekend. Bill was, all in all, a genuinely kind human being. Something, Daryl found, was rather rare in his life.

But, even though the Sheriff had his trust, and he knew the Sheriff trusted him the same, it still came as a bit of a shock to him to see the officer willingly let him, a Dixon, have open access to his house while no one else was home.

Everyone knew not to trust a Dixon. Nobody in the town was willing to make eye contact with him, let alone trust him to their house and belongings while they were away. Will, his father, had done a fine job of destroying the family name in his drunken escapades, and his brothers addictions did nothing to help. This, combined with the confusion and disbelief that coursed through his system, explained the gawk the boy's eyes held as he stared in awe at Mr. Coleman's retreating figure.

This had to be some kind of trick, right?

"Oh," the Sheriff called. There it was, the part where he'd laugh it off and say "just kidding. Like I'd let a freak like you into my home without supervision."

Once again surprising the young man, his expectation was the farthest thing from what the greying man actually said.

"I fergot ta mention my niece, my sisters kid. She'll be here soon enough, gets off work in a half hour or so. She's been stayin' with me since, ah–" he trailed off a bit, one leg up in the cruiser, the other still planted firmly on the ground as he looked at Daryl over the door's window, looking mildly uncomfortable "–well, she's jus' stayin' with me. She's real sweet, you'll prolly get along with 'er. Jus', eh, just be soft, ya hear? She's a bit skittish, and real shy, too, so don't be too offended if she avoids ya, she don't mean it rude like."

And what on earth could he mean by that? The avoiding that he'd done when describing why she was here, what had happened that he didn't want to talk about? Daryl had a few theories already.

"'Till later, Daryl. Take care, and remember what I told ya, boy." With a wave and a caring (or warning, he could never quite tell with the old man) smile, the grizzled man pulled out of the small driveway and onto the road leading out of the trailer park to go do his civic duty, leaving a still heavily confused, and now slightly concerned, Daryl Dixon standing outside of his garage.

This man, knowing his family's history with bad habits, was not only willing to let the teenager into his home without a watchful eye, but was also perfectly okay knowing he'd be there, alone, with his (skittish and shy) niece?

Maybe the old man is finally losing it, he thought.

Still in shock, the young man turned on his heel, and began the short trek back to the shedd to continue working on the pickup that he had been working on fixing up. Though it was really nothing but a shell sitting on bricks right now, he knew that someday it'd be his pride and joy.

Some uncounted amount of time later, Daryl was finally pulling himself out from under the hood. His throat itched with dryness, and he was covered in sweat from the never-ending harshness of the Georgian sun, but, nonetheless, he couldn't help the little spike of pride that ran through him as he looked down at the beginnings of the new-made guts of his pickup. Allowing himself the luxury of a small smile, he decided he'd finally take the old Sheriff up on his offer, and moved to head into the house to grab something to wet his throat, and maybe even a rag to wipe off his face, if he was feeling risky.

He found, upon entry, that the house was relatively clean. Cleaner than it had been the last time he'd been in there, at least, and only as clean as an old trailer house could really get.

Still, where before there had been newspapers scattered, now there were none, and in place of the cluttered kitchen was a clean countertop and a basket of fresh apples. He didn't dwell on it a whole lot as he moved to the sink to fill up a plastic solo cup, though he did wonder if Bill would mind if he stole an apple. The young Dixon couldn't really remember the last time he'd eaten.

Filling his cup, he was quick to chug it down, the cold a dramatic (but welcome) shock against the harsh dryness of his throat. He let the water run into the sinks basin as he filled the cup up again, again, and then one more time, and only on his fifth return to the water did he realize the difference in sound. A few inches of water was backed up in the bottom of the sink, refusing to go down the drain like it should, and completely changing the sound the water pouring from the faucet made as it headed downwards.

Quickly setting the cup aside and turning off the faucet, he watched the water make its incredibly slow decent into the drain, and decided he needed to pay back Sheriff Coleman's hospitality. It was the least he could do, after all.

