#push the little daisies and make em come up

[pr3ttybugsx3]

Push th little little daisies and make em come up.

[m2ok]

Golden Salvation Pt.2

pt. 1 Pt.2

cowboy!Ghost x m! reader

A/N: There will be one more part to this just to wrap everything up :)

Your pulse thundered in your ears as the stranger loomed closer, hand gripping lethal iron at his hip. Fight or flight instincts kicked into overdrive - this was no ordinary burglary; you could see it etched in every predatory line of his body.  

This man had come for blood, your blood.  

Slowly, you raised your hands in a gesture of peace even as your mind raced. One wrong move and you’d be pushing up daisies come morn. These were the dark shadows Simon lived in, the enemies he’d made through his notorious work. And now they were coming for him...through you.  

.“Don’t want no trouble, mister,” you said, keeping your tone calm and even like you didn't know why this man was here. As if there could be any other reason for someone to break into a home as dingy as your own. “Just a simple bartender is all – barely got a dollar to my name”  

This snake didn't need to know how deep your bond with Simon went, especially since hiding your relationship was the only way you could see to get out of this situation.  

The man cackled at your words, rolling his eyes as the smile dropped and he stalked closer to the bed, aiming the gun at you as he cocked it back with a sickening crack.  

“ Mhm... as if you weren't all nice and cozied up to him not mere hours ago – ya really think im gonna believe you?” He gave you a mocking grin 

 “No no im not stupid sweetheart. Im not here to collect any of his debts from you – I care more about the eight men o’ mine your Ghostie killed. Those boys were my family, he didnt think twice about that though when he shot em’ dead where they stood. Figure I should make him feel the same hurt I do, hm?”  

“You won’t hurt him none-” You tried to reason “His heart don't belong to me, he won’t spare a second glance past this cabin. Hell, He's probably halfway across the desert by now” Your voice was shaky as you spoke, lies seeping through your lips at the risk of your life. You knew what you meant to Simon, no one else was able to get into his space as you did- at least not if they wanted to walk away with their life.  

The man's smirk dropped, new anger burning in his eyes as the grip on his gun tightened, “I saw the way that mongrel looked at you, you’re his boy and that's clearer than any mountain river” he scoffed, finger moving from the side of the gun to rest on the trigger.  

You closed your eyes, praying in your head, but not to any god. No, your prayers were aiming for Simon's rescue, praying that he would somehow know you were in trouble and come rescue you from it. 

Simon sat astride his horse on a dusty ridge, watching the moon rise silver over the desert wastes. A half-smoked cigarette dangled idly from his lips; he’d been nursing the same thoughts over and over since dusk fell heavy as a shroud across the badlands.  

 Thoughts of you.  

Somewhere deep in his gut, an uneasy feeling roiled. Like an invisible string tugging at his soul, trying to tug him back the way he came. Simon growled low in his throat, frustrated with his own foolish longings. You’d made your stance clear – this life wasn’t for you, not truly. And he had no right to ask you to join him.  

And yet... 

A crack suddenly split the still night air. So faint and far that any lesser man may have missed it entirely, but not Simon.  

In an instant he was vaulting onto his horse’s back, boots pounding twin paths in the dirt as they flew towards the distant lights of your little town. Another shot rang out, louder now, and Simon’s blood turned to ice in his veins.  

He knew that sound – deep in his bones he knew something was horribly wrong.  

Choking the reins in a near stranglehold, Simon rode as if all the demons of hell were nipping at his horse’s hooves. Towards you. Towards salvation or damnation, he did not know. But by God, no son of a bitch was gonna harm one hair on your head if he could still help it.  

Help was coming- you just had to hold on.  

The man fired the gun, a sharp sting hitting your side before it blossomed into agonizing pain. You let out a pained cry, one hand instinctively going to land on your wound while the other covered your mouth to muffle your sobs. Your hand was soon coated in dark crimson, entire body shaking with adrenaline as the man cocked the gun once more.  

“Was gonna just end you, but I figured I should make this painful the same way he did. Should fill you with so many bullets he won’t be able to recognize you” he hissed, aiming the gun at your other side.  

Simon was little more than a blur of dust and primal fury as he crashed through the remains of your splintered front door. For a split second, time seemed to freeze – taking in the scene with a single, piercing gaze.  

You,curled onto the bed clutching a bloody wound. And him. That snake. Gun pressed sickeningly against your body as he spewed his venomous threats. With an almost guttural roar, Simon’s Colt leapt into his hand like it was part of his very being. Two blooming shots rang as one; his aim was true as bible scripture.  

The intruder pitched backwards, scarlets blossoms exploding from where his eyes once were. He was dead before he hit the floor.  

But Simon saw none of it. Already he was at your side, tatty serape ripped and pressed desperately against your weeping injury. Brown eyes wild and scared met your own, and for a moment the steely outlaw facade slipped entirely.  

“Darlin’...” he choked, voice thick. “Talk to me, baby. Stay with me now, ya hear?” Working frantically to stem the flood, Simon tangled scarred fingers gently through your hair, anchoring you to this world with his touch alone. 

