#it was slippery and gave me a lot of trouble

[sentientcave]

Finally finished seaming together and trimming this blanket for my nephew (I finished the weaving before he was born 😂😭) and someone else thinks it's for her.

[zombiekooo]

❗️S M U T ! Honestly just filthy. Cunninglings, blowjobs, dominant reader, submissive Daryl, vaginal sex. You name it. Complete NSFW ❗️(also on a03– titled Ride Along)

Rick doesn’t want to risk accepting new people into the prison. Daryl sees no threat in one lone woman.

It was late. Far later for a lady like you to be walking these streets, Daryl thought.

How’d he spot you? He asks himself the same damn thing. You were dressed in a black cloak like some bandit, a bag nearly twice the size of you on your back, and a silver gun in your right hand. Maybe it was the shine the gun gave from the car’s headlight’s that caught his attention. Or maybe it was the glisten of your eyes, peering beneath the hood you wore ever so slightly. It didn’t matter.

All he knew was that there was a woman alone in these woods without an idea that the direction she was heading was straight into the hands of walkers.

“Rick, stop the car.” Daryl says, already unbuckling his belt.

Rick slows down, confused. He hadn’t seen you until Daryl pointed you out— walking the opposite direction from the car and ignoring them completely.

“Daryl, we’re not taking anyone into the prison right now.” Rick replies, picking up speed once again, but Daryl was already out of the car and jogging towards you, leaving Rick with no choice but to stop the car completely.

“Hey, you!”

You pause. He notices the way you clutch your gun, your arm trembling and the way your chest fell unevenly. You turn around apprehensively, eyes wide and scared.

“Hey there, m’not gonna hurt you.” Daryl lowers his crossbow, comfortable with the distance the walkers had from you.

“I don’t have anything valuable,” You reply, a distinct quiver in your voice. “Don’t make me use up my bullets.” You point the gun at him.

Rick got out of the car, which startled you enough to nearly lose grip of the gun. Your eyes dart from one to the other, going through the options you have to escape.

“We ain’t here to collect any of your stuff. Just concerned is all,” Daryl says, lifting his free arm above him. “We want to know if you’re okay.”

“I am fine.” You’re quick to reply.

Rick comes up behind Daryl to get a better look at you.

“She says she’s fine. C’mon now, let’s go.” He says,

“Nah, nah. I ain’t leaving just yet. She looks too young to be round’ here alone.” Daryl takes a couple steps closer, just enough to get a decent look at your face.

You were young, younger than he was for sure, but most likely in your mid twenties. Your wide eyes full of terror made you seemed younger from a distance. Like a bunny about to be scavenged by wolves.

His eyes dart down to your hand that held the silver gun. It’s oozing blood out from the darkness of your cloak, and pooling at your fingertips, sullying the silver gun.

“We’ve got a camp not too far from here. There’s people who’d be happy to look at that wound of yours.” He says, confident in taking another step closer. When he sees that you don’t back away, he takes another.

“And what do you expect out of all this? Is this just the kindness from your heart?” You sneer. You’re having trouble keeping grip of the gun. It has become slippery with your blood.

“You ain’t gotta take the offer, but if I were you, I’d get that injury treated before them walkers begin to smell it.” Daryl shrugs. He’s close enough to be able to take the gun from your hands but, he’s too afraid to make any daring move in case you get spooked.

He sees the fear fan across your face for a split second.

Rick seems to have given up on getting Daryl to think otherwise.

“We got lots of women your age at the camp. They’d be happy to see another kind face.” Rick elaborates.

You step back the moment Rick takes another step. You hesitantly return your gaze to Daryl. You watch how he extends his hand.

“There’s no reason a lady like you should be walking these streets.”

————

You end up in the backseat of the van behind Daryl. You’re still hesitant about leaving with the two men, but you seem to have run out of options. Your arm throbs and you feel fresh blood slither down your forearm. You had broken the lousy stitches you had done with your non-dominant hand when drawing your gun.

“That isn’t a walker bite, is it?” Rick asks from behind the wheel, glancing at you through the mirror.

“No. Got caught on some barbed wire.” You reply vaguely.

Rick hums in response.

“Where were you headed? Down where we came from there was a huge herd of walkers. We had just grazed it when coming back.”

You frown. You had no idea that was such a red zone.

“Nowhere.” You rasp.

Rick decides that it was no use getting anymore information from you, so he turns to Daryl.

Daryl sighs and stretches, turning around the car seat and looks at you.

“How many walkers have ya’ killed? People?”

You eye him carefully, but you trust him more than the other, considering that he was the one who insisted on helping you in the first place.

“I haven’t killed many. Maybe two dozen of what you call ‘walkers’. I’m not good with a gun, only killed when I had too.” You say.

Daryl nods, looking back at Rick for guidance. You see him nod and persuade him to continue.

“What bout’ people?”

Daryl sees you hesitate for a moment. Closing your mouth, opening it, then shutting it again.

“I only killed someone before they could turn.” You say, quieter than before.

Daryl nods and turns back around, slouching in his seat.

“Seems pretty harmless to me.” He says to Rick.

Rick says nothing, only giving you one last glance through the mirror before turning his attention to the road.

————

Daryl walks you to his cell before introducing you to the group. He attempts to take your bag from your shoulders to set it next his belongings, but it has you instinctively yanking it back.

“Sorry,” You mumble under your breath, a bit frazzled from trying to adapt to people who aren’t dead.

Daryl nods, giving a sympathetic look. He gestures to the empty space next to the bed for you to place your bag.

“For now, Rick says he wants an eye on you. An’ since I was the one insistin we bring you, M’left with the responsibility.” He says, a lighthearted smirk peeking through the light dusting of hair on his face. But it quickly dissipates when the gears in his brain start shifting.

“Unless, y’know, you’d feel more comfortable with a lady friend—“

“No, please. I’d like you to stay.”

Daryl pauses. He’s leaning against the open cell door, his hand curled into a fist. He still has his crossbow with him, seated on his back. He holds himself steady as if the crossbow weighed nothing to him. He seems a bit taken aback by your quick response.

You drop your bag, placing your knives and guns onto the table beside the bed, glancing at Daryl, and sliding them towards him.

“If I am being completely honest, I haven’t been around people for a few months.” You sit on the bed, glancing at the few shirts draped over the side of the bed. It’s his cell, you realize. “I’d like to stay with you for awhile, if you don’t mind.”

Daryl rubs the back of his neck. The way you said that made his heart skip a beat. He glances over your face, no longer covered by the cape. You were attractive and well spoken. Probably from a family that took good care of themselves— educated. Unlike him. He hadn’t had a clue why you felt comfortable with him. If he was in your shoes, he’d prolly be sceptical of himself, bringing a girl alone in his cell.

“M’fine with that. Rick said I hadda ask you a few questions anyways.” He says. He’s overly aware by the new scent of you mingling in his room. He becomes too conscious about the way he smells. Dirty. Like an animal. You probably think he looks like one too.

“I understand. I assume your leader wants my weapons. I don’t have much.” You shrug, and unclasp your cape. Daryl’s gaze flickers to your arm, the bleeding has slowed, but it needed medical attention. Earlier, you had insisted to rest before heading over to get it looked at.

“Alright then. What’s ya’ name? What’s ya’ life story?” He asks, deciding to ignore your wound for now.

You’re quiet for a moment, collecting your thoughts.

“Reader. I was raised a lone child. Parents worked in the E.R, so when shit hit the fan, they were contaminated quickly. I was 21 when it happened—never was taught how to use a gun or weapons, so I got lucky and survived by finding a group.” You stop, hesitating your eyes flickering up at his face then back to your hands.

“They were all young though, made reckless decisions. Didn’t last long. Soon it went from a dozen people, to just me.” You finish, purposely vague.

Daryl nods. You talk as if you’re weak, but to be surviving this long in an apocalypse took more than just a strong group.

“That’s pretty shitty.” Daryl says,

“Yeah, suppose so. Haven’t really been able to survive without relying on others.” You half laugh half scoff.

“You can’t survive without relying on others.” Daryl points out.

You nod. “Sort of just rode along. Grabbed onto anyone I could. Until I met a group that took advantage of my uselessness.” You don’t elaborate on that, but Daryl thinks he has an idea of what that means.

Daryl doesn’t know how to comfort you, so he just mumbles a ‘sorry to hear that’ beneath his breath.

When you don’t say anymore, he decides it’s his turn to speak.

“I think you’ll fit fine in this place. I’m Daryl, the guy you met earlier is Rick. He’s the leader of the group. Had us survive this long so I reckon you’ll like him.” He says.

You smile at his attempt of hospitality. You could tell he wasn’t one to talk much, so it relaxed you knowing his intentions were genuine.

“Thank you, Daryl. You’re a kind man.”

Daryl has many words to describe him. But kind wasn’t on the list. At least, not that he knew of. It shocked him. More so than he would like to believe.

He swallows, replying with a short nod. He ignores your thanks and leaves the cell with a warning that Rick will come along to collect your weapons later tonight.

—

When he visits the cell at midnight to do his night watch over you, he could barely recognize the woman that had once been dressed in complete black.

You cleaned up yourself during the time he was gone. Rick must’ve brought over Carol to fix up your arm since it no longer bleeds freely. You have your hair out of your face, the dirt on your skin has been washed off, and the thick cloak you wore no longer droops over your frame. Instead, his shirt is on you, paired with slacks Carol must’ve given you.

In most cases, he would be pissed. Having someone use his stuff without permission, but instead, his thoughts were directed whether or not it smelled.

You feel a presence loom over you, so you look up from the book you read, and spot Daryl staring at you through the bars.

“Hey, I was wondering when you would come back.” You say, your eyes smiling the moment you land your gaze on him.

Daryl sputters for a moment, recollecting his thoughts.

“Yeah, m’sorry. Had to help Rick take out few of the walkers outside the prison.” He says. He must’ve been staring at his shirt you wear, because you look down at your sleeve, then back up at him.

“Carol said I could borrow one of your shirts since there isn’t any spares that fit me. Sorry if I crossed the line—“

“Nah, nah. It’s fine. Yer’ my responsibility anyways.” He says. He opens the cell door and steps inside.

You snort at his response. You watch him cross the room and shimmy off his jacket, hanging it over the railing of the top bunk.

Once he’s done, and his gaze is back to you, a silence thrums between the two of you.

The shirt you wore looked breathtaking on you. He didn’t mean to make the room awkward, he really didn’t. But, it had been too long since he’s seen a woman dressed in his clothes. His intention was never meant to pick you up because you were pretty— he just couldn’t stand the thought of someone as lost as you alone during these times.

He wasn’t a kind person, he tells himself. He has killed many. Hurt dozens. If only you knew the kind of person he saw himself as— the type of person he really is. He didn’t want you thinking he was some hero just because he decided to bring you into the prison.

“What’s bothering you?”

He blinks.

“What?”

“You’re thinking about something that’s bothering you. What is it?”

He’s at a loss of words. He makes no move to step away from you, even though he knows he should. You are probably anxious to have a man loom over you like this on his own bed.

“Nothin’. Just, hadn’t seen a new face for awhile is all. Wanted to take a good look atcha’” He sniffs, looking away.

The last thing he would have expect was your touch. He wasn’t prepared— he jumps at the contact. Your hand is resting on his cheek, cradling him carefully like he would jump away if you touched him too hard. Your thumb smooths over the planes of his cheeks, and feeling the roughness of his beard underneath your palm.

You look at him with stern eyes, knowing he isn’t telling the full truth. Touch always reveals a bit of truth in the eyes, you’ve learnt.

“Will you stay?” You ask.

He looks at you dumbly.

“What?” He says, frowning.

“Will you stay in here tonight?” You explain, lifting your hand away from his face. He’s surprised to miss the warmth of your palm on his cheek.

“Where else would I be? I ain’t sleepin’ out on a chair outside the cell for some woman.” He scoffs, half-jokingly. “You got nough’ luxury sleepin’ in my bed.”

“I’m glad,” You chuckle.

“Why? Plannin’ on killing me in my sleep? Tough luck, girl. Not that easy to kill.”

“Who knows?” You hum, pouting your lips.

He flicks your forehead. “Stupid girl. If you were goin’ to kill me, you would’ve taken the safety off your gun when I first found ya’.”

You blush at that.

“Was it really?”

“Damn right it was. Had me questioning your wits and whether or not you’d be too stupid for yer’ own good and put us all in danger.”

You frown, which he chuckles at— flicking your forehead for the second time.

“But here you are sleeping in the same cell.” You shoot back, rubbing away the sting from your forehead.

“Yeah well, I’m confident enough that I can take ya’.” He drops his crossbow, shoving it to the corner of the cell room along with his boots.

“Consider yerself lucky getting the better half of the bunk.” He adds as he pulls himself up onto the top bunk, the metal rods that support it creak and groan as he settles up there.

“Is that right?” You roll your eyes, and dip under the blankets, pulling them up to your chin. They smell like him— like what you imagine the forest smells like without the smell of the dead.

“Mhm.” Is all he replies with.

A comfortable silence follows for a few minutes. You start to wonder if he had fallen asleep, but you decide nobody could doze off in such a short span of time.

“What did you work as before all of this happened?” You ask, half expecting there to be no answer.

Daryl groans, and you hear the bed creak as he shuffles around.

“A drifter.”

“How about your family?”

“How bout’ you stop asking shitty questions and go to sleep, dammit.” He scoffs.

“You did say I was your responsibility. At least give me an idea of what kind of person you are.” You scoff back.

