#just one of the critters laying face first on the ground.

[dailyhtfboards]

Day 2

Today’s board is:

Oh shit Pops fuggin dead-

(From TV episode 1C And the Kitchen Sink)

[sarawritestories]

Take A Break

High Lord Eris Vanserra X High Lady Fem Reader

Summary: Eris comes home from business at the Spring Court. Only to hear reports from the staff that his High Lady has been working herself to the ground and not taking care of herself.

Dedicated to @milswrites and @eve175 who are constantly making sure I am taking care of me and getting proper rest. I adore you both!

Content Warning: I did not proofread this. This fluff, but Reader hasn't slept and has had some disordered eating habits (she has been working so hard

Peep the Critical Role Reference for any Critters reading this 😉

ACOTAR MASTERLIST

Eris Vanserra was glad to be home. Sure, working with Tamlin to rebuild the Court was mutually beneficial. Tamlin gets his court back, and Eris rebuilds a strong alliance with the spring. It was work worth fighting for to repair what Beron destroyed. However, he was itching to get home to his mate.

You were the apple of his eye, the moment the bond snapped on Calanami, his first as High Lord. Eris held no hesitation when it came to making you his High Lady. He watched how hard you worked at your bookshop. He knew you could handle it.

Reaching the stables, The Autumn High Lord handed his esteemed steed to the young fae male working. "Take care of sweet, Vex'ahlia, will you?" Eris gave the lad a warm smile and received an eager head nod. "Thank you."

Entering the palace, he was greeted by your two ladies-in-waiting. "My lord." The older woman bowed the younger one fidgeting, Eris picked up on the nervous behavior. "How was your trip?"

Eris bowed his head in return, "Very well, Maxine, but I am ready to see my wife. Though I suspect with the look on both of your faces, something is wrong." He tugged on the bond and found a quick tug back in return, and he couldn't help the sigh of relief that slipped past his lips.

Maxine sighed, "Sir, she has been sleeping in the study."

"If she sleeps at all." The younger one, Nadine muttered.

Maxine ignored her and continued, "We have barely gotten her to eat. She has buried herself so deep into work that she simply forgets that warm food is right there. I'm not trying to speak out of turn."

Eris gripped the older woman's shoulder, "You are not. I appreciate you telling me. Is she still in the study."

"Yes, High Lord."

Eris laughed, "Maxine, you can call me Eris. After all, you did change my diapers."

Maxine smiled, "I'll you whatever you like if you go take care of that wife of yours."

Eris kissed her cheek, "Yes ma'am," With that, he went to go find his High Lady.

****************************************************

You ran your fingers through your hair as you scribbled notes on some parchment. These last few days, you buried yourself in paperwork. Just when you thought you were done. More stacks would form. Not wanting to fall behind and with Eris being gone, you had decided to dedicate the time to working. Only to find you were getting overwhelmed, feeling like you could never walk away, missing meals, not sleeping, you were burning out.

You turned to grab more blank parchment when a voice came from the doorway, "Now what do we have here." You turned to find Eris there, his red curls laying atop of his head and the russet colors of his eyes gleaming in the fae light."

You dropped the materials in your hands. "When did you get back?" You bounced off your seat and ran to him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"I just got here." He held you close, taking in your scent. "I heard something interesting, though."

You blinked, "Oh?"

He kissed your head, "My Little Dove has not been taking care of herself." You opened your mouth to protest, but he pressed his lips to yours. "There is no fighting me on this."

You sighed, "Okay."

He winnowed you to the kitchen. It being so late the kitchen staff was gone. Eris put on an Apron and you quirked a brow. "You cook?"

Eris smiled, "I do." He tossed an apron at you. "And I am going to show you how to make my favorite me." Your cheeks warmed, remembering how you gave him a small plate of cheese to accept the bond.

You walked over to him, "Ready to Learn."

****************************************************

Cooking with Eris was fun, and you learned that the high lord had a playful side. He'd sneak up behind you to try the sauce you were making. Dipping his finger to dab it on your nose, causing you to giggle. Once everything was cooking he pulled you into his arms and you began to dance.

He pulled you into a waltz with no music. And you watched as his smile grew, his freckles popping out by the fire and the fae lights. He wasn't worried about work, or his brothers, or his responsibilities. He was beautiful.His main focus was you. He pulled you closer, his hands sliding close to the curve of your ass. He kissed you.

He tried to deepen the kiss, but the kettle screamed that the water was boiling. Pulling away, you smiled and grabbed the kettle. Once the meal was prepped, Eris made your place and insisted he feed you.

"I am fully capable of feeding myself. I am High Lady." You pouted and Eris quirked a brow instantly causing you to fix your attitude.

"Yes, you are my High Lady. You're also zeroed in on your work so much this week you barely ate. So I am taking care of you." He patted his lap, "Sit, Dove." You obeyed, and the smell of the food made your mouth water. He scooped up some of the food with the utensil and leveled it to your mouth. "Open." You opened your mouth on command, and he placed the food in your mouth, and you moaned in pleasure. The flavor exploded in your mouth.

He fed you until the meal was gone. "Why haven't you been taking care of yourself?"

You met his Russet eyes and sighed, "I didn't do it on purpose. It simply felt like everyone needed me. I just lost track of time."

He sighed and kissed your bare shoulder peaking out of your sweater. "You need breaks. They are important. You'll burn yourself out or wither away into nothing if you don't." His eyes grew serious, "I don't want to see my mate suffering."

"I'm sorry." You leaned your head against his.

"Don't apologize to me. You need to apologize to yourself. You deserve to love yourself and see yourself as worthy of breaks." He held you close. "Okay."

"Okay... I may need gentle reminders." You whispered, a full belly causing the exhaustion to take hold.

"I will give you those gentle reminders." He kissed your forehead as your eyes fluttered close. Allowing the smell of autumn leaves and cinnamon from your mate to bring you comfort.

When you fell asleep, Eris carried you in his arms. Hands wrapped around your knees and shoulders and walked you to your shared bedroom. Placing you on your side of the bed, he pulled the covers over you. "Sweet Dreams, Little Dove." He kissed your head, causing you to stir and just turn over. The High Lord left your room and headed to your study where he would finish the paperwork that was stacked on your desk.

Fin

@secret-third-thing for your Eris reading pleasure

[marlynnofmany]

Monkey Chase

I stepped off the loading ramp and got a good view of the reason why we’d landed in the wrong part of the spaceport. A giant cargo hauler lay on its side, broken and bent — had a ship crashed into it, or had the engine exploded? I couldn’t tell from here — and large slabs of spaceship insulation gel sprawled everywhere. The hauler’s cargo, clearly. As I watched, three people with a hovercart tried to shove one aside to no effect, and another slab as big as a cross-section from my old apartment on Earth slowly peeled off from inside the remains of the hauler. It hit the ground with the squishiest thud I’d ever heard - the thing was the color of smoke, but dense enough to make the ground vibrate from here.

I whistled, then regretted it when the tentacle alien on the ramp beside me scrunched up at the sound. “Sorry,” I told Mur.

“Ow,” he said, uncurling his blue-black tentacles. “Was that a human swear? It’s sharp.”

“More of a ‘wow-look-at-that’ kind of noise,” I said. “But swearing would sure be appropriate. What a mess.”

“You said it. Glad it’s not our problem.”

Captain Sunlight came down the ramp to join us, regal as ever in the bright yellow scales that had given her the name. “Our client isn’t answering,” she said. “I’ve put in a request at the local medcenter to see if they’ve been injured in this crisis, but haven’t heard back yet. Anyone interested is welcome to join me in walking over to where their ship was meant to be parked.”

Three other crewmates followed her out of the ship: Blip and Blop in their flowiest silks that both matched their fin colors and also showed off their biceps, and Zhee with his purple exoskeleton as shiny as always. They all made quiet noises of dismay at the state of the spaceport.

(Well, Blip and Blop seemed dismayed. Zhee was looking down his nonexistent nose at whoever had been careless enough to cause such a mess.)

Mur waved a tentacle. “Lead the way,” he said to the captain. “Here’s hoping the ship isn’t buried under all that.”

“Yeah, it looks heavy,” I said as we moved out. “I wouldn’t be surprised if a little ship could be crushed under that, especially if it also took damage from whatever kaboom happened in the first place.”

As we got closer, I made several observations in a range of importance. A medical shuttle was zipping off toward the city center while another appeared to be waiting around just in case; the medics were standing there chatting instead of tending to anyone. The gel slabs couldn’t be pushed, though they could be lifted with a big enough gravity platform. There was only one of those here. Cleanup was going to take a while. The slabs covered a large area of ground as well as a couple ship-sized lumps, turning the spaceport into a sea of smoky gray translucent rubber.

A small creature bounced around on it. People were shouting about that.

“What’s going on over there?” I asked.

Captain Sunlight sighed deeply and sped up. “I really hope that’s not our cargo.”

“Our cargo’s an animal?”

“Yes, among other things. I thought I told you, but I guess not; it was a last-minute addition to our load. Someone’s exotic pet.” She looked up at me with concern on her lizardy face. “How are your animal-catching skills?”

“Depends on the animal,” I said, squinting at the fast-moving thing. I was the critter expert on the ship, but I didn’t want to promise anything. “What species is it?”

“I’ll bring up the description in a moment,” Captain Sunlight said. “I think I see our client over there.”

She was right. The slender Frillian with a leash and an exasperated expression did turn out to be the person we’d come to meet, and the various spaceport officials on the scene had no any easy answers about how to catch his pet.

“Normally he comes running for food!” the client exclaimed. “But he’s got plenty to pick from here!” He pointed accusingly at the spill of fruit from a truck smashed open by a slab of gel.

“Oh, like that’s my fault?” said a Heatseeker who was busy gathering fruit. “Half my stock is ruined! Go catch your little menace and stop complaining.”

This led to a rant about how impossible the menace in question was to catch when he didn’t want to be — giving him a bath had to be done by trickery — and he was never going to come down from this playground full of food, and oh the man should have just paid for a transit that allowed him to bring pets.

Zhee muttered agreement at that last, but I don’t think the guy heard him. Spaceport officials offered calming words and a reminder that nets had been sent for.

Captain Sunlight asked one of them, “Is there an animal-handling service anywhere nearby?”

“Nowhere close,” was the answer.

She looked back up at me. “Any bright ideas? Here, I’ll show you the description.”

While she unfolded a screen and brought up the information from this particular courier gig, I watched the jumpy creature carefully. He was close enough for a good look now, since he’d come back to snatch another alien citrus off the ground, making the owner yell after him.

My first thought was “monkey,” followed by “frog.” The animal was long-limbed and green, though with velvety fur instead of an amphibian’s shine, and had a tail that could hold fruit just as well as his hands could. Pointy nose, round ears, and the biggest eyes of anyone here except for Zhee. He could probably see a person sneaking up from behind. He was fast. And he was clearly having a great time jumping from one bouncy surface to another, making chattering noises and spitting citrus peel everywhere.

“It’s called a treeleaper,” Captain Sunlight told me. “Warmblooded, diurnal, omnivorous, and ‘a bit of a troublemaker.’”

Mur snorted. “Sounds like your species,” he told me.

“Just with a tail,” Zhee added.

“I wanted a tail as a kid,” I said absently, thinking hard. I’d just caught sight of a shipful of humans disembarking nearby, on the other side of the biggest pile of gel. They looked like they were in pretty good shape. One was already walking on the gel and laughing about the bounce.

I had an idea. “Excuse me, Captain. I think I see reinforcements,” I said, then ran off toward my unsuspecting kinfolk. When I got close, I took great pleasure in yelling, “Hey humans! Who wants to help me chase a monkey across a trampoline??”

They were all smiles and questions, then when I led the way to where they could see the monkey-frog jumping around with stolen fruit, they volunteered immediately.

“I’ll get the small cargo net!”

“Do you think the big gravity wands will slow it down?”

“Bet you a cleaning shift that I can grab it in a towel.”

“You’re on!”

I told Captain Sunlight that I had successfully recruited some animal-catchers, and she didn’t bat an eye, just suggesting that our crew gather similar tools from our own ship. Zhee and the twins rushed off while Mur stayed to yell suggestions.

The other humans were already venturing into the bounce zone. I hurried to follow, grabbing a fist-sized lime thing from the ground as I did. We made a wide circle before closing in.

The treeleaper saw us coming, of course. Threw a half-eaten fruit at one person and made a rude noise at another, then sprang up to ricochet between surfaces like an unholy pinball.

Thus began a merry chase.

It brought back memories of bouncy houses and birthday parties at the trampoline gym. The gel was tough enough to take an impact without doing more than denting briefly and launching a person hooting into the air, to rebound off another surface and hopefully not smack into anyone else in midair. There were a couple close calls. But that just made everything funnier somehow.

I jumped off one gel wall with and hit another with my shoulder, making the monkey-frog turn a 180 back towards a pair of guys with gravity wands. He tried to spring away to the side, but I threw my lime to bounce off a surface nearby, spooking him enough to change direction yet again. Somebody slid down a gel slab like a rubbery playground slide, yelping as that turned into a wild tumble. The animal didn’t know what to make of all the flailing and laughter. His hesitation was enough for the gravity wands to lift him partway off the gel, then when he stuck a leg out far enough to jump free, he was immediately bagged by a grinning lady with a cargo net.

Everybody cheered.

The treeleaper growled and tried to scramble free, but no luck. Somebody else caught up and helped tie the net off with a scarf. Everyone settled down to minimal bouncing, and many hands worked together to carry the bundle of ropes and disgruntled animal back to solid ground.

“You got him! Is he okay? He didn’t sprain anything in that net, did he? I hope he didn’t eat too much fruit. He’ll do that if given the chance, you know.” The owner was grateful and worried and relieved and talkative.

Eggskin had arrived from our ship with a medical scanner, and thankfully they could put everyone’s mind at ease about the state of our animal cargo. The treeleaper was fine. It had a stomach full of fruit and a bloodstream full of adrenaline, but all it needed was a nice nap in its carrying cage.

I considered asking why it hadn’t been in the carrier before, when the rented shuttle got its windows smashed, but I didn’t.