“That’s it…keep breathin’, just keep breathin’” His voice dissolved into ragged prayers mere ghosts could hear. Help was still minutes away - but for now, you had Ghost. And he’d be damned before he let the reaper take you from him. 

You were sobbing, your brain mangled with confusion and fear as the adrenaline ran out and the full pain of the bullet lodged in your abdomen had you reeling, 

Red painted everything around you, hands, clothes, and sheets underneath you drenched in it. 

“Simon-” you rasped, breathing labored as you looked around with wide eyes at the gruesome scene in front of you. It was too much, you could feel your head going light- brain fuzzy and ears ringing as you fought not to close your eyes. 

“It hurts” you choked, trying to shove his hand away from where he was pressing down on the wound to stop the torrent of blood flowing out. “Simon I cant-” you said, throat raw from the sobs that came out. 

You wanted so badly to stay with him, to be able to wake up tomorrow with him, but you didn’t know if you’d get that with the way you felt your strength leave your body.

“It hurts- it hurts” You were almost begging, for what you didn’t know. You just wanted the pain to go away. 

You were terrified- not ready to die yet, and especially not like this, not when you had so much left to do. The thought alone sent a new set of tears streaming down your face, hand shaking- clutching the bleeding wound on top of Simon’s own to try and ebb the pain that burrowed deep in your skin. 

Simon felt his world crumbling as your agonized crimes tore through him, sharper than any bullet ever could. Seeing you in such anguish ripped open a fissure in his battered heart, letting the demons of his deepest guilt and self-loathing spill forth in a torrent. 

“I know, baby, I know it hurts…” he choked, pressing you close as if trying in vain to absorb your pain into himself. His own broad shoulders shook with ghosts of rage and grief, tears cutting rivulets through the dirt caked on his cheeks. 

Goddamn it all, he should’ve been here. Should have followed his instincts and never left your side. Now it may be too late to hope for forgiveness, your blood staining his hands a brand of failure he could never outrun. 

“Please, darlin’, please hold on…’ Simon begged, voice breaking as he spoke. His bandana was wrung out and useless now - in desperation he moved to cradle you fully, applying trembling pressure with his bare hands and what remained of his coat. 

Distantly he heard the clatter of the approaching horses, but paid them no heed. You were fading, slipping away before his eyes, and all the strength and guns in the world couldn’t stop it. 

“Don’t ye leave me now…I can’t do this world without ya…” A broken whisper, barely audible above the thunder in his ears. Simon pressed his forehead to yours, sharing the same ragged breaths, two souls more tangled than any root or vine. Hanging on a blade’s edge against the dark. 

You stared up into Simon's eyes, eyebrows cinched in pain and eyes soaked with fear. 

“I don’t wanna die, Simon” you whispered, voice shaky as you clung to him - like he alone could save you from this fate. 

You could feel your heartbeat slowing, breathing ragged as you gasped for air that just wouldn’t enter your lungs….

Soon enough the doctor burst into the room, medical kit in hand as he came barreling over to you. He very carefully took you out of Simon’s arm with some convincing, to lay you back on the bed before he opened up his kit. 

He handed you a flask filled with whiskey “You’re gonna want to drink this - it’ll help ease the pain” He said. 

With shaky hands you drank the bottle, a scream ripping from your lungs as the man began to carefully dig into the wound, grabbing hold of the bullet with sterile tweezers before carefully pulling it free. 

With practiced care he cleaned the wound, a harsh whimper leaving your lips at the sting of pain before the wound was stitched up and bandaged. 

You were shaking, sobbing so hard your throat was raw and your lungs burned - the pain was unbearable and a large part of you wished you could just die to get away from it. 

The doctor had you drink another flask, the alcohol numbing the pain receptors in your brain just enough to allow you to fall into a light sleep. 

Simon sat vigil at your bedside through what felt like hours, not letting go of your limp hand once. Your cries of pain echoing loud and endlessly in his mind, driving spikes of pure anguish deep into his soul.

He watched in heavy silence as the doctor worked, breath caught tight in his chest, hardly daring to hope. But then - your ragged breaths evened out, color returning sluggishly to waxen cheeks. Alive. You were alive. 

It was nearly two hours later when the man was done, wiping his hands on a rag as he stood up on shaky legs. 

“He’s stable” The doctor said simply

Choking back sobs of relief, Simon buried his face in the crook of your neck, leaving a trail of gratitude-laced kisses amongst salty tears. “That’s it, darlin’...you fight. Got too much left to do in this world.” he’d whisper to you, voice so soft only you could hear

 “Most important thing now is cleaning that wound twice a day lest it get infected. If it does…” The doctor ordered, his words trialing off though his intentions were clear. He put down a set of bandages and cleaning solution on the nightstand for Simon’s use. 

“It’ll take a long time to heal, I reckon” The doctor said “but my work is done here, y’all know where to reach me should he take a turn for the worst” He said, tilting his hat to Simon before he gathered his tools and headed out of the shabby cabin. 