Opening the doors that lead to the plumbing beneath the sink, Daryl set himself to work.

~~~~~~~~~~×~~~~~~~~~~

"Good night, (name)!" Mr. Sennet's overly cheery voice called to the young woman as she moved her way through the front doors of the diner.

Calling out a quick goodbye to him as well, she hurriedly climbed into her rig. A shitty little Honda though she was, she still got the young (name) from a to b, and (name) would be forever grateful to her uncle for gifting it to her.

Dusk was just beginning to settle as she took off towards her new residence, and she worried slightly if her uncle would be angry that she was out later than usual. The diner had been busier tonight than normal, and instead of getting off at seven, as per usual, it was now closer to nine.

Taking a calming breath, she reminded herself aloud:

"He's not like they were, he won't be mad at you. He's not like them, he won't be mad."

Though she really did believe it, she still repeated it aloud to herself the entire way back to the house, as if she thought she could will it into existence if she hoped hard enough.

It was silly, she knew, but she didn't really care. After all she'd been through, she thought she deserved a little self reassurance.

The drive to her new home was short lived, though she didn't much mind. She hated to be alone now, it gave her too much time to think, and far too much time to overthink. A regular pastime of hers, it seemed.

It was odd, really. Before, when it was just her and the chromed glass house and the bruising voices, before she was taken away by her uncle, she loved to be alone. She cherished the times of peace she had between the hurt. Now, if she was alone for more than thirty minutes, it was likely she'd be found having a mental breakdown in a bathtub.

But, enough of the depressing stuff.

As the scarred girl pulled into the driveway, she didn't notice the second pair of tracks that accompanied her uncles, as she was far too wrapped up in her head. Something she'd be sure to kick herself for at a later date. She didn't notice the single light that was on in the kitchen, either, nor did she pay mind to the tools that lay neatly around their box as she passed the shedd that functioned as a garage, and she simply put the shell of a pickup truck that sat just outside off as another of her uncles pastimes. Opening and stepping through the front door, she didn't even notice the smudge of mud off the sole of someone's shoe that was left on the carpet.

She did, however, definitely notice the way the hair on the back if her neck stood to attention at the sound of a voice that most definitely wasn't the Sheriffs cursing angrily from the kitchen. Metal clinking to the ground and a tapping on something that echoed like tubing followed behind the exclamation, and (name) felt herself seize up in fear.

"It can't be them," she reminded herself silently, "it isn't them, it can't be."

Swallowing her fear, trying desperately not to let the tears that branded the backs of her eyes build enough to fall, (name) forced herself to move farther into the room, grabbing the aluminum baseball bat that resided behind the door and dropping her bag by a table near the door as she did.

Thinking back to the little bit of self defence that Bill had taught her upon her moving in, she pulled the bat to her side to keep it close enough that no one could easily pull it from her grasp, but could still cause some damage if shoved forwards hard enough.

Sneaking around the corner of the refrigerator that hid the person from view, she took a deep, calming breath before poking her head around to take a peek.

He was young, she could tell, likely not much older than herself. Shaggy, brown-blond hair nearly reached broad shoulders, and even though he was hunched over beneath the kitchen sink, she could still tell he was much larger than her. Muscles flexed under a sleeveless button-down shirt as he twisted a wrench against the plumbing under the basin, grunting lightly as he did.

He didn't seem like he was there to cause trouble, she figured. Who in their right minds broke into a house just to fix their backed up sink? Oh dear, maybe he's not in his right mind? What if they sent him and he's here to kill the girl? What if he was there to bring her back to them somehow? But they were away, they couldn't hurt her, could they? Even from the depths of prison, or the entrapment of the psych ward, the girl didn't really doubt that one of the two could get a word out to have her hurt (killed?) for getting them put away. She was going to die now and she wouldn't even be able to fix the meatloaf that she had planned for tonight's dinner. She felt her body begin to tremble (or perhaps it was already, and she only just then noticed) and her eyes glazed themselves with tears, to her dismay.

Could she swing and knock him unconscious? Could she at least discombobulate the man long enough to escape? Could she really even hurt somebody like that?

Before she could come to a decision, however, the decision came to her.

Away in the living room, a phone rang. The shrill tlrrring! making both bodies jump slightly, and causing the boy bent beneath the kitchen sink to take notice of young (name).

Blue eyes widened as he caught sight of her, baseball bat clutched in hand, and he threw himself backwards and away, slamming his body into the ovens door. Instinctively, his arms moved to guard his face and torso.

"Fuck! Fuckin' hell, girl!" The loud exclamation startled the girl, and she jumped again, shoving against the refrigerator hard enough to make it rattle dangerously.