A small hand patted my back, as far up as it could reach. “Earning your keep once again,” said Captain Sunlight.

I laughed. “That was my pleasure.”

Another human lingering nearby asked, “Is there anything else that needs catching? That was great.”

“Yeah, you should sell tickets to this!” agreed another.

A Frillian in a port uniform said, “No, but thank you.” She paused, then added, “Hm. I wonder if that’s worth suggesting to the owner of all this insulation. It’s useless for its intended purpose now that it’s breached the sanitation shielding.”

I smiled. “It still makes an excellent trampoline even with footprints all over it. Lay those out in an empty field and charge people entrance, and they could make back a decent amount of money. You get plenty humans through this port, right?”

The woman who’d caught the treeleaper said, “We’re here early for a family reunion before the big festival, then there are three or four sporting events in a row. Let us know if that does happen, because we can get you a lot of humans interested in jumping on this stuff.”

I had to leave with the animal cargo back to our courier ship, so I didn’t hear how the rest of the conversation went, but I saw the official bring the representative of the hauling group over to meet the humans. He looked very interested in what the spokesperson had to say.

I grinned at the scene as I walked away: the intense conversation in front of the vast playground of bouncy surfaces. I wondered if we’d get a chance to come back for a visit when they got it set up properly.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

[shadowqueenjude]

Ok this idea is so funny to me so I just had to write it lmaooo

Eris strolled the rich forest air behind his father's house. He despised everything about this place. It reeked of blood. Blood from Beron's torture of each of his sons, blood from the executions that had occurred here, including Eris's brother's lover. Every time he was forced to be here, he desired to leave. Unfortunately, he had to be prepared for a meeting in twenty minutes.

Just then, he noticed a shadow moving on the ground not twenty paces from him; the shadows were unaccompanied by any visible being and were too large to be a little critter. Eris chuckled to himself. He had been wondering when the Night Court thugs would be coming to melt his brain for what he'd seen the cursebreaker do. Perhaps they'd gone to all his brothers first; arrogant fools that most of them were, they had probably not even expected the attack. Or perhaps even they had seen him coming; it is not as if he is subtle.

Did he truly believe no one could see him? Despite his magic rendering him perfect for such a position, he was one of the most pathetic spies he had ever seen. Nearly everyone knew he was a shadowsinger, so nearly everyone knew to look for him.

Eris decided to have some fun with the poor bastard. He wandered across his gardens, and sure enough, the shadows followed him. Come on, little bat. At least try to be subtle. Such a concept was foreign to Illyrians, alas. Well, bad for them. Good for Eris.

He rounded the corner before he winnowed a few feet forward, ducking in the bushes and biding his time for the shadow to approach. He noticed the shadows pivot this way and that, as though they were looking for something. Swallowing his laugh, Eris winnowed behind the shadows, wrapping an arm securely around where he guessed his waist was. There was a grunt and a curse as the shadows fought, but Eris only squeezed him tighter, letting the heat that lay beneath his veins rise to the surface, burning him ever so slightly. The male yelped, and his true form appeared. Eris whipped out his dagger and pressed it to his throat.

"Hello, Shadowsinger," Eris purred.

The prince of Autumn held Azriel against his surprisingly well-built chest, blade pressing into his neck, heat curling off his body. Warm- these gods-damned Autumn Court males were so fucking warm. Lucien had been the same way when Azriel had carried him from Winter to Night. That ember smell stuck to him like natural fucking cologne too. And their dressing style-effortless.

Azriel had been invisible, hidden by his shadows. He had no idea how Eris had caught him, but his breaths were shallow as Eris's lips came close to his ear. "Now, what could you possibly be doing here, shadowsinger? Come to see if the rumors about Autumn Court males are true, hm?"

Not expecting the innuendo, Azriel couldn't control the blush that spread across his face. Eris laughed against his neck. "So easily flustered, little bat. Worry not, I know exactly why you're here. But you see, I'm rather attached to my memories, so I think I'll be keeping them."

Azriel couldn't even speak with the knife at his throat. "No words, shadowsinger?" Eris's tone was somehow mocking and seductive at the same time. He dug his knife in a little bit deeper, drawing blood. Then he lightly ran a finger through the line of blood he'd made. Goosebumps traveled down Azriel's body.

Then Eris pulled away the knife. "Speak."

Azriel snarled and tried to break away again, and Eris tsked, returning the blade to his throat. "Tut tut, little bat. This only works if you cooperate with me. Now I need you to swear that you will not come and try to wipe my memory again, nor will you attempt to murder me, else maim me in any capacity. You will lie to your High Lord and anyone else you associate with that you successfully wiped my memory. Do you understand me?" He pulled the knife away just so. "Yes," Azriel muttered reluctantly. "Swear it," Eris murmured. Azriel's mouth didn't move.

"Swear it," Eris repeated, his voice radiating with authority. Azriel found his mouth opening subconsciously, and before he knew it, he had replied, "Yes. I swear it." Azriel and Eris both watched as new whorls of deepest blue grew on his cheek. A matching pale gold one formed on Eris's cheek, just visible upon his pale skin.

Abruptly, Eris shoved Azriel to the ground before him, and just as Azriel got to his knees, Eris pointed a sword at him. Azriel longed to punch the smirk off of his arrogant face. "No violence for you today, Illyrian brute," Eris crooned. "I know that must be so upsetting to you."

"Bastard," Azriel snapped. "Wife-abusing bastard."

Eris snorted. "Are you talking about Mor, little bat? Surely you have brain enough to understand why I left Mor outside of Autumn rather than risk saving her?"

"Because you're a coward," Azriel growled. Eris only let out a musical laugh. "Says you, shadowsinger, who lurks in the dark, hiding behind your own dark reflection. I have not come here to explain myself to Rhysand's dogs; no, I'm keeping you around for one purpose: to send a message." Azriel glared at him. "No."

Eris bent towards Azriel, and Azriel could not breathe as his warm fingers traced the new tattoo upon his cheek. "You don't have a choice, little bat. My territory, my rules. And you're bound to me by a bargain forever. Besides, I think your lord will be interested in what I have to offer."

This close to Beron's eldest son, he could see the resemblance to Lucien: the flaming red hair, naturally, but also the shape of their eyes, their lips. The dimples when they smirk. Their eyebrows. While Lucien was a handsome man with some ruggedness to him, Eris was...well he was unbelievably pretty. There was no other way to describe it. And he hated that he found Eris so attractive.

"What do you want?" Azriel hissed, letting loathing simmer in his eyes. Azriel could feel the heat of Eris's mouth against his lips as he replied, "The same thing I've wanted for the past four centuries, shadowsinger. I want my crown."

[cultofdixon]

At least there’s no bears

Daryl Dixon • They/Them Pronouns • Usually Daryl can see where the traps lay…but then you got caught • ANGST/SFW • TW: Injuries / Blood Loss / Anxiety

Requested by: Anon

Daryl slowly sat up in his bed knowing he has the hunt today and that his partner will be joining him. Which meant he had to get ready and then drag their ass out of bed so they could get ready.

Once they both were ready, Y/N stretched their back out waiting for the archer who was currently informing the early bird Rick on their whereabouts for the morning.

“Hey, eat” Daryl startles them out of their thoughts as they tiredly take the protein bar handed to them and started to dig in while they walk to the gates.

It was a cold and nice morning for the two to go on foot for the entirety of the hunt. Even if Y/N does miss his bike to at least go a bit further out.

“You still waking up?”

“Meh.” They shrug adjusting the rifle on their back as they held onto the strap while looking around. “Why do we have to hunt early? Like. It’s what 5AM?”

“Have a watch to confirm that?” Daryl laughs a bit only to be hit with a pebble in the back of the head. As he quickly whips back, Y/N pretended like nothing happened only for him to playfully glare. “I’d be careful of any left behind traps. Don’t think there’s anything as serious as a bear trap but better to be aware”

“Why do people hunt bears? Some of them may be stupid, then others just want to steal your picnic baskets”

Daryl stopped once more only for Y/N to run right into him from not paying attention. He gave them a confused look.

“For someone who had a brother with only a few working brain cells. He didn’t watch cartoons? YOU didn’t watch cartoons?”

“Yogi bear”

“SEE YOU DID”

“Merle only watched cartoons or fights”

“Sounds very Merle coded” Y/N laughs a bit as they branched off a bit into a different direction to check out a bush with fruit on it.

The archer kept an eye on them for the most part, not like they would need the extra set of eyes since their first response in danger is to fight or find the closest hiding spot. They were also one of those adventure types from the old world and would almost always be outside so he knew that they knew about certain signs of danger and especially what’s poisonous or not.

“Those berries good?”

“Nah. But it could be good bait for small critters that can have it” Y/N plucked a handful as the two quickly turned to the sudden scurry that was too quick for a walker and Daryl went to follow.

When the tracks came up empty, Daryl was hit in the head again and turned to Y/N who had just caught up to him.

“What?”

“Did yea hit me with a berry?”

“No but thanks for the idea” Y/N laughs kneeling down to grab the acorn that fell, also grabbing the few acorn caps off the ground. “You ever wear these on your finger tips? As a kid?”

“And pretend your fingers were friends or some shit”

“That’s incredibly sad. If only I lived near the forest in Georgia then we would’ve been friends. Always find me in the trees”

“City kid?”

“Yeah but my sister always took me to the park to get outside and yknow, also not to hear bickering soon-to-be divorced parents” They laugh a bit as they took one of Daryl’s hands to put an acorn cap on one of his fingers before finding another bush in their peripheral to go investigate.

Daryl looks at the little acorn cap they put on his finger and thought it was cute of them, but before a smile could even grace his features. Fear shot right through him.

“son of a—-FUCK!” Y/N yells as their voice echoed through the forest followed by the thud of their body hitting the ground. They looked down to find the bear trap latched onto their left ankle. “Fuck fuck FUCK” they were too afraid to move and once Daryl finally came over.

The color in his face drained as he knelt down to assess what happened.

“You should’ve watched where you were going”

“Seriously?!” Y/N snaps at him for stating an annoying yet obvious response. Only for the sudden jerk to worsen the pain as they couldn’t look at their blood drain from their body or they might pass out. “Oh god”

“Jesus fuckin’ christ—-We gotta get this shit off yea without taking the foot”

“Oh”

“Oh?!” Daryl stops messing with it to lock eyes with Y/N a moment as neither exchanged a word. “What the fuck is happening right now?! Did I hurt yea further or—-“

“SOMEONE HAS TO BE THE CALM ONE”

“DEFINITELY DOESNT GOTTE BE YOU”

“SHUT YOUR MOUTH BEFORE THE WALKERS HEAR YOUR YELLING” Y/N snaps only for Daryl to cover their mouth waiting for the snap of twigs he heard to just be a critter and not what they had said a few seconds ago.

“I wish yea didn’t adapt your feelings to the situation when you’re the goddamn one that’s injured.”

“Freaking out to my full potential will only make me sob and the pain a whole lot worse” Y/N squeezed their eyes shut to fight back the tears as it was starting to get way worse. They carefully took their belt off even if it meant shifting, a wince, and Daryl flinching to the pain response. “Tourniquet”

“Smart. Very smart” Daryl takes the belt from them and got started applying such above their ankle before assessing what he should do next.

A lot of blood.

A lot of fucking blood.

It’s a 2hr window before they might lose it even with a tourniquet.

Y/N watches as Daryl thinks too loud in front of them. They were worrying about him even if they are the one bleeding less now. They clear their throat to get his attention as his expression instantly went to stress and worry thinking something worse was happening.

“Take the bear trap off, wrap the wound in your bandana, then carry me home so Denise can patch me up” their voice was shaky after silently crying a bit to themselves. Daryl did exactly what they said, a bit confused why they were so clear minded about it.

Next thing they knew, Daryl was carrying Y/N on his back all the way back to Alexandria.

“This shouldn’t have happened…”

“D, come on…”

“I knew this area had fuckin’ traps last time I was out. Should’ve taken them out before dragging you out here”

“You didn’t drag me out here” Y/N frowns. “And you would’ve gotten yourself caught in a bear trap. It just happens by accident”

“You shouldn’t have come…”

“I wanted to. You asked and I said yes…even if you didn’t I would’ve come out to find you if you’re didn’t leave a note like you usually do” They rest their head on his shoulder trying not to let the blood loss beat them with the exhaustion. “Shits unpredictable sometimes…”

“You’re too optimistic sometimes” Daryl sighs, listening to them hum in agreement as he felt their body shift against him. Making his anxiety pick up the pace to get to Alexandria.

It’s been a few hours and Y/N woke up exhausted but at least patched up and in the infirmary. They noticed they were alone but at least there was crutches to help them get around.

As they managed to get up and out of the building, Daryl was starting to head back to them carrying something when he noticed them on the crutches.

“You’re supposed to stay in the fuckin’ bed”

“Don’t tell me what to do” Y/N scoffs. “I wanna be in my bed. With you. Thank you very much” they were about to move past him when Daryl took their crutches leaving them still in a flamingo pose. “Daryl. Don’t be a dick”

“Let me set shit down inside and I’m carrying yea to bed. And ain’t taking no for an answer”

“Then can you hurry up? You or Denise or whoever took my jacket and I’m cold” Y/N frowns waiting for Daryl, watching him go inside the house leaving them out there longer than they had wanted.

But Daryl came back out in a little bit of a sprint with one of his sweaters, helping them get it on before picking them up bridal style and going toward the house.

“You gonna be nurse back to health?”

“Ain’t leavin’ yea that’s for sure”

“You’re sweet”

“You’d fall down the stairs if I left yea alone”

“I think I’m gonna take back calling you sweet” Y/N laughs resting their head on his shoulder as he pushes every door he had to open with his foot. Eventually getting to their room and setting them on the bed.

The archer carefully propped up their ankle using his pillow and covered them with his blanket. Y/N got comfortable watching Daryl move around the room moving a few things but then he left to grab something.

When he came back a moment later, Y/N had fallen asleep given their body was still wiped out and the drugs Denise gave them still floated around. Daryl set the glass of water on their nightstand along with fresh bandages for when they wake up so he could put new ones on. In the mean time, he moved to his side of the bed taking his boots off before bringing his whole self beside them.

