#or is it unused by people. is it out there open and waiting. without our voices filling the space what if other things occupy the frequency

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 27/34 - roll of film

[Read on AO3]

Scully’s mom stays until dinner, and promises to stop by with some meals for their freezer once they’ve settled in at home. As soon as Scully had returned, they’d behaved as if their conversation had never happened, and Mulder tried to put it out of his mind. Whatever Scully may or may not feel for him isn’t the most important thing right now. She needs him to be focused, to help her with the baby. He knows himself—he’s a one-track mind kind of guy. The last thing he wants is for her to think he can’t handle this just because he’s distracted by something else.

Before she leaves, Maggie goes down to the gift shop and purchases a disposable camera and a plush fox with the softest fur Mulder has ever felt. He smiles at her joke, introducing the animal to a wide eyed Madeline who clearly doesn’t know what to make of it.

Grandma Maggie then spends the next thirty minutes or so taking pictures of everything and everyone until the entire roll of film is full. She insists on taking several of all three of them together, in various poses, which she assures them they will thank her for one day. It reminds Mulder of the time they’d had to take pretend pictures for their undercover assignment in California, only this is on another level.

He wonders what the film will reveal when it gets developed. Will the poses be stiff and forced, like they had been in Arcadia? Or would it look real? Would an unknown observer believe them to be a normal family, if they didn’t know any better? 

He finds himself hoping so. He’s tired of pretending. So, so tired.

He walks Maggie down to the entrance of the hospital, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. All things considered, their surprise had gone over fairly well. It remained to be seen how the rest of the Scully clan would react, but at least they had the matron of the family on their side. 

In this way, maybe it was a good thing the IVF hadn’t worked. There would have certainly been a threatening letter headed his way if he’d actually impregnated Scully, however clinically they had accomplished it.

“Drive safe, Mrs. Scully,” he says, the automatic doors sliding open as they approach.

“Maggie,” she reminds him, her eyes crinkling with a smile.

He nods. “Maggie.”

He expects her to go, then, but instead she turns to face him, pulling him into a motherly hug. It surprises him at first, but his mind quickly catches up and he returns the embrace.

“You tell her how you feel,” she says softly, giving his shoulder a squeeze before pulling back. Her hand comes up to cup his cheek, and her eyes shine brightly at him with a fondness that makes his heart feel warm and fuzzy. “Okay? She deserves to hear it.”

He doesn’t want to commit either way, so as not to disappoint her, so instead of responding, he merely presses his lips together and gives a sheepish nod/shrug combo.

“You have no idea how happy you’ve made me today,” she says. “You take care of my girl, alright?”

This, he can agree to without question.

“Always.”

She gives one final nod, then reaches up to press a kiss to his cheek. He smiles, unused to this kind of motherly affection, but glad to receive it.

“Bye, Maggie.”

“Goodbye, Fox. I’ll see you soon.”

-.-.-

By the time he gets back to their room, dinner has been delivered, and Scully is giving Maddie another bottle. He’d feel bad eating without her, so instead he walks to the window, peeking out at the golden hue that the sun is starting to cast on the otherwise boring landscape. He sighs, pulling out his cell phone and hovering his thumb over the keypad. Maggie Scully gave him a lot to think about.

He punches in the number he knows by heart and waits as the tone sounds once, twice, and a third time before the line connects.

“Hello?”

"Hey, Mom," he says. In his periphery, he can see Scully’s head turn toward him, but he tries to ignore her watchful gaze, instead focusing on the people down below in the parking lot.

"Fox?"

"Yeah, how you feeling? You doing okay?" He really does not know how to start this conversation, but he doesn’t want to put it off any longer. Small talk with his mother is among the most uncomfortable things he can imagine, but it’s really all they know how to do these days. Maybe they’ll get better at it with practice. 

"I'm doing fine,” she answers. “What is it?"

"Sorry if I’m interrupting your dinner,” he says, rubbing his hand over the nape of his neck. “I can call tomorrow if that's better."

He hears the rejection before she even says it. "I have an appointment tomorrow. What’s this about?"

"Right, um." He pauses, pacing to the right into the darkened corner of the room and then back toward the window. "I just wanted to let you know that, uh– Scully and I decided to adopt a baby. She was born this morning, we're with her now."

"Scully?"

"My partner,” he states. “At the FBI."

"Right, yes. You… adopted a baby?" She sounds understandably confused, probably wondering many of the same things Mrs. Scully had asked about, though without the same level of investment in their answers.

"Yeah, uh, it's kind of been in the works for a while. And—" he pauses again, glancing back at Scully from across the room. "We got married."

The other end of the line is silent and for a moment, he begins to wonder if the connection went dead. But he can just hear the faint ticking of that irritating cuckoo clock in the kitchen that he’d always hated, so she must still be listening.

"To help with the application process, you know," he adds, as if that made their actions any more comprehensible to a rational human being.

"That's– wonderful news, Fox,” she says at last. “I didn't realize that was something you were interested in pursuing."

"Well, with everything going on, there wasn't really a good time to tell you," he says, letting out a sigh of relief now that the secret was out. "But, we're really happy."

"That's– that's good to hear."

He remembers how she’d wanted him to let go of Samantha—to make a life for himself outside of the search for his sister. He hopes she’ll be proud of him now that he’s doing just that. 

Even if she isn’t, and can’t be there for him like he wishes she was, he’ll be happy. He has a family of his own now, and his mother is alive. That’s all he can really ask for. They can work on mending fences in the coming months, even if it’s slow going. The important thing is that he didn’t lose her. Not yet.

"Well, I should let you go,” he says awkwardly, the stale silences between sentences making him increasingly anxious the longer he spends on the phone. “I just thought you should know you have a granddaughter. Madeline is her name."

"Madeline,” his mother repeats. “I'm glad you called. Give my regards to– to–"

"Dana," he fills in.

"Yes, give my regards to Dana."

He goes to hang up the phone, his finger hovering over the end call button, but before he can, he hears a final, "Oh, and Fox?"

"Yeah?"

"If you ever decide to make a trip up the coast..."

She trails off, and he senses that she doesn't possess the words to finish that sentence, even if she means them. Reaching out to him has always been hard for her. He has to meet her halfway.

"I'm sure we will soon," he says, a hint of a promise in his words.

"I'd like that," she says, and it really does sound like she means it.

"Bye, Mom."

"Bye, Fox. Congratulations."

With a distinct click, the line disconnects, and he snaps his phone shut, frozen in deep thought.

“How did it go?” Scully asks from behind him.

“She's thrilled,” he answers.

“Really?”

He chuckles. “As thrilled as my mother can be about anything, I think.”

“Ah.”

He looks at the two of them there, Scully and Madeline, and pictures them sitting on the couch in his mother’s living room. It’s not as crazy to imagine as he thought it might have been. Maybe his mom would bake those lemon cookies he and Samantha used to like when they were kids. Maybe Scully could squeeze the recipe out of her, and he could learn to bake them himself.

“Hey– how would you feel about going to visit her someday?” he asks, trying to keep the question casual in case she has no interest in doing any such thing.

“Oh, Mulder,” she says, looking at him with a sympathetic eye. “She's your mother. Of course I'd like to go.”

He plays it cool, but her answer warms his heart. None of Scully’s interactions with his mother have been particularly pleasant, even the most recent one, and sometimes he feels that she got the raw end of the deal. While he has gained a loving mother-in-law who is sure to spoil their baby rotten, Scully gets a broken family that has been almost completely eradicated by a shadowy government organization. He wishes he had something better to offer her.

“Not scared of the dreaded mother-in-law?” he asks, hoping it comes across as teasing instead of revealing the insecurity he truly feels.

To his relief, she smiles. “I can handle her,” she says.

Yes. Yes she can.

-.-.-

By 9:00 p.m., the exhaustion of such a long and eventful day had started to catch up to them. It had been a challenge to keep Madeline up for the last hour or so, but Scully insisted that she needed to get started on a sleep schedule as soon as possible, and she had read every recommendation in every book, so he deferred to her expertise.

Now that it has officially been declared bedtime, however, Maddie seems determined to stay up, too busy looking at her surroundings with great interest.

“Here, do you want to try to get her to sleep?” Scully asks, shifting the baby in her arms. “She just keeps staring at me, like she's not even tired.”

Mulder gladly agrees, setting down the book he had been reading on the table he was sitting at. “You know what they say. Those who can't do, teach. And I can never sleep.”

Scully laughs, raising Maddie up as high as she can without standing to make the transfer easier.

“Come here, sweetheart,” Mulder says, reaching for the infant and lifting her into his arms. It takes some adjusting, but once her blankets are all smoothed out, her tiny body relaxes into the cradle of his arms.

Scully was right. Her eyes are wide open, just taking in everything around her.

“You gotta close your eyes if you want to sleep, darlin’,” Mulder coos, bouncing her back and forth in what he hopes is a sleep-inducing motion.

“At least she's not crying,” Scully points out, watching them with a smile on her face.

“Nah, she's happy as a clam. Aren't you, Maddie?” he says.

She sneezes in response.

“Bless you!” Scully says, laughing. “Mulder, make sure the blanket isn't tickling her nose.”

He adjusts it down below her chin, smiling at the confused expression on her little face.

“That was the tiniest sneeze I've ever heard, Scully,” Mulder says in awe, love practically dripping from his voice. He runs a finger over the baby’s warm, rosy cheek, marveling at the softness of her skin.

He can't help it, he cranes his neck down to reach her, pressing his lips to the squishy baby fat of her cheek, dropping near endless kisses there.

“Her cheeks are just so kissable,” he says, laughing at himself.

“You're riling her up, Mulder,” Scully says disapprovingly, though her smile says something else. “Now she's wide awake.”

She stands, taking the few steps over to where he's standing and presses a kiss of her own to Madeline’s cheek.

“You're right, though,” she speaks.

When she looks up at him, he takes a chance, bending to brush his lips against her cheek, dangerously close to her lips.

“Your cheeks are pretty kissable too, Scully,” he says as he pulls back, delighted to see said cheeks turning ever so slightly pink in the dim light.

He can’t tell her, not yet. But that doesn’t mean he can’t show her. Maybe once she’s collected enough evidence, she’ll come to the right conclusion on her own. She is a woman of science, after all.

They look down at the little infant in his arms, and breathe a simultaneous sigh of relief when they see her start to heavy blink. Mulder finds that walking her around in circles helps, so he does a number of laps around the room, checking with each lap to see if he’s been successful yet.

By lap six, her eyes have fallen shut, and a moment later, her soft breaths even out. With all the carefulness of defusing a bomb, he sets her down in her plastic bassinet, and feels immense pride when she doesn’t immediately wake up and ruin all the progress he’d made. She shifts a little, and then settles, a look of pure contentment on her face.

Scully comes up to stand beside him, both peering down at the little girl who will be theirs to love and cherish for the rest of their lives. 

“You know, I always felt like something was missing, but I didn’t know what it was,” Mulder muses, his voice a mere whisper. “Is it crazy if I say it was a baby?”

Scully’s lips pull back in a soft smile, and she leans her head on his bicep, unable to tear her eyes away from the sleeping child. 