Simon took the doctor's words as gospel, nodding along to every word before the man left. He spent the next few hours cleaning up the mess that was now your little home. He dragged the body out back to deal with fully in the morning, cleaned your sheets and changed you into new clothes, boarded up the broken window, and finished by fixing the door that he had come barging through. 

His own hands were gentle as churches doing their appointed duty, cleansing and dressing the angry wound each time without fail. Whatever it took to coax your stubborn spirit back to the land of the living. 

Days bled into each other without notice. All that mattered to him now was you. And slowly, so slowly - full color seeped back, fever broke its hold. Eyes fluttered open to meet his own once more, full of pain but oh-so-blessedly alive. 

“Hey there, sunshine…” Simon whispered hoarsely, like a parched man dying of thirst at an oasis. Finally, finally, he allowed himself the ghost of a weary smile. 

You were going to be alright. And by God, he’d spend his last days making sure of it. 

You slowly sat up, a soft whine leaving your lips with the movements as you aggravated the still raw wound. “Simon” you mumbled as you held his hand, reaching over to take a swig of the whiskey on the nightstand to ease the searing pain. 

You rested your head back against the pillows with a soft sigh. It had been a few days now, and the pain was still a dull yet constant ache in your side. 

You took the sight around you in, everything was clean and neat including your bedding and clothes. Even the floor had been mopped, the only reminders of your near death being the hole in your side. 

“Simon you did all this?” You asked simply, eyes wide as you gazed up at him. 

Simon huffed a soft, weary laugh at your question, gently squeezing your hand just to make sure you were really here and he wasn’t hallucinating. 

“Course I did, darlin’. Weren’t about to let ya recover in filth,” He replied gruffly. Truth be told, tending to your every need had been the other thing keeping his demons at bay these long days and nights. 

Keeping busy spared him time to think - and thinking led down paths too bleak to tread. Like how terrifyingly close he’d come to losing you forever.

Holding your gaze with quiet intent, Simon softly brushed calloused knuckles along your cheek “Reckon it’s about time i started pullin’ my weight ‘round here proper. Ain’t no safe place for ya out here alone” A question lingered in the subtle quirk of his brow, the hopeful yet wary gleam in tired eyes. After all that had passed between you both, was there still room for him at your side? A Ghost finally ready to lay his soul to rest, if you’d have him. 

You could only hum softly at his words, sleep still filled in your bones. You didn’t answer him, instead you patted the empty side of the bed “Come sleep next to me, Si. You need the sleep” You said, your words a silent confirmation that you still wanted him. 

Simon gave a soft grunt of approval, too weary in body and soul to do anything but obey your gentle prompting. Careful not to jostle your healing injury, he stretched his long limbs out beside you with a satisfied sigh. 

It felt strange but right, sharing your space in such an intimate way after so long living apart. Like the final piece of a puzzle slipped neatly into place. 

Turning his head, Simon watched you watch him through half-lidded eyes, drinking in every beloved feature as if to confirm this wasn’t some whiskey-fueled dream. Reaching out, he lightly touched the graceful curve of your cheek before letting his hand come to rest against the steady rise and fall of your chest. 

“Sweetest sound there is,” he murmured, voice sleep-roughed and thick with meaning. A tousled head tucked itself beneath your chin with a contented sigh, tension seeping from tense muscles. 

Come what may with the light of dawn, for now all was peaceful. You were alive, you were safe. And against all odds, Simon had finally come home to roost. 

You held him close in your arms, gentle fingers carding through thick hair as you let his head rest against your now steady heartbeat. He needed the comfort, you could tell, and you were more than happy to give it to him. 

“Rest now, Si. I'm not going anywhere. Can’t get rid of me that easy” You assured, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. 

It was a funny thing, holding such a toughened man in your arms, keeping him close and coddled despite the almost laughable size difference. 

SImon made a low sound of gratitude at your soft reassurance, melting bonelessly into your gentle embrace. Your gentle fingers winding through his hair brought forth a wave of lethargy he’d fought to stave off this long week past. But no more - here in your arms, he was finally allowed to let his guard down. 

It still struck him sometimes how two souls so disparate could fit together so seamlessly. But you’d always had a way of easing even his most ragged edges, soothing demons he thought long beyond taming. Lithe as you were in your current state, your strength ran deeper than any show of force ever could - and he found solace there like nowhere else. 

“Missed this…” he mumbled, so soft it was barely audible even in the stillness enclosing your little world. One arm curled protectively around your middle, thumb brushing idle patterns against the slowly healing wound beneath the bandages. 

A prayer of thanks on parched lips, Simon let weary eyes slide shut. Sleep rose like a gentle tide, carrying him off to oblivion sheltered in the piece of heaven he’d begun to call home. You’d brought him back from the brink of darkness once more, anchor in the storm. And for that, he was eternally grateful. 