Y/N opened their eyes a sec to see him beside them as they carefully moved their self close enough to bring their head on his shoulder. Daryl rests his head on top of theirs taking the time to finally relax.

“At least there wasn’t any bears”

“Shut up and go to sleep”

[hitchyboi]

🦴Fleeting Bliss🦴

FINISHED VERSION, Again very sorry to those that saw it before I finished it XD Accident

Nubbins let's himself try a favorite pass time of his twin and it doesn't go so well

Content Warning: Drug Use, Self Harm, Descriptions of gore and violence. Unhealthy family dynamics. Unwell mental health. The usual Sawyer Family Fun

Word Count: 4, 433

Dust covered boots trudged themselves up the stairs of an old farm house. Wooden slates creaking under the added weight threatening to snap, once white paint chipped away and yellowed with age. Nubbins cursed and grumbled to himself as he ascended the steps on a path to his room. Once he shouldered the door open he tossed the ratted pillowcase he used as a sack to the ground. Filled with new treasures and finds that once brought excitement now served as a downer that left a bitter taste in his mouth and caused another wave of pain to surge from the yellowing bruise covering his temple, just over his eyebrow.

Words echoed over and over in his head of the recent beating and berating by his older brother. Hog bitch. Dumbass. Rat bastard. A lowly no good waste of space... Another curse and kick that sent his door closed and he made his way towards the rat eaten mattress in his corner of the room. Falling onto the abused material Nubbins finally felt a scolding trail fall from his eye and down his cheek. Inhaling quickly with an attempt to prevent more from following he pulled a ball of matted racoon fur he kept by his pillow close to his chest. Pressing his face into the fur and welcoming the familiar scent of hot tar and decay. It was a recent find on one of his hitchhiking sprees, the coons' corpse was still fresh when Nubbins found it though rigor mortis had already set in. Giving the animal a permanent position of laying on its side as if merely resting for a moment rather then forever. Nubbins could feel his cheeks burning, blood bubbling under his skin and threatening to break it wide open. Eyes burning and throbbing with hot tears he finally relinquished his hold on with none to see. Buying his face further into his furry friend's body, small bones twisting under the tight grip of his lanky fingers. Dry fur tickling his nose and mixing with his scruff serving as his only form of comfort in the silent house.

Why did it matter so much to Drayton if he visited the graveyard? He needed more supplies for some of the bigger projects he planned on crafting. Those beeves don't even need their bones no more! Or their skin! But Nubbins had many uses for them, they'd just rot away or fall apart if he didn't collect them. They'd just be useless... like him...

A yell ripped itself from his throat as the words grew louder in his head. Pulling his legs up towards his chest, trapping the coon even closer, he tried to hide from it all. Hide from the words, the whispers. The disappointment. The beatings. The eyes, the eyes, how he hated the eyes. Always staring and always glaring. Always looking down on him, belittling him like an ant to be squashed. He wanted to turn those eyes into ones of fear, despair. Eyes that were looking at a nightmare, wet and bloodshot from crying. But there were no eyes for him to change, no victim to mock and torture. Just himself.

A snapping sound pulled Nubbins out of his thoughts, looking down he saw the now severed jaw of his furry friend loose in his hand. "No! No.. no no.. why?" He gasped and sat up, desperately trying to piece the jaw back into place. The detached lip falling back to his lap with each try. The burning in his face returned but from rage this time as the critter kept refusing to listen. Why would the critter choose now of all times to leave him as well? Leave him just like Bobby did when Drayton has to drag his wily ass back home after the first test. Leave him like Sissy did when she decided California was more her taste then home. Why couldn't just one person just stay?! The coon husk was thrown to the other side of the room, hitting the rotted wall with a heavy thud before sliding down to the floor. No doubt breaking more brittle bones. Nubbins glared at the darkened spot on the wall as his fingers twitched and danced, arm still held out in front of his body.

Heated brown eyes slowly trailed from the spot to one of the posters hung up close by. The bright colors and complex images serving as a more pleasant distraction then the dead animal he'd just thrown to his brothers side of the room. That's right.... Bobby came back... he came back in the end. And so did Sissy... they didn't leave him forever. Furrowed eyebrows slowly relaxed as he let his arm drop back to his side, observing the different decorations his brother had added to his corner. His bed has became more a nest of pillows and blankets, the wall was lined almost completely with different band posters he had acquired along with the addition of little colorful lights strung up here and there. They weren't overly harsh as most lights were to Nubbins, they were softer almost like the stars sitting up in the sky. His gaze soon landed on the ashtray kept near his bed with a few pre-rolled joints Bobby had excitedly talked about sneaking past Cook earlier that week. Nubbins has seen Bobby and Sissy smoke together quite a few times now, it was one of their favorite pass times. Even before they had left. Mention that it helps them to relax and Nubbins always enjoyed how giggly they tended to get not long after.

Springing off his mattress Nubbins quickly closed in on his target and grabbed one of the joints, head whipping around to check the closed door. Nancy had called with the news some of Johnny's victims were being a handful and needed assistance. Ending a beating short Drayton has brought Sissy, Bobby and Bubba with him. Forcing Nubbins to keep his ass at home or worse was to come. That.... meant Nubbins has some time to himself until they came back... and he really wanted to feel that level of enjoyment and rest he'd seen on his siblings faces. He didn't want to rot in his mattress is pain until morning again... not when he had an option now. Grabbing a sticker covered lighter and plopping his ass back onto the mattress, he lit the blunt.

Lifting it towards his lips, Nubbins inhaled. Smoke invaded his senses and burned his throat, ripping hacks and wheezes from his chest. Nose wriggling at the burning taste as his body doubled over, Bobby and Sissy made it look so easy. A few coughs here and there sure but they barely reacted otherwise. He could already hear Bobby's cackle at his pathetic attempt, through laughs he'd slap his back in an effort to help alleviate the wracks just past his ribs. Boney knuckles rap against his own chest instead as he straightened himself out, ridding himself from the worst of the coughing fit. Tongue running over cracked lips Nubbins looked back down towards the joint, eyes hardening with determination at the insulting object. He was gonna have a moment... a moment to relax and feel as happy as his siblings did.

It took a few more attempts before Nubbins was able to pull a hit without hacking up a lung. Pushing past the assaulting burn in his throat, like ashes coating the inside and relighting with each intake of oxygen. The bitter and earthy taste on his tongue was near retch pulling at first but grew more tolerable and then Nubbins finally felt a lightness. Like a rush of blood towards his head but instead of pooling and causing mind numbing headaches, the rush didn't stop. Didn't pool. Flowing up and past his head leaving him feeling lighter then ever before. Tipping his head back with shaking lips, Nubbins let the smoke flow back out. Watching the blurred lines float up towards the ceiling, swirling and dancing together at the same altitude he felt. Nubbins' head felt like it had been cracked open, skull split letting everything that's been locked inside and crammed together out. Emptied until there was nothing left but himself. Never had his mind felt so open. As the head rush plateaued he laid back fully on his bed, the soft fabric melting underneath his weight and cradling his body. Idly spinning the joint in his fingers a lopsided grin stretched across his cheeks, no wonder Sissy and Bobby enjoyed smoking so much. Nubbins normally would be pissed off at them for leaving him out but at the moment, he didn't care. He couldn't find a reason to care when he could lay here and continue feeling good instead. Eagerly lifting the joint back up to his lips, Nubbins inhaled more as his free hand slipped under his favorite loose shirt. Scratching the skin along his stomach lazily.

The bruising on his face long forgotten as he continued to watch the smoke dance around his room, moving like a waterfall in the wrong direction. Like how blood would pour out of a piggy's neck after he broke the skin with his pocket knife. Instead of painting the ground with a pretty shades, these flowed up towards the ceiling and probably past. Nancy always mentioned a place up in the sky, perhaps that's where they were going? What was that place again? Nancy always seemed to speak highly of it, something she rarely ever does bout anything. When was the last time Nancy said anything nice about them? About here? Sure she always feeds Johnny's damn ego, how 'perfect' and 'wonderful' her darling boy was. She never talks about home like she does about the sky place. Would she rather be up there rather then here? Grandpa wouldn't like that... should Nubbins wanna go there? He really don't wanna... He can't see how there'd be any pigs or beeves to toy with in the sky. No weird magical place in the sky could be as comfortable as his bed right in this moment. His body felt heavy, sinking further into a stained material as if trying to meld with it. The touch on his skin felt so soft and so comforting, Nubbins needed more of it.

Heaving himself back into a sitting position, Nubbins felt his body was lagging behind. Half a second behind his mind as he grasped the bottom of his shirt and pulled it off clumsily. Dropping the fabric to the side and eagerly diving back to the welcoming embrace of his bed. Wrapping his lanky limbs around one of the stray pillows still intact he had, nuzzling his face into the plush material. A pleasant tingle dancing across his skin from his face, down his arms and along his stomach. His skin felt alive and buzzing, not the usual energy that had him moving and bouncing but a kind he enjoyed just laying in. Laughter easily flowed out his mouth. Nubbins absolutely could get used to feeling like this, get addicted to it... who knew one person was able to feel so amazing. And all it took was smoking some weird plant? It pulled even more laughter from the depths of Nubbins' guts.

A burning licking at the tips of his fingers brought Nubbins' attention back to the joint, now barely a stump worth holding onto. When had he finished it? Blowing a raspberry at the brief disappointment he flicked the stub to a forgotten corner of the room. Aiming towards Bobby's side but he couldn't tell if his aim was successful or not. Sluggishly running a hand through his greasy strands his attention was attracted to the warm red glow of his dark room set up in the bathroom. Vision blurred as his body continued to move in slow motion, Nubbins could feel his heart pick up pace before he even was able to recognize what he was looking at.

Then his blood ran cold.

Eyes... the eyes were back. They were back and staring right down at him, blocking the comforting light and shrouding Nubbins in a thick shadow. It's inconsistent figure buzzing and pulsing like static as it stood at the end of his mattress. Its skin like a burlap sack filled with fleas all jumping underneath the surface, eager to get at his blood. Back pitched forward to loam over the young man. No sound escaped from either being. A bead of sweat dripped down Nubbins brow despite the goose pimples lining down his arms. Why was it here? Why now? Usually.... usually the didn't bother Nubbins until he was asleep. Was he asleep? When did he doze off? His head began to spin as his heart started pumping even faster. And yet... neither figure moved. A challenge to see which broke first. Which would cower and writhe under the pressure and everything was stacked against Nubbins. His throat started to tighten as he stared back into the figures gaze. Two white pinpricks being the only form able to fully solidify. He needed to get away... he didn't want to be stared at again. To be mocked and judged. Body now shaking and matching the pace of his heart Nubbins forced his body to move as quickly as he could. Throwing his blanket up at the figure and scrambling off his mattress and towards his dark room. Knees and palms scrapping against old splintered wood as he ducked inside the bathroom. Grasping onto the sides of the sink, the cold porcelain feeling like a shock to his burning skin. Desperately sucking in as much air he could now he was hidden from the figures' gaze. His chest heaving as he struggled to hold himself upright.

This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to be scared... cowering. He was supposed to be happy. Enjoying a moment why... why couldn't those figures just give him one damn moment! Always lurking in the corner of his vision then disappearing when Nubbins brought attention to them. Like a cruel joke, a game to see how far they could push him. Grandma used to say they were spirits or such.. not meant to do harm but yet they consistently followed, stared, mocked. Tormenting him and enjoying the fool he'd make out of himself at their sights. Nubbins lifted his head to look at himself through the cracked mirror above his sink. In that moment Nubbins' blood turned to ice one more. Heart dropping to the pit of his stomach to be eaten away at by acid. His chest started to heave as his lungs tightened. Looking towards himself in the mirror all he could see were the hundreds of faces surrounding him. Their gazes locked on him much like the figure still lurking within his room. Turning to press his back against the sink he whipped his head around in an effort to find solace. Yet every wall was adorned with moving eyes that thrived in his panic. Pictures he had taken for his own pleasure taking a life of their own, to jeer at their creator. He could hear the maniacal laughter as their one still images followed him. Surrounded him.

His heart hammered in his chest, beating against ribs and threatening to broke them at any moment as his lungs desperately tried to work. Dropping to his knees Nubbins grasped at his chest as his bones tightened around the offending organs, caging them more and refusing their functions. Moist fingers clawed at his chest desperately as he felt the room start to spin around him. Too tight. His chest felt far too tight, how was he supposed to breathe? How was his heart supposed to beat? Every attempt to suck in air seemed to make his ribs squeeze harder. They needed room... He could feel bruises starting to form where his heart was fighting against bone. Skin was snagged by grimy nails as Nubbins slammed his head against the floor. Splitting angry red lines down the length of his chest. Yes... it was too tight inside and he needed air. One way or another, Nubbins needed air.

A wet sob played for his audience as Nubbins started to tear at his skin with fervor. Nails scraping away layers of skin, only growing more vicious once blood beaded to the surface. It wasn't enough. Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes. It wasn't enough. With a down right feral snarl Nubbins tug his nails into his chest. Breaking past the skin the aiming deeper, pulling and tearing away at what he could. The sound of flesh tearing was dull to his ears, the blood that pooled onto the ground and seeped into his pants a mere afterthought. If a thought at all. He yelled. He yelled and cried until his throat ran raw, threatening to start bleeding and drown him. His body rocked with heaves as drool and bile fell from his lips adding to the stain pool beneath him. A muffled screech came from the confines of his room, the obstructed vowels vaguely resembling his name. The figure... it had to be the figure calling for him, trying to lure him back out. Panic flooded his veins at the implication, screwing his wet eyes shut with a cry. The tightness hasn't gotten any better, he couldn't dig his claws deep enough. He couldn't pull back enough meat to free his heart and lungs. Still they sat confined and strangled behind uneven bone. His arms burned with exhaustion as his body trembled like a possum soaked in the rain. A lightness pulled at Nubbins' head, lifting the pressure in his spine as his body collapsed. Darkness danced along the edges of his sight as he gazed out the doorway back into his room. The murmuring yelling was still droning in the back of his mind.