“It’s not crazy, Mulder,” she says, intertwining her hand with his. “I think you’re right. This is exactly what we’ve been missing.”

~~~

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[peaceful-melancholia]

The Bite

Ethan amused himself in the least amusing of ways. Jake thought so, anyway. He had nothing to do, so of course he was staring at Ethan from behind the curtains. Being so close to the window at night made him a little chilly, but it was worth it. After all, watching Ethan read an academic article without knowing anyone was watching him – that was the peak of amusement. He made no expression, he did nothing out of the ordinary, so Jake knew for a fact that he didn’t know that Jake had been hiding in the curtain since before Ethan had gotten back to their shared apartment.

If that wasn’t entertaining enough, the third of their trio, Max, wasn’t home yet. That meant that Jake would be able to watch him unseen while he was watching Ethan unseen, if he was lucky. He actually wasn’t sure where Max was, so it might not be for some time that he would get to watch the two of them, but it was worth the wait. Jake just had to be still enough not to alert Ethan, but to be honest, Ethan was too absorbed in his article to notice some slight curtain rustling.

Soon enough, though, he made quite a bit more than a little curtain rustling. It was unintentional, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. After all, he had just heard a scream, and it sounded close by. It startled him so thoroughly that he fell out of the window, his fall being slowed, though not stopped, by the curtain. Nevertheless, the ‘thud’ at the end of it, plus the earlier scream, were enough to pull Ethan out of his article and force him to acknowledge Jake on the ground, still tangled up in the curtain.

“How long have you been in that window?” Ethan asked, not seeming surprised in the slightest. That irked Jake, who had only stalked people from behind a curtain a handful of times so far that year. He was about to make a snarky comeback, which would have been immaculately articulated and would have put Ethan to great shame, but Ethan was saved by the sound of something large hitting their door.

The couch, where Ethan sat, was positioned with its back to the door, so Ethan had to twist around to glance at it. Jake had fallen to one side of the armchair that sat in front of the window, and he was lucky that it was the door-side, affording him somewhat of a view of the front door from his position on the ground. With both of them staring at the door, the sound of rustling metal made the situation more ominous. First the scream, then something hitting, and now what? Chains? Coins? Nunchuks? Jake couldn’t tell, but it was sure to be sinister.

Unfortunately for the pair, the door then began to open. Since it was locked, that meant it must have been a lockpick set! Jake thought. Now some murderer was going to be in their home, and Max would come home to find them both dead. If he was unlucky enough, he would come home just in time to witness the murders, causing the murderer to kill him also, leaving no witnesses to the crime.

When the door opened, however, Jake was disappointed to see that the murderer was Max. Or rather, it was Max instead of a murderer. That spoiled the whole event. What’s more, Max didn’t even have an opportunity to be confused or amused at Jake’s position on the ground. After all, he was dripping blood all over the floor, so he was really in the stranger and less explained position, between the two of them. Also he probably needed some first aid.

Though Ethan’s position was worse for viewing the front door, it was better for reaching it, so he got to Max and closed and locked the door before Jake could finish untangling himself from the curtain. Jake was not unused to detangling himself from curtains, however, so it was only a moment until they were both fussing over Max.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Ethan asked.

“NO! What do I look like, do I look fine? I am not fine, Ethan! I am staining the floor red and we aren’t going to get our security deposit back and I’m freaking out!”

“Let me see it,” Jake said, holding out his hands to take Max’s arm, which Jake assumed to be the source of the blood based on how tightly Max was curling it into himself. Max was refusing, still in a panic, trying to get the words out to explain what had happened.

“I was just trying to take a walk and all and it’s a nice time of year for that and all, but then I’m dying, so maybe it wasn’t a nice time of year for it after all! And I’m gonna lose my arm, and DON’T TOUCH IT JAKE THAT HURTS and I can’t even go to the hospital because they’d kill me or something and I didn’t want to be bitten on a nice night, why couldn’t it have been some other night so it didn’t get all ruined by this?” Max said in a rush, starting to sob a bit.

“Bitten?” Ethan asked. “By what?”

“Um…by a…skunk,” Max said. Both Jake and Ethan were suspicious of that, but decided in tandem not to push the issue before the wound was treated. Jake ran into the bathroom and came back out with a first aid kit while Ethan guided Max to the couch so he could sit down.

“You have to let me see it or I can’t help you. You want to stop bleeding, right?” Jake said, unintentionally imitating his mother when she faced a similar situation with child Jake. Though, Jake considered, he had never bled this much from any wound he’d had. It worked, though, and Max held out his arm. The damage was bad, not just a couple of punctures, but some ripping, like Max had forcibly freed himself from the jaws of a creature much larger than any skunk. Jake scrambled to find enough disinfectant to cover the wound, wondering if he should take the time to wash it out first.

“Well, you don’t have the…skunk, with you, so you’re going to need to get rabies shots,” Ethan said.

“What? Why? It wasn’t rabid, I don’t think,” Max said, distracted from his hysterics by the introduction of the topic of rabies.

“You don’t think,” Ethan said. “That’s the problem. Rabies can sit dormant for years before making an appearance, and once it does, that’s pretty much curtains. You can’t afford to gamble on it, and they can’t test the animal for rabies since you lost it, so you can’t forgo the shots. Besides, rabies causes an increase in the instinct to bite, so going straight to biting is more or less an indication the animal may have been rabid, at least if it was showing any other symptoms. Point is, unless you can prove the animal did not have rabies, you need the shots. Don’t avoid them.”

“I can’t, no, I can’t go to the hospital,” Max said. Jake thought he was calming down slightly, starting to come down off the adrenaline high caused by the animal attack. Jake worked a bit faster, trying to get the ointment on and the blood stopped before the sensation of the wound being touched started to really become painful. Oddly, though, as Jake had started treating the wound, he found out that it wasn’t bleeding all that much anyway, which is why he hadn’t been rushing to stop the blood first thing. Max must have gotten lucky with where the teeth had hit.

“Why can’t you go to the hospital? Give me a good reason by the time Jake has that bandage taped up or else I am driving you straight to the ER,” Ethan threatened.

“NO! Don’t do that! It might still be outside, and besides, I cannot go to the hospital!” Max protested.

“You’ll need a better reason. Look, Jake has those little bandage scissors out. He’s already cutting the tape. I’m going to go get my keys here in a second,” Ethan said.

“Alright, alright, don’t do that! Sit down, I don’t want you to freak out and pass out and hit your head and make Jake deal with me alone. Just promise me you won’t tell anyone else. You have to absolutely promise me,” Max said. A concession just in time, since Jake was just tightening and securing the tape, earning a yelp from Max, who really was starting to feel the injury now that he was in safety.

“I promise,” Jake said, though Max was directing his attention to Ethan, the less likely of the two to make that sort of promise before he knew any details about a situation. Ethan sighed.

“Fine. I promise. Unless you’re in danger of rabies specifically, I won’t tell anyone anything, and even then I’ll be light on the details. Now what happened?”

“Could that be any looser? That really hurts,” Max said. Jake raised an eyebrow and pointed to the drops of blood everywhere, which made Max drop the issue. “Alright. So I was taking a walk.”

“Skip to the biting part,” Ethan said.

“Fine! So there was like a dog and I said something to it because I thought it was friendly but it was back in the woods and it was not a dog it was actually a werewolf and it bit me and now I can’t go to a hospital because they don’t have shots for lycanthropy like they do for rabies and I’m pretty sure my life is over anyway. Happy?” Max said, all in one breath.

“What.” Jake said.

“Lycanthropy isn’t like rabies at all. Well, except the mode of transmission,” Ethan said, thinking.

“Well, if there is a way to prevent it, please do tell,” Max said.

“There aren’t any reported sightings of a werewolf in this county, right?” Jake said. “I don’t think there are any werewolves close enough to have bitten you.”

“Then what the HELL happened to my arm, Jake?” Max said, giving Jake the dirtiest of all looks.

“Hold on, I’ll check if there have been any recent sightings,” Ethan said, pulling out his phone and going to the official government sight where sightings of supernatural creatures were reported. Jake decided to beat him to the punch using an unofficial website, remembering that the government sight had no good search features, unlike the version he used, which filtered by creature type and recency of the report. Unfortunately, Jake had forgotten that he had blood all over his hands, so he got it all over himself. Also, the fingerprint verification didn’t work due to the blood, so it took him extra time to unlock his phone, and he had to clear the screen of blood to see the dropdown menus. Those were hampering him.

“Just tell me if I’m a werewolf now, please,” Max said, staring at Ethan in desperation.

“Got it, got it! No werewolf sightings, like I said,” Jake exclaimed, more excited than the situation befitted.

“Hold on, not every report shows up on the unofficial sites. Just give me a moment,” Ethan said, still scrolling through an unfiltered and unordered plaintext list generated by the unmaintained government site. Tax dollars at work, definitely, especially considering the unofficial site was maintained by one person, who didn’t make any revenue. It was just a passion project, and still better than the official site. “All right, I have to agree. There haven’t been any werewolf sightings in the area in quite a while.”

“So that means I’m okay? What was that thing, then?” Max asked.

“Not necessarily, it still could have been an unreported werewolf. They hide more easily than other supernatural creatures,” Ethan said. “It’s possible you’re the first to sight it.”

“So I should report it,” Jake said.

“NO!” Ethan and Max shouted simultaneously.

“This is an instance where reporting what happened will get Max in hot water. It’s not worth it. There are rumors about the government agency that deals with all the supernatural stuff, but it is definitely true that werewolf sighting lead to a lack of werewolf in the area. And they can’t exactly get relocated, so what happens to them is a mystery. You can’t report this to the government,” Ethan said.

“I was going to report it on my site. The guy has an email account you send the sightings to,” Jake said, having stopped just after tapping the contact button.

“Don’t do that either. You promised, remember,” Max said.

“Oh, right. Well, okay, I won’t. But it’s still a full moon and you look human still,” Jake argued.

“Is that a good thing?” Max asked Ethan.

“Like any disease, it takes time to replicate and cause a bodily response. The immune system can sometimes fight it off, causing symptoms like the common cold for a few days. Otherwise, you’ll probably have to wait until the next full moon to be sure,” Ethan said.

“Then what am I supposed to do right now?” Max asked.

“I don’t know,” Ethan shrugged. “Try not to think about it, hydrate, and get plenty of rest.”

“I can get you some tea,” Jake said. “I think we might have some Monkshood herbal somewhere.”

“Yeah, tea sounds good. Ow. You know, it really doesn’t feel great, but it’s still not as bad as I would have expected,” Max said, tenderly poking the bandage on his arm.

“Jake,” Ethan said. “Don’t make Wolfsbane jokes at a time like this.”

“What? Jake, that’s insensitive!” Max protested. “When did he make a Wolfsbane joke?”

They continued to try to calm Max down and comfort him in their own ways until Max was finally tired enough to fall asleep, which took extra time given the fact that he was concerned about waking up as a werewolf in the middle of the night. However, eventually, nearing two in the morning, they finally coaxed Max to sleep, allowing them to get some rest as well. It was a good thing it was a Friday night.

[scarisd3ad]

To the end and back | Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

Chapter twenty five | not strong enough

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Warnings - kidnapping, mentions of guns, mentions of murder, normal twd warnings

Summary - after the world ended you were sure you’d never find love again but a certain archer catches your eyes and changes the entire trajectory of your life.

(A/N) - it’s finally here! A few weeks ago I proposed the idea of the governor being readers estranged father, there were mixed feelings about it. I hint at it in this chapter but don’t explicitly say that he is her dad so if you guys don’t like it then I can just scrap it. Also this is a long one.

'Made to suffer.'

season 3 ep 8

Upon arriving in the town, the sun had already set, and the night welcomed the crickets' chirps. The town was fortified by a towering gate, manned by a pair of vigilant guards who took turns keeping watch. We crouched behind a parked car, peering through the darkness as the male guard patrolled back and forth, his eyes scanning the night for any signs of danger. The stillness of the air was only broken by the soft rustling of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl in the distance. Rick peers out from behind a few bushes to see what we are dealing with before taking a few steps back and crouching down.

Rick's voice was hushed as he handed his rifle to Oscar. "Alright, we need to downsize," he said, his eyes scanning the vicinity. Daryl nodded in agreement. "Ain't no way we're gonna check in all them buildings," he muttered, his eyes fixed on the numerous structures in front of them. "Not with all them guards there," he added, his tone heavy with concern. Suddenly, the sound of a twig snapping echoed in the silence, causing all three men to turn in alarm. Their hearts racing, they held their breath, waiting to see what had caused the noise. It was Michonne, stepping on a dry twig. Michonne mouths something to the three men before slowly retreating. All three of their hearts are beating a mile a minute. I can almost hear them. Rick takes a deep breath before saying, "Alright, let's go."

As we approached the town, we searched for a way to enter without being noticed. After scouting the area, we discovered an unguarded opening in the fence surrounding the town. With cautious steps, we made our way into the exterior unused area of the town, careful not to attract any unwanted attention. As we crept towards the building where Michonne had been held captive during her stay at Woodbury, our hearts raced with anticipation and fear. Rick thinking that the people who had taken Glenn and Maggie might reuse that room for them decided we should check in there first. coincidently that building also led into the main area of the town, so if Glenn and Maggie aren't there, we can just sneak out into the main area of the town and look around for them there.

The building or well room we got into is dark and quiet, there's no sign of anyone or any signs that anyone had been inside recently.

"This is where you were held?" Rick asks Michonne as we slowly make our way through the room. "I was questioned." Michonne corrects rick. "Any idea where else they could be?" Rick asks, brows furrowing as he looks around for any clues that Glenn and Maggie might have even stepped foot in the room.

Daryl is the first to make it to the front of the building. He drags the flowery patterned curtain back to peer through the window. Although I could not see what Daryl was seeing, I could hear people outside. There were hushed conversations and heavy footsteps along the pavement. Michonne had mentioned a curfew for safety. But there were too many voices and footsteps to only belong to guards. "I thought you said there was a curfew?" Daryl hisses as he turns back towards Michonne. we expected no people to be walking the streets of Woodbury right now so we could sneak out with little to no people seeing us. "The street is packed during the day. Those are stragglers."