[overmystars]

The Until Dawn cast and Mario Kart Wii... I pondered very long and very hard about this question... and return bearing real and true answers (headcanons and rambles ⬇️)

Beth: Insane MKWii goddess. Grew up on the game and played constantly. Put lots of time into learning a handful of ultra shortcuts and sometimes pisses everybody off by using these just for fun. The group can count on one hand the amount of times she hasn't gotten 1st. Can efficiently use any controller, but prefers the Wii classic controller. Put crazy time trials on every single track that remain unbeaten to this day. Not that Josh would ever beat them even if he could. She'll always be remembered through the ghosts she left. Josh has thought about booting the game up just to drive around with her again but... hasn't

Hannah: Prefers coin runners to racing. Peach main as soon as Beth became a Daisy main (matchies) chose the prettiest vehicle and is sticking with it <3 didn't play nearly as much as her siblings but did spend many hours watching both Beth and Josh grind glitches/time trials and stars. Wii wheel user!

Josh: Really good at this game. He can get fiercely competitive too, depending on who else is playing. Otherwise he's chill. Played almost as much as Beth did- and spent hours and hours trying to get stars on every cup to unlock Dry Bowser. He refused any help from Beth and celebrated for a week when he finally did it. Prefers how Jr feels to play and breaks him out when he's feeling particularly competitive but otherwise sticks to Dry Bowser because he's not letting that effort go to waste. Changes controller based on who he's racing, to "make it easier for you". Prefers the GameCube controller

Sam: Rarely ever places below 4th. She also grew up on this game through the Washingtons and has lots of fond memories spending sleepovers with it and the siblings. She's very humble, and doesn't usually say anything when getting 1st. She grins though (Josh loves that grin). Always down for battle mode! Plays with the Wii remote + nunchuck

Chris: Winning the custody battle over Rosalina with Emily. Usually when Em is also playing he doesn't get first dibs. So he goes Waluigi and mimics him every time he has a voice line. Funny at first but now it drives everyone (except Josh who joins in) insane. More and more often Em lets him have Rosalina just to spare herself from the constant Waluigi impressions. He's either really good or really bad depending on the tracks and typical MKWii luck. Goes for super fast vehicles with like no other good stats and either flies through courses and has super easy victories or has the worst time and comes dead last. Uses the GameCube controller

Ashley: Bad luck magnet. Hit by every shell. Trips on every banana. Once she used a bullet while over a gap and it just carried her into the abyss instead of saving her. She hasn't let this go and it happened 2 years ago. Vibes with Toadette and chooses her in any game she's an option. Also prefers coin runners and is usually content to just watch the others play. Another Wii wheel user!

Emily: Losing the custody battle over Rosalina with Chris. Goes with Birdo as an alternative. Is arguably even better when playing her. She was immediately amazing the first time she played. Gets really really competitive and Beth and Josh love the challenge and the intensity that comes with Emily's gloating and high confidence. Doesn't play the game outside of when at the Washington's but knows a good few shortcuts and tricks because she spent hours looking into it when she got home to ensure victory in the future. Plays with the Wii classic controller

Matt: Likes balloon battle and always pushes for team racing. Pretty average player. His character/kart combo is so light that he often gets bumped onto the off-road and pits, but he refuses to change. That's just a little guy right there in his little car! Something Matt appreciates. Really really insane on Rainbow Road for some reason. While being a Wii wheel user! Beth and Josh don't get how that's possible and hype him up every time

Mike: (Unknowingly at first) uses the best character/kart combo. Still gets 6th or lower 74% of the time. Always really cocky for some reason. Uses the plain Wii remote without the wheel (where is your whimsy, Michael?)

Jess: She got 1st once and brings this up any time anyone makes fun of her for hitting every possible obstacle. Still usually does better than Mike and is super vocal while playing, commenting on everything that happens. Wii remote + nunchuck

[wooahaes]

signed, sealed, delivered

pairing: non-idol!jeonghan x fem!reader

genre: fluff. established relationship au.

warnings: mentions of reader wearing makeup. food mentions. temporary long distance due to work.

word count: ~1.3k

daisy's notes: imagine sealing em w lil heart shaped stickers tho...

“You should look outside our door.” 

Halfway through doing your makeup for the day, Jeonghan casually spoke up. When you gave him a confused look, he merely smiled at you. He had video-called you from his hotel room as soon as you responded to his messages, apparently relaxing in it after a long day of working with a foreign company. He had his dinner set in front of him, poking through it with the fork they’d given him, as he gave you this knowing look. Even from your bedroom, you could hear the loud knock on your door. You pushed away from your little vanity once you felt presentable enough to face someone, and made your way through the apartment. When you opened the door, Joshua Hong was standing there, waiting for you with this proud smile on his face. 

“Good morning,” he smiled at you. “And,” he pulled a box out from behind him, Jeonghan’s writing on the lid reading to my love. “Happy birthday.” He slapped an extra envelope on top. “That’s from me—I know how you feel about gifts, so,” he nodded toward it one extra time, “it’s just money in there.” 

You slowly accepted it, looking down at it before growing a little more flustered. “How long has he been planning this?”