"Chop..." Nubbins weakly called as a new wave a tears coated his cheeks. The word breaking and barely audible from overworked cords. Vision blurring as familiar sneakers reached the doorframe.

~~

An irritated grunt was followed by the slam of the old wooden door as Chop returned home. Usually the young man enjoyed being drenched in the blood of an innocent victim, delightfully playing with them as they screamed and writhed under his hammer but today the bloodshed barely pulled forth more then a half energetic grin and occasional chuckle. The wellbeing of his twin was all he could focus on. Damn Cook didn't give him a moment to even check on him before dragging his ass to the truck. Chop made his displeasure very evident in hopes it would get him kicked to the curb. Luck just wasn't on the hippie's side this day as the rest of his siblings sat through his incessant complaints. When they made it to Nancy's he didn't waste time in wrapping the problem pigs up as quickly as he could. Nancy was pleasantly impressed with him yet he couldn't care less at the moment for his aunt's rare approval. He started walking. Down that dirt road back towards home with Drayton yelling at his heels for not helping with clean up.

Chop had only made it three steps into the house before he froze with his eyebrows jumping in concern. The house was quiet. A quiet house and Nubbins never coincided. Nubbins was just as loud and energetic as he was, being quiet never was a strong suit of theirs.

"N-Nubbins? Where... Where's ya at?" Chop called into the eerily still home. There was no reply, no response and that worried him more. Nubbins would avoid Drayton, avoid Nancy and sometimes Johnny if he was upset with him but Chop? Bobby? Nubbins never avoided him. Grabbing onto the railing Chop pulled himself up the stairs towards the second floor, knocking against the wall occasionally to announce his presence some more. Perhaps Nubbins was just invested in something and didn't hear him? Like one of his projects. He could faintly make out the sounds of movement coming from their shared bedroom, releasing some of the worry in his shoulders.

"Nubbins! What're ya so quiet for? House was to-to... well it was to yerself. I'da be... I'da be blasting some Iron Butterfly by now! Or.. or some Humble Pie! You know those guys... heh, well they're always good." Chop laughs as he shoulders their bedroom door open. His gummy grin slowly fell as he was met with the sight of an empty bedroom. The usual disheveled mess it's been with no twin in sight. A pungent order hung in the air, the sour skunk like scent mixed with smoke very familiar to the hippie. Blue eyes quickly clocking the roach that laid left on the ground between their mattresses.

"H-hey... hey Nubbins!" Chop called once more, the worry and concern remaking their home in his chest as he walked further into the room. Just barely catching a weak croak coming from the black room. Making a beeline towards the lone sign of life he crossed the threshold. Nubbins laid face down, barely conscious on the wooden slates, his face red and splotchy from obvious signs of crying. Making the birthmark painting the right side of his face almost unnoticeable. Blood and pile stained the ground around him with an arm outstretched towards the doorframe.

Cursing, Chop quickly dropped down to kneel next to him. Hooking his arms under Nubbins' and lifting his limp body up. A multitude of cuts littered the surface of his chest. Blood smeared across his flesh making it difficult to see how deep they went. Guilt starting to chew its way up as Chop propped his brother's body against the tub as gently as he could.

"N-now now, it'll ah... It'll be fine! Ol' Chop's gotcha now. Grandma 'n Grandpa shoulda- shoulda have something!" He gave a pat to his brothers shoulder, noticeably shakier than usual, before sprinting towards the neighboring bathroom. Ripping open the mirrored cabinet to rummage through the collection of poorly kept first aid. Chop winced slightly hearing the glass mirror slam into the wall, Grandpa surely woulda tan his hide if he were close by, that was a problem for later however. Grabbing the desired items Chop ran back to his brothers side and began dressing his wounds. If there was one thing Chop ever would be grateful about getting drafted... learning on the fly first aid came in handy. Some poking and prodding at the blood slick skin thankfully revealed the cuts weren't that bad. For Nubbins at least, little fucker's had plenty worse. Chop didn't even need to use the glue this time.

"Ya know! Heh, Johnny's in a.. in a lotta trouble now!" Chop laughed as he wrapped old bandages around Nubbins' chest, gauze placed firmly against the cuts as he glanced towards his brothers face. Eyelids drooped low but not fully closed as his gaze held a distant glaze. A nervous tongue swipe against his own lips Chop looked back to his task. "Nancy wasn't all happy with the girls he brought back this time. They was.. they was real squirmy too! You woulda had fun chasin' them! Couse she was being a.... a real bitch to us all night too! She- She tried snatching o' Sonny Bono here- Ha!" A small sound. So soft and quickly Chop almost missed it with his own presence but he saw the quick jump of his brother's chest. A small chuckle. Sure enough, distant eyes seemed as far this time as lips twitched to pull a weak grin.

"... Y-you look like an egg without him...."

A blink. And then another.

"I aint no egghead! Just cause.. Just cause I don't got my do no more! Oh! You hush up, r-ratface!" An unserious smack to the brunette's head followed before Chop hooked an arm under Nubbins' shoulder once more. Lifting his brother back to his feet and helping him out of the darkroom. Helping was an understatement. Chop practically dragged him back out as Nubbins' steps were still shaky and uneven. Leaning a majority of his body weight onto Chop which, admittedly, wasn't much. An occasional wince followed closely by a giggle escaped the younger twin as Chop helped him lay back down on his old mattress.

"Is Drayton still mad at me?" Nubbins' voice was a whisper, throat still raw. Chop ran a hand through his wig with a heavy breath, when wasn't Cook mad? Seemed like just breathing these days would set the old man off on any of their asses. Chop would say he was even worse than before he left, just when had he taken that turn? How long did Bubba and Nubbins have to deal with him before Chop came back? Grabbing the forgotten blanket off of the floor and chucking it back over onto Nubbins' curled up form he waved his hand dismissively.

"Probably more mad at a- at a me now." He couldn't quite tell how Nubbins felt with that reaction. Tired eyes stared off with a small hum in the back of his throat. No doubt exhausted from the episode he went through on his own.

"Y-ya know! Walking all the way back here gave me ah... a new idea! For a song! Thinking about calling it Wasteland! Cause like... cause there's no one on these roads, like a wasteland!" Chop grinned widely as he started talking about his newest idea. Turning back towards his side of the room and starting to arrange some things outside of Nubbins' vision. A small tired smile returned to Nubbins face as he listened as best he could, he really was trying but he couldn't deny how sluggish his body felt. How difficult generating enough energy to even blink, a sensation that always unnerved the always buzzing man but with Chops' eccentric ideas as a calming constant in the background. Nubbins felt more at ease.

"And then something like- Like ah... God! Where is god, where is god, where is- and it goes like that a few more times. Something like 8 or 9 times, yeah! Where is god, where is god, where is-" A snore breaking through and interrupting Chops' words redirected his attention towards Nubbins who now laid asleep. Finally at rest for the night. Walking over to his side Chop leaned over and softly placed the abandoned racoon carcass back in Nubbins' arms. Jaw now securely reattached with some safety pins and spare beads.

"I'll tell ya the rest in the morning."

Now... to find a hiding place for the rest of his joints.

(Credit goes to @cemetery-sunset for the headcanon of Nubbins collecting and using animal/human corpses as stuffed animals basically.

Also I pretty heavily referenced my own experiences with sleep paralysis hallucinations for Nubbins' episode. I may have needed to project just a lil bit)

[blues-of-randomness]

could you do more headcanons for the Smiling critters please

(Maybe when they’re Sad )

Good suggestion and yes I can.

Cw for self harm and involuntary age regression

Catnap - When Catnap gets really sad he retreats to his home and hides there for who knows how long, it could be days or even months before he comes out again. All the curtains drawn, not a single like in the house, if you're hoping for Catnap to eat or drink during this time peroid, other than a cup of juice or two...it's very wishful thinking. he'll most likely just be laying around on the floor or on the furniture. This is also when involuntary agere sets in, during this time he just feels so small and even simple tasks are two scary or frustrating for him (like brushing his teeth or even turning on the lights). During this time he might just were a bathrobe or his pajamas for some form of comfort. He'll hug himself and squeeze his arms very tightly, most of the time his claws are out when he does this so it leads to him cutting himself frequently. I have a feeling he might also wear dresses as a comfort.

Dogday - Remember that MLP episode where Pinkie pie lost her color cause she thought her friends didn't like her anymore? Yeah that's basically Dogday when he gets sad, any bright colors drain from his fur and his smile fades from his face. In my Dogday headcanons I mentioned that his fur feel like a warm mini sun, well when he's sad his fur becomes frigid cold. Unlike Catnap though Dogday still spends time outside, looking for anything that could cheer him up as quick as possible. He still has a hard time talking about what made him upset but he'll try. if what made him said was say him disappointing his friends he'll have a lot of self depricating thoughts (specfically about falling them in some way). he's not nearly as self destructive as Catnap is though, he still takes care of himself. I'll be honest though I could see Dogday having a tea party with stuffed animals when he's sad.

When Kickin gets sad he just gets angry. Like any kind of sorrowful feeling will vented through aggression before the tears eventually come. You can't tell me that Kickin hasn't gotten super overwhelmed thrown himself to the ground and started having a tantrum like a little baby. Kicken grew up with a father with very toxic views on how men should behave so he's not very comfortable crying in front of anybody. The only one who's seen him cry is Bubba, Bubba is reall the only one he's go two if he's sad. he might all himself stupid or an idiot depending on what he's crying about. He also has a teddy bear that he talks to when he's upset.

Bubba is a man who doesn't were his emotions on his sleeves per say as he always tries to keep his cool. You wouldn't even realize he's upset unless he get's really upset. Like Kickin, his sadness comes out as anger, he does cry but not often and not in front of his friends. Bubba would probably be the type to just pick of book or try to do some brain puzzles in order to take his mind of what he's upset about, if that doesn't work he tries to solve the problem on his own.

Hoppy is another critter who i imagine can get very aggressive when she's sad. Her first instinct is just to walk away, blow off the steam and come back when she's ready. She might yell or hop and down depending on how frustrated she is but she would take a deep breath and say "I need to go for a walk" or something like that. She prefers to do this alone but she wouldn't say no if you offered to walk with her and talk about it. It actually means a lot to her that you'd wanna help her.

Picky's ultimate coping mechanism is food though contrary to when she's stressed and stress eats, i feel like when she's sad she makes treats for everyone else. Since she already makes an unholy amount of food for everyone, espically when their doing an activity or going on a trip this just seems like her normal behavoir. Other than baking she might do something calming like apple/berry/flower picking. A nice picnic is also a good way to calm down.

What does any Artist do when they are upset or down in the dumps? Dump every single raw emotion on anything that doesn't move. Craftycorn has had her far share of vent pieces, some she's actually proud of, some that are just nonsensial scribbles soaked in tears. The only vent pieces her friends have seen are the ones that look cute and don't have any concerning elements to it. All the others go straight into the fire, those are not for the critter eye to see. Music, blankets and toys also help.

Bobby is a very emotional person, when she gets really upset it is instant tears or instant bawling. It's real easy to calm her down though, give her a hug, a flower, take her somewhere safe, play a game with her, and voila! If you couldn't tell she does not like being alone when she's upset, She'll cling to the closest person until she isn't upset anymore. If she's bawling she'll be begging you for a hug, she won't make yu hug you if you're uncomfortable with that though.

[burnwater13]

Concept art by Christian Alzmann. Grogu is touching the rancor on the nose as it bows its head down to sniff the youngling. The background depicts buildings in Mos Espa, Tatooine. Image from The Book of Boba Fett, Season 1, Episode 7, In the Name of Honor.

Din Djarin had no idea what Grogu was thinking. Walking right up to that damn rancor! The thing could eat him in one bite and swallow him whole. Why would the kid take a risk like that? It made no sense to the bounty hunter. He’d never seen anything like it… except for the times Grogu did the exact same thing. Dank Farrik!

First it was with the mudhorn. Then it was with the Imps. Then he’d healed Karga. He’d gone off with the Jedi. The kid was nothing but brave. But this, this was the limit. How would Grogu survive the rancor? He could tell he had bruises all over his body from the critter and he was encased in beskar armor. 

Grogu did at least have his beskar shirt on, but would go would that do, if the rancor just swallowed him? A rancor wasn’t like a Krayt dragon. Grogu had no way to get out, unless the Force could be used that way. Djarin had no idea if that was possible or not. The young Jedi who came to their aid on Gideon’s ship had used it in ways the Mandalorian hadn’t thought possible, but then he’d really never had any good idea of what a Jedi could or couldn’t do. 

Ahsoka Tano had demonstrated that she was a excellent tactical fighter and had a depth of knowledge about the Force that had helped her understand Grogu. Hell, without meeting her, Djarin would never have even known Grogu’s name. But she wasn’t so much the Jedi that she was willing to take Grogu on as a student or even take over finding his people for him. The kid was not her priority. That did not stop him from being Din Djarin’s priority though. 

And now he was laying on the sandy ground of Mos Espa, gasping for breath because even beskar couldn’t protect you from being crushed through a roof or thrown against a bunch of buildings like a spoiled child’s toy. He wanted to tell Grogu to stop. To please stop. Din Djarin had already seen too many horrors in his life and he really didn’t want to witness anything more happening to that child. His child. 

Dank Farrik. That was really the problem. They both decisions. The Mandalorian’s decision had been to say goodbye. Grogu’s decision had been to say be back soon. He’d missed his protector and Djarin had missed the kid. He’d missed him more than he could admit to anyone, including himself. 

When they weren’t fighting or running from the Imps, they’d had a lot fun together. The kid was filled with curiosity and wanted to learn everything. He was also filled with mischief and made it abundantly clear that there were things he would absolutely not do. Things like not eating the vegetable portion of a rations pack. He’d eat the sweet part first. Then the protein. Then the starchy, carb packed portion, but only if it was made from grains and not veggies. 

On the Razor Crest, Djarin had once told Grogu, in no uncertain terms, that if he didn’t eat the veggies, then he would not be telling him a story before bed. Grogu had seemed cowed, and kind of apologetic and slowly, gingerly picked up the mottled green bar of compressed vegetable matter, and carefully deposited it in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed and made a face of pure disgust and then listened attentively to the story the Mandalorian told him before he cut off the lights in their cabin. 