"If anyone comes in here, we're sitting ducks. We gotta move."

My heart is racing as I can't shake the thought of finding Glenn dead or not finding him at all. What would I do if he was gone? How would I be able to go on with my life without feeling immense amounts of guilt while experiencing life without him? How would I go about life without him? Who would I talk to? Who would I stay up all night with?

"They could be in his apartment," Michonne suggests. they could, but would this governor guy want two people he had just kidnapped in his apartment? And wouldn't he have to drag both of them through this town during broad daylight when everyone was packing the streets? He'd want to go through the back entrances. Keep them in unused areas while torturing or killing them. So none of the residents heard, saw, or suspected anything. "Yeah, what if they ain't?" Daryl asks as he pushes himself off of the wall he had been leaning on and towards Michonne. he's trying to be threatening I can hear it in his voice.

"Then...we'll look somewhere else," She responds in a nonchalant manner, as if the situation wasn't a big deal, like she's trying to help us find a lost pair of shoes instead of missing people."You said you could help us," I say, placing both hands on my hips. Anger and anxiety are bubbling up in my chest. Tears have been threatening to fall in my eyes ever since I found out Glenn and Maggie were taken, and right now, I just can't think straight.

"I'm doing what I can," As she responded, her face contorted in frustration, her brows furrowing deeply and her eyes squinting. I could feel my trust in her slowly slipping away with every word she spoke. "Then where in the hell are they?" Oscar asks. As if he has known Glenn and Maggie for years. He blended in seamlessly with the group. If he doesn't end up like his friends, he'd be amazing in our group, but it doesn't seem like that'll happen. He's a team player, easy to get along with, and a good man all around.

Rick mutters a quiet "hey" before signaling for us to follow him. The three of us follow him, leaving Michonne by herself. "If this goes sound, we're cutting her loose," Rick whispers. I shove my hands far into my pockets. I didn't have any negative or positive opinions about Michonne. She seemed nice, but a lot of people seemed nice before they stabbed us in the back. Shane did, and we did not want a repeat of Shane, never again. So now we're cautious it's not just Michonne, it's with everyone because of Shane. someone can act like the nicest person ever and have the worst of intentions.

"You think she's leading us into a trap?" Oscar asks. I didn't think so. She didn't seem like the type of person to do anything like that, especially to a group with more women and children than adult men. She didn't even seem like the type to live in a place like that, especially with the way she fought off walkers. There's no way. She had to live on the road for the majority of the outbreak to have that kind of agility and technique. "Right now, it's the blind leadin' the blind. Let's split up," Daryl mutters. a knock at the front door scares the shit out of all of us. We all jump as all our heads snap towards the door. We all scatter behind a wall. My heart beats fast against my chest as I hear the sound of keys jangling before the door gets unlocked and pushed open.

"I know you're in here," I hear a deep male voice with a Southern accent boom through the once-silent building. "I saw ya movin' from outside," the man shouts as his footsteps begin to get louder. "Alright, now. You're not supposed to be in here, and you know it." my breathing begins to pick up as he gets closer and closer. I'm terrified that he'll find us, terrified of what he'll do to us once he finds us. I feel an all too familiar hand press itself flush against my mouth. "Hush, it'll be alright" Daryl mutters against the shell of my ear.

"who's in here?" the man crosses the threshold, entering into the area we are hiding in. Right as the man's footsteps pass the curtain wall we are hiding behind, Rick jumps out at him, pinning the man against the wall with a grunt. The man yelps out in pain, but it's instantly met with Rick's hushed but equally scary voice muttering, "Shut up! Get on your knees. " The man has no time to say or do anything before he's thrown to the ground forcefully by Rick as both Oscar and Daryl walk out from behind Rick. "Hands behind your back," Rick says as he points a gun at the man's face.

Rick looks up at Daryl and instructs him, "Zip, tie him," as the man quickly throws his hands behind his back. The sound of a zip tie tightening around the man's hands is heard, while Rick whispers, "Where are our people?" and keeps his gun pointed at the man. The man has a shocked yet terrified look on his face as he yelps out, "I don't know! I don't know!" Rick pulls the man closer harshly. "You are holding some of our people. Where the hell are they?!"

Even with the gun pointed at the man's face, and Rick's harsh tone, the man continues to insist that he does not know where Glenn and Maggie are. "I don't know!" the man cries out. Rick gives up, realizing that the man doesn't know. rick lowers the gun. "Open your mouth. "Rick then shoves a rag into the man's mouth as the man struggles and grunts through the homemade gag. Daryl then takes his cross bow knocking the man in the back of the head so hard he falls onto the ground. 

-

The sounds of screams outside take our attention away from the most likely dead man. Rick cracks the front door open before peering out. I make out the all too familiar golden blaze of a fire outside, casting a glow-like light into the room. Rick slips out before the rest of us follow suit. With all the commotion outside, no one noticed or cared that there was a group of people with guns and a crossbow walking around outside. No one even questioned us. Every person we saw was running, screaming, or crying too much to even want to notice us. We start with off-limits areas and doors that look like they don't belong in this place.

As we stepped into the dimly lit building, a musty smell hit our nostrils. The walls were coated with grime and the floors looked like they hadn't been moped in a decade, and dust floated around the room freely. It was the kind of place that seemed to have been forgotten by time. But as we made our way through the labyrinthine corridors, we couldn't believe our luck when we stumbled upon the exact area we were searching for. It was a scene straight out of a crime thriller - dingy and dangerous, but somehow thrilling at the same time. As soon as we entered, a man was holding the largest gun I had ever seen. He didn't look like someone who was just a resident here. There was no way he was just a resident because Michonne had explained how only staff could carry weapons (guards, governor, right-hand men, and etc.). We quickly press ourselves against the wall as the man begins to walk away. 

We all breathed a sigh of relief as the man's heavy footsteps gradually receded. We hastily got up and ran towards another wall, one that had a window placed in a corner uncomfortably. The window was covered in a thick layer of grime, as if it had been neglected for years. The dirt and dust particles had accumulated to such an extent that it was almost impossible to see through it. Even the slightest ray of light that managed to penetrate the filthy surface was distorted, creating a distorted and hazy vision of what lay beyond the window. Fortunately, we could still see the hazy silhouettes of the men who paced around. 

I almost jump when a raspy, all too familiar voice cuts through the air like a sharp kitchen knife. A voice I hadn't heard in almost a year, a voice I thought belonged to a dead man. I know it scares Daryl too, because of the look on his face. The shock, the confusion, that man was supposed to be a dead man. But Merle Dixon was the strongest man Daryl had ever known. He said it himself, but there was no way he could've survived out there bleeding out with only one hand. After we came back from the city, Merle completely left our minds. Not only because there were more important things happening then, but also because we thought he had died. Even though we assumed Merle had stolen our truck, we also assumed he died somewhere along the way because he never showed back up at the camp to see if his little brother maybe wanted to come with him. 

I knew about their original plan, to steal everything we had and skip town. Daryl had told me sometime between the farm fire, and this spring. He felt guilty, especially then, because of how close he had gotten to all of us in the group. After learning about that, I was sure that Merle had died. If he hadn't, he would have certainly come looking for Daryl. but he didn't.  

"We hear the group of men inside the room starting to exit." "shit" Rick grumbles as he stands up, taking out some type of bomb before tossing it and sprinting away, we follow suit sprinting into the shadows as the men begin filing out of the room. As I stand still, I can hear the sound of men's voices from afar. Suddenly, the air fills with smoke, and amidst the chaos, I can hear their yelps and curses. The smoke screen is our chance to approach them without being seen. We move towards them, quietly and cautiously, as the thick smoke continues to obscure their vision.

Coughing, hacking, and shouts of 'shit', 'fuck', and 'what the fuck just happened' are all we hear as we approach the door with guns out, ready to shoot. As we sprinted into the room, most of the men were too busy doubled over from coughing to even notice us. We quickly grabbed Glenn and Maggie and made our escape. Narrowly escaping the men's bullets as we ran away. As I glance over at Glenn, my attention is immediately drawn to his missing shirt and blood-covered face, not to mention the yellowish tone of forming bruises.

-

 Glenn is struggling to walk, relying mostly on Rick as we hurry down the mostly deserted streets of Woodbury. However, we realize that we're taking a risk by running around in the open, so we opt to take shelter in an empty storefront. Daryl's in first crossbow out as he clears the room. With a sudden and unexpected motion, Glenn lost his balance and tumbled down onto the ground, landing with a thud almost immediately. Maggie and I are crouched down next to Glenn. now I can get a better look at him, the puffy look on one eye, the blood trickling out of his mouth; the blood smeared over his torso, his knuckles that are cracked and bleeding. I immediately grab his hand, squeezing it affectionately as I ask, "Are you alright?" he smiles weakly as he mumbles, "I'm fine...promise."

"Ain't no way out back here," Daryl says as I hear his footsteps make their way back up towards us. "Rick, how did you find us?" Maggie asks, turning back, so she's facing Rick. Rick ignores Maggie's question as he walks over to us. "How bad are you hurt?" Glenn grunts "I'll be alright" he didn't look it. Maggie's the first to bring attention to the fact that Michonne hadn't followed us into the building and just up and disappeared. "where's that woman?" looks around, searching around the room for Michonne. 

"She was right behind us." Rick pulls back the sheet covering the window to scan outside for Michonne, his face illuminated by the golden glow of the fires. "Maybe she was spotted." "Want me to go look for her?" Daryl volunteers himself as he begins to walk towards Rick. "NO," Rick states as he lets go of the sheet, letting it fall back into place. "We gotta get them out of here. She's on her own." Michonne had no ties to us, no bond, so if she got split up from our group, it didn't matter. "Daryl...this was Merle," Glenn grunts out as Maggie tends to his wound the best she can. 

The moment I heard this was Merle. I wanted to kill someone because why the hell would he do this? I knew Merle was a bad guy, but I didn't realize how bad until now. How could he do this to Glenn? Hell, if he just wanted to know if his brother was okay, I'm sure Glenn would've told him Daryl was okay. 

Despite hearing him before we stumbled upon Glenn and Maggie, Daryl was in a state of disbelief. He couldn't come to terms with the fact that what we heard was true. Daryl wanted to hang onto the little hope he had that his brother could've known nothing about anything the governor was doing. But deep down, Daryl had a keen understanding that Merle was not one to blindly follow the crowd. He was a man of his own mind. Daryl knew that Merle wouldn't simply act without considering his own rightful opinions. And this was right up his alley. Even back before at the quarry, it was completely out of character for him to join a group like ours. That's why he was never at camp. He was always out doing his own thing. Our camp was simply a place he could rest his head some nights and score a free meal here and there until he would've gone and stolen all our stuff leaving us for dead. 

"It was him. He did this," Glenn adds as he leans forward, letting Maggie wrap a zip-up around his body. Daryl's brows are furrowed with confusion as Rick asks, "You saw him?" Glenn nods, shoving his arms through the armholes of the sweater "face to face. He threw a walker at me; he was going to execute us." Daryl, with a hint of nervousness, takes a few hesitant steps forward. His stuttered words escape his lips as he attempts to voice his question. "S-so my brothers this governor?" Maggie shakes her head. "No, it's somebody else. Your brother's his lieutenant or something." 

"Does he know I'm still with ya?" Daryl's knuckles go white as he tightens his grip around the crossbow, its weight heavy in his hands. He points the weapon downward as he speaks. "He does now. Rick, I'm sorry. We told him where the prison was. We couldn't hold out." With regret in his voice, Glenn whispers softly as Rick kneels beside him. Meanwhile, I rummage through my bag, trying to find something that might be helpful to treat his wounds or at least prevent infection. "no. no need to apologize." Before I can even look up to make eye contact with Rick, he's bolting off towards the window. 

Finally, I found a roll of gauze and some antibiotic ointment to apply to Glenn's hands in hopes that his gashed open knuckles wouldn't get infected. "Let me see your hands," I whisper. I grasped Glenn's left hand gently, feeling his fingers curl around mine. He looked at me with a wince as I brought his hand closer to my face, inspecting the extent of his injuries. The skin on his palm was grazed and raw, with minor cuts and bruises scattered across his knuckles. "I'm fine y/n" he mutters as I squeezed a glob of ointment onto his knuckles. "I don't want it to get infected," With a gentle touch, I glide my index finger along the length of his knuckles. As I do so, I make sure that the ointment covers the affected areas evenly.

"They're gonna be looking for us."

Glenn grimaces in agony as he tilts his head back, shutting his eyes tightly. I take the rolled gauze and begin wrapping it around his knuckles a few times before tearing it free from the roll and keeping it in place with a little bit of medical tape. I repeat the same process on his other hand before packing my supplies back into my bag.

"We have to get back," Rick declares as he turns his body away from the window. "Can you walk?" Rick rises back to his feet and walks over to Glenn. "We got a car a few miles out." Glenn grunts as he begins to push himself up. "I'm good." we all help Glenn to his feet. All of us holding onto him for a few extra seconds as we let him get his balance back.

"Hey, if Merles around, I need to see him," Daryl says standing in front of Rick as if he was intending to block him from leaving. We needed to leave now before someone found us. And seeking out Merle, who we just learned is some type of right-hand man to the governor. Who even knows if Merle even cares that Daryl's his brother anymore, he could snatch us all up and take us to this governor guy without even thinking twice.

Rick leans in close to Daryl. His words are harsher than usual when speaking to Daryl. "Not now. We're in hostile territory." It seems like Daryl didn't understand the dangerous situation we were in, and all he heard was to leave his brother behind again. "he's my brother, I ain't-" Daryl is getting on Rick's nerves and it's obvious from the look on his face when he hisses, "Look at what he did!" at Daryl. "Look, we gotta- we gotta get out of here now. " Again, the harsher tone doesn't work. "Maybe I can talk to him, maybe I can work this out." Rick's gaze meets mine, and his expression speaks volumes. It's saying, "Talk some sense into your boyfriend." I nod as I reach for Daryl's hand. He turns, brows furrowed. "D it's not a good idea," I say as I lace my fingers through his "Th-this is my brother we're-" 

"I know I understand that but we gotta get home look at Glenn he can barely fucking walk d" I whisper, he shakes his head as he pushes my hand away from his. "no...no ya know damn well if this was yer fuckin' brother-" When he brings up my brother it lights a fire in me, a fire that can't be blown out no matter what. he can't just compare his brother to mine like that, he can't just bring him up in a conversation like he knew him. He knows damn well if my brother did what he did to Glenn, I wouldn't be running to forgive him, to find him, to hug him, and tell him everything was alright even though he almost killed two people who we all considered family at this point.