“Yer’ typical asshole redneck. Now shut up.”

You fall silent for a few seconds. Daryl finally thinks that you may be falling asleep.

“Least’ wish me a goodnight…” You huff.

“For fucks’ sake woman! Goodnight.” He bangs the side of the metal rod stabilizing the bed. Despite his tone, he can’t help but smile.

—

A couple of days pass by fairly quickly. You’re introduced to the people inside the prison. Daryl had seen your hesitance around them. He can understand that— it’s probably been a long time since you’ve been able to trust those around you. So, when you decided to stick by his side for most of the days, he never shooed you away. He felt good knowing he gave you some sort of security.

He began bringing you on hunting sprees for food when he was confident enough that there weren’t many walkers around. He taught you small things about tracking and different calls birds would make. Make you strip the squirrel of it’s guts, and hack the fur off the skin.

He liked your eagerness to learn. Despite the faces you’d make and the questionable looks you gave him when he told you it was your turn to gut their catch, he enjoyed your company unlike any other person he’s been around.

It hadn’t been until a week passed, and a routine quickly fell in place that he began questioning your relationship with him. Each night you’d take night watch with him for a few hours until you both returned to your cell to sleep. There would be a bicker between the two of you, (mainly of Daryl to tell you to “shut the fuck up and stop asking shitty questions”) until one of you passed out.

He wasn’t one for emotions or relationships. So when he caught himself with lingering eyes on you, or a thumping heart whenever you smiled at him, it bothered him. It bothered him a lot. You were young. Hell of a lot younger than he was, and he hated himself just a tiny bit more each time he imagines your touch on him like you did the night he first brought you into his cell.

Today was no different.

You have stuck by him for most of the day. Currently, he is taking the time to teach you basic protocols with a knife and gun. His rough hands on top of yours, manipulating your fingers around the gun’s hilt to hold it properly.

God has it been too long since he’s ever been so close to a woman. He never was quite popular with the women in his hometown, never fooled around much. So maybe that’s why his heart thunders beneath his chest right now when he catches a whiff of your scent.

When you look up at him with that excited gleam when you do something right on your own— like loading a gun properly. It makes his heart bloom. It angers him. It was so out of character for him to have this kind of affection towards someone.

He learnt that you’re naturally a cautious person. You make calculated decisions. You project your feelings a bit too much on others. You mentioned earlier on a hunting spree that you first believed the walkers felt lost and had come to you for help. You soon realized how ridiculous that sounded, but it had only made him realize how kind of a person you are.

Unlike he was.

He was afraid. Maybe a bit regretful even. He knows that he will mess this up one way or another. You were young, naive, pretty. Why did he even feel the need to teach you how to hold a gun, or use a knife? That wasn’t who he was. He wasn’t a kind person. He didn’t do things out of the kindness of his heart.

Maybe he did have ambiguous intentions— he starts to question himself.

“What’s bothering you?” You say, tapping his hand. He had gotten distracted, nearly forgot he was supposed to be teaching you how to shoot a gun.

He frowns at you, you’re looking up at him with those perceptive eyes of yours. How did you always know when he was troubled?

“What’s it to ya’, girl?” Daryl scoffs, and backs away from you. He’s all too aware of the cold air hitting his palms that had once been warmed by your hands.

You lower your gun and furrow your brows. He was acting strange. Or maybe you were just thinking too much into things like you always seem to do.

“You go quiet when you’re thinking about something that troubles you.” You explain, walking up to him to close the distance he had put between the two of you.

“M’ always quiet.” He shrugs. “Stop carin’ so much.” He takes another step back, and picks up the crossbow he left on the ground, swinging it over his shoulder.

You don’t make a move to close the distance between the two of you again.

“M’goin on a scouting trip with Rick to get more supplies.” He decides suddenly.

You’re caught off guard for a moment. He never was one to simply ditch a practice.

“I could come, I know these parts quite well—“

“No.” Daryl says a bit too harshly than he would’ve liked.

You huff.

“If you’re worried about me getting hurt, I’ve taken care of myself long before you came along, so—“

“We ain’t bringin’ a woman who’d just get in our way.” He spits. “Like you said, you jus’ rely on others. You’d get us killed.” He pauses, mumbling the last part of his sentence. “Prolly how the first group you’d been in died.”

He watches the shock contort the smile you had worn just seconds ago. He doesn’t know why he said that, or why he feels so angry all of a sudden. He ignores the hurt that struck his chest the moment he saw your smile fade.

You don’t say anything. You look hurt and confused. He knew it. He knew he’d fuck up. Maybe it was a good thing. Maybe this would stop him from thinking about what he desired deep down, to stop his true intentions from forming.

He doesn’t wait for your reaction. He just scoffs, and walks away. Leaving you alone in the middle of the prison field.

—

A few days pass. You and Daryl haven’t spoken. You would be lying if what he said didn’t hurt, but in a way, he was right. But still, you would’ve been happy to pretend it never even happened.

That night after the argument you had with Daryl, he never showed up to night watch, or his cell. You were scared that something may have happened on his trip, but the next morning you see him roasting squirrels on the fire. When he heard your footsteps, he had looked up, but never acknowledged you.

“You went hunting without me?” You pout, trying to break the awkwardness between you.

He only grunts in response, which wasn’t unusual from Daryl. He was a quiet man, but he was usually a lot more responsive around you.

“We could probably made a nice stew with these big fella’s. Carol was telling me about the tomatoes she grew.” You hum, remembering the adoring smile on her face when she told you. She was the only other person you talked to regularly other than Daryl.

You reach to grab a stick that the squirrel is pierced on to turn it, but a hand slaps you away.

“Ain’t for you, get yer’ own grub.” Daryl spits. He still doesn’t look you in the eye.

You’re shocked. You hold you hand close to your chest. It stung from the slap, but it was nothing compared to how your heart clenched. You blink a couple of times in disbelief.

“What?” You say stupidly.

“I said get yer’ own damn food. I ain’t yer’ provider. Maybe try and do somethin’ on your own for a change. You follow me like some dumb lost puppy and I’m sick of it.” He yells.

He makes the mistake of looking up at you.

You’re looking down at your hand, smoothing your thumb over the place he slapped you— comforting the sting. He sees the start of tears collect at your waterline, but you make an effort not to let them spill over.

You swallow thickly, nodding with a tight lipped smile while still looking at your hand.

He knows he should apologize. His heart aches seeing your lost look on your face. This isn’t what he wanted, he didn’t want to hurt you. He curses at himself in his head, his hands cramping up from clenching too hard.

He doesn’t know where to start. How to explain himself— explain how he’s feeling. So he says nothing, and looks down at his feet.

You clear your throat and stand up. He watches you take the knife he had left next to his crossbow, but he continues to stay silent. He’s silent when you walk off. Doesn’t make a move to catch up with you and tell you he’s sorry. He just continues to watch you walk towards the prison with the knife in hand until you disappear inside.

Once you’re gone, only then does he bury his face in his hands, wishing that he could take what he said all back.

—

Daryl walks into the prison, searching for your cloak to bring to you for the night watch. It was cold out, and he knew how reluctant you were to ever wear more than your long sleeve, saying some shit about how “it builds your immune system.”

He plans to apologize to you. Try his best to explain his feelings. Maybe you could just look into his eyes like you always do, and understand what is bothering him. Tell him what is bothering him, because, frankly, he doesn’t know himself.

He enters the empty cell, looking into your bag for your cloak. He does his best not to invade your privacy, but when he doesn’t find it, he empties the bag entirely.

Your personal gun and cloak is gone, which was unusual. A thread of fear begins to knit its way in his chest.

He stomps out of the cell, and into the main room of the prison where he spots Carol.

“Did you see Reader anywhere?” Daryl asks, more desperately than he would’ve liked.

Carol gives him an odd look and shakes her head.

“I assumed she was with you. Last time I saw her she came in here to grab her gun around this morning, thought you two were going on one of your hunting sprees.”

His heart drops. There was no way you took him seriously. You were a smart girl, you were cautious, made careful decisions— you wouldn’t do something as reckless as leave the prison without him.

His breathing becomes uneven— he’s panicking, he realizes.

He doesn’t say anything else, he just sprints out of the prison without a second thought.

He passes by Rick who shouts at him, but he can’t make out what he’s saying. He doesn’t try to. All his thoughts are revolving around whether or not you’re okay.

He runs the direction of the forest where he usually hunts, where he has taken you to for nearly two weeks now. Taught you. Trained you. And adored your attention and company the entire time he did it.

You would’ve gone there, that’s where you’re most familiar with.

And he’s right.

He slows down, a few metres from the entrance of the forest. A figure emerges from the forest, walking towards him, a hood covering the face. But he knows, he knows it’s you and not some walker.

A walker wouldn’t be holding three squirrels by the tail. His girl wouldn’t have left that forest without a meal in her hands.

He sees your eyes peek from under your hood, an exhausted smile on your face. You hold up the squirrels above your head for him to see. Your eyes shine the same way they do when you’re looking for that praise he gives you when you do well.

His heart hurts seeing your smile. Like you had to prove something to him, that you weren’t weak. That you were nothing like he said you were.

“You fuckin’ shitty woman.” He says with no venom in his tone. He jogs up to you and embraces you tightly, thankful for the darkness to hide the tears of relief collecting in his eyes.

You cry out when he does, startling him and backing away. You're reaching for your arm, the one you injured when he had first met you.

“I think I tore the stitches.” You grunt, stumbling a bit. Daryl holds you tight and stabilizes your footing. Your hood has fallen back, and only then can he see the blood smeared across your face.

“Shit, what were you thinkin’ He says, wiping the blood off your face with his thumb.

You shake your head, trying to dismiss his worry.

“Gotta get back before the walkers smell it, right? That’s what you said.” You chuckle.

He nods, remembering when he said that those weeks ago. He crouches down and picks you up effortlessly. You gasp at his strength but he quickly ruins the way you romanticize it by commenting on something stupid.

“Fuck yer heavy, girl.”

You don’t know what you were expecting, really.

He carries you back to the prison, ignoring the concerned glances of Rick and Carol. You wave them off with a smile, but you don’t think that’s what drove them away, because when you look up at Daryl’s face, he’s glaring at the both of them— silently saying “leave us alone.”

He enters his cell, shutting the curtain to give some sense of privacy, and gently rests you on the old, single chair in front of the equally as old desk. He kneels on one leg, taking the squirrels from your hand, and stripping you of your cloak.

He doesn’t think before he begins to unbutton your shirt, all his thoughts are directed to whether or not your hurt underneath your sleeve. But he stops when he feels you tense under his fingers.

Shit, what was he thinking?

“M’sorry, uh, I should prolly fetch Carol—“ He stammers over himself.

He tries to retract his hand, but you catch it and place it back onto your chest, just above your breasts. You’re looking down at him, your chest heaving. You look so tired. There’s blood staining your teeth, dirt above your brow. But, he would be lying to himself if he said that you didn’t look sexy looking down at him like that.

“I don’t want Carol.” You say, furrowing your brows at him.

He feels dirty. He shouldn’t be allowed to see you, to touch you so intimately.

“Daryl.” You say, sensing his hesitance. He looks up, realizing that he was staring at his hands instead of you.

“For fucks sake just take off my bloody shirt.”

His eyes flicker to your lips spreading to accommodate your smile. Your beautiful smile despite being sullied with blood. He swallows when he watches your tongue dart to your lips, licking the blood that had spilled from your torn lip.

He nods, pushing away the fear and returning his work on your shirt. He slips each button out of their hole and slides it off gently by your shoulders, careful not to disturb any other injuries you may have gotten.

He tries his best not to look at your black laced bra. Tries not to flicker his eyes down to your breasts protruding from them, avoiding the beauty marks scattered amongst your skin. Instead, he forces himself to look at your wound.

It wasn’t bleeding. He releases a deep breath, relieved that the stitches hadn’t been broken after so many days of healing. You must’ve hit it though, since there’s a bruise that begins forming under his touch.

“What did yer do? Stupid girl.” He says, gnawing on his lip. He doesn’t look at you in the eye, too ashamed of his stupid mistake. He peels your sleeve down more, and spots a few scrapes down your forearm. He wipes away the blood seeping out from them— it’s not a lot, but it’s hard for him to look at knowing it’s because of him.

He feels defeated. Tired. You must have seen it on his face because you comb your fingers through his hair, which startles him. You watch how his shoulders jump at the contact, but he eventually compels himself to relax.

“Did what you told me to do. I went into the forest too far, and got lost tracking a couple of squirrels. I fell when a walker popped out at me from nowhere, but I’m fine. Your tracking skills helped me get back— even if it took me this long.” You say.

Daryl shuts his eyes closed listening to you. He starts sinking down onto the floor, and he puts his head in your lap, hugging your hips with his arms. He breathes in your scent, masked by dirt and blood, but even then, it’s still so distinctively you.

He squeezes you tight, making sure he’s not dreaming. That you’re with him, that he’s in your lap. That your touch is real.

“M’ so sorry. M’ a fuckin’ idiot. I thought that— thought that if I were to’be an ass and keep away from yer, that I wouldn’t have these terrible thoughts.”

You’re quiet, silently playing with his hair. Twisting it in your fingers, and causing chills to slither down his neck. He sighs at your touch. He never knew how good it felt to be touched so simply.

“What were your thoughts?” You whisper. One hand slides down the back of his neck, feeling where his neck meets his back muscles. Subconsciously, his grip tightens around your hips, silently begging you not to pull away.