~~~~~~~~~~×~~~~~~~~~~

Fixing the plumbing turned out to be far more difficult than Daryl had originally assumed. The bits holding the stuff to the things was rusted on, making it difficult to loosen the thingy mabob and clear anything clogging the that thing.

Putting all of his focus into wrenching the bits away from the stuff, Daryl completely failed to notice the other presence in the room with him, and when the phone in the other room shocked him out if his thoughts, he found his mind immediately assuming it was his father standing there with a weapon in hand.

As his back hit the oven and his arms moved to guard his head, he caught full sight of the person, and quickly came to realize his mistake. His heart beat harshly against his ribs, and he couldn't help but exclaim his dislike for the situation.

"Fuck! Fuckin' hell, girl!"

At his shout, the girl flinched away from him so harshly that he thought the refrigerator was going to come crashing down on top of him, and he immediately felt guilty, for some odd reason.

She looked absolutely terrified. (Eye color) eyes big as saucers, glazed with fear and glossy with tears, shaking hands gripped the metal of the baseball bat so hard her skin turned white, and her entire body was shaking like a leaf. Her eyes never left his form as he slowly stood up from the ground, one hand still held out in front of him, whether to ward off an attack, or to show he meant no harm, neither really knew. The girl was down right terrified of him, and he hadn't so much as said a word to deserve it yet.

This had to be the niece the Sheriff was talking about, he decided. The scared look she was giving him as she slowly backed away from him made him feel downright awful, and he knew he needed to do something to show her he meant no harm. So, remembering her uncles words, Daryl worked to make his voice a bit less gruff than usual, and tried to keep the edge out of his tone.

"Uh-uh, I ain't here ta hurtcha, girlie–" she took another quick step back "–I'm a friend of Bill's. I was jus' comin' in ta get a drink, I ain't here ta hurtcha."

There was far more that could be said, he knew, but words never really were his forté, and he wasn't sure how much he could talk before he made her more uncomfortable. However, the little bit that he had said, mostly naming her uncle, he thought, had made her shoulders un-hunch a bit, though she kept her distrusting posture. Smart girl.

Slowly lowering the bat until it pointed at his chest she grabbed it with both hands and hesitantly backed out of the kitchen, beckoning him to follow her. Keeping him safely at the end of the bat, and moved to pick up the still-ringing phone and gingerly press it to her ear, her eyes never leaving him, and the bat never wavering (though it did shiver along with her tremors.)

Her eyes relaxed a bit more at the voice on the other end of the line, and though Daryl couldn't much hear the words that were being said—aside from the mumbled tone—he could still tell it was the sheriffs deep voice that spoke.

"Yeah? Uh-hm, good, I uh, I guess... I did. Of course," as she spoke to the formless voice, Daryl couldn't help the small spike of fear that ran up his spine. What if the Sheriff didn't want him there now that he'd scared the girl? He had warned him, he thought. What if Bill made him go back to his shit-hole house and wouldn't let him come back again? This place was one of the few he had to escape that hell, he didn't want to lose that. What if the officer freaked and called Daryl's dad to come pick him up? He'd have hell to pay if he let that happen. He was sure he'd end up with a few more scars at least if his dad were to find out that someone knew of what went on behind closed doors. The Sheriff, no less. What if he–

His spiraling thoughts were disrupted when he caught the sound of his name coming from the other end of the phone line and immediately tuned back in.

"Uhm, uh, yeah, I–I guess. I mean, yeah, yes, he's still here... Oh, no, he's, uh, he's been nice enough," was she even still talking about the red-necked youth? "Yes, of course it's okay, uncle Bill. Sure-sure thing, yeah, that's okay with me. I was thinking about making meatloaf tonight, anyway, that usually makes enough for more than just you an' me."

Wait, what?

The girl had lowered the weapon, though she still kept a tight grip in it, and gave him a shy, almost apologetic smile, before finally letting her eyes dart away. Daryl stayed frozen in his spot. What was even happening?