Djarin thought he had won that one. But, much to his chagrin, the next day he was working on the tensioning mechanism in his retractable line, when he kicked something under his workstation. He  looked down to see what he’d kicked and sure enough it was that compressed vegetable bar. He had no idea how Grogu had managed to eat the rest of his meal, brush his teeth and laugh like a Kowakian monkey-lizard, while still having that in his mouth. 

He had lectured Grogu at length about wasting food and the cost of maintaining him and all those stupid things people say when they really don’t have a good reason for forcing someone to do something they don’t want to do. Grogu had listened attentively, reached out with one finger and touched the spot on Djarin’s wrist that he had managed to burn with his fusing tool on that same tensioning mechanism and healed the burn. 

Poof. It was just gone. What was more annoying was that all the little aches and pains that hand and wrist had felt from the awkward work position he’d to use to repair the device were gone as well. With just a touch. Dank Farrik!

Now Grogu was prepared to do something that would protect them all, just like he had with the mudhorn, and it broke Djarin’s heart that his child had to be that brave and that strong and that thoughtful. How the heck had he gotten that lucky? He supposed that was something only the Force understood. He hoped it was with Grogu. His son was going to need it.

[turbo-virgins]

(Don’t Fear) The Reaper

Pairing: Lucy Maclean x Cooper Howard | The Ghoul

Summary:

She kept a wary eye on its vicious stinger as she approached. “Do you… need any help?”

“How bout,” he grunted between swings, “since you’re so damn good at playin’ bait-“ another swing- “you march your pretty little self on ahead-“ swing- “and see if you can rile up every other big critter between here ‘n’ New Vegas.”

She frowned.

He yanked the tail off with a loud snap, then set back on his haunches and flashed her a yellow, patronizing smile.

“What if you run out of bullets?”

“You let me worry about that, sweetheart.”

Lucy and Cooper get up to many shenanigans on their way to New Vegas (the journey is more important than the destination right?... right??).

Tags:

Canon-Typical Violence | Enemies to Friends to Lovers | Slow Burn | Lucy is a BAMF (just give it time) | Post Season 1 |Excessive terms of endearment from The Ghoul | the road to New Vegas is paved with misadventures | the author is a sucker for Death and The Maiden imagery | the inherent eroticism of medical malpractice Drug Use Eventual Smut

Word count: 6,284 (and counting!)

It’s been a loooong while since I posted anything here, but I’ve got a new fic in the works!

Chapter 1 is below the read more and you can find the other chapters I’ve posted here on ao3 :)

Chapter 1: Where Have All the Cowboys Gone

Lucy had been staring death in the face enough lately that she thought she ought to recognize it by now. But it seemed the Wasteland was always finding new ways to surprise her.

“Look out, Vaultie,” the Ghoul barked.

Her brain had yet to parse his command. She looked at him over her shoulder, lips parted to ask him what that weird hissing sound was. What she failed to notice was the small tide of earth zigzagging its way straight toward her.

The ground erupted beneath her feet. Sand burst into the air in a mighty plume and sent her sprawling. Her back connected with a stretch of crumbling pavement that ripped the breath from her lungs.

Pincers the size of her torso snapped through the space she’d occupied not less than a moment ago. The afternoon sun gleamed off their gray-blue carapace. A strange chittering emitted from the creature as it sifted through the cloud of dust.

With a yelp she scrambled backwards, frantically kicking herself along to put precious distance between her and the whatever-it-was. A stinger attached to a tail the size of a tree trunk hurtled out of nowhere and gouged the dirt between her legs.

An ear piercing whistle came from the Ghoul’s direction. “Come on you big motherfucker,” he taunted. Two shots rang through the air.

There was a squelch and a whine that almost would have pulled at her heartstrings if she weren’t actively fighting for her life. Insect-like legs skittered out from the settling cloud and for the first time she was finally able to get a look at the thing.

The rest of it was just as wicked as the pincers and stinger had her believe. Its thorax was covered in that same blue-gray carapace. Several pairs of black beady eyes glimmered above a set of greedily clicking fangs. It arched its tail, curling it through the air in its own taunting gesture as it shifted to face the Ghoul.

“Atta girl.” He leveled his pistol at it again and pulled back the hammer.

The creature - scorpion, Lucy realized - launched toward him with a surprising burst of speed. Before she could even shout for the Ghoul to run, he pulled the trigger.

Bang.

Its many legs tangled together as its thorax crumpled to the ground and skidded to a halt not two feet from him. He set his boot atop its carapace and tilted his head, appraising his work as its tail gave one final thrash and dropped to the ground with a useless thud.

Lucy allowed herself to lay on the ground. Just for a moment. Just to let her heaving lungs catch their breath and for the heady buzz of adrenaline to leave her system. “What… what?” she asked aloud to no one in particular.

“Radscorpion,” he grunted.

Pretty self explanatory, she supposed. A faint memory emerged of a book she’d borrowed from the Vault library when she was young. Mojave Flora and Fauna. Little drawings of plants and animals decorated every page. The scorpion, she remembered, had been nestled atop an outstretched palm.

She brought her own hand to her face and examined the short span of it. “Huh.” Then she forced herself to her feet and dusted her hands off on her jumpsuit. “Well, thanks for saving me. Again.”

He was already too busy to reply, as usual. He rifled through the many pockets of his duster before withdrawing a hefty knife with a jagged edge. Then he clambered atop the thorax and began hacking at the joints of its tail.

She kept a wary eye on its vicious stinger as she approached. “Do you… need any help?”

“How bout,” he grunted between swings, “since you’re so damn good at playin’ bait-“ another swing- “you march your pretty little self on ahead-“ swing- “and see if you can rile up every other big critter between here ‘n’ New Vegas.”

She frowned.

He yanked the tail off with a loud snap, then set back on his haunches and flashed her a yellow, patronizing smile.

“What if you run out of bullets?”

“You let me worry about that, sweetheart.”

She met his gaze, sharp and yellowed like his bared teeth. Somehow he hadn’t given up the game of finding new ways to cut her down despite the fact she’d saved his life.

Indignation flared hot on her cheeks, but she let it go with a low, soft sigh. “Okie dokie.”

With a gruesome squelch he ripped at the severed end of tail, then raised a hunk of pale flesh in his gloved hand. “Ever had shellfish, Vaultie?”

She braced herself for another verbal jab as she shook her head.

“Then this is the damn nearest thing you’ll ever get.”

Dogmeat, who had been curiously circling between the hulking corpse and the giant crater it left in the earth, looked up at the Ghoul and gave a sudden whine. He eyed her softly wagging tail before rolling his eyes and tossing her a handful of the meat. She snapped it out of the air with eager jaws.

He turned back to Lucy and waved her over. “Got room in that pack of yours, don’tcha?”

Reluctantly she stepped over and around the radscorpion’s spiny legs and held her pack out for him. She grimaced as he flipped it open and began dumping slimy chunks of tail meat right on top of the rest of her things. “Is there a better way to store this stuff?”

“Dinner’s on me tonight,” he said, as if that were all she needed to hear. “So don’t ever say I ain’t been a gentleman to ya.”

A snort escaped her and she couldn’t help but raise a challenging brow.

“That’ll do.” He cinched her bag shut and gave her a rough pat on the shoulder, graciously smearing his slimy gloved fingers over the fabric of her jumpsuit. Then he hopped off the carapace and went strolling down the road with Dogmeat trotting at his heels.

She hefted her (now much heavier) pack over her shoulder and glowered after him.

“Come on, darlin’,” he called, “we’re wastin’ daylight.”

With a sigh she skirted around both corpse and crater, trailing after him down the winding broken pavement.

-

Mojave nights were cold as the grave. When the sun burrowed beneath the horizon in a brilliant smear of reds and purples and oranges it took the sweltering desert heat right along with it. Never with such longing did Lucy think she’d remember the stale, disinfectant-laced air of the vault with its heating and cooling systems maintaining that steady seventy degrees fahrenheit.

She sat as close to the campfire as she could stand. Knees to her chest, arms wrapped around them, teeth chattering no matter how tightly she clamped her jaw. Their first few nights on the road - when the constant clicking had worn the Ghoul’s tattered patience too thin - he threatened to pull her molars out one by one.

“Sell ‘em for a handful of caps too, while I’m at it,” he’d added.

To her relief he never followed through. And tonight he was too preoccupied with the task of cooking up the radscorpion tail. He squatted opposite her, dented frying pan in hand, shuffling the sizzling meat around with the end of his knife.

It left her free to study him - a habit she couldn’t seem to shake ever since she first laid eyes on his strange, marred face. The firelight had a way of catching the craters in his skin, flooding the deep sockets of his eyes with wavering shadows, and drawing her attention to the cavernous opening where his nose once was. It left her mind brimming with a dozen questions that were far too brazen for the good manners that had been embedded in her over the years.

What are you? She’d given in and asked the question when he’d driven her beyond the capacity to recall said manners.

Now she had several answers. He was a ghoul. A bitter, broken, irradiated shell of a man. A remorseless killer and finger-stealer. Her one-way ticket to finding her father, to finding the truth. But all of those things were many, many strokes short of painting a full picture.

Oh I’m you, sweetie.

She knew that had been a dig at her, one of the first among many. But she was learning there was a certain truth to it that even he hadn’t anticipated. It was in his easy smile, the crooked cadence of his walk, the cheeky glimmer in his eyes when he said something he thought would rile her up - an old-world kind of charm the biting sandstorms of the wastes hadn’t managed to carve out of him yet.

He reminded her of the pre-war cowboy holos she used to watch with Norm and her dad. Well, maybe if she squinted hard enough-

Without warning he flung a steaming sliver of radscorpion at her straight from the pan. She fumbled it in her hands, hissing through her teeth as it scalded her skin. She managed to drape it over her gray finger. The half dead nerves barely registered the stinging heat. After a few rapid blows to cool it down she took her first bite.

The texture was… spongy. Almost rubbery. Squeaky between her teeth. But the flavor - salty with a hint of something smoky - was enough to make up for it. She gave a pleased hum and a nod.

When he tossed her another piece she was ready for it.

“Goes good with a bit of melted butter,” he announced before craning his head back and dropping a large bite straight down his gullet.

“Butter, huh?” She’d seen it referenced in the Vault-Tec approved cookbooks they used in her home ec classes. More often than not it was scratched through with faded ink and someone had been kind enough to supply a substitution in the margins.

“‘Spose you didn’t have any cows or brahmin in that vault of yours.”

She shook her head.

“Ain’t that a cryin’ shame.” But he didn’t sound sorry at all.

They ate the rest of their meal in silence. Dogmeat licked the grease out of the pan when it had cooled, then curled up in a tight little ball next to the Ghoul. With a huff she flicked her ears back and drifted off to sleep.

The Ghoul settled into the dirt with his pack behind his head and gave her a lazy scratch along her shoulder. Then he pulled his hat over his face.

There was an unspoken agreement that the first watch was hers. It took her far longer to drift off anyway. Every strange sound and shift in the wind set her on edge. Tonight, cowering beneath the blanket of stars, she listened to a far off howling that raised the fine hairs along the nape of her neck.

She scanned the dark, rolling sand dunes on the horizon for any sign of movement, but found none. A chilling breeze swept through their camp, stirring up a puff of smoke and ash from the dying remains of the fire. An uneasy feeling rolled through her gut. Like she was being watched.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she was rifling through her pack for her syringe rifle. The whole time she kept glancing over her shoulder, ears strained for the sound of sifting sand.

Something skittered across the ground and collided with her knee. She yelped and clutched the collar of her jumpsuit as her heart seized beneath her knuckles. When she looked down she found the Ghoul’s pistol laying in the dirt.

“I can hear you shakin’ in your boots from all the way over here.” He was propped up on his elbow, watching her beneath the brim of his hat. His eyes glimmered with something between annoyance and amusement - a flicker of that old-world cowboy charisma. “That little peashooter of yours ain’t good for much besides pissin’ things off.”

Tentatively, she pulled the gun into her lap.

“If you’re gonna take it, you best be ready to use it.” He pulled his hat back over his eyes and returned to his makeshift pillow.

“Um, thank you. I appreciate it.”

He gave a noncommittal grunt.

Another howl echoed across the endless barren stretch of sand. She dragged her eyes from him, from the line of his jaw peeking out just beneath the brim of his hat, and returned her gaze to the horizon. As she tightened her fingers around the pistol grip and rested her half-dead finger atop the trigger, she found it a little easier to swallow back her fear.

[jam-packed]

hiiii no one asked but pt 1 of a billion to my last unicorn au where marc is not a unicorn it will be marcnaia but not u gotta be patient im sry. anyways intro ily

about 1.3k

Casey sighs as he and Enea step carefully through the loose, winding path the forest grants them. They had been looking for a viable lake to fish at for a while, and despite the beauty of the greenwood that surrounded them, Casey knew this was not the place for them. It is far too quiet for comfort, Casey thinks, far too peaceful for him to truly enjoy—he is quite a modern man, as he considers. The trees stand tall and foreboding but plentiful and lush; the ground without leaves or brambles—not a prickle of snow has seen the ample soil beneath them—each blade of grass stands just tall enough to tickle the hairs on Enea’s naked ankles; each critter and creature they saw met them with curiosity and childlike wonder but leaving enough distance where Casey would not have to prevent Enea from taking something home; the birds sing sweet melodies into their ears, each note seeming to lead them closer and closer to where they would like to be; and Casey gets the lucky remnants of delicate and decadent speckled fur in the corners of his eyes—bright specks flitting in his vision to-and-fro.

Casey puts his hand on Enea’s shoulder, forcing his attention from the beauty enveloping them. “We must look elsewhere, Enea. This is no place for us.”

“What do you mean?” Enea’s eyes sparkle as he asks, mesmerized by the twisting leaves in the reaching branches above them, shining sparse but angelic light onto the two—kissing each curl on Enea’s head and spinning them to gold.

“There is magic here, my friend, learned slight by those that dwell in the cerval’s forest.”

“Cerval?”