“I- I don’t, can’t—“ He curses at himself. He’s stuttering like some pussy, overwhelmed by all of you. Your touch. Your smell. Your voice. When did he become so soft? He wishes that you could read his mind, tell him what he’s feeling, why he’s feeling this way towards you.

“M’not good at, y’know, feelin’s n shit.” He decides, hoping that you can understand.

And you do. Of course you do.

“I’m listening, take your time.” You say. Your hand that was on his back trails up to his cheek. He’s resting one side of his head on your lap, so you see how his eyelashes flutter at the soft touch. He’s unaware that you can see his lips part in a sigh.

“I neva’ wanted to make yer think I took you into the prison jus’ cuz’ you were alone and, y’know, a young pretty lady. I never had other intentions other than helpin’ someone.” He begins, often tripping over himself to find the right words. But you don’t interrupt him, you just continue to comfort him with your soft touches.

“But m’not a kind person like you. I neva’ did things out of the kindness of m’heart. So, I began wonderin’ if I actually did have secret intentions, and it fucked m’up an I got angry at m’self.” He breathes in a shaky breath and swallows down his nerves. “I couldn’t stop thinkin’ bout’ your touches, and how fuckin pretty you are. An’ I jus felt like a pervert. So I took m’ anger out on you, thinkin’ if I did, it’d stop all them stupid thoughts.”

You hum, long and deep. He can feel it vibrate his cheek, and he feels comfort knowing that you’re listening and not pushing him away in disgust.

“What if I said I have the same sort of thoughts about you?” You say.

You feel his shoulders tense and his fingers dig into your hips without knowing. He’s completely taken aback by what you said.

“Don’t say stupid shit. Yer’ jus a kid.” He scoffs, trying not to let your words get him too hopeful.

“I’m 22, Daryl. I may be half your age, but I’m still an adult.” You say as you smooth his hair away from his face.

He grimaces.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t do that.”

You slither your hand under his shirt, tracing circles over his shoulder blades.

“I don’t understand what you mean, Daryl.” You whisper his name in breathier tone which has him visibly gritting his teeth.

“Yer way younger than me…” He argues weakly, shuddering when you dance your fingertips from the middle of his shoulders, all the way up his neck. He can feel himself begin to strain against his jeans.

“Yet I’m still a consenting adult, aren’t I? Don’t patronize me with your shit.” You huff.

“With some redneck like me?” He scoffs in disbelief.

“Mmm.” You agree which makes him chuckle lowly.

“Besides…” You say, urging him to lift his head from your lap. He does, and he looks at you. He has a light dusting of blush on his cheeks which was rare to see. It makes your heart flutter.

You lift your legs over Daryl’s broad shoulders. One of your hands grip onto his hair, pulling him closer to you.

He’s speechless. Your thighs are soft and warm against his cheeks, and your ankles rest where your hands hand been— right between his shoulder blades. A warm sensation builds in his abdomen. He shuffles, feeling the tightness in his jeans continue to grow.

“You have some apologizing to do don’t you?”

His mouth goes dry. You couldn’t be serious, could you? With him? His eyes dart from your face, to your exposed chest, then between your spread legs. With hesitance, he bring his hand on top of your thigh that rests on his shoulder. He looks back up to you for guidance.

“What.. whatd’ya mean?” He licks his lips, causing you to smirk. He knew what you meant, he was just too afraid of being wrong.

“Figure it out.” You urge his head forward and squeeze your thighs around his head once.

He looks at you a second longer. Searching your eyes for anything saying that this isn’t what you actually wanted. But all he finds is an almost desperate look of hunger. He feels your fingers tighten around his hair impatiently, pushing him closer to your clothed cunt.

He swallows down his nerves, and runs his hands down your thighs until he reaches the hem of your pants. He takes a nervous glance up to see your reaction, and he’s pleased to see a blush paint your cheeks.

Hooking his thumbs on each side of your pants, he pulls them down slowly, revealing your underwear. He takes note of a damp spot on the fabric, feeling a bit more confident seeing your arousal seep through.

With a new boost of confidence, Daryl pulls your pants down to your knee, revealing your thighs and begins leaving gentle kisses between then. You feel the scratch of his facial hair and it makes you release a shuddering breath.

“Good.. that’s good.” You praise quietly, rewarding him by pushing his hair away from his face. You don’t know it, but Daryl’s heart flutters at your praise, and he continues kissing further until he reaches your clothed cunt.

He spreads your legs a bit more, allowing himself access to your core. He breathes in your scent, and it nearly makes him dizzy with arousal. It’s been too long.

With a final glance to your flushed face, he begins peeling away your panties.

With two fingers, he spreads your folds open, presenting all of yourself to him. You’re glistening and soaked to the touch. He mutters a ‘fuck’ under his breath before diving in.

You throw your head back, your hand quickly shooting up to your mouth to smother your moan. You find purchase in his hair to stabilize yourself and hands help keep your hips from canting up into his mouth.

Your lower stomach is showered in a warm, bubbling sensation. Just the first lick he gives to your clit has your legs trembling and your breath stuttering. His facial hair is rough and drags between your thighs, adding a tingling sensation to the heat building inside you.

His tongue begins at your entrance, and licks all the way up to your clit, moaning at the taste. He craves more of you, and starts lapping at your clit, swirling his tongue around the bud before sucking it in entirely. The sensation has your back arching off the chair, forcing Daryl to hold you down as he continues eating you out.

“Oh! It’s so good. Feels so good.” You crumble under his touch, crying out from behind your hand.

Daryl moans again into your clit, sending vibrations up your body that make your legs close onto his head, squeezing him with the meat of your thighs.

Daryl takes your legs into his hands, not once leaving your cunt, and he stands, crouching over you. He holds your ankle of one leg down, and keeps another on his shoulder. You’re bent almost in half in the new position he manhandled you in, but the new position gives him a clear view of your entrance.

Letting go of your ankle, he lets your leg drop, his one hand still keeping your leg still on his shoulder. He rubs a finger around your entrance, listening to your breath hitch and shudder. He slips it in with ease, curling it up and rubbing in long strokes against your g-spot.

“Daryl…” You drop the hand that covered your mouth and put both hands on his forearm, unsure whether you were trying to pull it away or bring him closer.

Spurred on by the sound of his name falling from your lips, he slipped in a second finger. Obscene squelching sounds carried through the room each time his fingers pounded in and out of you.

You were so close, but you couldn’t let it end here.

You push his head away from your cunt. His face is dripping with your juices, his tongue laps up the remainder of it on his lips and he tries to dip back down between your legs, eager to taste more of you, but you stop him.

“Whas’ the matter?” He says, his voice raspy and deep. His expression flickered from lust-filled to concerned in a matter of seconds. “Did I—“

“I was close.” You manage to say despite trying to catch your breath.

He relaxes knowing it wasn’t anything that he did. He scoffs and tries again to delve back into the heat of your thighs but you stop him for the second time.

“C’mon, yer’ close, weren’t ya’?” He says, nipping at your inner thigh which makes you jump.

He looked so enticing. His cheeks flushed, eyes narrowed and hungry, his tongue darting out to taste the remainder of you on his lips. It was almost too much.

“I… I wanna do the same to you.” You say, now your turn to be shy.

You watch how he sucks in a breath and you feel the way his hand squeezes your thigh.

“You… you ain’t gotta.” He says as he drops your leg from his shoulder.

“I want to, please.” You insist. You reach around your back and unclasp your bra, letting it fall and reveal your breasts to him.

His eyes instantly dart down to your freed breasts.

He doesn’t say anything, just gives you a nod and backs away to sit on the bed with his legs widespread.

It’s your turn to kneel beneath him between his legs. You lift the hem of his shirt up, kissing the warm skin of his navel. He has a dark happy trail leading down his groin. You breathe in his musky scent there, and look up at him with wide eyes.

He takes the hem of his shirt and takes it off for you to have better access. His hands then return to the edge of the bed, fiddling with the covers nervously as his eyes rake over your body.

You do the same to his.

You knew he was strong. You always had an amazing view of his biceps whenever he would chop wood for the fire, or lift his crossbow to shoot a walker. But up close, seeing his upper body completely bare made you realize how strong he really was.

Daryl became a bit antsy, unsure where to look. Your stare made him feel strange. He wasn’t used to being watched so intensely.

“Stop starin’ girl.” He flicks your forehead, making you jump back.

You pout up at him, rubbing the spot he flicked to soothe the sting. You mumble a “prick” under your breath which makes him rumble a deep chuckle. It has you squeezing your thighs together in anticipation.

You undo his jeans and yank his underwear down. His cock springs free and hits your cheek. The visual of his hard cock on your face has his cock pulsating on your cheek.

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He can’t take his eyes off you. You look stunning under him like this, kneeling before him and worshiping his cock.

You take him into one hand and you bring the other down to his balls, rolling them in your palm as you lower your head and take the head of his uncut cock into your mouth. You’re fascinated by the way his jaw drops open, and how the muscles in his abdomen flex and flutter from pleasure.

You dip your tongue under his foreskin, massaging every part of him you can reach with your tongue. You then pull back and suckle the tip, holding eye contact with him as you do. The saltiness of his precum coats your tongue, and it has you humming, sending vibrations down the shaft of his cock.

“Shit,” Daryl moans, stooping over your head. He can’t seem to restrain himself. His hand drops down to your chest, fondling and massaging your breasts. His other hand rests at the back of your head, not daring to push you past your limits. You’re grateful for that and reward his actions by pushing him deeper into your mouth.

The muskiness of his sex has you seeing stars. It was all so arousing. His hands on you, his rough moans and heavy breathing, his quiet praise whenever you would suck him deeper into your tight heat.

You drop one hand from his balls and run it up his side, feeling the firm muscle twitch under your touch. You caress his sides, then over top of his abdomen that ripple with strong muscle. You reach his chest, and you feel his heartbeat pound fast against his rib cage.

“Shit, darlin’ m’close.” He warns, and threads his fingers into your hair, yanking you off of his cock.

You suck in a breath and lick off the mix of precum and saliva on your lips. You swallow, wiping your face on your shoulder and looking up at him expectantly.

“Dammit girl’ don’ look at me like that.” He hisses, helping you wipe off a smudge of spit on your cheek.

You smile up at him and crawl into his lap. You slither a hand around his shoulders and up to his neck, grabbing at the long strands of hair. Your breaths hover over each other’s lips, sharing the air between you.

Daryl looks conflicted. His eyes dart from your lips, then back to your gaze. He wants to kiss you, but he feels that may be too intimate.

“Do you want to kiss me, Daryl?” You ask, trailing a finger over his brow, noticing a small scar on his forehead. You trace it with your finger adoringly.

He’s too afraid to speak, knowing that his voice will most likely crack, or his pounding heart will make his words stutter. So he nods shyly instead.

You smile.

“Go ahead then.”

With hesitance, he cups your cheek in his big, calloused hand. You watches how you lean into it encouragingly.

He leans in and takes what he wants. He kisses you shyly at first, but then turns greedy once you kiss back. He slides an arm around your waist, pushing you impossibly closer to his body.

He tastes the faint remainder of your blood on your lips, a reminder of what hedid to you. It makes him angry, but he pushes down the feeling by kissing your harder, shoving his tongue into your mouth.

You moan into his mouth which he swallows. Without breaking the kiss, he lays you down onto his bed— the one you’ve stolen from him, and hovers above your body, caging you with his frame.

Your nails scrap down his back which earns a low growl from the back of his throat. He breaks the kiss to take in your naked body beneath him.

He can’t believe that you’re real. That you’re beneath him, squirming and impatient for him. Body flushed and shining with a thin slayer of perspiration. Soft moans escaping from your swollen lips, and a desperate look in your eye.

And it’s all for him.

“Daryl..” You moan his name, running your fingers through his hair.

“Mm?” He replies, returning his attention back to your face.

“I want you inside me.”

He believed that his cock couldn’t get harder, but he was wrong. He could’ve came from those words alone.

“Ya?” He says a bit hesitant. He needed to make sure this was what you wanted.

“Please Daryl!” You plead, wrapping your legs around his hips and pushing him closer to your core.

He nods, pleased with how desperate you are for his cock. He places a forearm beside your head, resting his weight. He takes the other hand and lines himself up to your entrance.

“Ready, darlin?” He asks, kissing your temple. You never imagined Daryl to be an intimate person, but you adored it. The innocent kiss had your stomach fluttering.

“Please,” You moan, canting your hips forward to try and slip his cock inside. Daryl chuckles and holds your hips in place with one hand, forcing you to be still.

Slowly, he sinks inside you. His cock being enveloped by your soft warm walls, hugging him tight like a vice. You both moan in sync, shuddering as he continues to fill you up until his balls rest at your bottom.

“Shit, darlin. You feel s’good.” He says with his face between the crook of your neck, the vibration of his deep voice tickling your skin. He lets you adjust to his girth, patiently running gentle circles along your sides.

He feels you flutter around his cock adjusting to him. He runs a hand from your side, up to your face, cradling your cheek and coaxing you to look at him.

“Does it hurt?” He asks. He wasn’t certain whether you were a virgin or if it had been a long time since you’ve had sex. He wants to make sure you feel as good as he does.

“Just a lil, just give me a sec.” You reply, pecking him on the lips. He nods and kisses you, distracting you from the pain by licking into your mouth. He takes one of your nipples between his fingers and rolls it, making you squirm and gasp under him.

You both kiss until you run out of breath, and when you break apart you nod, allowing him to move.