 "No, don't bring up my brother because you know I wouldn't be defending him like he's a fucking saint if he did something like this-" he sees the rage and immediately begins to backtrack "No-I no I didn' mean it like that," I take a deep breath preparing myself for whatever was about to come out of my mouth "D you aren't thinking straight we don't have time for you to run off and find merle" I grab his hands squeezing them tight between mine "We need you what if something happens when you're gone, huh? We've got 2 hurt people with us. Without you, we might not make it back to the car. " He sighs, eyes flicking between each one of us before muttering a quiet "Fine."

-

Daryl tosses one of Rick's grenades outside, where it sizzles and pops on the pavement. As smoke clouds around it, we run out the door with guns drawn. Unfortunately, we're immediately spotted by some men standing on top of some buses. One shone their flashlight towards us and shouts, "there they are!" before the pops and bangs of gunfire began to ring through my ears.  

Rick somehow manages to shoot one man on top of the buses, causing him to tumble backward off of the bus. As the chaos ensued, we frantically searched for a safe place to hide. Finally, our eyes caught sight of a sturdy wall. Without a second thought, we darted towards it, our hearts pounding with fear. We leaned against the wall, gasping for air as we reloaded our guns. "How many?!" Rick shouts over the gunfire. "I didn't see!" Oscar shouts back. "don' matter. There's gonna be more of'em. we need to move."

"Any grenades left?" Rick asks, while Daryl rummages through a bag. Daryl nods affirmatively while humming and responds with a simple "uh-huh". Rick rises to his feet as he says, "Get 'em ready. We gotta gun into the wall." Maggie and I cautiously take turns peering out from our hiding spot behind the wall, aiming our guns and firing off a few rounds before quickly ducking back into cover. "you guys go ahead. I'm gonna lay down some cover fire." 

"No, we gotta stay together." Maggie counters as she presses her back against the wall behind her. "Too hairy. I'll be right behind ya." Maggie cautiously peeks out from behind the wall, firing a few shots before quickly retreating back to cover. It's unclear whether any of the shots hit their targets, but even if they didn't, it could still help if anyone was trying to make their way towards us.

"Ready!" Daryl, who was hiding behind the wall, suddenly pops out and throws the grenade before we continue on our way. In a tense standoff, Daryl finds refuge behind a bench while he trades bullets with the governor's men, who are positioned behind the bench opposite of him. Who am I even following? I don't even know at this point I'm running around shooting at people I don't even know if I'm supposed to be shooting at then...

click, click, click.

"Fuck! fuck, fuck, fuck!" I frantically rummage through my bag, my heart pounding in my chest. My fingers search through the contents, hoping to feel the reassuring weight of extra ammunition. Thinking about it, maybe I shouldn't have stopped where I was to look for ammo, but when your mind is racing and there are five different things in your head, you don't even think about the possibility of getting shot while looking for ammo.

I didn't even feel the bullet as it grazed the side of my torso. It felt like someone tapped me, not like an entire bullet was almost about to fly through my torso. I only notice when blood begins to bleed into my tank top, staining the pure white a dark crimson red. "shit! shit! Shit!" I shout as I run for the first place I see to take cover.

I collapsed onto the ground next to Daryl with a loud sigh. "fuck" I let out an irritated grunt as I leaned back against the hard bench. The dull ache in my back was only slightly alleviated by the cool metal surface. Suddenly, a voice interrupted my thoughts. "Are ya alrigh'?" he asked, concern etched on his face. I sighed and lifted my shirt, revealing the deep wound that was now oozing blood.

The wound is long and takes up at least half of the side of my torso in the elongated shape of a bullet. "Yeah, it just grazed me," I mutter as I begin to dig through my bag for the rolled-up gauze I had earlier. "ya sure?" he asks as he continues to shoot at the other men. "Yeah, just need to get it wrapped up," I say as my fingers graze over the cold metal of the stupid ammunition. 

Finally, I find the gauze and dress my wound with a few pieces of gauze pads before wrapping the rolled gauze around my torso and keeping it all in place with a little bit of medical tape. I hear Maggie shout "Daryl!" as Daryl's reloading. my chest is heaving as I try to catch my breath. Although I had felt zero pain earlier when the bullet had grazed me, I was somehow feeling it all right now. "Go!"

"ya need to go now. I'll be right behind ya just go" I gently placed my hand on his arm. The touch was subtle yet firm, as if to signal him to stop talking. "Yeah, yeah I will just one second I need to catch my breath" Gasping for breath, I let out a faint whisper as I clutch my aching side with my left hand. "they're bout to leave ya go; you can catch your breath once yer over that fence go!" As I push myself up from the ground, a low grumble escapes my lips, like a heavy groan resonating through my chest. I take a deep breath to steady myself and start sprinting towards the buses, my feet pounding against the pavement with each step.

I was just about to climb up to the roof of the bus When I spun around just in time to catch a glimpse of Daryl being forcefully dragged away by a group of men. They had a tight grip on his shoulders, and I could see the fear in his eyes as he struggled to free himself from their grasp. "Shit! shit," I mutter under my breath as I pull my once-discarded gun out of my bag and reload it with the ammo I had found earlier.

"What is it?" Maggie, who is leaning over the other side of the fence ready to help me, asks. "They took Daryl," I say as I hop off of the front of the bus. "No! y/n don't! we'll find him later!" Maggie shouts as I head back towards the bench, taking out several of the governor's men who attempt to attack me. "I don't have time for later. I'll meet you guys back at the car!" 

 I pick up Daryl's crossbow that had been discarded on the ground along with the gun he had, and a few bolts. I scanned my surroundings, desperately trying to figure out which way the men who had taken Daryl had gone. With Daryl's crossbow in my hand, I loaded a bolt into the bow and started to follow their trail. My heart was pounding in my chest as I ran down the pavement, dodging panicked Woodbury residents running in the opposite direction. I could hear their screams and shouts, but I had no idea what was happening. Every single resident of Woodbury seemed to be heading in the same direction, as if drawn by some invisible force.

My thoughts are interrupted when I run into a man who is much taller than me. He seems much calmer and more relaxed than everyone else, including me. "Shit, I'm sorry, I did-" 

"y/n?" I looked up with furrowed brows, surprised that the man knew my name. I was shocked to see him, as I had thought he had died months ago. His face was more stubbly than the last time I saw him, and there was a long scar that stretched across the length of his left cheek. "Jack? I thought-" 

As his gaze travels up and down my body, he seems surprised. "I didn't realize you lived here," he says, and I can see his eyes lingering on the myriad of scars that now decorate my skin. Each one tells a story of the daily battles I've faced, the trauma, the pain, and the death. "no-no I don't um your people they- they um took my friend, and I-" his eyes widen as the realization of who I'm with sets in. I'm baffled. He's supposed to be dead. I watched as walkers swarmed him. How'd he even get out of that? I waited days, if he somehow survived that why didn't he come back? Did he just assume I had died? Or did he just decide it was for the best to leave me for dead?

"you're the terrorists," he whispers. I shake my head, muttering quietly "NO, no... you don't understand you-your governor they-they took my friend and we're here to get him back we-we didn't mean for all this to happen." I'm feeling a sense of frustration and exasperation as I find myself trying to explain myself. "A-and now they took my boyfriend, and I can't leave without him...can you help me?" I don't even think to censor myself when referring to Daryl as my boyfriend being so rushed and frantic. I didn't even think about how he'd react to me being with another man. 

"Wait- wait...wait boyfriend?" my eyes widen in fear before choosing to deflect "Please Jack" I plead as I grab onto his arm. He sighs, whispering, "Fine, okay. Where did they go?" My heart raced as panic set in - I frantically scanned my surroundings, but to no avail. The memory of the path they had taken had completely escaped me. "Where are you going? Maybe they're taking him there." 

-

We end up in an area that kind of resembles a high school football field. It's small, with two sets of bleachers on each side, and it's lit up by a few large torch-like things. We're hidden behind the bleachers, hoping that no one will see us. The immediate surroundings are abuzz with the chatter of what seems to be a significant portion of Woodbury's population.

People are engrossed in conversation, speculating about the events that led them to this place and the reasons behind them. "Where do you and your group live?" Jack asks. I sigh, turning my head so I can make eye contact with him. "a prison," I reply before turning back around so I can keep a lookout for the governor or Daryl. he lets out a quiet "oh" before going on to his next question. "So, how many are there? y'know in your group?" I roll my eyes; did he have to ask this many questions? "Like 10 I dunno-"

When a brunette man with gauze wrapped around his head creating an eye patch walks in, everyone shuts up. It's a face that I could easily recognize in a crowd of people. This face has been etched in my memory for as long as I can remember. The last time I saw him, he was younger, with fewer wrinkles and scars on his face. "That's your governor?"

"What can I say?" he throws his arms out in defeat. "hasn't been a night like this since the walls were completed. And I thought we were past it," he swallows hard before continuing "past the days when we all sat, huddled scared in front of the TV during the early days of the outbreak. The fear we all felt then, we felt it again tonight." he pauses for a few seconds before he says, "I failed you." in a quiet tone. "I promised to keep you safe" he chuckles as he pivots his body a bit so it's facing the other set of bleachers "hell, look at me" he wipes at his mouth as he walks a few steps forward "You know, I-I should tell you that well be okay, that were safe. That tomorrow we'll bury our dead and endure, but won't, because I can't because I'm afraid."

 There are a few gasps in the crowd like it was so mind-boggling that their precious, brave, strong leader could be afraid of a group with more women and children than men. "that's right. I'm afraid of terrorists who want what we have. Want to destroy us! And worse...because of one of those terrorists...is one of our own." the crowd murmurs questions, and speculations about who this 'terrorist' is. He turns before pointing at Merle, who stands just a few feet behind him. "Merle..." the crowd gets louder with gasps.

Merle's brows are furrowed tightly as he stares at the governor's eyes filled with betrayal. "The man I counted on the man I trusted." one of the governor's other men places a gun against merles back, "he led'em here!" the crowd gasps "and he late in," Another one of his men takes merles weapons from his pockets as the governor begins walking towards merle. "It was you! You lied. Betrayed us all. Then, in the distance, someone with a sack on their head is led toward the arena. As they get close, I can make out the figure. The bigger muscles, the black vest, its Daryl. merle is pushed forward towards the governor. 

Daryl is struggling as he is pushed further and further towards the governor. "This is one of the terrorists!" the governor takes hold of Daryl's bicep and pulls Daryl towards him before ripping the sack off of Daryl's head. "Merle's own brother!" the governor circles Daryl like a bird circles its prey before he shouts, "What should we do with them! Huh?!" from the crowd a man shouts "Kill 'em!" which is followed by a bunch more shouts to 'kill them!!'

Taglist

@rivversin @soul4death @furiousheartpoetry @silicone-bonez @nezukos-number1fan @your-shifting-gurl @maziejay08 @oi-itse @rhaenryawhore @kimbunnysstuff @blipblopper @ramielll @ilyhannah @daryldixonnn @delicatebearpandaopera @crypticmushroom @daryldixmedown @duckybird101 @0-imjushere-0

[14dayswithyou]

hi. /homosexually 🥺❤️ i couldnt pick one so just do your favourite !! ♡♡ also lowkey half of these are angst fuel LMFAO?

for Leon.

"feelings change, but mine about you wont" / "i am so exhausted, but i'd sleep so much better with your arms around me"

for Jae

"I'm always going to support you. without even a second thought, I'll be there when you need me. I want what's best for you." / "let's sleep together under the stars."

for You <3

"hey, guess what? i love you" ♡♡♡♡

Soft spot prompts | No longer accepting !!

Omgggg Puppy hiiiii >:3 <- with homosexual rizz <3 I did them all because you are my favourite + I love being Silly teehee

Under a "read more" because it got long!!

001.

"Just like old times, yeah?"

It was probably illegal to camp out in the woods near the lake you used to frequent as kids, but Leon was adamant on holding onto your childhood tradition ever since he returned from overseas. The Davis family always enjoyed camping with you — even as kids — but the fact that Leon had you all to himself this time made the moment even better.

This time, his dad wasn't around to ask if you wanted to go fishing. This time, his mum wasn't popping in every 10 minutes to see if you wanted any snacks. It was just you and Leon; with your limbs tangled together inside of a swag that felt far too big for just two people.

A beat passes as you both stare at each other, before the soft pitter patter of rain bounces off the the tent roof and breaks the silence. And just like how the sky opened up, Leon finds himself wanting to speak what's on his mind as well.

"My feelings for you never changed either. Even when I was back in Australia, all I ever thought about was you." He shuffles closer, "But we're reunited again, aren't we? This time, I'm not going anywhere. I belong by your side."

Your matching bracelets intertwine once Leon reaches out for your hand — much like your feelings for each other.

002.

"Haha! That one kinda looks like Teo and his pointy nose!"

It was certainly uncomfortable laying in the back of Jae's beat-up truck, but his company made it all worth it. He'd thrown in a couple of pillows and a wooly blanket over the both of you earlier, but it was only now that you started to feel the biting sting of Colrand Bay's Autumn breeze.

But the stars were pretty and the cityscape view made it all better.

"Y'know, we are sooo going to get kidnapped later..." Jae cracks a joke from beside you, "But I'll have you to support me, right? I'll offer our kidnapper my left kidney and you'll offer to pay ransom?"

Support. That's all he's ever wanted from his friends. Someone who'd be there to love and accept him for all that he was — flaws and all. Jae didn't know if he truly felt like himself yet, but he was grateful to have you by his side for every step of the way. And he was determined to do the same for you.

"Thank you, Nate. I mean it."

003.

"Omgggg wait, really? That's sooooo crazy!!"

Deciding that your words were truthful, Saint puts the unused bone saw away and unchains your arms from the table. You finally get a moment to stretch out your tired limbs, as she casually skips her way to the mod cell door to unlock it and let the light in.

The rest of the mods are waiting for you upstairs, obviously used to seeing this kind of behaviour already.

"It only took like, two days for the Stockholm syndrome to kick in! That cute doctor said it'd take at least five..." You can hear her ponder from the staircase, "But aaaa it doesn't matter!! I love you too!! ^^ Wanna go to the beach to celebrate? Maybe Jae and Leon will be there!!"

Firstly, how the fuck did they say "^^" out loud... And secondly, why is Emile in her basement as well.......

[dearestspirit]

domestic

-> yelan x gn!reader

-> fluff, established relationship

-> wc: 1003

-> note: while i love mysterious and charming yelan i'm also in love with the idea of like. soft, domestic yelan so here's a take on that!!