“You are too young to have seen one, Enea, for the one here is lone in this world.” Casey declares, looking into the deep brush of the forest, where two bewildering moon-slit eyes follow him intently; he knows better than to stay here now. “We must think better than to fish here, lest we remove the world of any more magic.”

“Tell me of it, since I have not seen one—not heard of one,” Enea pleads with shining eyes, his boyish charm much more apparent now than even when they first met those fair months ago, in a small pub far from where the sun sets on them now. “Tell me, Casey.”

Casey hums, feeling tiny, near minuscule ants crawl up his calf with no care, and he grants them such privilege. “My great-grandmother—maybe even great-great-grandmother—told my mother, who told me, of her meetings with one. It came to her, rather than her to it—as most seem to do—and–”

“Did she capture it?” Enea’s voice trembles slightly.

“Of course not, dearest Enea. She simply sat near it, with the barest of a smile upon her lips to perhaps bring it close to her, and it did. It laid its head in her lap and licked the small sprouts of blood that flourished from her hands, healing the cuts that may have wounded her. Then it fell asleep, bringing her along with it—she only woke when she found it had gone, leaving her clothes barren of blemishes and bruises.”

“What did it look like?”

A smile floats onto Casey’s face. “Its eyes reflect the moon, and its fur is as soft as a well-loved cat’s.”

“Where did they all go, my love?”

Casey shrugs, his face flaring from the title Enea bestows him with. “Things change. There are things greater than us that haunt the Earth—it is no place for grand creatures such as he.”

There is a pregnant pause from Enea, bare of his usual thoughts and questions and mistakes in his speech that Casey finds ever so endearing. He looks around the forest for what they both come to know will be their last, the floral air kissing him sweetly. “Yes,” Enea says, determination set on his brow. He adjusts the rod and bag that lay upon his back, taking deep steps into the forest floor as if running towards the outer world beyond them. “Yes, let us fish someplace else.”

They reach the forest’s edge quickly—the blinding eyes following each move with careful precision—and Casey turns towards the poor creature, knowing its presence despite his decided lack of vision about it. He frowns as his voice cracks on his tongue, teeth clicking together reluctantly with each word.

“Do not leave here, dear wolf, for the world out here will ensure your end; keep in your forest, keep it lush and bright, with each creature protected by your grand stead—for no other can do as you do, for you are the last.” Casey can feel his eyes fill with salt and glistening pity. “I wish you luck, my friend; beware of men and girls that will only become bitter, old, and silly.”

The two take their leave, their packs full of nets, rods, bait, and gear gone along with them, and the cerval wolf’s gaze falls from them with a slow, dreary sadness. “Is it true?” He asks the forest he habits, his voice hoarse and crackling from disuse—it would frighten him if he allowed himself fear. “Am I really all that is left?”

He does not prance like the deer that follow his horrified sprint. He throws himself to the ground, twisting and crying in the dirt and gravel, biting at his tail and bowed legs for some poor sense of comfort. 

“How selfish they all are!” He growls through his mournful yelps. “My brother, my beloved brother! How could I live if he has left me, too?” The sprawling roots and sagging blades of grass hug at the poor creature’s shivering and solitary bod. The cerval drags itself up to lay by the river bed, its water akin to a mirror—clear and unwaning—if the pitiful beast had ever seen the latter to compare the two. He weeps once more, his tears mixing deep into the minute waves that come from the small waterfall nearby. He takes a drink, kissing the surface of the water with his speckled fur and padded nose, only to replenish himself of the tears he lost so he may start anew.

The heavens fall to darkness, the only light coming from the moon and stars shining through the trees’ fair leaves and branches overhead, and the heart-rending wolf has stayed in its tragic state for—to him—what felt like days. “Maybe,” he thinks out loud to the fish beneath the quivering ripples of the river beside him, “maybe I am to leave this place. What do men know? I could find them with ease, with pride. I am a great beast like no other; men tremble before me, and thunder calls my name—it would be with great ease, yes.” He swats at the brown trout taunting him from below, catching one by pulling it to the edge—where the water and soil meet in hopeful embrace—lifting it with his claws and peering at the poor thing with deep, bright, curious eyes. “Or maybe I should stay,” he concedes, pushing the rather dull trout back into the glistening waters. “I cannot really leave.” He stands to walk the river’s stream. “If I am truly the only one, I cannot leave for selfish reasons as they all have.”

He laughs to himself, “The forest will make fun, they will make me cry on return, and I will never leave again.”

“Yes,” he decides. “I will not leave. There is no possibility for it.”

[letsgofoletsgo]

My part of an art trade for @konoa-t, reminder that my trades/commissions are open!

Tucked away in the corner of Gamble Galaxy, there was a planet largely uninhabited by intelligent civilization. This planet had no name, but was covered in lush forest. Towering trees of green, yellow, and pink covered the lands, their large, rustling leaves creating a shadowy blanket along the forest floor. Various critters made their homes in these trees, in burrows in the ground. They enjoyed a happy, peaceful life on this quaint planet.

However, there was one area where the foliage was cut into. A haphazard gash was recently formed, knocking over the trees and unearthing the ground. At the other end of the smoldering wreck, the cause of this “wound” was present. A small ship lay on its side, still smoking from the inertia. Its wings were styled like those of a bat, and they were hanging on by a thread. The front of the ship looked something like a mask, the glass window now shattered.

From a tiny door on the upward side of the ship, a round, orange creature leaped out. It was a Waddle Dee, and he donned a blue and white sailor hat on his head; along with a worried expression on his face. He scurried around the ship, surveying the damage. To his dismay, the ship was in pretty bad condition. There were serious repairs to be done if it were ever to fly again.

While he was a bit intimidated by the amount of damage to the ship, he figured nothing would be solved by sitting around and moping. The first thing he’d need to do was gather supplies, not only for repairs but to sustain himself (despite not having mouths, Waddle Dees still needed to eat). He set his sights on the forest surrounding the ship, and picked a direction. Before he went to explore, he grabbed a sharp stick that was snapped off during the impact.

The Waddle Dee ventured cautiously through the multicolored forest. As he walked, he made periodic indents in the ground behind him- at least he’d be able to find his way back into the ship. He kept his eye out for anything that may be of use, but the little creature also found himself admiring the scenery around him. The leaves created soothing hues against the sunlight, warm patches dancing about as it was blown by the breeze. Most of the trees stood tall, but there were some that were smaller and more erratically shaped. Their bark ranged from lemon yellow to cotton candy pink, and had almost fluffy leaves. His situation may not have been ideal, but at least he found himself an aesthetically pleasing location to be stranded at.

Then, at the corner of the Waddle Dee’s eye, he saw something. Hanging from one of the lower branches was a tangle of vines, all varying shades of soft pastel color. He figured he could use these vines to repair certain parts of the ship, at least for the time being. Holding his sharp stick in hand, he bounded over to the tangle. He noticed where the vines were tangled the thickest, and traced down where they began to separate. Stick in hand, he angled it to begin cutting away at the cluster. A new sense of hope began to well in his little body at this find. He figured things may not be hopeless, maybe he could really get out of here!

When suddenly, he heard a rustle behind him. The Waddle Dee froze in his tracks, heart stopping at the noise. Ever so slowly, he turned around, stick held out in front of him. There was nothing discernable in front of him, just a layer of thick bushes- when one began to rustle again. He pointed his stick to the bush, scared but ready to face whatever creature awaited him.

To his surprise however, it was no horrible creature that leapt out. Rather, it was one that looked like him! A fellow Waddle Dee, this one wearing an old-fashioned nurse cap. He seemed to be rather lost himself, jumping back in startelement when he noticed the stick.

“P-Please don’t hurt me! I don’t want to fight!” He cried, placing his nubby hands over his head.

The other Waddle Dee lowered his weapon, shocked at this encounter. “Don’t worry, I don’t want to fight either. What’s a little guy like you doing all the way out here?” He asked, stepping closer.

“Well, uh,” He sniffed. “I was exploring with my friend Yumi, but we got separated and I can’t find her.”

“I see. What’s your name?”

“Rueben, you?”

“Well, people call me Sailor Waddle Dee, but you can just call me Sailor.” He said. “I’m in the same sort of predicament you are, actually.”

“Really?” This seemed to comfort Rueben somewhat. “What happened?”

“You see, I’m a part of a large spaceship, and I was sent out to fight an oncoming threat. Unfortunately, I was shot down, and I crash landed not too far from him.”

“Gosh, that sounds scary. It's a good thing you weren’t hurt.” Ruben said.

“Agreed, though I can’t say the same about my craft. In fact, I’m out here gathering supplies to see if I can repair it.”

“Ah.” Reuben thought for a moment. “Um, do you think maybe I could come along with you? I-I can help you out!” He suggested.

“Sounds like a fine idea!” Sailor said confidently. “You can help me out here, and I can help you find your way back to your friend!”

“You… You’d do that for me?”

“Of course, my friend. Two Waddle Dees are better than one, after all.”

The other Dee lit up “Oh, thank you!! Thank you, I promise I’ll do the best I can! Anything you need!”

“Sounds like a plan. On that note,” Sailor looked back up at the foliage. “How about you help me with carrying these vines back?”

“Will do!” Reuben piped.

And so, the two Waddle Dees set out to prepare for the days ahead. It wouldn’t be easier, but with each other, the two had newfound hope they’d be able to return to their respective paths- and make a new friend along the way.

[hades-422]

Trophy Moribund

1321 Words

CW: Descriptions of death and violence.

The warm summer wind blew pleasantly across my body, cascading across me in a shell of heat. I stifled my movement to a halt, stretching my back as I yawned into the morning atmosphere. The calm was abruptly broken by a voice resounding from the trees in the distance. I flicked my head to face the source in a sense of wonder and worry. I began to call out into the endless expanse, waiting for an answer from anyone who might hear. The forest echoed with the sound of my voice like there were hundreds of me hiding throughout the forest repeating my question. Yet in return, I was met with a tranquil silence, the call eventually being consumed by the returning white noise of the forest. The sky was clear of clouds, and the bright sun in the sky watched me curiously from above. Groaning trees and creaking branches enveloped me, bringing a sense of wisdom to their aged movements. Fresh air filled my lungs as I danced across the rolling hills of life, the shade and sun passing across me in exchanging turns. The distant call returned as a distinct replicate of the first, bouncing from the trees before finally meeting my ears. Its question was a twin to the original’s inflection, a voice that seeded a sense of interest in my thoughts. I began to wander towards the voice, cautious of who might have been the one to question me. I called out again, my voice much more guarded than before, yet I still responded. The earth, shielded by a layer of moss and foliage sat beneath my feet, sinking in between my toes at the weight of my body. Critters of all shapes and sizes lived their lives around me, making glances of curiosity and worry before continuing their chores. The chirping choir resonated above me as I pranced across hills, dodging rotted logs and fungus-decorated rocks with grace. There was a deep distress twisting in my gut the closer I came to the source, a sunken dread that clawed around looking for an escape. The soft ground below me became a consuming trap, the fallen and outstretched branches became an alarm for anything that could be around me.

Their voice became more coherent the closer I went, the increased lucidity coming with a new understanding of what spoke to me. The growing feeling of impending doom became apparent as I identified what it was that greeted me. An uncanny voice of deception. I sucked in a deep breath hoping it would calm me, yet I only felt like I would choke on the tension of what I’d done. The voice of a mimic. combining words to fool you long enough to draw you in. No matter how similar it could have sounded to my ear, my instincts already knew something was horribly wrong. Yet I still wandered forward, curiosity leading me like a puppet to my doom. Despite the horrid feeling of knowing it was wrong, something in me wanted to know why. A calling to understand the unknown that sat before me just out of reach. I gradually snuck my head around my final chance at ignorance and safety, laying my eyes on the source of the calling. I craned my head to scan the area around me. At first, I saw nothing, just dormant trees and grass flowing in the wind. It looked like any other part of the forest I’d been in, Like a repeating landscape with only minor changes to be noticed. That was until I saw it move. Contorting itself from the floor as it scoured the land around it.

My body was frozen in overwhelming horror as I could do nothing but stare. Its body was entirely bald, shrouded in smooth pale skin save the very end of its body. Its face was flat and crowded in features unnatural compared to the forest around it. Skin that wasn’t its own hung from its body, hiding whatever inconceivable growths sprouted from its surface. Every cell in my body fought to flee from what sat before me. Trying to escape from the horror my brain couldn’t even process. I slowly began to sink back into the forest behind me, a weight plunging in my stomach the moment I heard a snap beneath my foot. The figure lurched its head around its body, its beady eyes set directly on where I stood. The bitter taste of panic tore through my body as its eyes met mine, my legs trembling with the rushing adrenaline that followed suit. I scrambled along the floor as I rushed for speed, watching as it began to chase behind me. Its true voice screeched throughout the air with a blood-curdling tone, sending shocks of fear down my spine with every demented call. Its body distorted and contorted to stand on its hind legs, Its shrill voice echoing among the woods before began to dart for me. The sound of thunder crashed throughout the forest around me, my ears ringing from how painfully loud it was. My nerves screamed in panic as it continued to holler and cry, its shrill voice enveloping my thoughts as I tried to escape from its grasp. I couldn’t look behind me and risk losing speed, my brain left to dwell on the haunting image of it clawing its way after me. I watched as the number of trees became abundant before me, a feeling of hope erupting from my chest mere moments before a flash of lightning burned it all away. A ferocious fireball exploded from the foliage that sat barely in my peripherals. The monstrous strike of thunder roared throughout the trees as I felt something drive into the side of my neck.

My throat burned with a hot, excruciating pain. A feeling like my skin and flesh was being slowly mutilated with a burning claw. My body collided against the ground with an agonising crunch, the air in my lungs being forcefully banished on impact. I felt a sticky warmth ooze out of my neck like hot honey, soaking deep into my fur despite my continued effort of kicking and flailing to escape the agonising, smouldering pain. Any call for help was a gurgling mess of words, my lungs screaming in pain as the thick, metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I heard as the being approached, realising that there was a second that had dealt the attack. They looked down on me with twisted faces of assumed glee, all while I continued to struggle against the pain that ran through my entire body. They held a long, black stick in their hands, pointing the end at me, then each other, then at the ground. All while they continued to speak and cackle in their unfathomable language. I watch as one pulls out something small and holds it in their hands, waiting for it all to end but only being met with the flash of light. Then they left, Just as quickly as they came. leaving me coughing and spluttering on the floor.