He hugs you into his broad chest, burying his face into the top of you head and breathing in your scent as he pulls his hips back, and sheathes himself back inside you slowly, helping you get accustomed to him.

“Faster,” You moan, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You can feel his back muscles ripple under your fingertips and the raised skin from old scars.

“Greedy girl,” He whispers in your ear, smirking. But he obeys your command and snaps his hips faster into your pussy.

You bury your face into Daryl’s shoulder, muffling your moans and sobs of pleasure. He angles his hips just right, pounding that spot deep inside you that makes you see stars. Your nails drag down his back, earning a loud growl in your ear. He goes faster, spurred on by the sharp pain.

Your pussy made obscene wet noises with each snap of his hips. He felt your wetness coat his cock and drench his balls. He looked down at where you both were connected, and the visual of his cock disappearing into your pussy made him curse.

He switched the rhythm but kept the same speed. With each thrust inside your cunt, he would grind his groin on your clit.

You released a particular loud cry into his shoulder as he did this. His pubic hair accompanied by the powerful grind on your cunt had you reaching your climax quick. It was euphoric the way he played your body.

“That’s it girl.” Daryl praises, slapping the side of your thigh just to watch the fat jiggle. He felt your walls tighten at the action, and it had him smiling deviously into your neck.

“Yer’ just a slut fer my cock, aren’t ya? Humping me like some horny bitch in heat.” He says with a sadistic chuckle. You were shocked by his dirty words, but it had you melting in his arms.

“Yes! Yes Daryl!” You reply. The euphoric feeling with each slam of his cock has your mind shut off completely. You went limp, accepting him to use your body in anyway he wanted.

“Dumb slut, yer’ just drunk on my cock.” He says, slapping your thigh for a second time. “With your fucked out brains you’d do anythin’ wouldn’t ya, slut?”

You moan loud into his shoulder, rapidly nearing your orgasm. You can feel the tightness in your stomach about to snap.

“Yes! Anything! Anything for you!” You chant.

Daryl’s hips begin to stutter and he lets out a shaky moan.

“Then come on ma’ cock.”

That’s all it took. Your mouth opens in a silent scream as your body goes taut. A rush of pure euphoria clouds your mind. Daryl watches your face contort and feels your walls go impossibly tighter around his cock.

He continues thrusting, holding off his orgasm to ride out yours. He waits until your body goes limp in his arms before letting go.

With a drawn out groan, he indulges in your warm heat before pulling out and spilling his hot seed onto your stomach. His balls clench, and long stripes of white coat your abdomen and breasts. He strokes himself until his body shakes, and his orgasm fades into a dull pleasurable pulse.

He takes a look at your fucked out expression and gives you a lazy smirk. He lays beside you, hugging you into his chest— not minding his seed smearing on his stomach.

You’re both quiet for a few moments, listening to each other’s heartbeats and satisfied breaths.

“Holy fuck that was hot.” You’re first to break the silence.

Daryl snorts and smacks your ass, loving the way it jiggles from impact.

“Tell me bout’ it.” He says.

You look up at him, forcing him to open his tired eyes.

Despite all that you’ve done together, his heart seems to flutter most at the way you smile up at him. He’s about to ask you what you’re looking at him for, but before he can, your lips are already on his, kissing him short and sweet.

“You’re forgiven.” You say with a devilish smile.

He scoffs. “Yer’ a lil’ shit.” He says, and pushes your face into his chest. He rests his chin on your head and closes his eyes, ready to sleep.

Your arms wrap around him and you breathe in his smell noisily while tangling your legs around his torso.

“Jeez, woman. Go to sleep.” He huffs, a smile tugging on his lips.

“Mmmhmm.” You reply, snuggling into his chest, nearing the edge of falling asleep. “Goodnight.”

He rolls his eyes but still, he kisses your head.

“G’night darlin.”

[arminsumi]

You have single-handedly restarted my eren obsession, how dare you be such a great writer 😔

accidentally calling Eren bro and he isn't having it- would 100% start fussing and be dramatic but you make that mistake infront of friends and he makes sure you *never* call him that again. 0-100 with this guy

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒꒱

EREN x f.reader

A/N: hehe no apologies 😈 mwa enjoy buttercup

♪ NOW PLAYING: streets

Overview; Eren hates it when you call him 'bro', especially around his friends. So he has a "talk" with you between the library aisles

Content; fluff, (very) spicy makeout

Warnings; 🔞mdni, Eren's a lil rough n mean, neck biting, marking

arminsumi's library

It was just a slip of the tongue. You and him were cooped up in his dorm room — that cramped, poorly-lit dorm room which had only one aspect you liked and that was the view from the window; you could see the stretch of city lights twinkling at night.

Eren was perched on the edge of his bed tuning his acoustic, and you laid comfortably spread-out. Occasional twangs filled the room as he tested his tuning abilities.

The two of you were knee-deep in a small debate about something you saw on social media the other day, you said something like "Bro, seriously?" and he stopped the whole debate, set down his guitar, and harped on that tiny nickname.

"What the hell?" he grimaced at you.

You looked at him dumbly, "What?"

"I'm not your 'bro'." he said disgustedly.

"Huh?" you laughed confusedly. "Uh, I'm sorry...?"

"Don't ever call me that again." he said seriously, as if you said something genuinely offensive.

He let out a heavy sigh and went back to tuning his guitar. The two of you continued debating like nothing happened, but Eren had an annoyed edge in his voice.

���⁕⁕

Now, that time in his dorm was just one minor incident of you calling him bro.

But one day in the library, you were sat with Armin, Jean, and Connie at the round white table in the corner, when that nickname slipped past your lips again.

Eren masqueraded an expressionless face in response, but you could tell he was pissed about something.

No one knew why, but Eren suddenly asked if he could have a "talk" with you in private. Armin amusedly raised his brows like oh, you in trouble-trouble.

You confusedly followed him, trailing in his tall shadow down to a quiet aisle.

The "talk" he wanted to have with you involved a lot of tongue. Between book-stuffed shelves of white, Eren grabbed a fistful of your hair and gently yanked it to tilt your head up, deepening his unexpected kiss.

"Erehn — " you gasped into his mouth. It was wet, warm, slippery, dizzying; it's like his lips were laced with drugs because your mind was transported into a hazy high state.

Between ragged breaths, Eren spoke in a deep, searing voice. "You call me that again in front of my friends, and 'm gonna make sure you regret it, understood?"

Eyes blazing with anger, one that teetered between being attractive and scary.

" 'sorryyy." you mumble through swollen lips.

He dove back in for more hotter, harder kisses. Eren's idea of teaching you a lesson involved less words and more actions; he kissed the hell out of you.

That might sound cute or cheesy, but no — no this is Eren we're talking about. When I say he kissed the hell out of you, I mean he kissed you until your lips felt hot, numb and swollen. Until you looked up at him erotically as if he just just gave you good dick.

He gave your hair another tug to expose your neck properly to his seeking lips. He latched onto a sweet spot just above your collarbone and bit down hard. Suckling, nipping, swirling his tongue, sinking his canines in as if he were a vampire. You almost moaned.

After he was satisfied with the "talk", he said something that stirred up something between your thighs.

"Baby learned her lesson yet? Yeah? Good. Now go show of that bite mark to my friends."

[tightwadspoonies]

Dumpster Diving and Salvage Shopping

If you asked me what my role in the ecosystem is, I'd say I'm a scavenger. I hate confrontation and I hate spending money when there are other options. I will gladly just take whatever you don't want in order to avoid such unsavory obligations.

So dumpster diving, salvage stores, and incidental meat registries and I get along pretty well save for the anxiety. This post, hopefully, takes some of that away for my fellow scavengers who would love to dumpster dive but just don't know how yet, or are afraid of getting in trouble.

Dumpster Diving:

First of all, dumpster diving is legal in all 50 states of the US, but check local ordinances because rich people get fussy about people digging through trash to the point of some cities condemning the practice. It's on a bunch of other posts but it's worth saying.

Cops, of course, will lie or imply otherwise on this. A good way around that is to look like someone who is "not breaking the law". AKA: look like a suburbanite: Wear some khakis and a polo shirt, carry a Starbucks cup, and act as white as you can possibly get away with. If approached, smile, call the cop "officer" or some such referential title, and explain that you thought it was legal. Not that you know it's legal- that you thought it was legal. If they tell you to scram, do so. No argument with law enforcement is worth what is in that dumpster.

Note that it is illegal in many places to put stuff into dumpsters that aren't yours, though, so if the cops are having a slow night, be careful about them asking you to put stuff back.

You also don't want to be the reason dumpster diving gets banned in your community. Do this primarily by never getting into a dumpster. I know the container of perfect strawberries is just out of reach, but if you fall or are unable to get out you are not only up a creek yourself but potentially causing an anti-dumpster-diving frenzy that your town's grocery stores will never recover from. Also, people have legitimately died from getting into a trash compactor.

Now, "legal" does not mean "pro-store-policy". One of the main reasons for this is that is dumpster diving can be somewhat dangerous and no store wants to be the store that's known for letting people break legs on their slippery dumpster juice or what have you.

Avoid too many store policy issues by waiting until the store closes, doing a pass-by to ensure no one is waiting to see if anyone is picking out of their dumpsters, and (again) looking like someone who wouldn't be diving in dumpsters.

Store management tends to worry that they will be sued for letting you eat expired or unsafe food. If you do get approached by a manager who isn't excited to see someone picking over their dumpster selections, it is a good idea to impress upon them how very many dumpsters you pick from and how you wouldn't possibly be able to prove it was their dumpster that gave you food poisoning. Also, if you're feeling particularly bold, let them know that you are saving their store money by decreasing the weight of their waste. Probably not by a lot, but hey, you're on their side here. If told to scram, once again, do so with haste.

On that note, there are safe and unsafe foods to pick:

Generally Safe:

Packaged shelf-stable foods even with damaged outer packaging

Milk if still cold

Cheese

Eggs

Bread (including frozen bread if still cold)

Whole Veggies and Fruits, even with bad spots

Fermented anything

Non-Food Items like dry pet food, hand sanitizer, soap, cleaning products (except bleach), etc...

Generally NOT Safe:

Sliced lunch meats

Cheese touching meat

Cut salads or veggie trays

Prepared hot foods (even if still hot)

Pre-cooked refrigerated meals

Frozen veggies (unless still mostly frozen)

You want to make sure you have some time the next day to process your haul. Everything needs to be carefully sorted, cleaned, peeled, and in the case of perishable food like eggs and veggies, cooked prior to eating.

One final thing:

Be considerate. Leave everything how you found it and make sure you're not making more work for employees. Also, if you know others in your area dive, leave some stuff there for the next person.

Salvage Shopping:

Perhaps you aren't completely up for dumpster diving but still like living your lil raccoon life? Thats fine!

Salvage groceries are a great option. Essentially, instead of throwing food away that they can't sell to traditional consumers, grocery stores sell near-dated or damaged products to salvage grocery stores for pennies on the dollar, and that savings is passed along to the consumer.

Most salvage stores are smaller than traditional grocery stores, and some are cash-only. Some have fresh or frozen sections, but the smaller ones are pretty much all packaged goods. If you are living exclusively on salvage stores, you may want to supplement with some dumpster diving, foraging, or gardening (or even maybe going to a grocery store, but that's hella expensive).

Salvage groceries are not necessarily going to be perfectly food safe. There will be expired goods (doesn't mean bad). That just means you will have to do some due diligence. For example:

Make sure that an item you want to purchase is still in a sealed container

If there are more than one of an item, make sure they are the same color

Prioritize un-dented cans

If you must buy a dented can, make sure the dent isn't on an edge or seam

Don't buy expired canned tomato products

If you open a food and it smells bad, looks like it thawed and re-froze, hisses or bubbles- THROW IT AWAY

Generally be more cautious than you would normally be at a grocery store.

In my area these are pretty much always run by the Amish and Mennonite communities, but check around in your area. They are becoming more and more common outside these communities.

Not all of them will be listed on google maps. Look for a shop called "Bend and Dent" or "Salvage Groceries" or a small store advertising "Discount Groceries". Once you find one, it's easy to find others by asking at the checkout, since they tend to cluster together.

A drawback is that, because they do tend to cluster, they may be farther away than other grocery options. If you are far away, I highly recommend getting a few friends together and making a day of it. I can't say this about most things, but the extra cost in gas is well worth the savings, even if you are driving over an hour.

[megangovier]

Ice-cream date

older!Joel x waitress! fem reader

Summary: Joel messages you if you want to go for a ice cream date, you accept.

Warnings: Fluff, compliments, age gap 25,35, mdni

Joel and you have texted and called eachother over the last couple of months, you knew he had a daughter called Sarah and was raising Ellie as one of his own, they were excited for their dad to get back out there in the dating game. "I bet she's pretty dad" or "She's going to like you". Nerves were kicking in, he hasn't been on a date since his late wife but an accident happened and she is no longer with them. He missed her every day, the way she smiled at him when she entered the room or the smell of her hair. It's going to be hard, this won't be a replacement but someone to talk to, maybe if something does grow between them, he'll go for it.

You were going to meet Joel today, nerves are kicking in. You've never met anyone from a dating app before so it's kind of nerve wracking. Could be dangerous, but it's a risk you've got to take. You were excited though, from his pictures he sent you he's attractive, got those gorgeous brown eyes and a beard you've always found attractive on men. Joel's meeting you at 14:00 so you've got an hour to kill, so you decided to take a shower, put on some leggings, hoodie and white trainers. Locked up your front door and went to the ice cream shop.