living in liyue, you were bound to hear the whisperings of a mysterious woman employed at the ministry sooner rather than later. there was an allure to them; a desire to participate in the baseless rumors of who she could be. or at the very least, the eagerness to hear tale after tale of her constantly changing identity. it's as if she was shrouded in a thick fog, out of sight of the whole population. no one really knew who she was or what she looked like. of course, that didn't make her immune to being a topic of conversation. even just casually walking through the markets at night would open yourself up to hearing hushed discussions.

you couldn't stop yourself from tuning in with a smirk. because you knew better than all their chatter.

because you knew that later that night, when yelan came home from chasing down some sort of lead for information, she'd be coming home to you.

her work life was cryptic even to you, but you knew in your case it was more for your safety than to be secretive. you had the vague idea that she often got wrapped up with not the best sorts of people, so you never pushed her to divulge. you respected that she wanted to keep her personal life- you- away from that. sometimes, though, you did sit at home worried for her. there'd been multiple times she would get caught in a rabbit hole of work. yelan had always reassured you that she avoided physical combat whenever she could, and that you didn't need to concern yourself with if she’d make it home.

she always would.

she told you this with your cheek cradled in her palm, thumb caressing your skin. you cherish the memory, holding it in your heart with a great amount of love.

still, you find yourself holding in a breath until you hear the door click closed and the familiar tap of her heels. there's an audible sigh of relief when she settles down next to you on the couch, leaning into your side with her chin on your shoulder. part of you is still so unused to her being affectionate, but once she had really opened up to you, she was always so close to you. whether it be a hand on your arm, holding you, or her body pressed to yours, she was always there in some way. especially in the privacy of the home you shared.

this was common; her colliding into you as soon as she sees you.

"you're quite warm," yelan mumbles, nuzzling her nose into your neck. "did you eat?"

"i should be the one asking you that, you've been gone a while," you nudge her, earning you a pointed yet playful glare. "i was waiting for you."

"mm, that's no good." her eyes are fluttering closed, and you're sure her activities throughout the day must've exhausted her.

"stay there," you tell her, hands on her arms to steady her against the couch so she wouldn't fall forwards in her sleepy state. "don't fall asleep, i'll bring our food out here."

you pad into the kitchen, the cold tile making you hiss. hurriedly, you ladle some soup into two bowls, making sure yelan gets the spicier version you'd made. the warmth of the bowls brings you some comfort, taking quick steps back to be by yelan's side. while her eyes are open, she's rubbing at them, clearly feeling bleary.

"as soon as you eat we can head to bed, okay?" you leave a quick peck on her forehead, placing the bowls down onto the table and taking a seat.

you watch as she takes hold of her spoon, though she's interrupted by a yawn. without words, she looks over to you with somewhat of a puppy dog look. glancing at her bowl, then you, then her bowl again.

"what, you want me to feed you?" you ask after swallowing a mouthful of soup.

there’s a drowsy grin on her face, nodding determinedly. you held back a roll of your eyes, unable to resist her cute nature. with fingers holding her chin and thumb under her lip, you carefully take hold of her spoon with your other hand.

"it's a bit hot, so careful," you whisper, taking a moment to blow on the spoonful of soup. pressing the silverware into her mouth, you smile as she chews. "good, good."

the two of you carry on this way for a while. as you feed her a bite and she takes her time to chew, you take a bite of your own soup, finding rhythm in the motions. for a second you think to yourself how grateful you are yelan is so dazed– otherwise, you think she'd be able to hear the way your heart is beating like mad. the domesticity of the scene really touched you. when you had first met yelan, you never thought you'd end up here, hand feeding her (the thought of telling the yelan back then that you two would end up like this makes you chuckle) a meal you made for you both. there's something sweet there, knowing you've gained her trust and that she feels safe enough to let her guard down around you.

it takes her quite a bit of time to actually finish eating, but as soon as yelan does she's tugging on your sleeve to lead you to bed. honestly, you're surprised she can even coherently walk to the bedroom. without changing or anything, she's immediately diving into the blankets to burrow into them. you shake your head, endeared. you decide to follow her lead, lifting up the linens and crawling in next to her. there's instantly arms wrapped around you, curling you closer to her front. nestling her head under your chin, you can feel the way her breath hits your skin, shivering at the sensation.

"love you," she mutters, making you feel the way her lips move.

"i love you too, yelan."

[kitty-is-writing]

🖋️ WIP preview 🖋️

Guess who's back?

It's been fun writing Kandrina again, she's now a proud mama and experienced swordswoman 😁 check below the cut for her first pov section in 3 books ⬇️

Kandrina stared at the letter, the first she had received from her sister in almost a year. She, and several other relatives of those who had travelled through the gate, had been increasingly worried over the last several months. They had even gone to the temple of knowledge in Bewein, asking - not so politely in some cases - what was happening and if they could use the gateway to visit their loved ones. The High Priestess had been reluctant to allow it, and after some weeks had admitted there was a problem with the magical gate.

Some very insistent pestering from Remlika had got her to elaborate; the device on this side was working fine, but something was blocking them from the other side. With no idea how or why it had happened, they were unsure how to get through that block and reestablish contact. High Priestess Glissia was fairly confident the gateway device on the other side was intact, as their own was still working, but thought it had been deactivated somehow.

While the temple mages tried all they could to reopen the gateway, Remlika and a few others had thrown themselves into research, poring over the books acquired from the Li Buqu years ago. After an initial flurry of interest, the books had lain unused for some time as many were unable to make the magic work for them. Remlika insisted it was not necessarily more advanced than their own, as most believed, but a separate kind of magic that the People had no experience with. Enkarini’s brief mentions of other energies in her previous letters seemed to line up with that, but there was frustratingly little information to be found.

A month ago, a batch of letters had arrived from the northern continent of Trizes, sent by the mages who had travelled there by ship shortly after the tribal union dissolved. Mixed in with those were some letters from the Inner Library students who had gone through the gateway, and people had hoped it was open again. Those hopes were soon dashed, but at least they had a way of contacting their relatives again.

Kandrina had read her sister’s letter dozens of times since receiving it, partly to reassure herself that at the time of writing it, at least, Enkarini was safe. It had arrived with a pair of small stuffed cats, one yellow and the other purple, that her daughters had instantly fallen in love with. While the little ones were happy with that, Kandrina was less thrilled with the content of the letter on each read. The crossed out portions were perhaps more concerning than Enkarini had intended, although that was probably more because Kandrina didn’t know how those half sentences were supposed to end and her worry made her think the worst.

‘Dear Kandrina, firstly I need to say that I am safe and well, so please don’t worry about me. The twins need your attention far more than I do right now (the two toys that should be with this letter are for them, by the way). I am sorry for being out of touch for several months now, but some things have happened here that there was a problem in the village we travelled to, and the Mayor sealed off the gateway to keep us from leaving. Most of the others were bound without consent forced into a ritual that in a lot more trouble than I ever was, and I helped get everyone out. We’re in a different place now, without the crazy Mayor anywhere near us.

‘We are working on a way to get home, but without access to the gateway I don’t know if it won’t be easy. Some other mages sailed to Oakshire (which is a different nation on the same land as we came to) and they’re helping us all get letters to our families. Maybe we can sail back the way they came, but that would take a long time and a few of the others say they get seasick. Most of us now believe coming here was think it will be better to wait and try for the gateway once things change in the village.

‘Caiara is trying to See for had a vision of you and the babies, and it seemed like Meradina was which she showed me, and they’re both so cute! I hope they like the toys, they’re enchanted with a mild calming spell to help them sleep and not be scared of storms. Please tell them both that auntie Enkarini loves them already and is looking forward to meeting them for real soon.

‘As for my studies, they are all that makes being here feel I have been working on a few more advanced shadow spells and even tried some weaving with Soris. Weaving is a type of magic that mixes different energy types together, and I’ll be sure to give Remlika all of my notes about it when I get back home. I think she and the other mages she works with will find it very interesting. My own magic comes from a type of energy called isithi, which Soris says means shadow in the old language of the Isati. I don’t remember if I mentioned the Isati before; they are similar to the Colourless, only their energy is a different type and doesn’t have such a clash with regular magic.

‘I have no idea when I’ll be able to write again, or if you will be able to write back just yet, but I hope we can talk properly soon. I wish that I miss you. All my love, Enkarini.’

Kandrina had written half a letter back the day she got it, when she stopped. The parchment was still sitting on her desk, unfinished, because a letter didn’t feel like enough anymore. She wanted to see her sister, see for herself that she was safe and maybe bring her back home. Enkarini was technically an adult now, she knew that, had quietly celebrated her sister’s adulthood ceremony last summer despite her not being there. She was still her little sister though, and she would always want to look out for her.

She stuffed Enkarini’s letter into her pocket and stood, grabbing her rain cloak as she left the house. There were others who had received letters from their relatives beyond the gateway, and maybe if they were read together they would contain enough hints about how the thing was sealed for the mages at the temple to break through.

[schwarzwaldcr]

@mystalwartheart || cont. x

They called it 'The Inert Castle'.

It isn't technically a castle at all. Not in the traditional sense one thinks of when 'Castle' comes to mind. There aren't the high ramparts or turrets or studded doors. The walls around the courtyard are merely stone privacy walls; tall, but served no real defensive purposes, crumbled with age and time. Originally, it had been a manor house of some lord of the area, some time in the early or mid 1800s, they thought. Before the German Federation, for sure. But it is inert.

Or at least, the courtyard is inert. A dead space, a bubble where no influence from either the Castle or the broader Zone around it hold sway, like a no-man's land. Rules from Schwarzwald do not act here, the Castle itself does not think or feel into this space. It is a sphere where reality still manages to stubbornly persist. Good to house greenhorns, good to make it a meeting place for those who are wholly unused to the temperamental creature that surrounds it and close enough to the outer boundaries of the proper where even those who have never set foot in a Zone can get to without incident.

However, despite being in the title, the Castle itself is not a dead space. It's very much alive and kind of grumpy, as far as Castles go. Not nearly as bold and brash and playful as some of its other more appropriately-named brethren. Unlike its bigger siblings, however, it's also not nearly as powerful. It doesn't like visitors, really, and most people who have a basic understanding of a Zone know not to grasp at its metaphoric dangling lure when it does present it.

Unlike the group Wulf spies through the trees as she's walking up to the site entering through the front doors as they open. The Castle itself cannot influence the courtyard but human curiosity, it can still tickle and she heaves a sigh in a mixture of exasperated exhaustion before continuing on passed the threshold into the courtyard. She can only guess this was the group Papa told her would be waiting for her. 'It is easier to conduct this type of business where our old friends in the 'Stag cannot hear', she hears the old Russian boom in her memory as she climbs the crumbling steps up toward the front doors. Back over the boundary and into the sight of the Castle itself.

The doors are closed by now; the first trap for the newcomers has been passed, so like a carnival event, that way is closed. She can enter through here, but her path will be different. Already the Castle is complaining at her for the intrusion of another group of foolish humans.

I want to be left alone! it yells through so many voices built of crackling stone and crumbling plaster.

She makes a counter-argument of that it lured them in the first place should factor, nevertheless the old thing haughtily just tells her to remove them with a whine like a Lady who's spotted a mouse in the drawing room. Thankfully, without screeching. This demand is, of course, accentuated by the doors flying open again, the halls beyond dark and foreboding and unknown.

She knows the halls shift and twist, impossible labyrinths devised to trap even the most experienced of stalkers. It's a contradiction to the Castle's entitled personality and the sounds of scraping wood and ceramic plaster is enough to make veterans pale and turn away. But The Wolf is no ordinary stalker, veteran or not, and Guides are capable of going places others cannot and still come out the other side physically unscathed.

She steps casually over the door's threshold into pure darkness, shifting equipment while the world readjusts. The lights are faint, but enough her eyes adapt fairly easily. A tactic to disorient at the first steps, she's already moving through the halls. The sounds of sliding corridors is louder and more frequent the further she goes, and although she knows she's only walked forward in a straight line, the internal workings of the Castle have sent her down numerous identical corridors moving of their own will and whim. Occasionally, gravity shifts in pockets and she feels it somewhere in her. It feels a little like vertigo, even feeling the ground beneath your feet. She knows if she consciously tries to realign herself, she'll fall over and that will be the end.

Get them out already!

The voice permeates the space around her head as the corridors cease their incessant personal journeys, allowing her to plant herself on firm ground in a hallway that looks at least somewhat normal. A wall to one end, a wall at the other end. The first test has been passed.

"Where are they?" she asks of it. "I can't help if I don't know where they are."

In the music room. Here. I'll make it easier for you.

The emphasis of a spoiled child who simply can't believe they have to give directions to a newcomer in their house makes The Wolf roll her eyes, but with a few more shifts of walls, she can hear it. Her ear twitches momentarily and her head follows suit to zero in on the direction of what sounds like a piano. The sound is muffled, like it's coming through many rooms and halls, but the ticking tinkling of the keys has her attention enough she can at least move toward it.

Her pace quickens as she catches sight of something more pressing, in her mind. A flash of light, blazing silhouettes of people distorted against the walls ahead. She's almost positive instructions were given to leave all electronic devices behind. Her steps are quick and practiced, utterly silent in the darkened corridors in time to the Queen of the Night's Aria that echoes in her ears from the piano. She's not sure if this is relative, but given how things just are around here, she's willing to bet they all hear something different.