Joshua just smiled at you. “You look nice, by the way—”

“Oh, shut it,” you rolled your eyes as he snorted to himself. The only part of your face that was done were your eyes—you hadn’t even filled in your eyebrows yet. But Joshua knew he was one of the few people you’d let tease you in any way. But you stepped out, pulling him in for a one-armed hug. 

He bid you farewell soon enough, and you made your way back to your  bedroom after locking back up. You sat back down, setting aside the envelope as you looked at the box. “Hannie?” You didn’t look up, just knowing he still had that proud grin on his face. “What did you leave for me?”

He just rested his head in his hand, admiring you. “You’ll see. Open it.” 

Of course he wouldn’t just tell you. With a quiet sigh, you opened the box, setting the lid beside it as you picked up a note card that sat atop a selection of letters. In short and simple writing, the note card just said “For while I’m too far away.” You picked up one of the envelopes, each with a different date attached to them. They would span the entirety he was away from you now, some of them with different times for you to open them. The first one was marked for lunchtime today, and you looked back at your laptop.

“... Jeonghan?”

“You said you didn’t want any big gifts this year,” he said. “But we always go on dates for our birthdays. So…” He smiled at you again. “I’ll take you out when I come home. Until then, I wrote a lot of notes for you to read since we can’t talk as often right now.” 

Your heart softened at how much he cared for you. The day he told you he’d be away for work during your birthday, he’d held your hand and promised that he’d make it up to you. You had told him that he didn’t need to do anything special—the two of you could simply celebrate it when he came home again. But he kissed your knuckles and had that familiar twinkle in his eyes that told you Jeonghan already had a plan in place. But this? Little notes for you to read while he was gone? It made you a little misty-eyed, which was the worst thing when you were trying to get ready for the day.

Jeonghan had noticed, chuckling to himself. “Don’t cry,” he said, eyes twinkling as he admires you. “You can cry on me when I get back. You can do that thing where you bury your face in my shirt because you get embarrassed over crying—”

“Jeonghan,” you whined, pouting. He knew you too well, and he was always ready to tease you a little.

His gaze softened even further. “That’s my girl.” Then he straightened up, all too aware of how much he’d melted when watching you. “So,” he started, “what are your plans for—”

There was a knock on his door, and you saw Jeonghan turn in his chair. For a moment, he frowned, but he pushed away from his desk, calling out that he was coming. You could hear the door be unlocked, and the sound of Jeonghan conversing with someone before he came back over with a few of his coworkers following after him.

“Sorry, honey,” Jeonghan said as he turned back to you. “We’ve got a presentation tomorrow, so Jihoon wants to go over things—”

“Don’t blame it on me,” Jihoon said off-camera. “We were supposed to meet for dinner.” 

Jeonghan turned to him, face completely stoic. “It’s her birthday. Don’t blame her.”

A moment of silence passed. Jeonghan broke, chuckling as he glanced back at you for just a moment. Jihoon snorted, and then he stepped into frame.

“Right,” he said, giving you a quick, polite bow. “Happy birthday,” he paused, glancing at Jeonghan. “Sorry we’re stealing him from you.” 

“It’s fine,” you said with a hum, watching as Seungkwan came into frame in the background as he tried to set up his laptop. But he’d been stopped, as Mingyu had wrapped his arms around him, smiling into the camera as he waved at you. “We’ll talk later. Bye, Hannie! I love you—”

Jeonghan held up a hand, turning back to the others. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Seungkwan looked up, eyes widening before he realized. He waved to you. “Happy birthday! I hope you have a good day!”

Mingyu squeezed Seungkwan against his chest, jostling him slightly. He, too, waved, “Happy birthday! I’ll cook something for you when we come back!” 

With a giggle, you thanked them both. Jeonghan moved the laptop, angling it so that he was the only one in the frame now. 

“I love you,” he said, “I’ll call you tomorrow. Happy birthday, my angel.” 

The others immediately started to razz him in the background, but he just rolled his eyes before returning his attention to you.

“I’ll text you when I go to bed,” he promised. “Good night!” 

The call ended soon enough, leaving you to finish your makeup. By the time you finished your makeup, getting dressed, and eating a meal, you’d turned your attention back to the box of envelopes. It was a little too early to open the one for lunchtime today, but… It was your present, wasn’t it? You could open it if you wanted. So you plucked it out, sitting down on your bed to open it up. Inside was a note addressed to you in Jeonghan’s handwriting, and you curled up to read through it.

Have you eaten yet? I hope you have. You probably opened this early, knowing you—you get impatient when it comes to things like this. But it’s fine: I know this and I love you anyway.

I hate being away from you on your day. I know you said that you understood and it was fine, but I like getting to see you in the mornings, even if you’re always sleepy.

I don’t want these to be too long, so I’ll try to keep the rest shorter. Happy birthday, my love. I’ll make it all up to you when I’m home again.

You picked up your phone, snapped a picture of it and sent it to Jeonghan with a little heart emoji: I love you, angel. I can’t wait to see you again.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @porridgesblog @staranghae @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny @bewoyewo

[itslillyillustrates]

push th' little daisies & make em come up make em come up make em come up make em come up

[secretwhumplair]

Reunion

1,700 words | No Warrior (sequel to Smith)

Content | Injury, past trauma

Notes | Exactly what it says on the tin! Also, throwback (for everyone) to when Yves first arrived.