Joel was wearing tight fitted jeans, flannel shirt and cowboy boots. It's winter so you both wore suitable clothes for that season, Joel came up and bear hugged you. A warm smile washed over your face "nice to finally meet you Joel" a red glow appeared on his face "likewise ma'am, let's go inside and see what delicious ice creams they have". Opening the door for you, you courtesy "thank you Joel" closing the door behind him, his eyes scanned the ice cream flavors. There was bubblegum, cherry, pistachio, double chocolate fudge brownie, coffee, cone ice cream too. You decided to pick Pistachio and coffee. "Hi, could I get a waffle cone please, with 2 scoops of pistachio and 1 coffee please" a smile fell onto his face, "of course you can my dear, what can I get you sir". Looking Joel said, "could I get waffle cone with 2 scoops of double chocolate fudge brownie please".

"No problem, sir here you go ma'am, enjoy" indulging in your ice cream, Joel paid for both your ice creams and told the man to keep the change "bless you sir, come back soon" a giggle left your lips "will do sir" arm im arm, Joel looked at you admiring how beautifully breathtaking you looked, the dimples in the cheeks, the scar above the eyebrow just beautiful "so, how long have you been waitressing for?" Looking at him in awe "since I was 18, so 8 years". Joel was so interested in your life and what you got up to, he was a great listener and comforted you when you were at your lowest.

Joel also knew about your father troubles, how he wasn't in your life or tried to slip in like an slippery eel. The way Joel acted towards you was like a protective father figure, who took you out to get ice cream. But he was a man you met on tinder, he's spoken to you about the lost of his wife and the accident which made you comfort him and gave him a reinsuring hug. As time went by Joel offered you back to his place, you accepted.

Once Joel opened up the door, two young girls attacked him with hugs. "Hi girls, good to see you too, we've got a visitor." Smiles erupted on their faces hands out to shake yours "I heard a lot about you, you must be Sarah and you must be Ellie, what pretty names" a giggle slipped from their mouths "and you must be daddy's new girlfriend" a grin fell on Joel's face. It didn't feel right to be there, Joel only lost his wife a few months ago. It was still to early, but I guess people deal with it in different ways.

"So girls, what have you done today?" Smiling at Joel with doe eyes Sarah said "Me and Ellie been playing at the park with uncle Tommy, drawing and sleeping, hows your day gone dad?" Looking at you, it's been awesome! We went to an ice cream shop, walked through the park, talked and looked in libraries, came back home again"

Sorry if it isn't that good✨

@strang3lov3 @sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts

[topsurgerystuff]

Now, I will expound upon the scary things. These are things that happened after top surgery that spooked me.

All of these things ended up being harmless, I just wasn’t told they would happen and couldn’t find any info about them so they scared me shitless. My intention here is to save others from similar needless panic. This is not medical advice, just a description of my experience. Well some of it is advice, but keep in mind that I’m fucking stupid and I don’t know shit. Also, Never for one second have I regretted this surgery. The only thing I miss about my tits is being able to grope them whenever I wanted.

Okay so first of all there was the bruises. Blood from the surgery had pooled in my love handles and all over my thighs under my skin and made these HUGE bruises, right, and they didn’t hurt but they were large and had funky colors and I thought “What if the blood rots under my skin”. I googled it, I asked all my friends, I tried to reach my doctors but it was the weekend so they didn’t answer so I went to urgent care and the doctor there was like “I dont know…. That’s scary….” So I was freaking out and decided I would simply wait for death to claim me. It was fine. When I finally got ahold of the doctor she said she’s never seen it before but to just watch it and tell her if it gets bigger. My body slurped that shit back up in a couple weeks, totally harmlessly. Why haven’t surgeons ever seen shit like that before? Probably because nobody’s ever freaked out about it enough to mention it to them. Either way, it was fine.

Secondly, when I had those drains in me, that was spooky because I thought “What if they get yanked out and tear up my shit” and I couldn’t take off the bandage too see or nothing but when I did eventually take them off, I saw that there are stitches around the pipes but not like holding them in you, just there to make sure the holes they put in you stay the same size they are. So if they get pulled out you don’t get seriously damaged, you just call them up and say yo can you put this shit back in me pls. There will also be little meat chunks coming through your tubes with your soup and the soup will be mildly funky smelling. That’s normal. I was told to tell them if there was like CRAZY amounts of meat or if the soup smelled absolutely nasty. Also the bolster things they put on your nips are attached directly to your nips and nothing else, so if you feel shit sliding around under your bandage, that’s the bandage sliding, not the bolsters. They didn’t tell me that so I thought I was gonna wake up with one on my back or something and not be able to put it back where it was. And they make it so it’ll be nice and slippery in there the whole time so don’t worry about the bolsters getting ripped off, there’s not enough friction in there to do that.

There was also the hydrocodone they gave me. For me, the incisions didn’t hardly hurt at all even immediately after surgery but they prescribed me hydrocodone so I took it, and I assumed I wasn’t hurting because of the drugs and that if I stopped taking them I would hurt a LOT. So here I am taking opioids and I’m so fucking dizzy and I’m violently throwing up for two days. I texted my doctor and begged to stop taking it because I thought I would get in trouble or something if I stopped without asking and she’s like “Yeah, you didn’t have to take it if you didn’t want to, its just there if you need something stronger” ohhhhhhhh well fuck me I guess. So I stopped taking it and it turns out I didn’t need pain meds at all because it barely hurts, it just feels like a really long paper cut.

Some other things, I popped a stitch in my armpit because when you first come home and your shits still all numbed up, you can’t feel it when you overstretch your arm so if you forget you’re not supposed to do that, you can pop a stitch. It got infected, I put some antibiotic on it, it took a long time to heal and it made the scar a little uglier but it didn’t cause anything crazy. I will say that my incisions go up into my armpits really far and it was real hard to keep them clean on account of all the sweat. My nipple grafts also had many tiny, shallow stitches and I thought “What if they fall out because they’re so shallow”. That’s normal. My dad said that’s how you do stitches for sensitive areas so they look pretty, and they do look pretty, and also they are supposed to fall out after a couple weeks, that is also normal. Just make sure they don’t fall out too soon I guess. Pretend you’re made of glass for the first 4 weeks, honestly.

Also, your nip has the little oil glands in it, right, and when you’re nip scabs over as it is supposed to, it will scab inside these oil pores and you’ll lose the whole rest of the scab and have these little leftover scraps, and you Must. Not. Pick them. Those pores in my nips are little craters now because I picked the scabs out of them. Every scab you pull off, even the ones that are thin and tiny and already hanging halfway off, is going to make your nip even uglier. You wont die but you will say “Ugh why did it do that”.

Also, my nip hole collects nasty shit in it that I have to clean out all the time and since I can’t feel anything in there I have the be VERY careful. Skin is actually very easy to puncture. And there’s like little caverns in there that also get stuff in them a lot so I still put antibiotic on my nips after I shower just in case? Not really sure if its infection or like dead skin… its been getting better over time at least. Sorry if that’s TMI but listen, somebody’s gotta talk about it.

Sometimes my scars, the main incisions, will get these little blackheads right in the middle of them or little pockets of infection, and I always pick at them and the scar tissue isn’t very strong so when you pick at things on your scar, you will break open all the blood vessels around it and have a big red spot and the scar tissue is such that you will not get the blackhead out anyway so just dont do that. Put some antibiotic on it. Honestly just put antibiotic on anything that looks sus. Antibiotic can solve anything.

Okay idk what else to say so end post goodbye.

[ozimagines]

The Trouble with Robson…

So… I’ve seen some discourse on this site about James Robson… and I want in lol.

I’ve got a lot of thoughts about this man, and based on everything I’ve read from other Oz fans, I might have an unpopular opinion.

Please don’t get me wrong! Season 2-Season 5 he was a tremendous piece of shit. Like in every way possible it is to be a piece of shit. But that said I have two points: 1) that’s what makes him an good CHARACTER, not a good person, and 2) a redemption arc doesn’t mean that person is automatically forgiven, but are going down a better path and MIGHT be forgiven for their actions at a later date. It is with this, your honor, that I submit that Robson’s redemption arc was actually one of the better plot lines in Oz. (Please don’t hate me lol)

Okay, so Robson season two, pretty easy to characterize. He’s a Nazi. He’s violent. He’s a rapist. Very easy to hate. Season three, he’s lieutenant to Vern Schillinger in the Aryan Brotherhood. He boxes and such. In season four, he’s a menace, coming into his own character. He threatens on his own and has his own plot lines now. Season five is more of the same, at first, he rapes Peter Schibetta, he tries to ruin Beecher’s life, etc. He commits one of the more heinous of his crimes in my book when he kills the young Muslim man in the store room. A long, drawn out process that James is smiling through. He LOVES violence. More than anything he seems like he was made for prison. Then he learns about his gums, makes racist remarks to the doctor, one thing leads to another, he has black man gums and gets kicked out of the brotherhood.

He’s destitute and alone, which is all he deserves. But even Kareem Said finds pity for him and says “God is trying to teach you something. Please be smart enough to learn.”. What can even God attempt to teach someone like James Robson? He does what he needs to survive. He joins Cutler and agrees to be his prag. Here’s where some views from other Oz fans and I start to diverge. You look at videos on YouTube, many of the comments you’ll find say “good, he deserved it.”. The best argument I heard for this was actually from Funky Frog Bait on YouTube talking about misgendering murderers. Many people misgendered the nonbinary Nashville shooter. Why would you respect the pronouns for a person that horrible? Because, as Funky Frog Bait said in their video, it revolves around your opinion of gender as a whole. If you can just revoke someone’s preferred pronouns when they’re bad people, how “bad” does a trans person have to be to not have their pronouns respected? People of differing “politics” (morals) say different things, but if we apply this argument to Robson’s situation, I think it has to do with one’s overall view of rape. How “bad” does someone have to be before being raped is considered a reasonable punishment? For me, it’s never. For me, just as in never revoking someone’s right to their preferred pronouns, I also think it’s never justifiable to rape someone. So, no, I don’t think Robson deserved to be raped, even though he was a serial rapist himself, because there’s no situation where I think rape is a justifiable response. People may disagree with me, but I think it’s a slippery slope when you can deem someone as deserving of rape.

We learn during this time, as he’s being beaten and abused sexually by Cutler, that James was beaten and abused by his father as a kid. He confirms that this occurred while he was only five years old. His first introduction to life and sex was violence. Maybe this gives you sympathy for him, as it did me, but maybe you say fuck him, it doesn’t excuse anything. But I don’t think that it was meant to be an excuse, I think it was meant to be an EXPLANATION. I think we were learning how he became James Robson of unit B, not justifying his actions as James Robson of unit B. He was a child and the person he was supposed to trust most in this world gave him very harsh lessons very early on: no one cares about you, and do what you need to do to survive. He becomes demure and pitiful in Sister Pete’s office. One line that stuck with me was “here I am, 35 years old and I have nowhere to run.”. He’s been running his whole life. Running away from an abusive father and running away from his own actions. “I shame to think of what I’ve done. Look on it again, I dare not.” Is Cutler’s line as MacBeth in the play. It is an apt line for James. He’s been running from his own actions for as long as he could remember. Like I said, none of this justifies the lives he’s ruined and taken, but it does explain the inter-workings of a character that was pretty static for four seasons. That he survives. He tells Sister Peter Marie that all he does is run from things. I truly believe that some of the reason he was able to be as ruthless as he was is because he doesn’t let himself think about his own actions.

Finally season 6! He kills Cutler with some kinky play, joins the brotherhood, and it seems like he’s back, right? Only when he sees his wife, we see some of the shame come back. Some of the embarrassment of being taken in that way. If he feels this way now, he felt this way for however long his dad was abusing him. He loses it with her for calling him a “cock sucker”, which CLEARLY he’s embarrassed/ashamed about. He hurts her, and immediately, instantly, feels bad about it. I love learning the morality of immoral characters. With everything he’s done, why was hurting his wife crossing a line? Because she trusts him, just like little James trusted his dad. I think, personally, that he sees himself as her personal protector. Since he couldn’t protect himself, he became the protector for her, and then for Vern, but James isn’t stupid enough to think Vern can’t take care of himself. I think hurting his wife tore him up so much because he remembers when he relied on his dad for everything, and his father took advantage of his state.

Then he finds out he has AIDS. He joins a support group for rape survivors. They talk about their experiences and James listens to all of them. He thanks them towards the end, saying it was good to “hear it from both sides” which we know is something he knew already since he was at least five. But hearing those stories, all of which are upsetting but some are straight gruesome, puts FORCES him to face his actions. He can’t run anymore, his lifestyle caught up with him. Am I saying he deserves AIDS? 🤷‍♀️ Chissà. Who’s to say? He has it though. There’s a deleted scene where he lets Clarence rape him (I understand “lets” and “rape” don’t make much sense together but I don’t think coerced consent is consent at all so it’s still assault), and it gives Clarence AIDS. Robson says something interesting, with his classic smile on his face. “Retribution. It’s all about retribution.”. That’s what Oz is about. Retribution. It should be about Rehabilitation, but it’s all about Retribution. This is where James’ story ends on the show. With him moving to unit F, the AIDS unit. Finally, even if only physically, is he forced to face his actions.