I was so cold.

The warmth of the blood was gone, leaking down the side of my neck and into a puddle of mud on the floor. Now I only felt the bitter cold, my nerves crying out in sorrow at my imminent demise.

I couldn’t breathe.

Any breath felt like inhaling a cloud of splinters and fire, leaving me choking on curdles of blood and dirt.

I was so tired.

The world became blurred with tears, yet I could still see the warmth of its colours around me. A wave of exhaustion overwhelmed me, a sense of impending doom lurking at the back of my fading mind. My body relaxed into the puddle of thick, red mud and grass below me. A gust of summer wind blew over me for a final time.

It was so cold.

[bird-of-eternia]

Charlie, Leader of Nothing

---A short story of Jude Nikkels, a young person transported to the town of Nothing, Nowhere. A fantasy world filled with whimsy, charm, and mystery, led by Charlie, a young boy with an undiscernible nature.

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

Then I woke up. The first thing I felt was the cold. Then the hard ground beneath me. I tried opening my eyes and groaned. A wave of nausea hit me like a freight train. Slowly, I sat up, every muscle screaming at me to lay back down. At my side was a tree sapling. I could literally see it growing, reaching its infant branches to the sky. I reached out a hand and the sapling raised me to my feet. 

“Thanks,” I whispered with a hoarse voice, brushing the dirt and leaves from my pants.

“No problem!” a squeaky voice responded.

 I whipped my head around to see who it could have been, but there was no one to be seen. Had the tree talked to me? Of course, they had talked in my grandfather's stories, but it couldn't be possible…I was just tired and lost.

I could feel my breath quicken as I looked around at the forest surrounding me. It was dusk, the sun setting through the trees. I could hear little critters scuttling through the underbrush. Nothing looked familiar, there was no way I could find my way home. How far into the forest was I? How long had I been out here? I couldn’t even remember how I had gotten into the forest.

I closed my eyes, taking three deep breaths, like my therapist had told me.

“In 1….2…3…4…5,” I raised my palms to the sky, “and out 1…2…3…4…5.” I pushed my palms out. Okay, just calm down and make some observations. I told myself.

So I slowly spun in a circle taking in everything I could see. A black squirrel eating walnuts, a purple butterfly fluttering near a blueberry bush, a path down the center of some pine trees. “Ah!” I yelped and stumbled back hitting a root with my heel and almost falling.

 I had thought the saplings were growing with branches stretched to the sky but they were reaching towards their parent trees. Oaks, Ash’s, walnuts, hickory, and pine all staring down at the saplings, a smile on their faces. Yes, faces. A closer look would show that each tree had intricate lines, almost as if the beatles and wood ants had carved the eyes, mouths, and noses. I was staring at a particularly defined tree face of an old oak tree when its eyes shifted to mine.

“Hello dear,” it called down to me. “What are you doing in the nursery?” The voice was calming and warm like a grandmother.

“Uh…” I searched for words, finding none, settled for a shrug.

“Ah, well…You’ve been sleeping for quite a long time dear.” The branches of the grandmother oak creaked as they lowered. There was a great wind as they swung past other trees, almost knocking a sleeping bird from its perch. The bird seemed not to notice. This happened often I guessed.

“Follow the mountain pines down the path and you’ll find Nothing dear.”

I nodded and started down the path. “Wait!” I shook my head. “Nothing? Why would I walk down the path to Nothing?”

Grandmother Oak chuckled, the sound like wind through the leaves, it made me smile.

“Nothing is truly constant in life!” said Grandmother Oak. “and everything does change for sure.”

An ash tree piped in “You just have to make an effort!”

“Oh!” said the mountain pine nearest me, a deep gravelly voice. “And you just have to know, that its…its a…” he trailed off, not sure of the next words. A sapling growing beside him tickled his bark gently, “courage papa!” it squeaked. The mountain pine laughed, showering me in pine needles. “Courage!” he exclaimed. “Courage that will take you too high.”

The sapling reached out, snagging my sweater as it grew. “So that you will reach the sky!”

I tugged my sweater from the sapling. “I dont understand?”

“You’ll reach the place that you wished for,” she soothed. “Have that courage to go so far, you know what you really are.”

“But what is Nothing? How do I know when I’ve reached it?” The trees began ushering me down the path. The leaves tickling my ears and twigs poking my back.

“Down the path dear! Thats it, on your way to Nothing!”

Eventually the trees stopped pushing me forward. I pulled the sweater tighter around myself.

“I guess its smart to follow a path…but what if its an animal path and not man-made?” I laughed at myself. “Who cares about that! There were talking trees!” I felt like I was losing my mind. “Where am I?!” I shouted to the darkening forest. The snoring trees startled awake, shushed me grumpily, and began to snore again.

“Nowhere!” A voice called in the distance.

It sounded far away and yet…like it was talking directly to me.

“Yes, you!” it called again.

I walked faster, squinting to see as far as my eyes would let me. There was something there. Something twinkling in the twilight of the forest.

“Come quickly!” it called, a bit louder now, a young man's voice.

I began jogging down the path, trying not to trip on the multitude of roots popping up haphazardly.

“Faster or the trees will fall on you!”

Just then a snoring tree in front of me wavered, tilted, and fell onto the path with an oddly soft thump. The trees were falling asleep!

I picked up the pace, sprinting around tilting trees and jumping over others that had fallen. I was nearly crushed by a falling birch tree as it swung down just as I hopped over its brother tree.

Finally I could see it. A small village up ahead. There were brightly colored lanterns spattering light of every color in every direction. At the end of the path I could see a young man anxiously bopping from foot to foot. He waved me on excitedly, cheering after every near miss.

“That’s it!”

“Oh! A close call!”

“Watch out!”

“Falling oak! Eleven o’clock!”

“Right on!”

I nearly fell to the ground at his feet, bent in half, hands on my knees, breathing like I had just run a thousand miles.

“Good on you!” He slapped my back a bit too hard. I tumbled forwards, catching myself just in time.

“Hey! Watch it buddy!” I gasped out. My eyes went wide once I got a better look at him. He was tall and lanky, no older than 17 and trying desperately to grow a sandy red beard. His clothes were mismatched and at first glance you may have thought he was wearing rags, however, the clothes were high quality and well taken care of, it was the amount of clothes and patterns he wore that was misleading. He looked like he was meant to be cosplaying David Bowie as the Goblin king but got messed up and added some Freddie Mercury with his yellow leather jacket.

The boy straightened his tricorne hat and many scarves, obviously noticing my wide eyed stare. I couldn’t help it. I knew exactly who he was. I just didn’t want to believe it.

“I’m trying something new.” He said smiling. The smile stretched his whole face. It was a smile, I thought, that would light up a room. It was welcoming but full of naivete and mischief.

“Jude is it?” he asked. His accent was strange, I couldn’t place it. At first it sounded like a strong brooklyn cadence, then a smooth southern twang before quickly becoming absurdly northern european.

“I’m going insane.” I rubbed a hand down my face.

“Well then,” he put out a hand to shake. “We’ll have none of that attitude! My name is Charlie!”

I chuckled, grabbing his hand and shaking. “How is this possible?” I motioned at the village. “I’am going insane.”

This time Charlie chuckled. “You’re not going insane! Not possible in such a lovely place eh bud?” Canadian this time. He patted me on the shoulder. I stared into his mismatched eyes, one green, one brown, and shook my head in disbelief.

“Welcome to the village of Nothing! Your grandfather said you’d be comin’,” He grabbed the edges of his yellow jacket, standing tall. “I’ve been personally directed to help you on your way!”

 “Where exactly is that?” I slumped.

“Nowhere of course!” He laughed standing on his tip toes, head thrown back to the night sky.

Charlie was real and I was really Nowhere….

Nowhere, the world my grandfather had written about in his journals…the world he had told bedtime stories about…The world I had played pretend in when I was a child. I used to dream about someday having adventures with Charlie, camping within the Talking Tree forest, swimming in the nether oceans, hunting down crocodile rats… This was kids stuff.

“I shouldn’t be here Charlie.” I sighed.

“Oh aye, your grandad said you’d say that. Ain’t true though, swear it, I do! Have a few adventures here an yer bound tah find the way home.”

Well, if I was truly stuck here for who knows how long…I might as well have some adventures with Charlie for now.

[3d10fire-damage]

Colors That Run Highlights 50

fifty! damn.

While reading more closely through Gloam’s journal, Avi got the feeling that there was something deeper going on than Gloam’s account of Harmonce weather and other mundane things. Valor cleverly discovered that taking the first letter of every sentence on the last entry in the journal formed a new sentence: “if the guard finds me, tell Gale in Currace.” So, the goal now was to go west to Currace and find someone named Gale and get them involved in this debacle.

Kattie helmed the process of purchasing some rations for the road. Calypso discovered that Foaz actually boasted a variety of cigarette options, as “everyone there hates their life.” She purchased some “fancy” clove cigarettes before the group set out for Currace.

The Water District apparently hasn’t put up any roads or boardwalks to easily traverse through its swamp, so the group made their way through the mud and water without any real path. Valor rode on Sven’s back to avoid trudging through the mud directly. Calypso had a lot of gremlin-type of fun by catching swamp critters like frogs and crabs, with Guidance from Avi, as he wanted to sketch the animals she caught. At one point Calypso got some mud in her mouth, though she denied it when Fea asked her about it. Valor was (correctly) disgusted. Jokes about eating nastier things were made.

In the evening the party found a nice weeping willow to camp out under/in, and Avi put up a Tiny Hut for those that didn’t want to climb into the branches to rest. God bless Tiny Hut.

Later on the group encountered a large patch of cat tails, which they curiously approached. Avi picked one of the cat tails and bonked Calypso with it playfully, and the plant exploded into a mess of plant material. The resulting poof caused everyone but Fea and Avi to become depressed and insistent on laying down in the mud, to return to it, as all things do. Valor’s strong will against Being Dirty actually kept her from flopping into the mud, but Calypso basically just faceplanted directly into it, and Kattie slowly slid down with a sigh. Even Jericho succumbed.

A rather concerned Fea tried multiple times to wrassle Calypso out of the mud, but Calypso of course didn’t make it easy to keep a hold on her. But eventually Fea did succeed, and kept a grip on Calypso’s tail to hinder any further struggle. Avi then busted out Lesser Restoration to cure the group’s mud depression and get the show back on the road. Calypso asked that Fea not hold onto her tail, as out of certain contexts, holding a tiefling’s tail is kinda weird. (I love making up lore.)

Eventually the party made it to the border of the Air District and approached one of the guards, fake IDs at the ready. The guard accepted the IDs, and Kattie spun an effective tale about the group being a traveling band. Avi (and Calypso, less deftly) vogued in the background to back this up. The guard bought this tale completely, and recognizing Kattie’s face from somewhere, insisted he see their show at some point. He even asked for her autograph! The guard was named Adrik, though probably it won’t matter to remember his name. Hell yeah Kattie :)

After successfully proceeding into the District, Calypso mentioned (finally) that she had a flute from the Vorkrieg Monastery, since she just sorta took it with her when she left. She attempted to play something simple on it (think Hot Cross Buns) but completely sucked at it. Kattie politely asked for the flute, mercifully removing it from Calypso’s possession.

The party noted the large presence clouds took up in this area. A fog of them drifted near the ground pretty much all the time, and every breath everyone exhaled seemed to drift up and join the cloud. Calypso started on a cigarette, finding that the air here seemed to whiten and purify the smoke before pulling it into itself. Fea brought out Augustus briefly, but summoned him back behind her mask once the air tried to take him as well.

Out of curiosity, Avi cast Water Walking on himself. Due to the water content of the clouds and the nature of the spell, this caused him to rocket into the air, lifting him higher and higher into the sky. The party either panicked or figured he was returning to the moon. Avi then ended the spell, which caused him to start plummeting back down to the ground. Luckily, Kattie cast Feather Fall on him so he would fall slower and Sven also helped him down. What followed then was banter about how Calypso doesn’t understand that clouds basically are water.

The group arrived in Currace! It’s a bit of a tiered city, with some structures on the ground but also higher up in the air supported by tall metal bars and accompanied by terraces. Many people could be seen traveling via strong air currents and gliders. Avi found a cloak to purchase for Kattie to thank her for earlier, and so that Kattie could obscure her face from the people of Currace in case they would recognize her.

Finding a tavern called the Grounded Sparrow, the group set about asking the bartender for information. He seemed hesitant to tell them much before they spent some money ordering food and drinks, as Currace is a very business-centric, make money, grindset kinda place.

According to the bartender, Gale was an air genasi with white braided hair and flowy clothes. She travels around the city a lot, but for a little extra money 🙄 he also offered up her address so the party could find her. Fea also carefully poked around in conversation and through the use of many water metaphors, found out this bartender was in support of the Rising Tide, and that his name was Hidras. He also explained that the ground level of Currace tends to be where products are crafted, and the upper tiers are where the corporate show-runners are located. He also tried explaining the self-purifying air thing to Calypso.

(areolas meaning,,, the local cocktails called Aerial Aces)

The party left the Grounded Sparrow and headed for Gale’s address. Along the way a lot of ridiculous discussion took place. This began with the party asked Avi about his boyfriend, who is apparently very large-- larger even than buildings(!).

Once at Gale’s small home, Calypso knocked on the door. After a long moment of waiting, the door flew open and Calypso was greeted with a long curved sword looped threateningly around her throat. Gale glared at her, demanding an explanation for her sudden uninvited guests, and Calypso (keeping it cool) said simply, “Gloam got popped.” At this, Gale relaxed slightly and with a bit more explanation she allowed the party to come into her home.

Gale kindly made some tea for everyone (that could drink it) and poured it into a random assortment of cups, lacking an actual tea set. Fea asked Gale what Gloam was doing in Harmonce, and Gale explained that he had become an informant and recruiter for the Rising Tide.