Taglist | @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​ @whump-me-all-night-long​​​​ @whumpadump1939​​ @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight

@whumpzone @angel-stars​​ @kixngiggles​​ @whumpsy-daisies @yet-another-heathen

@rosesareviolentlyread @cupcakes-and-pain @hollowtreesinhollowwoods @pleasancies @much-ado-about-whumping

@nine-tailed-whump​​ @whump-em @itsleighlove @newbornwhumperfly​​​ @tears-and-lilies

@deluxewhump @whump-cravings @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning @neverthelass

@whumpsday @silent-orchid-lady @everynameistakencarrots @scoundrelwithboba

»Sails!«

Yves was with the weavers when the call sounded through the village, picked up by voice after voice, and he had never seen them drop their work so quickly. And he understood, more completely than he would have believed — his heart, too, leapt at the message, and following their example, he didn’t feel bad abandoning his work just as swiftly.

It took a long while for the ship that had been spotted to actually reach the shore — long enough for a whole crowd to gather at the pier. Yves stood with Runar’s family, next to Ingunn holding little Bragi on her arm.

Runar would be so excited to meet his nephew. The thought warmed Yves’ heart, even as it hammered against his chest a little too fast. He had been thinking of Runar a lot. Had been thinking about what he wanted to say to him once he returned. About how to tell him how his life, his feelings, his whole heart had changed. How everything was different now.

He wondered whether Runar’s summer had changed him, too.

As the ship drew nearer, its shape seemed more and more familiar, calling back to when he, himself, had sailed. It seemed somehow wrong now that he hadn’t gone with them.

Cheers erupted when the ship came into earshot, from both sides, greetings and welcomes, and Yves, too, called out, his voice just one of the choir.

And yet, amidst the joy, something darker reared its head — a reminder of how he had been when he arrived, the way Runar and the others arrived now, all those months ago, of all that fear and all that pain. Perhaps it had never been away, only dormant.

He had to push it down, that memory of how he had cowered in that same ship as the warriors landed, frozen with cold and terror.

He forced a smile, determined to make it true before the day was out.

* Runar always looked forward to coming home, but this time was… different. And it wasn’t even that he was hoping to meet his sister-child for the first time.

He should pull himself together. Things had been complicated when he left, and if he didn’t fuck it up, this could be a fresh start. But it was hard when they approached the pier, and Yves was right there in the front row, wearing a blue tunic with a striped pattern that seemed just the right level of complexity to be personally made by someone who was, though still with much left to learn, progressing in his weaving skill, and — Runar’s heart skipped a beat — his dark hair, now past chin-length, braided as one who was waiting for someone who had left to sea.

He seemed happy to be standing there, up front, too — at ease and confident enough, and when he set eyes on Runar, a smile broke across his face.

Runar’s heart did a weird little hop, as if it were about to leap out of his mouth.

He swallowed. He had to be sensible.

And there was Ingunn, too, standing right by Yves, a tiny little baby on her arm.

That did not make him feel more normal, but it did help distract him from Yves a little. He’d have to take it easy for him; the baby, on the other hand, wouldn’t care, not yet.

He was among the first to leap off the ship, and his heart was still in his throat, and he couldn’t even decide who he wanted to greet first, swaying like a leaf in the wind for a moment, overwhelmed with joy and love, before Yves, still smiling, waved him towards Ingunn.

»Welcome home! Meet Bragi!« Ingunn sounded as excited as he felt. »Bragi, that is your uncle.«

The little glob of human gripped his finger with a tiny hand as he reached out to him. Runar didn’t think he could get any more emotional, but that nearly brought him to tears.

Eventually, though, he pulled himself free, and that was when — before he could even fully turn — Yves slammed into him, pulling him right into a hug.

And Runar’s heart just melted.

As much as he had tried to be sensible over the past months, he couldn’t deny that as he wrapped Yves into his arms. He had hoped Yves was doing well, of course, but then how could he have expected his poor heart to be normal about actually seeing him before himself with all that newfound confidence and — dare he say — happiness?

The brilliant smile Yves gave him, looking up at him, sure seemed to allow the word. »Welcome back.«

»Thanks. Hi. Are you — you look good.«

Yves nodded, pulling out of his arms. For a moment, Runar was tempted to catch his hand, but he would never hold Yves against his will.

»You look alright,« Yves replied, the smile making way for a more serious expression.

»I’m fine. I’m great, actually. It’s good to be home.« Yves. There he was, right in front of him. »How has your summer been?«

The smile returned. »Good. It was — yes, it was good.« A moment’s hesitation, and then he added, so quiet that Runar almost might have believed his ears were playing tricks, »I missed you.«

Gods. How was he supposed to act normal?

It didn’t help that next on the schedule was the long-awaited bath.