She's barely a shadow moving between the unit in the door and the hall, using practice honed by years as an invisible child thief to reach forward and click off any electronics she sees on her way through and drop them. She is built to see in the dark, after all, a little more definition than others around her. The others will barely notice her as a streak of faint light and flutter of winded wake before she's passed into the room beyond, the music room.

A hand is gripped around the flashlight of the woman she takes to be the unit's commander, given how she is the one at the forward point, and subsequently the slender fingers encompass the hand gripping it. Glowing quicksilver eyes are leveled as well as she can into the other's, her thumb pausing over the button to the flashlight.

"N̴ ̷O̶ ̴D̴ ̴E̸ ̷V̴ ̵I̴ ̷C̵ ̴E̵ ̷S̷"

A simple demand before the button is clicked, turning off the offensive device in question. To be honest, she's not sure how the Castle writes this rule. But given the things she herself has seen and been privy to in her time in the trees, it's better safe than sorry on this rule.

[battleangel]

You Have to Earn The Right To Live

Nobody ever has to die again from houselessness, famine, poverty or lack of adequate medical care.

How?

💗Universal Housing

💗Universal Healthcare

💗Free College

💗Universal Basic Income

Specifically:

💗Increase personal income taxes to 70% to 85%+ for upper middle class and high net worth individuals to fund the above.

They would have less so that others could literally live and not die. Theres nothing unfair about that.

💗Increase personal income taxes to 75%+ for individual millionaires and billionaires (Elon Musk, Bezos, Vince McMahon, Roger Goodell, Mindgeek CEO, Waltons, Hiltons, CEOs, professional athletes, actors and actresses, singers, Hollywood studio heads, record label executives, etc.).

They would still have so much without other people being forced to go without to the point where thousands and thousands every year are dying needlessly where housing, basic medical care and food would have saved their lives.

The US has the number one economy in the world -- the money is there to prevent these senseless deaths, it is just being hoarded and passed down generationally to stay within these families by a select few, by the 1%.

People dont have to die of houselessness or preventable illnesses or because they couldnt afford needed surgery or from hunger.

Look at all the abandoned buildings that sit empty that could be converted into free housing. Look at abandoned shopping malls.

Look at all the food we throw away unused in our fridges and all the food that restaurants throw out from ridiculously oversized portions that guarantee needless and senseless waste.

We have the money, resources, food, medicine, doctors, land and building space to address these issues and stop these preventable deaths today.

There is no scarcity issue in the United States when it comes to these resources!

Instead, capitalism is a zero sum game and a death cult where you have to "earn" the right to live -- thats pro-life for ya.

You have to "earn" the "right" to be housed and sheltered, to be protected from the elements, to not sleep on a sidewalk, on the gutters, under a bridge, near a trashcan, defenseless and possibly alone, open to being raped, abducted, robbed, beaten, kidnapped, assaulted and murdered with no protections.

Many houseless shelters are unsafe, especially for women, overcrowded and at capacity.

You have to "earn" the "right" to be given food and sustenance, to literally be allowed to eat, to live.

Most Americans live paycheck to paycheck and layoffs happen consistently in cycles to increase shareholder returns, they are never necessary at the rate and volume we see where thousands are laid off for a temporary reduction in the rate of increase of profits year over year -- not a decrease in profits, a reduction in the rate that the profits increased.

Dips and lulls are to be expected in any business.

To get rid of thousands of employees with decades of experience, knowledge of the company, culture, processes, philosophy, management style that is literally irreplaceable is incredibly shortsighted and reactionary but they do it anyway for a temporary pop -- stocks temporarily increase, the board and shareholders are temporarily sated, they wait a few years then do it all over again, destroying thousands of lives, careers and their own companys intellectual cache, culture and morale but they dont care because of the pursuit of the almighty dollar.

Thats more of a cult than Jim Jones ever was. If thats not drinking the Kool-Aid, what is?

Employees know they are completely expendable under capitalism so they live in fear hoping that they've kissed enough ass and sucked enough dick for clout that they wont be laid off and when they inevitably are, they turn into those creepy people on LinkedIn, smiling through their tears on their profile pictures, profusely thanking and sucking off the company that just kicked them in the teeth. Never bite the hand that feeds.

💗Increase corporate tax for Fortune 500 companies, FAANG, big agriculture, big pharma, big box retail, top banks & financial services company, big 4 consulting to 50%+ to fund the above.

These are multi-billion and even trillion dollar companies. They would still have the money to innovate, create, expand, compete in their industries and pay their employees. The money is there to fund these programs.

💗Stop relying as a society on people "giving to charity", non-profits and churches to not fill the gap that the socialist programs listed above could completely close.

Right now, everything is up to chance and the individual.

If you dont find a soup kitchen or houseless shelter or join a church, if you die you die, thats on you, thats your ass -- you should have worked harder.

Noone should have to look for any of this, it should be freely provided to all citizens in a communal society that has businesses that generates profits but then distributes those profits to do the most good.

Capitalism scoffs at this and says, we are businesses not charities. Its for profit, not non-profit.

It doesnt have to be zero sum or one of the other.

We could embrace innovation and competition while not letting people die needlessly in the streets.

It doesnt have to be like this.

Theres enough to go around for everyone without anyone in the US having to needlessly die.

Outside of the US, if foreign aid went directly to non-profits like Doctors Without Borders and not to corrupt governments that hoard the money and dont give it to their citizens, world poverty, hunger, starvation, malnutrition, houselessness would be eliminated, malaria nets & basic medicine could be provided, needed surgeries, clean drinking water.

1% of people of the world hold 99% of the wealth.

It doesnt have to be this way!

[dontcallme-likethat]

And With What Conscious Equipped, Pray?

A brief excerpt of a TBZ Gang-type AU in the works. This is meant to be a prologue of the bigger story. Open-endness and missing details intended.

○ ○ ○

Synopsis - Sangyeon and Chanhee, leader and second of their city gang unit, have made quick work of tracking down the people who kidnapped one of their own.

Warnings - Mentions of weaponry, blood, and minor injury

○ ○ ○

Besides the drumming of the highway cars and semis that drove above, humming through the thick concrete ceilings of the underground parking space, only the clicking of Chanhee’s heels echoed down the empty lot as he briskly made his way to his car.

He opened the trunk with a sigh, tossing the heavy duffel bag of unused armery parts he’d just collected, and used a clean rag to wipe off the smudges of rust and dirt he’d gathered from the messy ordeal off his jacket, as well as the blood that had managed to spill from the open skin of a few of his knuckles towards his elbow. Usually he would be more annoyed about the stains, the mess, how unusually angry he’d gotten – but tonight he dismissed a quick patching trip to Hyunjae’s office.

He had more important matters to attend to, ones that did not involve attention to his pitiful wounds. He had a closing case, and an idiot to save.

The drive to the Center was without trouble, where the late night rain had fended off any stray from overtaking the slippery streets. When he arrived, Chanhee grabbed a folder of files from the empty seat beside him before exiting his car and making his way inside, nodding in quick greeting at the handful of recognizable but unmemorable faces of other members of the gang who littered the main floor, people outside of Chanhee’s scope of work. He climbed the backwell stairs to the higher up offices, lining a dimly lit, wide hall of dark oak wood floors and doors, with walls the color of worn, grey linen. It was quiet and it was comfortable, but it wasn’t out of invitation.

Chanhee knocked thrice on one of the furthest doors before swinging the it open without waiting for a reply.

Sangyeon looked up from his paperwork that currently scattered the small coffee table before him, the set of seats by the large glass windows apart from his larger desk. Chanhee dropped his folder in front of him with a small thud.

“I’ve cornered the leads we discussed yesterday,” Chanhee said, inviting himself to a cold glass of water from Sangyeon’s small drink cabinet. “Took a whole day of scouting but we have our guy,”

Sangyeon flipped through the pages of identification and history work of at least a dozen men, men from a small gang from the far southeast side of the city. They weren't significant or troublesome enough to garner their attention, even a memorized name, until just a few days ago.

He hummed, scanning the last file of the man Chanhee was referring to, one of the leaders that was sure to have what they were looking for.

“That was fast. Well done,” Sangyeon said as Chanhee sat across from him. “Did you find their armery? I was looking at the documents of the robbery here,”

“In my car. Those kids couldn’t leave a trail more obvious if they tried,”

“Not much trouble, I hope?”

“They’re children, Sangyeon,”

“Not what I asked,” he nodded at Chanhee’s knuckles.

Chanhee scoffed, covering his hands with his sleeve. “They pissed me off, is all. They don’t know what they’re doing, following their leaders like blind dogs. I took one down when he tried to put his hands on me, but that was all. I told the rest to go home,”

Sangyeon looked back down at the files, nodding with a sigh. “They aren’t a threat, at least, it seems. But we’ll be done with them come sundown,”

Chanhee gazed at the cityline below with a frown. Rooftops, dark alleyways, and the glitter of orange streetlights from the glass’ raindrops built the scape. Too pretty a sight for a most obnoxious night of work.

Sangyeon’s tired but light chuckle before him made Chanhee face him again.

“Get some rest,” Sangyeon told him, “This will be over soon. You know he’s okay, right?”

Chanhee clicked his teeth. “Of course I know. I’m just annoyed. How he let something like this happen to him is what I’m concerned about,”

Sangyeon thought for a moment. “I had the same thought. It’s rather unlike him,”

Chanhee gnawed at the inside of his cheek in the enveloping silence before saying quieter but with a firmness, “We can’t let it happen again, Sangyeon,”

“A lousy kidnapping?”

“You know what I mean,”

Sangyeon watched as two droplets crawled down the glass, fighting against a breeze. They twitched and grew is size when they gathered other standstill drops. Together, they slid down, down.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I do,”

○ ○ ○

[witchmd13]

Heyyy would you have any tips for undergrads in labs to be *less* frustrating? I never know whether to bother a grad student with an equipment related question, or try to figure it out myself and end up making a mess. I’m sure it’s very group-specific but I don’t know what I’m doing and would appreciate any advice! Ty in advance.

hi! I would love to give you tips. it is group specific, but I'm happy to give general tips!

First of all, I need you to know that there are not so kind grad students out there, just like there are not so kind professors out there. it's not your fault and there's probably nothing you can do about it. however, sometimes we are too stressed. it's still not your fault, but that's just the reality. grad school (in general because i know it's different for each country and university) can make the kindest person snap sometimes. I've seen it.

also it's totally okay to feel like you don't know what you're doing. I spent the first couple of months shadowing my thesis supervisor's research assistant and I felt like I was back to being a first year student. she was so kind and answered all my questions. she never made me feel stupid. I still call her sometimes when I need help. so it's totally fine to be lost, it's all about asking the right person, which brings me:

FIND A KIND PERSON AND STICK TO THEM LIKE GLUE. just find anyone in the lab who's willing to teach you and answer your questions or even let you follow them around as they work. I know it's hard to find them sometimes and they're often busy, but there's always at least one. for me it was the RA I mentioned. saved my life. even if it was another undergrad who's been there a little longer than you have, they can be a great help. and if that someone is always busy, ask them if they have free time to answer your questions later. often they will be happy to help.

always, ALWAYS, try to be on time. especially if there's an experiment you're invited to see or help in. chances are the people working on the experiment have been preparing for it for at least an entire day before and sometimes weeks or even months before. it's not about you. they need to start on time and they can't wait for you.

ASK BEFORE YOU USE A DEVICE. a lot of the devices in the lab are calibrated to certain parameters. for example cell incubators, centrifuge machines in our lab, whatever it is. just ask. sometimes even a micropipette is put on a certain measurement the person using it is used to leave it at.

DONT OPEN CETRIFUGE TUBES/PETRI DISHES/COVER SLIPS/EPPENDORF TUBES… ETC THAT ARE STILL IN THE PLASTIC PACKAGE WITHOUT ASKING. chances are this stuff is sterile. you risk contaminating it if you open it outside a specialized hood and it becomes unusable, so just ask.

ALWAYS PUT YOUR SAFTY FIRST. I learned this from my thesis supervisor. this is not about the usual stuff like your lab coat and gloves. I mean if you break a container and the substance in it touches your skin YOU TELL SOMEONE even if it's the most expensive stuff in the lab. once we were working with liquid nitrogen and the container tipped over and almost crashed. my supervisor immediatly pulled me out of the way and let the samples all fall to the floor. we had spent months experimenting on animals for these, but it wasn't worth losing my hand or foot trying to save them.

lastly, DONT BE TOO STRESSED TO HAVE FUN. working in a lab can be so cool and fun. scientists are the most excited dorks on the planet. they can be very grumpy (bureaucracy will kill us all one day), but wait until you're standing in a room with a group of scientists who just had an experiment they've been working on for months work. IT'S THE MOST MAGICAL THING.

I hope these help. I couldn't think of more and I tried to make them as general as possible but I work in a bio lab. my field is neuroscience/neuroanatomy and i work on animals and cell cultures mostly so I don't know how it works in other labs, but the general sentiment stands. I wish you all the luck! 💛💛

[fishsinsareacknowledged]

Something something something husband Nikto with boyfriend König who have a strained relationship cause they were fuck buddies years ago long before you.

Tags: Nsfw Nikto/König/Reader, sub! König, reader doesn't fuck but they do. Possessive/obsessive Nikto,Reader. Very much bottom König getting railed by Nikto for like a paragraph. He's a slut officer. Established relationship. Also some perverted reader and König in here. Just a smidge.

It was all messy and all ways fucked up and bloody before you came into the picture. Meeting and marrying you was one of nikto's only right decision in his all wrong life. Such a sweet precious thing, full of life and the irregularities of humanity in all the wonderful ways.

Sure dating one of your ex team/coworkers wasn't the best idea but eh. You were too good to pass up. König thought so too.

"Schatz, date at the 14th?"

"Hmm, sure, I'll ask my husband."

"What."

The poor man didn't even know the two of you were married before then because Nikto keeps his private life separate. Speaking of, the colonel finds himself thinking about the shorter brute more and more after their little...situation. Wonder why that may be?

And so he arrives at the house with two bouquets of flower. It would be rude if he only brought one right? His Oma always said if he was to find a partner he would get at least five flowers, she didn't mention what would happen if he was attracted to two people. That were married at that.

The door opening with a click as Nikto greets him first, a white tanktop and some shorts. It's all casual and all so much- He didn't even get to knock please have mercy-