"–oh," she suddenly looked dejected at whatever had been said on the other side. Scared, almost. "Yeah, no, no, that's-that's okay, uncle Bill, sure thing. It's okay, promise," she suddenly donned a small smile, and though he knew imediately that it was fake, he still found himself startlingly light-of-breath at the sight.

"Yeah, of course, see you tomorrow, uncle, stay safe." Tomorrow? What? Why was all this so confusing to the youngest Dixon? Why was the disappearance of her smile making him feel so hollow?

The sudden change in the expression that the smaller figure wore was dramatically startling to Daryl. Going from sad and scared and sorry and a bit regretful to blushing and wincing and all together uncomfortable in the blink of an eye, the girl shriekingly exclaimed:

"Uncle Bill! No! Ew, gross! Don–Don't say things like that, ya nasty!" Daryl couldn't help but find her blush and stutter quite endearing.

Even from the few paces away that he was, he could still hear the loud laugh that erupted from the other side of the phone.

"Alrigh–alright, uncle Bill," the girls face was still flushed intensely, "I'm hanging up on you now... Yeah, yes, okay—thanks for that." She winced again at whatever he'd said, and she somehow flushed even harder. In a softer voice, now, "I'll see you tomorrow, then. Stay safe." Her last words were barely a whisper.

Slowly pulling the phone away from her ear, the girl placed it gently on the receiver before turning to glance at Daryl, though he took note that she never once fully looked at him again.

"I'm, uhm, I'm sorry," she whispered, grimacing softly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ו×~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[glittergutts]

6:30

I knew I probably wouldn't sleep very well, it'll most likely last until Friday when I get my medicine. I think tonight I'll pull out all the sleep tools like my weighted blanket and filling the oil diffuser with lavender. I want a new pillow mine are squished flat.

It's going to be another warm day except it's going to rain so we won't be able to enjoy it. I may still open the window if it's raining hard enough while I nap. The sound of rain is soothing.

I woke up and realized my skin is not red today! It looks normal and my bumps are now tiny. I'm still really dry probably from the retinol but I still don't really know. I got some hydrating sheet masks at target yesterday so that'll be good.

I need to make a trip to the library soon to see what reading books they have that Lola could use. I also wanted to check out something to read for fun. Maybe some science books for Ellie. I don't think I'll go today because I hate driving in the rain but I'm trying to wrap my mind around the idea of getting out with the kids more.

I want to make dragon fruit smoothies. I never actually feel like making anything by the time everyone is awake, so we usually do something easy like toaster food or cereal. Maybe I can be better at preparing meals today, that sounds like an achievable goal.

Other goal is to stay present and not seek distraction all day. Enjoy phone time in moderation and interact more with my kids. Lola's always asking me to play and I've been trying to say yes more often.

Coming down on the anxiety meds and starting an antidepressant has made me realize some things and some negative habits I've formed while I was depressed. I'm starting to clear up some of the physical stuff that's piled up but making changes to my attitude and reactions has been harder. I feel like I don't have very much patience and I wish I did, so I'm working on it. But I still find myself snapping at people sometimes and having to apologize later, especially to the kids.

I think the antidepressant is keeping me from wanting to sleeping all day. My days feel fuller and I'm spending more time doing the things that are important to me. It's really exciting to finally feel like I'm on the right path to feeling okay most of the time.

Next big project is to clean out my dining room, shampoo the carpet because it smells a little musty in there, and start using my elipticle again. Getting my health in check is important for feeling okay too. Exercise is supposed to help fight depression and I wouldn't mind to lose some belly weight either.

It might be early but my brain is going full speed. It's one of those days I feel like coffee could give me super powers. I need somewhere to focus my energy today. There's some random stuff on my kitchen table along with many unfinished projects, school and art supplies, drinks, and groceries that haven't been put away. That's really what I should focus on. I feel guilty for ignoring the mess I just feel overwhelmed because it's everyone's stuff and goes all sorts of places. It's been a problem for a long time. I have literally no excuse for leaving groceries out though, there's room in the pantry. Maybe I should get the kids to help me. I know they would appreciate an empty table for when they use play dough or lola feeds her baby alive water. They can be really good help if their in the mood. I don't know how to make it sound exciting because I'll be honest it is a job and it's going to be a little hard.