This is why I think his story was beautifully written. He’s just a meathead in the beginning, but we learn about his morality -because he does have a code, even if it’s not a good one-, his past, and his future. They took a character that was frankly very flat and gave us a wide enough view on his life and character to confuse our anger into sympathy into more anger and into sadness. I don’t know if anyone else felt this way but my heart just dropped when he mentioned his dad. James Robson never stood a chance. He was a monster in training since he was five. But no one deserves to be raped. (A good reference is Adam Gunzel who was a BIG prick… but never deserved that shit.) Anyway these are just some of my thoughts on one of the most interesting characters in Oz (to me at least) and gave us an actual character out of a plotless muscle man.

One thing I think we can all agree on:

Retribution. It’s all about retribution.

[lamaenthel]

Came Back Wrong

[read on ao3][masterlist]Febuwhump prompt: came back wrong

"I'm sorry, Commander, but I need you awake." Rex snaps his fingers so she'll look at him. "There's a lot to explain, but while you were asleep the Jedi staged a coup and tried to overthrow the Chancellor." Ahsoka sways, blinking unfocused eyes. "W-What?" "It's alright, we know you weren't in on it. Lord Vader flew us to Mustafar—" "Who?" Ahsoka stares at him like he's grown another head. Rex isn't allowed to say the old name out loud. "Your Master flew us to Mustafar, and now he's dueling with General Kenobi but I can't go and help him if you don't—" "Rex!" Ahsoka grabs at his pauldrons and pulls him close. "What are you talking about?" She's shaking, her blue eyes wide and terrified. "Kenobi is going to kill your Master if you don't give me permission to leave the ship!" Rex shouts.

Characters: CT-7567|Rex/Ahsoka Tano, Darth Vader, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Darth Sidious Wordcount: 2935

The screaming in the Halls of Healing has mostly stopped. The men have made quick work of the ones too sick to leave their beds. The Healers—trained Jedi—gave them only a bit more trouble than the comatose ones. They spent their war fighting in operation theaters and triage centers instead of alien plains, and a laser scalpel doesn't do nearly as much damage as a blaster bolt.

Rex regrets that the medics have to die, but he has his orders; including the special order issued by Lord Vader. He steps over the smoking corpse of an elderly blue Twi'lek Jedi to enter the Jedi's bacta center. All of the tanks are full; by the looks of it, most of their occupants are Padawans. He turns off the air supply for every tank except one. "I've secured Ahsoka Tano," he says into their private channel. He watches the sleeping Padawans twitch in his peripheral vision.

"Load her onto my ship and wait for my return. She is not to be harmed under any circumstance." Lord Vader's order is punctuated by blaster fire and the humming of lightsabers.

"Yes, Sir." Rex activates the waking protocol for Ahsoka's bacta tank and preheats the sanisteam for her as he waits; he's served under her long enough to know how much she hates the lingering sweet-sour smell of bacta. He is beyond grateful—all of the men were, in fact, when they received Vader's amendment—that he does not have to execute her like the rest of her traitorous brethren. She may very well be the only Jedi to survive the Order's attempted coup. As Lord Vader has explained, she couldn't have been in on their plan since she'd been in bacta for more than a week, recovering from the injuries she sustained helping to rescue Chance—rescue the Emperor.

Rex catches the slippery, lithe Togruta once the lift deposits her on the ground. "Rex?" she murmurs, groggy and confused, blinking unfocused blue eyes at him.

"Yes, Commander." He keeps a firm grip on her arms as he walks her to the sanisteam, careful to not to let his eyes linger on her exposed body. 

"Where're we—" She sputters as hot water hits her face.

"Just getting you cleaned up, Commander." He rotates her under the water, making sure she's thoroughly rinsed. He wraps her in a warm towel once she's done.

"The Force…" Her knees buckle and she collapses in his arms. "Rex, the Force… it's screaming, what's happening—"

Lord Vader had warned him that as Ahsoka had no idea what the Jedi had done, she was likely to panic once she felt their deaths in the Force. He readies the hypospray he was given for that very reason and shoots it into her neck before her distress worsens. She goes completely limp in his arms with a frightened whimper.

Rex tries to preserve her modesty by looking at the ceiling while he dresses her in a set of caf-colored robes. With one last look to confirm that the other Jedi have stopped twitching in their bacta tanks, he carefully cradles Ahsoka to his chest and begins the long walk down to the Temple hangar.

He's glad she's unconscious. He knows all the bodies would have bothered her, even if she is on the right side.

<br><br><br>

Eight hours later, they land on Mustafar. Lord Vader abandons the cockpit and sits on the edge of Ahsoka's bunk, watching her sleep with a haunted expression. She hasn't come to yet, but whatever she's dreaming of makes her twitch and whimper like a beaten pup. "It's almost over, Snips," Vader whispers. He kisses her on the forehead and tucks her blanket around her, swaddling her like an infant. His eyes are swollen and bruised, wet with unshed tears. 

Rex pretends not to notice.

"Stay on the ship while I finish this." Lord Vader stands, wipes his eyes. "Protect her with your life." 

"Sir, yes sir!" Rex snaps his heels together. 

"The war's about to be over, Rex." Vader gives him a smile that doesn't make it to his eyes. "We did it. We won." He gives Ahsoka one last look before departing the ship, Artoo hot on his heels. The droid rolls back through the airlock a few seconds later, beeping morosely. 

"Don't you worry about him," Rex reassures the droid. "You heard him. He's ending this. It's almost over."

Artoo silently rolls to his charging station and shuts down. Rex turns his attention back to Ahsoka. She twitches violently in her sleep. Her tears have soaked the pillow beneath her writhing head.

"It's alright." Rex removes his helmet and gauntlets and scratches between her montrals like he saw General Koon do after Zygerria. Almost immediately her twitching stops, her pained mewling replaced by a throaty purr. "There you go," he murmurs, smiling a little. It's not necessarily against regs to be petting his CO like a tooka, he's fairly sure, but it's close.

He stops scratching and cups her cheek. Her skin is silky soft, hairless, wet from her tears. He strokes her winged marking with his calloused thumb, amazed; for some reason he thought it would feel different than the rest of her skin. Her plum lips open in a soft O. "Rex," she murmurs. Still asleep, she lays her hand on top of his. "You have… to protect…"

"I'll protect you," he rumbles. "I'll protect you until the end, Ahsoka, I promise."

Ahsoka's big blue eyes flutter open for a few confused seconds, then close. "Anakin," she whispers, then she falls back into a deep sleep. 

<br><br><br>

Rex watches them circle each other like a pair of nexu from the viewport in the cockpit. "Your new Empire?" General Kenobi demands, outraged. At his feet lies Senator Amidala, either dead or close to it after her confrontation with Lord Vader. Her pregnant belly is almost grotesquely large on her petite frame. 

"Don't make me kill you!" Lord Vader seethes.

"Anakin, my allegiance is to the Republic, to democracy!"

Rex draws back from the viewport and hurries to Ahsoka's side. "Commander," he whispers, gently shaking her. "Ahsoka, can you hear me?"

Ahsoka's head jerks from side to side, but she doesn't wake up. 

Rex lets out a frustrated huff and looks around for a medkit. Spotting it on the far wall above the droid's charging station, he yanks it off the wall and gets out the epinephrine pen. "Hope this works on Togs," he mumbles to himself. He jams it into her thigh.

Ahsoka rears up with a screech at the same time an angry scream reverberates from outside, followed by the humming of lightsabers. "Rex?" she gasps, clutching at her chest.

"I'm sorry, Commander, but I need you awake." Rex snaps his fingers so she'll look at him. "There's a lot to explain, but while you were asleep the Jedi staged a coup and tried to overthrow the Chancellor."

Ahsoka sways, blinking unfocused eyes. "W-What?"

"It's alright, we know you weren't in on it. Lord Vader flew us to Mustafar—"

"Who?" Ahsoka stares at him like he's grown another head.

Rex isn't allowed to say the old name out loud. "Your Master flew us to Mustafar, and now he's dueling with General Kenobi but I can't go and help him if you don't—"

"Rex!" Ahsoka grabs at his pauldrons and pulls him close. "What are you talking about?" She's shaking, her blue eyes wide and terrified.

"Kenobi is going to kill your Master if you don't give me permission to leave the ship!" Rex shouts.

"Obi-Wan?" she asks incredulously. "Are you insane?"

He points towards the cockpit. "Look outside if you don't believe me!"

Ahsoka pushes him away and staggers to the viewport, nearly tripping over the newly-awakened Artoo. Rex hears a sharp gasp; she turns around and pushes past him in a coltish sprint for the airlock. He grabs her arm before she can leave. "Give me permission to leave the ship," he pleads.

"You don't need my permission!" She yanks her arm out of his grasp.

"Yes I do!" he says desperately. "Please, Commander—"

"Permission granted!" The ramp finishes unfurling with a loud clunk. "Secure Padmé, I'm going after Skyguy!" She makes a break for the twin blue stars spinning in a violent dance over the lava river.

"Ahsoka!" Rex yells, panicked; he has to obey before he can follow. He turns with a curse, drags the senator up the ramp of her ship, and leaves her for the droids to fuss over.

<br><br><br>

By the time he catches up with her, she's sliding down a hill of obsidian sand to where her Masters are. Kenobi stands on the peak of the bank below them. Lord Vader hovers above the lava river on a mining droid, murder in his eyes. He jumps; Ahsoka leaps forward and tackles Kenobi out of the way. "Have you lost your mind?" she shrieks in his face.

"Get out of here before it's too late!" Kenobi rolls them out of the way of Vader's wide, overhand swing. Rex slides down the black sand with a curse.

"She's not going anywhere," Vader seethes. He stalks towards Kenobi, rolling his shoulders with a predator's grin, and flings Ahsoka with the Force directly into Rex's arms.

Rex takes the opportunity to drag Ahsoka as far away as he can while she's stunned. "Get the hell off of me!" she snarls at him. He lets go immediately. "Anakin, what are you doing, stop! It's Obi-Wan, stop!" She darts back towards them. 

"Ahsoka, run!" Kenobi parries every blow that comes his way but he's losing strength; Vader's titanic blows force him to one knee, and he grins madly.

"Anakin!" Ahsoka jumps on him from behind and uses all four limbs to pin his arms to his sides. "Please stop, please!"

"He can't be reasoned with anymore, Ahsoka," Kenobi warns. Vader furiously pries her off of him; Rex hears a sharp crack, and she shrieks and grabs her wrist. "Don't hurt her! It's me you want dead, remember?" He falls back into his defensive stance. His saber arm shakes. "She is innocent."

Vader pins Ahsoka to his chest and holds his saber to her throat. "Yield." He grins.

Kenobi blanches. "Don't, please don't—"

"Better she die by the hand of someone who loves her than be corrupted any further by the Jedi." Vader's blue blade turns Ahsoka's wide, terrified eyes into glowing stars. "I won't ask again, Obi-Wan."

The High General lets out a long, shaky breath and tosses his saber at the lava. Vader laughs and immediately shoves Ahsoka back to Rex. She stumbles and trips into his arms. "You really think I would hurt my own Padawan?" Vader taunts. He raises his saber. "I will give you one last chance to pledge your loyalty to me."

"Come on, Commander," Rex whispers, dragging her backwards. Her legs give out from beneath her. 

"I can't do that, Anakin." Kenobi steels himself for Vader's blow; a sleek black ship enters the atmosphere, scattering clouds with a sonic boom that draws everyone's attention. Kenobi takes advantage of the distraction to pull Vader's saber from his hand with the Force. He hesitates, his eyes darting between the black ship and Ahsoka, then flees with a mighty leap across the lava river. 

"Obi-Wan!" Vader roars, charging to the edge. "OBI-WAN!" He turns on Ahsoka, his face contorted in a nightmarish mask of rage. She is ripped from Rex's arms and flies into the air, clawing at her throat. "WHY DID YOU INTERFERE?"

Ahsoka reaches for Vader and clings to his wrist until her orange face drains to chalk white, mouth gaping open and shut pathetically.

Rex cannot intervene. He watches the life leave Ahsoka's big blue eyes, powerless to stop it. I'll protect you until the end. He draws in a shuddering sob of a breath and sways, shaking.

Lucidity returns to Vader's eyes. He drops her with a gasp of horrified realization and collapses to the obsidian sand beside her. "No, no… wake up, Snips, breathe—"

Ahsoka rears up, gasping and clutching at her purple throat. Vader pulls her into his lap and peppers her forehead with teary kisses. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Ahsoka, I didn't mean to hurt you, I would never hurt you—" He cups her face in his oversized hands and presses their foreheads together, weeping. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"We… we're going to figure this out," Ahsoka chokes weakly, layering her hands over his. "It's okay, Master. I won't leave you."

"A pity." The Emperor has arrived. "Is that how you show respect to your ruler, Captain?" An invisible Force rips Rex to his knees so hard that he feels something pop. "Stay there. Do not interfere."

"Master." Vader bends his knee. 

"Kenobi has fled, but this one still lives." The Emperor hisses like a snake. "The Rule of Two states that there is only one Master, one Apprentice. No more." Hatred oozes from the words like hot tar. "Kill her. Finish what you started at the Temple."

Vader's eyes go wide. "No!"

"You dare defy me?" The Emperor's eyes flash gold.

"Why must she die?" Vader demands. "She's loyal and skilled, and strong in the Force. She would be an asset."

"She would be a rival." The Emperor bares his brown teeth. "I am no fool. The two of you are bonded too deeply in the Force. While she still breathes, your loyalty is divided. You prove it even now as you beg for her life. Kill her and be free of it."

"Anakin," Ahsoka whispers, shaking. She clings to him like a child.

"It is your choice, Lord Vader." The Emperor's maw widens in a psychotic smile. He's enjoying this. "Only I have the knowledge that will save Padmé. Kill Ahsoka, or I will ensure that Padmé dies. Your children die."