He remembered how it had been last year — how Yves was so insecure on his feet Runar felt compelled to support him, how terrified he had been. They had barely been able to communicate. And now, Yves confidently walked along with him, carrying fresh clothes for them both — just like he had done then. He could barely listen to Ingunn on his other side, chatting away about the news in the village.

As usual, she abandoned them when they reached the hot springs, if a little more careful than usual, with the baby.

Runar undressed, prepared to go ahead and give Yves some privacy. He had taken him to take baths multiple times, of course, last winter, but he had quickly realized it was a sensitive matter for him, and had avoided watching him while he was naked and bare.

But Yves didn’t even hesitate to undress. He seemed so confident that Runar allowed himself a covert look.

He was still slender — he always would be — but nowhere near as agonizingly thin as he had been a year ago, recovered muscle padded in just enough fat now not to be concerning. All his wounds were healed, the scars fading into the skin. There were a few bruises, but nothing, Runar remembered after a moment of alarm, that wasn’t explained by training. He was proud, even, that Yves could apparently handle these minor hurts without being pulled back to darker times. He’d still check in with Yves about that later, just in case.

* Yves had gotten used to taking his baths alone, but he found it didn’t frighten him to undress in company, now.

Not in this company, anyway.

He found his eyes tracing Runar’s form as he went ahead into the hot springs; soft, round shapes moving with such strength, thin white scars here and there-

His heartrate picked up again before his eyes caught on Runar’s left forearm, tidily wrapped in bandages Runar started to undo when he was mostly submerged in the warm water.

»You’re injured.« Yves splashed into the water himself, now hurrying to catch up to him.

Runar turned, smiling. »It’s nothing, just a scratch.«

»Let me help you.« His breath caught in his throat at how easily the words fell from his tongue; his hands barely hesitated when he reached out to undo the bandages Runar was struggling with, with only one hand reaching.

It was so different from how it had been, a year ago. His heart was in his throat, but in a way that was so very different.

When he was done, revealing a long, thin, scabbed-over cut, he looked up to see Runar’s eyes resting on him, softer still than he remembered.

He didn’t know why he blushed.

They bathed together, helped one another clean their backs. Yves’ skin drew into goosebumps, and he almost could have blamed the cold air.

Freshly cleaned and clothed, they went down to the feast.

Yves paused in the doorway to the longhouse, and Runar noticed immediately.

»Are you okay?«

Yves could only nod, unsure how to put into words how overwhelmed he was, not with fear, but with its absence. Maybe there was a little undercurrent of nerves somewhere, but compared with last year, when the filled room with its delicious scents sent him into a panic? He found himself blinking away tears.

Runar gently laid a hand on his shoulder. »Are you sure?«

»Yes.« Yves smiled up at his concerned face. Even Runar’s worry no longer seemed suffocating — just endearing.

They took their seats in the hall, and feasted, and exchanged stories. Yves, with an easy heart, helped serve the table.

That was when Brandr approached him.

Yves straightened. He would not let Brandr take away his happiness — happiness? him? what a breathtaking thought — again.

He was ready.

»I owe you an apology,« Brandr said bluntly.

Yves was so taken aback he couldn’t respond, and to his immense surprise, Brandr reacted by stepping back a little.

»Yes. You do.« His voice came out a little louder than he planned. There it was, that anxiety again. He was talking back.

He pushed it away. He wasn’t even doing that.

Brandr threw up his hands. »So. ‘m sorry. Seems you recovered alright.«

Yves nodded, then after a moment’s hesitation, he said, »Thank you.«

He knew why Brandr was doing this. The community needed to stick together, and he, Yves… he was one of them. It wouldn’t be right for him to hold a grudge.

»Everything alright?« Runar met him halfway back to the table after he and Brandr parted.

»He apologized.«

»Oh.« Runar seemed almost as surprised as Yves had been, but then he nodded. »Right so.«

They sat and feasted long into the night.

And then, when everything was done, Yves and Runar walked home together.

[branchflowerphoto]

Push th' little daisies and make 'em come up

[vicepresidentoswald]

Mr vice president !! I know you're not too keen on letting dirt and Mike outside.. but what if they meet daisy and Diego? I can bring em over!!

-Mya

\\ ooc

this became so big, so fast LMAO

I had to separate this post because the short drabble became nearly 1k words when I wanted to write, like, five hundred.

Hands pushing, gripping onto pale, white feathers before a loud guffaw pierces through its ears like a loud bang. "Boys!" Oswald interrupts the two, its golden eyes narrowed as yip stared at the two boys.

Dirt's fingers are gripping onto Mike's arm, fingers touching over the feathers growing over his elbows. It didn't know why the two seemed to have more feathery spots on them, but it might have been related to the fact that they're a chicken-subspecies of avians.

The two boys tilt their heads towards it, having been interrupted in their roughhousing. "What?" Dirt questions, an annoyed huff escaping his lips as Mike uses this chance to pull his arm away from Dirt. "Can't you see that I'm using my book smarts to absolutely destroy my dearest brother?"