After reading some of Gloam’s journal, Gale told the party that she was skilled at getting in and out of prison, as she had done so more than once. She asked if the Breakfast Club would be interested in helping her free Gloam. Much of the party was hesitant to go inside the prison-- Avi had already been in prison and did not enjoy it, Valor doesn’t like grime, who knows what would happen if Fea were separate from her big sword--  but Calypso was all in, vibing with Gale’s rebellious spirit and the prospect of fucking with the cops (and made the suggestion that the group were knida being babies). Once Gale mentioned she has a network of inside and outside accomplices that would also be helping, the group agreed to join the cause.

Avi offered to Scry on Gloam to make sure he was still alive, though he lacked a focus to cast the spell with. Gale happily offered to go “acquire” one for him, and Valor happily offered to go with her to a magic shop.

Gale successfully “acquired” a Scrying focus, and Valor “acquired” an elemental gem. While they were gone Calypso snooped around a bit, finding some letters to Gale from Luna, concerning the Tide, though there wasn’t a whole lot of detail. Calypso made sure to leave the letters exactly as they were when she found them. Avi used Lesser Restoration to de-drunk himself.

Gale and Valor returned, the former now bearing a silver mirror for Avi. He cast the spell and did find Gloam within Prison City. He was in a cell (labeled with a number in the 200s) with two other people-- a dwarf and an elf. The elf was pacing and muttering to himself, and Avi was able to hear pieces of what he was saying: “ ...how is Gretta going to... if I'm not there... what'll they... she can't just...” 👀

With evening setting in, Gale offered her home to the group for the night. Valor agreed to stay with her because she’s gay, but Avi, Calypso, and Fea returned to the Grounded Sparrow for more drinking and (most likely) stupid conversations.

happy pride

[burnwater13]

Din Djarin using his flamethrower to repel an attacking mudhorn on Arvala-7. Image from The Mandalorian, Season 1, Episode 2, The Child. Calendar from Dateworks.

Under normal circumstances Grogu would have been very upset to see someone try to stop a charging mudhorn with a flamethrower. But there was nothing normal about the circumstances that he and the Mandalorian had found themselves in. Stuck on Arvala-7 because Jawas had stolen about half of the bounty hunter’s ship and the only way to get the parts back was to make a deal. Get the Jawas an egg and the Mandalorian gets his parts back. Easy peasy, right?

Uh…. No. Not right. Wrong. Very wrong. The egg belonged to a mama Mudhorn. What? You’ve never seen a mudhorn up close and personal? Then consider yourself lucky. They were good sized quadrupeds with a shaggy coat, a single huge horn at the end of their muzzle and a bad temper. Of course, Grogu reasoned, if someone had stollen his only egg, which represented his potential offspring for who knows how long, he’d be pretty cranky too. 

He knew that the Mandalorian recognized the hazard, once he saw the huge golden brown eye open and stare up at him. Then it was just a matter of time before he erupted from the eye shaped cave where the critter had been resting. The bounty hunter erupted because, of course a huge, cranky mudhorn was charging after him and basically managed to throw the skilled warrior a couple of meters, only to land in the mud. On any other day Grogu would have taken some time to enjoy that mud, but that day it seemed wise to stay in the pram and see what the bounty hunter was capable of doing to collect the egg.

The fight that ensued was pretty one-sided. The Mandalorian tried to hold his ground and the huge critter tossed him around like a bale of feed. The disruptor rifle was no good. First it was covered in mud and wouldn’t actuate. Then it went flying when the critter tossed the bounty hunter aside. One weapon down. But since Mandalorians treated weapons as part of their religion, whatever that meant, the human had other ways of fighting. 

Not that they worked particularly well. Mudhorns seemed pretty intelligent. The critter charged at Grogu’s floating pram, but that was useless. The Mandalorian just yanked it away with the remote flight controls and the critter smacked right into the rock outcroppings that helped form the canyon they were in. That definitely didn’t make the mudhorn happy and it didn't knock it out either. It just seemed more dedicated to the idea of stomping on the annoying critter it found skulking about it’s nest. 

Honestly, Grogu had felt a lot of empathy for the creature. It had been taking a nap and someone came creeping into its nest and didn’t even bring it a snack or anything else that might make them seem friendly. If that had happened at the Jedi Temple, chances were pretty good that one of the knights or masters would have been activating their lightsaber and asking questions while it glowed at them in a menacing way. Of course a mudhorn didn’t have a lightsaber and had to do what it’s instincts told it to do, charge and crush. 

The creature had shaken off the thump into the canyon wall and picked a target. This time it picked the one covered in mud, laying prone on the ground. It made sense. It couldn’t move effectively where it was and there was no canyon wall to crash into if it didn’t hit the target squarely. 

But the mudhorn hadn’t bargained for the flame thrower. How could it? Grogu doubted that any other critter on Arvala-7 had the ability to spit fire from it’s arm. There was no basis for the mudhorn to recognize the hazard or identify a strategy that might mitigate it. So it did what you might expect a big critter to do when someone shot flames right into its face. It backed up.

Grogu had a fleeting hope that meant that the two combatants would recognize that enough was enough and the mudhorn would trot off and the Mandalorian would be able to retrieve the egg and the fighting would be over. 

Then the bounty hunter used his retractable line to try and trip the huge critter up. Instead he got dragged through the mud in the most literal sense and Grogu began to worry about the human’s well being. The mudhorn seemed to grow in size and was just as outraged as you might expect any mother to be if someone went after their children with a flame thrower. The bounty hunter went flying through the air again and Grogu knew that he had to do something. Anything. Even if that meant that the huge critter was going to be ended by the Mandalorian. 

So he used the Force and picked it up. 

Oh, it wasn’t quite that easy. He had to stop it’s momentum first. It was in a full charge and that’s a lot of mass and a lot velocity to arrest. Then he just had to overcome the force of gravity and get the thing off it’s feet. Grogu thought that he might actually be able to throw the critter somewhere that would knock it out or just really convince it to give up that nest. 

Alas, he was out of practice with the Force and the best he could do was give the bounty hunter some time to recover. Then he dropped the mudhorn. That’s right. He dropped it. That had to hurt. Of course the vibro-knife the bounty hunter used to end it must have hurt a lot more, but it was over quickly. 

Or so he was told. He was too tired to stay awake for the rest of it. Arvala-7 wasn’t as populated as Coruscant and it was much harder to use the Force there. If it had been easy, he would have escaped the Nikto gang much earlier than he actually did. But he wasn’t going to complain about the delay. The Force moved in mysterious ways as well as in its own sweet time. 

Check out Grogu's retelling of the whole story here:

[rhythm-of-space]

Bloom

notes - hi! I wrote this a while ago and it's just been sitting in my docs collecting dust. I also have a dad!jake and dad!josh written if anyone is interested (sam is currently in the works!)

a huge thank you to @sunfl0wer-power for the header and listening to my endless commentary about this and @allieisacrybaby for the encouragement 💛

warnings - none. Just dad danny and sweet sam!

-

“We’re leaving, babe!” you hear Danny yell from the garage. You get up from your place in your garden where you were tending to your new sprouts and waltz over the car where Danny is securing five-year old, Francine, in her booster seat.

“You sure you don’t want to come with us?” Danny urges as he envelopes you in a warm bear hug you know so well.

“No, I’m okay, I need to get some work done here. I love you, drive safe,” you kiss him and then move over to the little girl waiting patiently in her seat.

“And I love you! Be brave.” You whisper the last part into her ear before planting a gentle kiss to her forehead. You move away from the car to watch Danny reverse and wave them goodbye as they drive off on their little excursion.

-

Danny pulls into the parking lot next to the only other car there and hops out to unbuckle his daughter from her constraints. Her big amber eyes squint at the brightness of the summer sun as her feet meet the gravel on the ground. Danny gives her an encouraging smile before locking the car and leading the way to the trailhead.

They walk a few minutes before making it to the clearing they frequent often when he’s home. The field of flowers in full bloom, the stream with water clear as day to the side, and an area under an old oak tree where they usually lay out a blanket and enjoy their time until the sun starts to set. It’s their little oasis away from the hustle and bustle of their life.

Yet this time there’s a visitor knelt over a bundle of wildflowers, taking a picture of their beauty with his phone. Earlier that morning, Danny got a call from Sam to talk about an upcoming festival they were scheduled to play at and they got on the topic of plans for the day. Danny invited him to tag along, saying it would be a good opportunity to bond with her, and after some persuading on Danny’s end, Sam complied.

Once Francine makes out his face, her steps falter, falling behind Danny’s pace. He realizes she’s not next to him once he’s a few feet from Sam and turns to see his little girl's face full of worry. She finally catches up to Danny, but stays behind him, his body acting as a barrier between her and Sam. She clutches her arms around Danny’s leg, squeezing tight to find the comfort she always receives from his presence.

“Hey Frankie!” Sam greets with a bright smile. But she just huddles closer to her dad and whispers a polite yet mousy ‘hi’.

Sam has come to learn to not take offense to this behavior as she does this with everyone with the exception of her parents and Uncle Jake due to his laid back demeanor. Though, he is so headstrong that he is determined to connect with her, one way or another - he is her namesake after all.

-

Since she first opened her eyes to the world, Francine has been a timid little thing. Despite her dad being the drummer of a rock band, she likes the gentler, softer side of life - coming up with stories, creating the most beautiful art that a five year old could make, and her most favorite of all, the little critters that inhabit the Earth. When entering the Wagner household at any given moment, you’d find plastic bugs littered around the house, Planet Earth playing on the television, and Francine with one of her parents (or both when she pulls out the puppy dog eyes and they can’t say no) looking for creatures to observe in their backyard. There has been a push lately in efforts to get her out of her shell and trust those who care for her deeply and it has not been an easy process. She cries when her grandparents babysit, she often stays in the greenroom, away from the loudness and crowd of strangers while her dad is on stage, she even stayed by the front door while Danny met Josh’s newborn baby for the first time.

Something that always comforts her in these moments is Danny. Nobody could have expected how strong their relationship would be. She thinks the world of him, and obviously Danny does with her. The warmth he provides has become a safe haven for the little girl who finds the world too big. She had caught onto Danny’s soft nature; how he can make anyone feel a sense of home with his tender words, a sweet smile, and a love that is all-enveloping. It’s a sense of calm that grounds Francine in the most worrisome moments. He is her protector.

-

Sam expresses a reassuring smile and turns back to the flowers that have taken his focus.

“They love this time of year, you know,” still in a knelt position, he points to the flying pollinators buzzing around the petals, “This is when they get all their food to store for the winter.” A bee lands on the bundle of flowers right in front of him and starts to hunt for pollen.

Francine’s attention is grabbed in an instant as Sam continues on with his basic bee facts he learned in the seventh grade. Her head pokes out from behind her dad’s leg to see from her vantage point.

Danny feels a small tug on his pant leg and looks down to see her curious eyes looking up at him.

He kneels down to her level, tucks a loose wave of hair behind her ear, and whispers, “What do you think? Should we get a better view?” He sees the hesitation written on her face as she chews on the inside of her cheek, “can you be a brave girl for me?”

A few seconds pass before she nods in confirmation. He straightens back up and unfurls his hand, welcoming her little one and clasping it to his own in a comforting hold. He leads her over to his best friend who is still enthralled in the liveliness of the bees.

“You see that, Frankie? They're just going on with their little lives, finding food, pollinating the Earth one by one. Each and every one of them are valuable and needed - just like us, huh? Just like you, your dad, me, we all matter in this little thing called life..”

The bee buzzes off to find another flower, “...oh look! There he goes! He must have business to attend to.”

“No, Sammy,” Sam and Danny whip their heads towards her in both shock upon hearing her speak up, and in wonder at what she’ll say next, “The worker bees…they’re all girls.”

“Oh, of course! I’m sorry ladies, keep up the good work!” He yells after them, as if they’ll understand and turns to her, “They’re hard workers, huh?”

She nods in agreement, “Very. Um, Daddy got me a book all about them and how much they help us. I c-can show you it next time you come over…if you want to see.”

Squeezing Danny’s hand, she waits with bated breath for his response. “I would absolutely love that, hun. I can’t wait.” Both of their faces light up to show off their beautiful smiles.

“Hey, I noticed a big patch of flowers down the trail, should we go see what else we can find?” Francine peers up at her dad as a silent ask and he looks down at her with wide eyes in excitement to encourage her.

He expects to have to pull her along with him hand-in-hand, but to everyone's surprise, she brings his hand to her lips to place a soft kiss on his knuckles like she's seen her parents do many times before, lets it fall to his side, and walks along with Sam. It’s as if she was the one comforting him - telling him that she’ll be okay.

After collecting himself he pulls his phone out to capture a video. It shows them walking off a few steps ahead and her talking with her hands, getting animated like she does when she's really interested in the conversation. He goes into his contacts and finds your name, needing you to see how big your little girl has grown in just a couple hours. ‘I’m so proud of her!’ and ‘she’s so brave!’ are passed back and forth before he says he’ll be home soon and can't wait to tell you all about the progress she’s made.

He rushes to catch up to the newly-made friends to find Sam kneeling again, picking white daisies from the root. “Don’t worry, we’ll leave some for the bees.” he mentions towards Frankie who is examining an ant hill not too far off.

They stay there for a while longer, Francine has convinced both of them to look for bugs with her; Danny teases Sam the entire time as he is new to the activity and not very fond of the tiny creatures that crawl on four or more legs - but he’s a good sport for her. As the sun starts to set on the horizon, Danny sees the tell-tale signs of his little one losing energy - the constant rubbing of her eyes, long yawns, and the way she starts to cling to Danny’s form.

He picks her up and they head off back to the car park they pulled into that afternoon. After securing her in her seat Sam pops in to wish her farewell, “Here Frankie, these are for you. I had such a fun time with you today.” He’s holding out the flowers he picked back at the clearing as a gift, a memory of today.

She beams up at him with heavy, tired eyes and cradles the bundle before Danny closes her door, ready to get her to bed. After hugging Danny, Sam leans against his own vehicle, giving them space to back out. Before they drive too far, the car window rolls down and he hears a little voice, “Goodnight Sammy, I love you.” All Danny can do is smile wide and keep his eyes on the road to get them home safely. It was a successful day and he wishes you could have been there to see it.

-