Fresh tears stream down Vader's cheeks. He turns to his Padawan, trembling. "I..."

"Master, don't." Ahsoka backs away. Her hands instinctively go to her sides to grab her missing sabers. "Please don't hurt me!"

"I'm so sorry, Ahsoka." Vader advances.

"Do it, Lord Vader." The Emperor's cackle sounds like cracking ice. "Destroy her and take your place at my side! I am the only one with the knowledge that will save your wife."

Vader's face crumbles. "I have done every horrible thing you asked of me," he weeps. "Tell me how to save Padmé, and I will… I will do this too."

Ahsoka looks desperately to Rex for help. He can't even get to his feet without permission.

"Your sentiment makes you weak." The Emperor shakes his head. "Do it now! Kill your Padawan, kill the last, weak piece of Anakin Skywalker, and only then will you have enough strength in the Dark Side to save your family!"

Vader turns back to Ahsoka, despondent. "I'm sorry," he whispers, raising his hand.

Ahsoka stumbles backwards. "Anakin, no!"

Rex's vision goes spotty. He sways, nearly falls, and only when he takes a deep gulp of air does he realize he's been holding his breath since the Emperor touched down.

The Emperor's vile grin grows. "Do it!"

Vader's arm shakes. "I have to save Padmé," he whispers to her. "I… our babies…"

"Skyguy." Ahsoka's blue eyes have never looked bigger.

"Pathetic." The Mustafar night turns blinding blue-white. A bolt of lightning cracks from the Emperor's outstretched hand and hits Ahsoka in the heart, flinging her backwards. She rolls to a stop in front of Rex. Her chest doesn't move.

"NO!" Vader screams. The arm that failed to strangle his Padawan turns towards the Emperor instead, splitting the air with a stream of blood-red lightning. It meets the Emperor's blue in the middle and explodes into a blinding ball of violet plasma, sending the two Sith flying back.

Rex stares into Ahsoka's big, empty blue eyes, and feels something in him die with her. He hears snarling, screaming, the humming of lightsabers; he can't stop staring into her blue eyes. Blue eyes that beg him to do something, anything just get up Captain get up Captain GET UP CAPTAIN

The Captain leans over, pinches her nose shut, and breathes his life into her mouth. Her chest rises. He begins chest compressions, dipping every five seconds to breathe for her again. He is dimly aware of screaming, buzzing electricity, the humming of lightsabers; he doesn't care enough to look away from her. He doesn't even care who wins. 

Her ribs break with a sick crack under the force of his compressions. A blast of boiling, staticky air scalds his face and nearly sends him flying backwards. In his peripheral vision, a head bounces by wetly and rolls into the lava river.

"Move aside." Lord Vader kneels opposite of the Captain and holds His left hand above her heart. His eyes burn like live coals in His skull. Red lightning gathers at His fingertips and surges downward.

She screams. Her body contorts, twitching unnaturally as Vader's red lightning restarts her heart, sending her into a horrifying ball of arched, cracking limbs like a dying spider. She rolls onto her side facing Vader, panting and shaking, and slowly uncurls.

"You're alive." Vader softly pets her montrals. "You're alive."

"I'm alive." Her voice sounds different; higher, unbalanced. It sends a shiver down the Captain's spine. 

Vader pushes up to His feet. "Rise, Darth…" he pauses and tilts His head, listening to an invisible whisper. "Korrē." He smiles and helps her to her feet. "Rise, my daughter." He wraps her tightly in His arms and crushes her against His chest.

"Thank you, my Master." She smiles at the Captain over her shoulder.

Her eyes are gold. Bright, molten gold.

Taglist: @starwarsficnetwork, @febuwhump, @soliloquy-of-nemo Divider: @saradika-graphics

[pants-magic-pants]

Well, I wanted to make an effort-filled post about the pleat piece, which is as done as it needs to be (hemming won't be finished until it's part of the garment.) However,

1.) I have no patience for content creation. Once cameras and lighting start giving me trouble, I exhaust myself from all the swearing I do trying to fix them

2.) The final product ought to be a reveal of sorts, so heading down my current path of being a tease seemed better, idk

Technical stuff about the details under cut.

I have a love and respect for the creation of clothes. If I'm making it, I want it to look quality and be functional, so the pleats were a chance to try out mitered corners, blind stitches, and finally, a really basic hem that I thought looked better.

The hem on the lining is just a steamed and hand-pressed fold, sewn over at the very base with a straight stitch. I don't own a serger, so I can't do serging with the original. I like the way the bottom looks -- when you turn up fabric to make a hem on a curve, there is excess width, so my disregarding it and just straight-stitching across gave it some evenly spaced but cute little fluttery puckers, which it seems like the original may have had, too.

Maybe? Possibly?

ANYWAY

The velvet and lining are very close together. Because of some distortions with cutting the stretchy lining fabric (do not recommend stretchy lining fabric), I almost had hemmed something that was too long, but praise the flying spaghetti monster, there is enough velvet to do a 1.5cm hem and call it good.

One may have noticed there are some corners. Yes.

After testing it out a lot, and trying to pleat the tail in the way that it seems to be done in the back, this was what I came up with as creating that shape once it's pleated, with most of the length seeming to protrude like a fishtail from the shorter sides that fall down the thigh.

The end result from the side, with the cascading layers of velvet and lining, look so delightful. ;)

Well, that's it for now. Next is to close some of the main body up, and and try out some techniques to hold down slippery fabric because HOLY HELL lace falls off velvet like a slip-n-slide, and it's why I haven't been able to make the collar. Such small thing... gave me such chaos the other day... oof.... I was so pissed...

[brisquad-unit-4402]

pssssst. slips u a note

(3, 11, & 18) (can i also have some lunch money)

here kiddo i packed you something for lunch at school

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

hmmmmge this is really hard, tbh. two answers! stars above your skin is kind of like my crown jewel. it’s the longest fic i’ve ever published. i feel like i get burnt out of fics once i hit 4k so whenever i pass that number or so, i always feel so accomplished. SAYS got to explore a ton of headcanons (ike with freckles is the main one lol) and totes opened up a full world with the pliskinverse! i want to revisit it intimately and inherently.

maybe this is because it’s a recent fic as well, but prosthetics means a lot to me. i didn’t realize how much of myself bled onto the page until after ~500 words were down, especially not for an impulse fic. i find that i impress myself when i try not to. i feel especially happy because this was also written for a dear comfydant friend of mine and i love whenever said friend blows up my dms

maybe not pride but i’m always happy when i get the go-ahead to write violence or gore. i have a soft spot for in pursuit to and from the sun and vox, shu and luca’s parts in the lost in time/found in time series because of it.

11. What work took you the longest to write?

surprisingly not the long ones. trading a heart was about one week? SAYS and in pursuit took a month each.

however. and i do not like to admit this. i’ve had a doppio x reader bf headcanon post in my drafts since maybe february or april. and it’s been 80% done since february or april.

if we’re talking published works i don’t remember how long i had the request, maybe april, but this request [nsfw] for massaging and teasing luca and mysta took about 3 months to get out. admittedly that’s bc i learned some stuff abt my own personal boundaries on smut writing and bc i think that was one of my first forays into smut as well

18. The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

this breaks my heart to say. sonny and shuey

i have this thing where the characters i simp for hardest, tend to be the most difficult to get on paper. i think it’s because i get attracted to laid-back personalities but i relate to loud ones more.

they have the opposite problems; shuey is incredibly versatile and i never know whether i should let him be shy or play it cool. it really depends on the day. sonny, however, is a very specific type... his humor is dry and deadpan which is hard to nail down, and he's not quite a romantic but he's not a hardass. i think i'm getting a bit better at him since i'm in a sonny lovebot arc rn and writing more for him and noctyx but while all my other characters have a mental list in my head of their traits and how they act, sonny's mental list is of how he should NOT act you know?? he's slippery he's hard to pin down!

ike also gets a shoutout because i feel like his character goes much deeper than "soft nerd prone to shyness but secretly gutsy" but whenever i write him i feel like he's shallow. it's hard to show the hidden depths in such short fics sometimes, since i usually write him in <1k fics

despite not writing him often i think my best character may be vox. he and alban are tied for easiest

[rurukatt]

Letters to Tacitus Kilgore

Just a couple of letters Sophia sent to Arthur while she spent some time away from the gang. I did these as a little writing practice since I don’t really have the energy for much more. Enjoy~

[October 1894]

Dear Arthur,

It has been a while since I wrote a letter to anyone, and as always, I find myself not knowing what to say. So much has happened and yet barely anything worth mentioning comes to mind when I try to write.

I am doing well. The room I'm renting is nice (unlike the owner of the house, but that's a story for another time), and they're giving me a lot of work at the doctor's office, which I don't mind at all. It helps me keep my mind off things. The old doctor is a real gentleman, his son… He's insufferable, Arthur. Talks a lot and thinks himself more knowledgeable than his father, but he doesn't even know what he's talking about most of the time. The only person he's able to impress is himself, but that seems to be enough for him.

I had hoped my time with you all would be longer, but nevertheless I am grateful for what I got and I miss you every day. You, most of all, but sometimes I miss Hosea even more. Please give him my regards and thanks. Were it not for him, I wouldn't have this opportunity right now.

Yours fondly, Sophia Ashe

* 

[November 1894]

Dear Arthur,

We had our first snow yesterday. It was a wonderful sight to wake up to, although the heavy snowfall made it difficult to get into town in time. I hope the weather is treating you well, wherever you are.

The snow also means I cannot take Sunflower for her usual morning rides anymore. I can clearly see she hasn’t been well, and now that the roads are too slippery, I don’t want to risk an injury on top of that. It pains me to see her like this, but I’m resolved to nurse her back to health. I cannot and will not lose this horse, Arthur, she’s everything to me. I promised I’d take good care of her when you gave her to me, and I intend to honor my word, even if it means sleepless nights and empty pockets.

Aside from this, I’m fine, and I hope you are as well. Please forgive me for sharing my troubles with you, I do not want you to worry about me when you doubtless have more pressing matters to attend to.

Please take care.

Sincerely yours, Sophia Ashe

* 

[January 1895]

Dear Arthur,

I wish you and everyone in the camp a very Happy New Year!

I hope you’re well. Life here isn’t too exciting, I can’t say much has changed since I sent my last letter, except for this growing sense of loneliness. One of the girls I’m working with, Annie, is getting married soon and will be moving to another town. We’ve been getting along so well, and of course I’m happy for her and wishing her the best, but at the same time it fills me with sorrow because I will be left alone once again.

At least the days are getting longer. Inspired by you, I have taken up drawing again recently and while my artistic abilities are not on par with yours, it’s helping me get through this melancholic time of the year. I have also decided to expand my horizons and got myself an easel and some other supplies for painting, hopefully I’ll be able to put them to use soon. Enclosed are some of the newest additions of my little gallery, I hope they bring you at least a little joy. I miss seeing your smile.

Sincerely yours, Sophia

* 

[February 1895]

My dear Arthur,

I must apologize for my delayed letter, work consumes most of my time these days and I rarely find the time to put my thoughts on the paper in a manner that’s worth reading.

Annie got married and moved away with her husband, and here I am, on my own again. Oh, what I would do to have people I can trust around me. I miss you more and more every day and I wish I heard anything from you or was given even a small sign that you’re still alive. All this silence has left me doubting the effectiveness of postal services, but it may as well be something else, I am not sure. At least this is what I keep telling myself.

I pray for your safety every day and I will not stop praying until I know all is well with you.

Your sincere friend, Sophia

P.S. Sunflower is getting better. She’s starting to resemble her old self and it feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulder.

* 

[March 1895]

My dearest Arthur,

Spring has come again, and with it, the longest winter of my life is finally over – just as I hope my time in this town is drawing to a close.

I rode out with Sunflower a couple days ago to see the first flowers in the woods. Words can hardly express what a wonderful feeling it is to witness life spring forth once more, to cherish these things that seem so mundane… the gentle breeze, the little green buds on the branches, the dewdrops on the grass. Few people can appreciate that, and I am constantly reminded that you are one of them. I would give anything to have you here by my side and watch you fill your journal with pictures of all of those small wonders nature has to offer.

My heart is aching in ways I never thought possible. The fates of my previous letters are unknown to me and I doubt you will receive this one either, yet I’m still choosing to make a fool of myself for one last time and tell you this: you will always be in my heart. Even though sometimes it felt like I was throwing myself against a stone wall, the man I saw through the cracks made up for everything. I want you to know that your friendship meant the world to me. It still does, and I regret not telling you sooner.

I keep holding out hope that I will see you again one day, whenever you decide to find your way back to me.

Forever yours, Sophia

* 

* 

* 

[lansplaining]

[one snippet of a chengqing holiday romcom uhhhh until it’s done i guess] [previous part]  

With the Jin Christmas decorations as a model, it took quite some time to talk Jin Ling down from an eight-foot monstrosity. Jiang Cheng didn’t even own any ornaments, what were they going to do with this thing? They ended up with a smallish tree that Wen Qing managed to convince Jin Ling was better for reasons that Jiang Cheng didn’t understand, but definitely involved telling him she was a doctor, and thus knew these things. This gave way to an extended conversation about why she didn’t have a white coat, which bought Jiang Cheng enough time to just pay for the damn tree and start carrying it towards the car before Jin Ling could protest. 