He's leading him inside without any words. All silent outside yet loud inside as König internally cums over seeing some of Nikto's skin, all scarred and gott he just wants to run his tongue over those scars again please-

"So, you want my spouse too hm?", and it all comes to a pause. Hands purposefully hiding the flowers.

"Yes, sir.", Nikto used to love that, maybe he still does now, if not? even he's respectful in someone else's house.

"Prove to me you can be a good slut." Flowers turn forgotten on the kitchen table.

Their own lust reignited. Something domestic and new added in the mix of nostalgia as they find themselves another night together.

"ебать, just as tight as I remember."

"I hope our Liebling doesn't mind."

"ah, they are aware."

"Actually? Wait hold on shit- ngh- Schieß- right there-"

And he just takes it all. Every slap of hips against his sore, soft ass. Every spank Nikto delivers to his tight asshole and cheeks. Whining when a finger slips in, angled perfectly with the dick already splitting him open, moments before he comes with a loud grunt.

And he whimpers softly when Nikto overstimulates him, further milking and coating his prostate with teasing filling touches and their sin mixed throughout. The first to initiate and the first to pass out on the bed he doesn't recognize in the morning.

Hands and bodies he doesn't remember in the sunlight. Until he moves and a voice he remembers, every scene comes back to him like a train crash.

"You're awake, 'they' insisted you'd stay, you're welcome to."

And he's unused to the softness in nikto's tone. But he knows. He doesn't want to leave when you're in his arms and he's in yours. A man touch starved beforehand and now he's being held front and back its enough to make his heart nauseously full.

He's not allowed to leave either and he knows it too. The grip in Nikto's hands is unfamiliar but not unknown, something old he used to feel that only his muscle memorizes while he was asleep.

The sheets have been changed he's noticed, no longer the cum stained sheets he got ravaged on and passed out in. No doubt getting carried by the thicker man when he was out cold.

Surrounded front and back and a realization made. You're not theirs, he's yours and Nikto's. A realization that makes him whimper before he gets coddled by the two figures around him, hands already pawing at his tits and hips being shifted backwards. He's stuck with nowhere he'd rather be.

—

"So, how long have this been going on?"

"Three years." Some of Nikto's high quality coffee gets spiten out in pure surprise as said man gives off a loud breathy laugh.

"Am I intruding?"

"Not at all. We've been wanting a new pet."

××××××××××××××××××××××x x××××××××××××××××××××××

Ya boi did not proofread this have some fun looking at my grammatical mistakes.

[heroes-anthesis]

Good morning, sweet succubus (Venus)

The family tribute room was in our basement, but we were never allowed to go in. “That’s the She-Devil’s room. Mama and I are the only people allowed in.” Father would say. This had always confused me, because sister Vesta had told me that it was where sister Venus slept. When I asked Father about it, he said: “She is not human. Never ask me again.” So I didn’t.

Once a month, Father would tell me to write on a sheet of paper everything that had gone wrong the month before. Every bad grade, every weird tasting food, even if I left the house with my shoes untied one day. When I was ten, I figured out that the longer my list, the longer Venus would scream and cry that night. But if I listed nothing, or not enough, it was worse. So I started putting 10 things on the list, everytime.

Our little piece of land in Oregon was hardly touched during the Crisis. Yet, at least once a week, I would hear Mama talk about how the “She-Devil” was causing strife and distress in our country. This was about the only time we would hear her talk about anything political related. Even our history lessons would avoid talking about anything but our beliefs.

It was close to midnight during Venus’s Coming of Age, and we were walking through the woods after Ritual. Despite our isolation, we heard the telltale sign of footsteps.I feared a wendigo, Janus a werewolf. Our parents, the truth: a witch. She dashed towards Venus, who was bound by chains across her whole body, shuffled along like a slave. Father tried to stop her, but it was as if she didn’t exist, moving through him like the wind moves through silence. What the witch told Venus that night, we will never know, for she left as quickly as she came, and Venus refused to tell. But she did change. My quiet, soft spoken sister would suddenly lash out at me, calling me many of the “banned words” without any of her trademarked stutter. Her monthly beatings suddenly became weekly altercations, and then daily skirmishes. Papa stopped making statues for our shrine after Venus cracked Vesta’s skull with one.

Today was my 16th birthday. Where many children would receive money, video games, maybe a car, I received a box at eight in the morning. Inside were three things: A pair of white robes, a weird leather mask, and a note. *Come to the basement tonight at ten. Wear what you have been given. Do not be late or early.* The mask, as I would later discover, was human leather.

I waited outside the entrance until 9:59. As the clock struck, I quickly resolved the nerve to open the door. The staircase down was lined with fine gray stone, and lit with beautiful candles. I descended the stairs quietly, but quickly. Unlike the rest of our house, the flight of steps refused to creak, as if they were created and maintained with extreme duty. Or better yet, the flight was so short and unused that it never saw heavy usage.

The basement used the same fine stone as the staircase, except that various runes lined the room in carefully measured intervals. I was able to recognize many from my lessons, *Protection*, *Wealth*, *Love*. But there was one that littered the room, from head to toe: *Demon*, etched so deep that you could see outside through the cracks. What confused me the most, however, was that there was no bedroom furniture. The only exception was a small rectangle carved into the ground, with the word *BED* etched in the center. Venus’s clothes laid in a neat pile at the foot of the crude sleeping spot.

Father wore a robe mask like mine, with Antlers sprouting from his. Mama wore a hood and plague mask, cloaked in all black. Vesta wore red, wearing one of those anonymous masks that movie hackers have. Venus… wore nothing but chains. They hung from her limbs, dangling her from the ceiling like a wind chime. Her face looked sullen, almost neutral. It morphed into fear as she noticed my presence. I could not meet her gaze, so I followed the scars down her left side, starting at her cheek, and ending at her heel.

“Mama,” Venus asked. “...Why is Veritas here? I thought you said that-”

“Quiet demon. Veritas.” My mother said to me, “Come over here.” I hesitated. **”NOW!”** I was at her side the next moment, scared at the first time I had ever been yelled at. I looked to Vesta for guidance, but she refused to hold my gaze, instead staring at the runes on the ceiling.

“Veritas, let me introduce you to Angra Maihu.” Father gestured to Venus. “We humans are plagued by evil at every turn. Demons infest our lives, using sin and disaster to lead our lives into death and damnation. The devil before you is the twisted mother of every imp, monster, and devil that exists. Each month, we purge our sins on her, to keep ourselves pure. You are of age today, so now it is your responsibility to join in her punishment.”

The look on Venus’s face changed, from fear and shock to anger. We all knew what it meant- her “other side”, the one that the witch had created, had taken over. __***”No! You promised! You no good, cowardly, pieces of-”***__ her speech was cut short as Father struck her in the chest. Blood came out of her mouth, but she was silent.

“You may beat, cut, maim her. But do not kill her, for it will release the evil to all the world. And do not defile her, lest you become a host to evil as well.” Mama held the knife to me, which I grabbed after a brief hesitation.

I hesitated. Earlier that day, Venus had helped me find my shoes. The day before, we had made dinner together. And last week, I played board games with her for hours. But… I had seen her almost kill Vesta. The days when she was beaten the hardest led to clear skies and a large harvest the next day. She had called me banned words when she changed, and her apologies never felt… real. I looked at her.

“Your sister Vesta has developed special gifts, granted to her by the Earth Mother. Save death, she can cure any ailment you wish to inflict. Do as you may.” Unlike everyone else in our family, Venus’s eyes were red. They shone like diamonds, and as a child I was always infatuated with them. Tonight, they filled me with rage.

“So, I can slash her eyes?” Father smiled. Mama nodded. Vesta looked away. Venus gasped.

“V-Veritas… why?” Tears fell down my sister’s face. I approached her. “Whatever I did today, I’m sorry! Just please don’t…” Venus broke down into sobs. The sound annoyed me like a whining dog annoys its owner. I grabbed her neck with my free hand, her cries ceasing as the demon struggled for breath. Blade in my raised hand, I prepared to strike, when suddenly, I stopped.

My head spun. The stiff air changed, becoming a violent haze as the dagger clattered onto the stone. Father’s voice sounded concerned, but his words were drowned out by the sound of something *breaking*. Through my foggy sight, I saw Venus hit the ground, before suddenly rushing into me. I flew through the air, and I lost my breath as I hit the wall.

There was a scream. The shape of Venus flew at the shape of father, and I watched as his horned visage flinched, staggered, and then fell. Venus followed him as he fell, her hand flying up and down at his face. As my vision returned, I saw why: she had picked up the dagger that I had dropped.

Mother was next. She and Vesta had opted to flee, but only made it halfway up the steps. Venus looked at them, and Mama suddenly fell backwards. Vesta, who was behind Mama, matched her path. The only difference was that Vesta didn’t hit her head. Mama’s skull crunched on the stone, and she did not move. My sister screamed, but for some reason, she was unable to shift the corpse on top of her.

I looked back at Venus, who seemed satisfied with her work to Father’s mutilated face as she rose. She took her time walking over to the screaming Vesta, and kneeled gently at her side. If mother was the luckiest, dying instantly from head trauma, Vesta was second. Venus slit her throat, and she was unconscious in seconds.

__***”…Why do you hate me, Veritas?”***__ Venus asked. I was too scared to move, or answer. __***”It’s okay, even if you don’t love me, I love you. Which is why, I won’t kill you, but…”***__ The flash of the knife filled my vision, as my eye was sliced from its socket. I screamed in pain, but when I lifted my hands to clutch the wound, Venus pinned them down. __***”No! You don’t get the luxury of coping with your pain. You will suffer like I did, to understand.”***__

Venus let me go when I stopped struggling. As I lay there, sobbing, she dressed herself and left. I wish I could say that her last words were impactful, but no, she destroyed my eye and left. I managed to crawl out of that dreaded basement, where I called the police. They took the bodies away, and declared Venus a villain to be caught by parahumans. Once they left, I used Father’s tools to seal the basement shut.

It’s been about three years since then. I still own the house, and I work a steady construction job. It’s very lonely, so I visit Father, Mama, and Vesta’s graves every day. Each time, I wonder, if I had refused Father and Mama that night, would they still be alive? Would I still have my family in my life, my mother, father, and two sisters? Would Venus still live in that basement, chained up and beaten every night for a crime she didn’t commit? The thought bothers me, so I put it all out of my mind.

But, she’s on my mind today. It’s my birthday, and the three year anniversary. I was watching the news, and the reporter was talking about the “Succubus of New York”, who had been cornered by a warden but managed to escape. When they showed her picture, I cried. My older sister Venus, with that wicked smile, was on the screen. I had to by a new television that night, because *something* destroyed mine in that instant. It wasn’t me though, I promise. I refuse to be like Venus.

[mirceakitsune]

⚠️ My Patreon may be shutting down in the coming months

Wanted to post about this earlier but frankly I didn't have the energy or will to bother. This is an important announcement so if you're a Patreon supporter please read the first half.

Since the beginning of the year, Patreon has been harassing NSFW creators with a new policy requiring them to hand over sensitive documents to the platform. They've been doing this to target creators for age discrimination… sorry, I meant to say age verification. Hiding behind the excuse that Mastercard is making them do it, those who went through the process describe being asked to install a special app on their phone and film themselves holding sensitive identity documents in front of their webcam… yes, literally like ISIS hostages when they're filmed by their captors and the video sent to authorities for ransom. Needless to say no common sense observations, like the fact I've been on this internet for nearly 20 years and would have had to register on many websites when I was some -3 years old, are enough to make it clear I'm well in my 30's for those so desperate to kiss my ass about my personal and private life and identity. How does a child open their own bank account anyway… like you just walk into a bank and say "my name is Nina, I'm 10 years old, and mommy sent me to open an account and get my own credit card" in the minds of those people?

It goes without saying that I will not be subjecting myself to such abuse. Both due to the ridiculous and disgusting motive behind it, as well as it being blatant identity theft that should be illegal in any normal country. At the moment my Patreon is still functional and there are no restrictions only periodic popups, however they threatened that our ability to pay out may eventually be suspended. As such my Patreon is now on borrowed time: I'm using those potential last months to get as much as possible out of it before it all goes down. Unless some miracle happens and they get their heads screwed on straight, my plan is to shut down my page the second they introduce limitations that makes it unusable. For this reason I'd like all supporters to be on standby as I don't want you losing your money: I'll immediately make a new announcement the moment these bastards place restrictions so you know to pull out! If given the option I'll remove every supporter myself or revert to a non-creator page which should do the trick.

I've thought about requesting they revert my page back to SFW creator but don't think I'll go that route: First of all I'd need to find and delete countless posts I made over the years… those fools will surely look through all my stuff anyway, I don't want them seeing and judging it with their broken little primate minds that may perceive god knows what atrocity. My main problem is even if I made the request, they likely still label SFW content as NSFW even when it's not explicit; There are rumors of staff members being intoxicated about themes like furry / macro / vore into thinking it's undercover sexual content or some shit… something similar happened on Youtube, it's why independent animation has been impossible or at best risky to post there in recent years. I don't want to live with the feeling that I stand to be attacked for anything I post when I least expect it… platforms like Furaffinity and some governments are causing that enough as it is.

If I do shut down I'll likely keep creating content and posting it for free in the other galleries, as I always had before Patreon came into existence. For as long as even that remains legal and won't require logging in with the United Nations to be allowed to share or view art, seems that's what some psychopaths would like if they had their way. My goal is to move to decentralized platforms like Mastodon, though I'm still waiting for something better suited for media that uses mirroring / seeding for proper censorship resistance. In this way I plan on living off the money I have left and simply creating what I like how I still can, till I either die or am arrested for it under Western Sharia Law.