He tried not to think about how good Wen Qing was with Jin Ling. Or, more distractingly, how good they were as a duo. It had taken him and Jin Guangyao months, if not years, to find the right kind of rhythm with their very different personalities, to say nothing of when Jin Ling's grandparents actually bothered to spend more than an hour with him. 

This, he thought, was one of those slippery slopes. You get a Christmas tree, and then suddenly you’re hallucinating that a complete stranger understands you and your kid. 

A complete stranger that you’ve invited over for Christmas. 

A complete stranger that was helping him strap a Christmas tree to the top of his car, standing in the open doorway to give herself enough height to reach up and help secure the fastenings. She jumped down, flushed and hair coming loose, and took a few steps back to peer speculatively at their work, her hands on her hips. 

She glanced at Jiang Cheng. “--what? Do I have a branch in my hair?”

Oh. He was staring. “No, sorry, just-- got distracted.” He hurriedly opened the door to start getting Jin Ling situated. “Where can I drop you? Hotel?”

“If that isn’t trouble. It’s just downtown, not far from the school.” 

"Not a problem.” It wasn’t really on their way, but she didn’t need to know that. Anyway, a ride was the least he could do after-- everything. God, he hadn’t even started to think about what she’d told him about not pursuing the deal. Save that for after the holiday. 

He pulled into the parking lot of her hotel and she hopped out, then came around to the driver’s side window to say goodbye.

“This was a really fun day,” she said. “Thanks for letting me tag along. And for the invite.”

“We had a great time,” Jiang Cheng agreed. “And I’ll see you on Christmas.” 

[bisexualshakespeare]

5, 12, 17, 18!

5. What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?

Probably Eckleberry Pie. I really posted it like 'man I hope someone other than CJ reads it but probably not' lol but got a decent amount of comments from people like 'oh! them? okay nice!' XD

12. How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year?

goodness how do i have even more than I did even after writing 5 fics for this fandom?? I went and found the WIP game you tagged me in months ago and literally nothing I've posted was on the docket. Cyrano AU isn't even on it! the list never dwindles it only grows. (that sounds like a proverb)

That being said, I've lost passion for several of my non-willow fandoms so half of that list has been put in cold storage so I guess something like 6 for Willow and a couple maybes in other fandoms?

17. Your favorite character to write this year?

Hmm idk all of them? I was very surprised at how easy it came to me to write Jamie Tartt in Considerate, though if I ever continue that series I will probably ask someone to britpick it for me. I also really loved my Nathan Shelley especially in the What You Believe filk!

18. The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

Hmm idk all of them? 😅 I've definitely been rewatching a lot of Willow Airk, Graydon, and Elora scenes for my Cyrano AU to make sure I've got everyone's voice. I feel like all three of them can be kind of slippery where I have their voice for one scene and then I lose it in the next and have to find a way to get it back. It's also kinda difficult to write Elora from the guys point of view. The Cyrano story kind of inherently takes away some of the woman's agency so it's been tough trying to show Elora as the active force we know her to be.

[ducknotinarow]

[Your Blitz, My Stolas - Reverse] "I need to rest"

| Send "I need to rest" for your muse to lay their head down in my muse's lap

Blizt pulled up his van up front like he always parked and hopped out the driver seat. Going the path he basically had so memorized it had become second nature. To cut through the bushes there was just enough spacing between them and the walls of Stolas' home that let him pass through nearly untouched. A thorn here or there at times could snag at him. But that would take the imp just below Stolas bedroom window. Blitz smiled to himself even if it was a lot of effort to climb his claws were more than sharp enough to hook into it. Giving him a good grip so he could scale up towards the balcony. That part was always a bit tricky to deal with the slope curve wasn't always easy to move around. But he managed just fine and soon as he saw the railings he knew he could just pull up and throw himself over.

Okay but why go through all this trouble? Blitz likely could just go through the front door like a normal demon coming to visit Stolas likely did. But that just seemed lame. Blitz always sneeked his way in and come through the balcony like so. Cause Stolas seemed to enjoy it whenever he did. Sure practical reasons okay more like Blitz half assed lies he gave anytime Stolas asked about it. There was just something about the little delighted look the owl eyes that made the extra effort worth it.

Besides the owl clearly expected it when he always waited in his room to meet Blizt at when knowing he would be coming by. Even if it did take a lot of effort he got pretty good at slowly sucking in hair to help himself cool down from the scurry to get up here. Smoothing over his usual jacket and fixing his collar as he went to stroll on through the doors. Ready to make himself known when he caught sight of Stolas asleep in the bed, and closed his mouth right away so not a peep was let out. Well the imp did let his brow scrunch up somewhat. Did Stolas seriously fall asleep?! He huffed out a short breath as he made his way towards the large ass bed.

Looking over the prince a moment. They seemed tired the imp quirked his mouth a little and shrug his shoulders moving to climb up on to the bed. Slightly crawling over besides the sleeping owl trying his best not to wake them up but those damn silk sheets were slippery making Blizt slip and fall every so often as he let out a string of swears before finally making it beside the owl prince. Blizt finding a nice spot beside him as he fell back setting his arms behind his head. This felt nice actually, Stolas bed was huge of course but couldn't knock how comfortable it was as well. But maybe all the shuffling or the sudden addition of Blitz self was enough to get the owl to break out from his seemingly deep sleep.

"Awake now? Guess you are dainty if I put a pea under your mattress think it keep you from waking up." Blitz tossed out trying to down play the current situation, but of course, Stolas the second he got a bit more coherent sat up seeming ready to ask questions. Questions he would want answer to from Blitz that he didn't want to answer can't this dang owl just not care for like two seconds. Annoyed still the imp sat up as well but unlike the owl he used it as a chance to reposition himself letting his head rest on top of Stoals' lap.

"I ain't moving, need to rest." He grumbled just a bit before he curled up just to make himself comfortable. This felt good too maybe better actually. The faint scent of the all the fancy shit Stolas put in his bathtub was still attached to his feathers, the tips of the exposed feathers slightly brushed against his face. Felt softer than anything really so be moved to nudge his head in closer for a better feel. Taking in a deep breath and slowly letting it out as he felt himself honestly just melting into the owl almost. "I wanna die right here, don't move me for anything I don't give a shit if the place in flames even." Blitz said slightly muffles with his cheek pressed in against Stoals' legs. Before he let out a yawn in defeat at last. Keeping it all in his usual act seemed to more trying today than usual. Or maybe he just hadn't given it enough of a break who knows he didn't care right now he just wanted to relax. The low soft purr he started to let out showing that more than his current position even.

"Yeah this is just what I need," Blitz confessed before another yawn escaped from him. Lifting his tail to point at Stolas with since he wasn't willing to lift an arm. "Don't get too full of yourself Jelly. your just warm and soft and smell real nice tonight." Blitz stated hoping to cut any of Stolas' furthering questioning or whatever.

The imp just wanted the comfort and peace that his prince gave him. After a long week of pure bullshit seeing Stolas just seemed perfect. He did slightly turn his head to look at them suddenly recalling something. "You didn't see my text did you? 'bout coming over to see you?" Blitz manged to find a way to sound offended it was a very sudden thought on his part to be fair so chances are Stolas had already set his phone down and was going about getting ready for bed by the time he had sent the text to them. Whatever. After the week this just felt very nice. Letting his eyes grow heavy and close as he decided to make this is resting place.

"Well then that just means I ain't gotta move from this spot since you ignore my text." Blitz decided as if Stolas would ever deny Blitz well anything really. So giving the owl was and happy to do at that, even before being official. If anything Stolas got worse about it but Blitz didn't mind taking advantage of that fact. "go back to sleep bird brain." Blitz snips with a little before he tucked himself in more into a nice little ball.

[cosmicwishingwell]

“People don’t walk up to Magnifico and wish for the kingdom to be destroyed” I think you guys are so used to everything being spelled out to you you guys forget people can be “tricky” with their wordplay. Whether that’s “I hope all my enemies get what they deserve” in hopes that a group of people disappear, or just “I wish to be the best seamstress across the land” which what happens to other seamstresses that had the same wish? Not to mention we have no idea if people are stating their wishes to Magnifico or it’s more so a feeling of their true desire. I think what gets me is that “wishes are the most beautiful part of yourself” sets back a lot of Disney traditions. PaTF literally explained that yes achieving your wish can be difficult and sometimes you can’t achieve it, but that doesn’t make you any less than of a person.

I think another issue is that the reason people gave their wishes to Magnifico is that they didn’t have the resources or power to achieve them on their own for whatever reason. So adding to how it’s difficult to see the king as a villain, he never forced anyone to give up their wishes.

Basically until there is a proper canon reason why Magnifico is evil, all we can do is speculate

You absolutely make fantastic points! Let's delve deeper into the complexities of wishes and how Magnifico exploits them, while also addressing the concept of striving for your dreams within the Disney tradition.

Tricky Wishes and Magnifico's Web of Deception:

You're right on the money about people being creative with wishes. Magnifico, the cunning villain he is, thrives on manipulating this very human tendency. He wouldn't need crystal-clear declarations of evil. A seemingly harmless wish like "I hope all my troubles disappear" could be twisted into something far more sinister. Imagine Magnifico interpreting it as "I wish anyone who causes me problems to vanish!" – a slippery slope that eliminates dissent and creates a climate of fear. He'd be a master of misinterpreting wishes to serve his own agenda, twisting vague desires into tools of control that sow discord and instability within Rosas.

The Domino Effect of Unforeseen Consequences:

Even without directly targeting others' wishes, Magnifico's system is a recipe for unintended consequences. Someone wishing to be the "best seamstress" might unintentionally put countless others out of business. Their wish, fueled by a desire for success, could have a devastating ripple effect on the entire livelihoods of others. Magnifico would revel in this chaos, presenting himself as the only one who can "fix" the problems his system inherently creates, further tightening his grip on the kingdom.

Wishes as Weapons: The Distortion of Dreams:

Magnifico understands the power of wishes on a fundamental level. He preys on people's most heartfelt desires and vulnerabilities, twisting them into weapons for control. Imagine someone longing for a life of luxury wishing to be "surrounded by riches." Magnifico might grant that wish, but at a terrible cost. Perhaps the entire kingdom's wealth gets concentrated in their hands, leaving everyone else in poverty. Magnifico would be the puppet master, weaponizing dreams and turning them into instruments of misery.

Wishes as Inspiration: The Spark that Ignites a Journey

Now, let's address the concept of "wishes as the most beautiful part" and how it aligns with the enduring values of Disney traditions. This concept isn't meant to erase the importance of hard work and perseverance, cornerstones that remain alive and well in the Disney universe. Wishes can be the spark that ignites a transformative journey. They represent hope, ambition, and the unwavering drive to make a difference in the world. Think of Tiana from "Princess and the Frog." Her wish for a restaurant wasn't about instant gratification; it was the inspiration that fueled her dedication and relentless pursuit of her dream.

The Importance of Struggle: The Path Less Traveled

The road to achieving a wish is rarely smooth. There will be obstacles, setbacks, and valuable lessons learned along the way. Just like Pocahontas in her fight for peace between her people and the colonists, the very act of striving shapes who you are and teaches invaluable life lessons. The challenges and triumphs you encounter become part of the grand narrative of your wish, defining your character and resilience.

The Value of True Desire: Wishes Fueled by the Heart

Magnifico's villainy lies in twisting wishes and exploiting desires for his own gain. However, true wishes, the ones that come from the heart and a genuine place of yearning, can be a powerful force for good. They motivate us to be better versions of ourselves, to reach for something bigger than ourselves and contribute positively to the world. Think of Moana's unwavering desire to save her people. This core wish fueled her courage, bravery, and ultimately, her success in restoring balance to her island.

So, while Magnifico manipulates wishes for his own gain, Asha stands as a beacon of hope, representing the true spirit of wishing. She understands that wishes are the starting point, the spark that ignites our potential. It's the journey to achieve them, the struggles and triumphs along the way that define us and make the fulfillment of those wishes even more meaningful.

[jeremy-ken-anderson]

NWF

There are a lot of problems that are Not Worth Fixing.

A good example is Passive Sinus Pressure.

This is a natural bodily response to cold weather. Your body builds up a small wall of well-regulated fluids along the inside of your sinus wall and it improves your body's insulation from the cold. Very spiffy. As the term "passive" would imply, this is so much of a "problem not worth fixing" because most of the time it isn't even a problem.

The only "symptoms" of this occur when some OTHER force impacts your system and then you notice the change in state from what you were expecting.

When you have passive sinus pressure your sinuses can hurt when poked. Yesterday I noticed that after I came in from my walk the spot between my eyebrows hurt when I poked it, as if bruised.

"Doctor, it hurts when I do this!" "Do you need to do that?" "Well, no." "Then don't do that."

Today's was more notable: I had a really big cough, and coughing just once gave me a headache. Since coughing is less controllable than poking yourself in the forehead, the passive sinus pressure as a symptom can be seen as "causing the pain" and therefore might be something you want to "fix."

But barring frequent coughing fits and severe pain from each, it's possible your solutions will be more trouble than the sinus pressure itself. Medicines that "reduce sinus pressure" will often do so either by drying the fluid up in place (leaving you with flakes of dried residue that might scrape things and cause irritation) or by essentially making the fluid more slippery/thin, causing it to drain. But where does it drain to? At that point the fluid is dripping either out your nose or down your throat.

Up to a certain threshold - and this will be different for everyone - pressure from sinus fluid is not a bug but a feature of your head's construction, helping you regulate temperature around your brain and the blood vessels that run through your head and carry undesirables out of the body by wrapping them in goop for safe removal.