Not worth going into any more of a rant beyond that. Just never forget that in the year 2023 during the age of logic science and technology, it became impossible or a danger to make a living off creating art, reasons including religious superstition left over from the industrial revolution about porn being harmful to children up to merely seeing or creating fictional art on the fucking internet. I'm just baffled to remember all the nice dreams I had about the future more than 10 years ago, when in my stupidity I thought we'd have a real civilization and America in particular would be heaven on Earth; Took quite the hard lessons to realize the human species will never evolve past the status of tribal savages, you could throw holograms flying cars and warp drives at this world and it will remain but a medieval society with some technology sprinkled on top. I'm past hating anyone for better or worse… at least people, I will die hating the concept of human morality and notion of "empathy" used in their attempts to control and destroy me: When my time comes, maybe even a not so distant future seeing this planet made it clear I'm not supposed or allowed to be alive and exist here, it will at least be without any real regrets.

[asilavyel]

Wonder Woman

 I remember it like it was yesterday sitting in my anatomy class. The phone was ringing the time stopped. Everything was in slow motion. I knew the phone was for me. My father is in the hospital. Suffering from the ramifications of the chemo. I didn’t know he was on his deathbed. Sick and alone waiting for me. Would I make it in time?  The fallen leaves were crunching under my insignificance wheels. I was riding on the cracked sidewalk at the end of the street. Adults and children were nowhere in sight. The street was sleeping and reeked of loneliness. The people on this worn, dead ended street had deserted it, striving for something new and more exciting. My bike had unwanted training wheels and was covered with pink roses. I had a pink bubble horn and bow ribbons tied on the handles. My once loved bike now became childish in my eyes. I was a big girl now! I pedaled faster to reach my worn house. My training wheels were making me slower, dragging me down. I had finally reached my house towards the beginning of the street. From my house, you could see the wavering crooked sign marking our street 'Poplar'. I hopped off my bike and marched right onto my porch. My father was sitting on a lawn chair with his beloved Coca-Cola beside his leather cowboy boots.

I stride up to him, “Daddy you need to teach me how to ride a real bike!” He looks at me with amusement and adjusts his cowboy hat, putting out the cigarette he was smoking in the glass ashtray next to him.

“What's wrong with your bike?” He asks me with a smile that reaches our matching brown eyes.

“Daddy! I'm a big girl now and big girls don't ride bikes with training wheels!” All the kids who lived on the street didn't ride the type of bike I rode.

“Okay mija. I'll teach you how to ride a bike without training wheels.” He walked and bent over to the steel handle, opening our unused garage. I heard a rustling and clanging. Finally my father emerged with a rusty larger than life bike. The wheels towered over my head and I compulsively started fidgeting with my hands.

“I'm suppose to ride that?” I whined. I didn't expect this particular bike.

“It's what you wanted Lisa, no?” my father says with a smile. “I'll help you don't worry.”

I can do this. I zip up my puffy white jacket and roll up my selves. My father takes the bike to the edge of the road as I trail after him. He helps me onto the old fashion bike and I adjust myself. I place my feet onto the pedals.

“Okay now start pedaling. I have you mija.” 

I start to pedal with my dad steadying my awkwardly high padded seat. As I pedal I can't stop the grin growing on my face. 

“Good job! I'm going to let go.”

“No papi! You cant let go!” I scream with desperation. I sense my father still with me so I immediately calm down. I pass the broken houses with the wind blowing my air. In that moment I felt like Wonder Women and my hair was my cape. The bike was my two wheeled lasso, my weapon. I turn to share my joy with my father and to let him know I'm okay. I want to try by myself. With wide eyes I see my father standing several houses behind me. I try not to panic and keep riding. I don't no how to get off the large bike. I decide to just turn and ask daddy for help.

It was another day in the 'ghetto' Pontiac Michigan when I made the decision to learn how to ride a bike. Later in life I would really learn what it means to actually let go. I also was striving for something new, but I would realize there was no place I'd rather be than on that broken road, embracing my father and yelling at him to not let me go. 

After I fell off my new weapon my father rushed to me. Two bruised knees and the shock of falling derailed my spirit. I remember my father kissing my boo boos but I had finally did the impossible. Its was too big, but I In those ten to five second felt free. Infinite. Accomplished. Never let something scary stop you from reaching new heights.   How I missed that man to this day. As next of kin I was the one to make the decision.

Many do not talk about their experiences with loss which is a form of grief. You can experience this at any age or any time in your life. It could be a small loss, as losing a childhoods toy or a big loss which may be losing a parent. Both are losses but, one is more severe emotional loss.                                                     Some losses are natural like losing your teeth. You can experience that in two stages of your life. I am somebody who personally does not discuss my grief with people. It’s not a natural response for me. At a young age I had to decide my father. Man I had known my whole life was weak in this moment. They said that’s what he wanted.

Smoking kills and it generated towards mainly men. Smoking also introduces new voices such as drinking. By new voices I mean new vices. An addiction that may lead to other addictions. Not only can you experience cancer from smoking you can also get secondhand smoke. Gum disease follows that In some causes. You may experience hearing loss vision loss in some severe cases. Your increase in tobacco products may increase. Dual tobacco items may be used.   What is the cost of a cigarette. If you ask a smoker how much he spends on a pack a month you’d be astonished. People relate stress to why they began smoking. Or maybe you were quitting a habit and place you gained a new bad habit. Smoking kills. It’s unhealthy. Think twice before you light up.  Can cause lung disease by blocking the airways in your small sacs in your lungs. COPD is serious. Smoking is so unhealthy. Nicotine doesn’t kill the tar does. Vaping is just as bad. Vaping is an alternative from smoking cigarettes. It still affects your lungs. Cigarette smoking kills more than 480,000 Americans each year. Cigarette kills mostly men compared to women. Cigarette smoking also kills more in the ages of 45 to 64.The woman rate for smoking in women is 11.0, reported as everyday smokers.   I believe people smoke because of stress. Find new ways to cope with stress in a productive way. Might find this beneficial in the long run to quit smoking. Find new coping mechanisms to quit smoking. You can do it. The south also is reported to have more smokers in the country. 45 to 64 is reported to have more frequent smoking. You see it smoking advertise everywhere on billboard, television.  I  lost my father at the age of fifteen, he suffered through chemotherapy and he went into remission but he was in stage four. The chemo affected his body and some of the effects of the chemo he got sick from and he could not recover and he passed away. I had to come to acceptance and deal with this grief. And to this day I’m still learning how to talk about my grief, about the situation. It takes time and practice and you have to be willing in my opinion, to heal.   People struggle with healing because they do not talk about it so if you are in that situation and you feel like someone needs someone to talk to you, please reach out because isolation does have negative effects. I feel like I experience a prolonged grief a sense of “being stuck” from my loss of  my father. Grief and loss do have an effect on your physical well-being so it’s important practice self-care. I hope if you know anyone that is going through any difficult times regarding loss and grief that you are patient and know that there is hope. Be a good support system it can help someone in that type of situation.

[gothamvengeance]

"A harsh mouth is hardly something to be sorry about, Lina. It's still not as bad as..." Running away.

Bryce hates it. It's not running away. She wasn't running away from anything! Not from Selina, not from Holly! Not from her promise to Selina. Not from Alfred, not from Gotham. NOTHING! But what else could you call it? What else can you call it when you just leave without warning? No matter how much you try and embellish it, how you explain your actions in a letter; signed with a flourish.

She left. What more is there to it? Why try and justify actions?

Anyone else would not have run away. It's because she was the Bat that things were different. And she should not deny that truth, because it would be unjust to Selina; and to herself.

No one had been in this mansion for so long. Everyone was left out, even guests were rarely permitted. With Bryce either sending Alfred to the door or putting up her act and answering it. She lived in the Batcave. Her bedroom was unused- till Selina came. Now there's someone living here, the estate finally feels lived in. And even Alfred seems happy that there are people to look after, to talk with about literally anything but work. Bryce's work.

Bryce is silent. Listening to Selina open up. And while she is doing so, Bryce carefully stands up, still holding Selina's hands. Where is the cape when you need it? In lieu of the cape, she carefully guides Selina into a hug. Placing lovingly kissed hands to her stomach, let her play with her tank top instead. Not her necklace, not this time. Bryce always worries when she grabs for it, worried about any scars or marks she leaves behind while fidgeting.

The gesture is quick and simple. If Selina wants to back off, she can, Bryce won't force her to be in this hold. Rather, she'd prefer to pick up Selina and sit down with her. But she doesn't want to do anything against her wishes right now. Even this was more out of familiarity than anything else, and there is a voice in the back of her mind warning her. That to touch the cat when their fur is on edge and their tail is swaying, is a dangerous act.

And now Bryce listens, intently.

'You are real.'

'You exist even if I don't look at you: you're in my heart after all...'

'I didn't mean to rip you apart. I wanted to help you open up, selfishly. I don't know how to help other people. But I wanted to help you. I'm a mess myself, but I don't care about me. I care about you...'

And then the inner monologue stops and Bryce just brushes her forehead against Selina's.

This had been vaguely brought up before, Selina never went deep into it. And Bryce didn't pick at the obvious scab, the wound that didn't properly heal. Those sad eyes of Selina when she passed a glance at the portrait of the Wayne's. How Selina compared Bryce to her mother when the talk came up. It hurts. And while Bryce doesn't want to make it about herself, doesn't want to deter from Selina's feelings. A tear does manage to find its way to the corner of her eye. Just the one... Because there's no cowl to hide under right now.

"You are something to me, Selina."

"More than just something. And I don't know what to call it, because I don't want to name it something that you disagree with. Because I'm a coward. Scared that you'd create distance or run away. I was content with just letting it be. But... the truth is so much simpler than that."

"When I return to the estate, there is life here since you came. I can see the dishes in the drainer rack. Not just Alfred's lonely cup... I can see where Holly has been, hear her laughter down the hallway." "I get to go to my room for more than just a quick smoke in silence. I get to sit with you, talk about our day. Hold you, cuddle with you... Just... be in the same space with you."

"Come back to the Batcave and see you there, waiting for me. Or Alfred telling me that you were worried." Bryce knows Selina's worried, even though she wouldn't quite phrase it in that way.

"I... Ever since you came into my life, I can be Bryce. It's not just Batwoman and the Wayne Heiress. There's space for me too."

"You bring out the human, the personal in me, Selina."

"I'd call you so many things, so many loving words, pet names, titles. Whatever you want. But..."

Bryce closes her eyes, deep breath. Finally, that tear that had been stuck makes its way down. "I'm a coward. And I hurt you because of it. I left nothing behind to show how much I care. If something happened to me, there'd be nothing. No spoken words, no messages, no promises on paper, no rings. Nothing."

"I'm sorry, Lina."

she tells her not to. but selina only knows how to compartmentalize. it isn’t healthier but sometimes it is. sometimes it’s almost a relief. sometimes it all feels like too much and even if she accepts only the hardest part of it, truly it’s the beginnings of that acceptance that’s vital.

how is she supposed to heal if she won’t even begin to stitch the wound?

but what bryce doesn’t understand is the weight selina feels. the constant responsibility. the absolutely destructive need to take care of everything even at her own expense.

(and do people take advantage of that? absolutely more than she can explain to another human being. selina is always there. if you show up, she’ll cook you dinner. you need a place to crash? her guest room is all yours. breakfast? it’s more like ‘bed and’ in the kyle household. selina gives a gives and gives when surrounded by people intrinsically programmed to take. heroism is only unselfish for the people you save. it speaks nothing of the tears shed when the hero dies, or getting a little girl ready for her first picture day in a silly uniform she’s been trying a thousand ways to help her customize. you cannot wear that eyeliner. are you getting preppy now? no, you look like the cutest little raccoon. you never remember to take your eyeblack off.)

“i was shitty. and my mouth gets real ugly when i’m pissed. i’m sorry, anyway, for saying the shit i said to you.”

because she can’t not be. she knows beyond a shadow of a doubt she has a harsh way of wording things — that for someone so forgiving she can be extremely punishing. she has to be sorry as much for herself as for bryce — has to hold herself accountable just the same.

“I’m… too tired to fight. i don’t want to. there’s no satisfaction in a screaming match. less in punching you. it doesn’t change the situation, just my endorphin levels.”

rationality is a rarity with selina, but where bryce had ran off, selina’s been more rooted, more careful than ever. she’s had more of a reason to stay in a single place, to adhere to a single thought than any other time. she’s had more security than she can ever explain.

the manor is spacious, even if it’s too haunted for her. but holly loves the gargoyles — the eerie architecture, the looming, foreboding shadows to read books and climb trees in. a school where the teachers might look at her as hollyanne, a whole person and not hollyanne, the kid who gets into weekly arguments with school security about an arbitrary concept that pissed her off. a place where selina can sit down with faculty and actually get her kid real help, the kind that’s not designed to put her in a corral away from all the other ponies.

it would’ve been both selfish and reckless to move out. to upheave holly from what was otherwise supposed to be stable… until the rug yanked out from under her. she remembers the idea of structures becoming shackles and sometimes she wonders if that’s it, if her incarceration is a foreign life she wasn’t cut out for.

but she doesn’t want that. and that’s how it’s felt.

“I don’t feel real until you walk into a room. when you look at me, i’m real. i exist.”

it’s murmured, a terribly hurt, shy thing. so quiet the humiliation is vivid, neon lights all its own. for how silent she tries to be, the shame is far more enormous.

“you— wanted me to rip myself apart and then you left me to pick up the shreds. you — you made me feel like i was nothing. and then i had to figure out how to be something — how to be someone — without you. i don’t… hope. and i don’t believe in anything, much less me. you don’t… understand. when i took holly, i promised myself i would only ever be a good mom. what kind of mom could take away a kid’s home? much less the other person she knows how to rely on? i’m angry at you. but i’m angrier at me for being selfish.”

where bryce doesn’t think of everyone else, selina is much the opposite. she doesn’t allow holly into anything she’d consider unhealthy. she won’t.

“i’m so used to being — unimportant. my mom didn’t want me. both my dads hated me. i just — i felt unimportant to you. and it hurt. it hurt so fucking bad. to feel completely unimportant to the most important person in my life. i know i can’t be everything for you. i don’t even want to be. but maybe i was hoping i was — something.”

maybe she was hoping she was worth it.

[roughentumble]

why is it that when u put "radio" in a phrase it makes it so mysterious and powerful and sexy...

"radio silence," "radio static," "radio waves"........ theyre all so aesthetically dark and pleasing and mysterious and a lil scary. love it