Mike makes a disgusted noise, "don't ever call me that again." He points at Dirt.

"No?" Dirt snorts. "Michelangelo."

Oswald rolls its eyes. "His name is not short for Michelangelo." Yip says, sitting down on Mike's bed and leaning down to check over Mike's arm, fingers brushing through feathers.

Mike hums, shifting in his seat. "Dad." Mike furrows his eyebrows. "What? Spill it out already, I don't want you to start preening me or something."

Dirt smacks Mike's forearm, giving him a look.

Oswald huffs. "Fine." A smile still makes its way across yips lips, staring at its boys. "Well, I got an offer today. What do you boys think?"

Immediately, the two boys perk up, leaning in to look at the communicator by Oswald's side. Oswald picks it up, looking through the messages sent.

"You remember Mya?" Oswald questions, its voice quiet as it looks through the message. If it had any feathers, they would have ruffled, though its tentacles seemed to raise from its back. "Well-"

Dirt tilts his head. "The one with the scars."

Mike smacks Dirt by his side. "Don't be rude." He scolds.

A squawk escapes Dirt, and he gives Mike a glare in response. "It's not rude! It's a physical characteristic!"

Before the two boys can squabble, Oswald raises an eyebrow and puts its arm between the two boys. "Stop it," Oswald firmly states, "or else I'm not letting anyone visit-"

Mike leans in. "Someone's visiting?"

Dirt repeatedly hits Mike's forearm, eyes widening. "Someone's visiting!"

Oswald sighs. "Not yet, just let me speak for one second, yeah?" It glances between the two boys, who both huff and puff their cheeks out.

Rolling its eyes, Oswald looks down at the communicator. "Okay, well, Mya asked if two of their kids can come and visit." Oswald explains, emphasizing the 'their kids' part.

Dirt opens his mouth.

Oswald gives him a look. "But you know, these two kids, they're younger and they're two little axolotl hybrids." It explains even more. "I've seen them around, visited them. They're really nice! But you guys are, like, fourteen-"

Mike interrupts, "fifteen."

Oswald nods. "-And I'm not sure if you guys would even like hanging out with a bunch of younger kids, you know? But I thought I'd ask, anyway-"

Mike frowns. "I want to."

Dirt tilts his head, crossing his arms. "I want-"

Oswald's eyebrows furrow for a second.

Dirt bites his bottom lip. "I want- Well, I want to stay at home, you know? Like, I want- I- I want to stay in my room."

Oswald hums, nodding along with a more relaxed expression. "Well, I don't know... these kids, you know, they need water so we might have to go downstairs."

Mike furrows his eyebrows. "Like, outside? Outside?"

Dirt tilts his head. "We have a pond outside, don't we?"

Oswald looks down at the communicator, its expression taut as it reads through the message once more. "Well, yes, but I don't think that-"

Mike huffs. "Come on, it's just outside! And we can meet the other kids in the nation, too!" His voices rises, just a little bit, in the heat of the moment and Dirt grabs onto the sleeve of his shirt.

Dirt frowns. "Hey, dad?" He questions, his voice calm as he stares at his father. He knows that his father is overprotective; it's not a secret, the way that yip practically hovers around them like a hawk, gaze constantly fretting, hands always anxious by its sides.

A part of Dirt thinks that it's reasonable, that maybe Oswald is keeping him and his brother safe. But a much bigger part of him is worried.

What happened when he and his brother are stuck here forever?

Dirt lets out a sigh. "Dad, eventually, we're gonna grow up." He begins, his voice calm and a little cautious, as in slow. Slow because he isn't sure how his father is going to react. "This could be a chance to, you know, get to know the other members of the nation. Maybe, something happens to our house while you're gone, you know? What if we don't know who is safe to be around? What if we end up running away because we don't know anything?"

There's a moment of silence, and Dirt glances over towards his father's hands, the way that its hands subtly play with the buttons on the sides of the communicator, thumb rubbing over the edges.

Oswald thinks, and then, it sighs. "You're right- you're right, I'm sorry, boys." Its hand reaches over, ruffling through Dirt's hair with its exhausted expression relaxing a little.

And that's when Dirt releases a breath he didn't know he had been holding.

Oswald(It/Yips): oh yeah !! sure :D Oswald(It/Yips): my boys want them to come visit. Oswald(It/Yips): if we can though id appreciate if we could try to have those kids inside of the house Oswald(It/Yips): but my boys are driving a hard bargain over just having a little hangout around the pond Oswald(It/Yips): sadge.. Oswald(It/Yips): my boys are growing up so fast....

[fandomficsnstuff]

Strangers In The Tombs

(Warnings: Angst, angst, blood and shootings and some more angst with a little fluff at the end<3)

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

Daisy hurried out of the prison as they were getting ready to leave, Daryl turning around just in time to see the ball of auburn hair and outstretched arms running towards him, practically pushing Oscar aside “don’t go! Please, don’t go!”

“Whatchu talkin’ ‘bout?” he asked with annoyance in his tone but Daisy just shook her head “please don’t go…” she begged, Daryl looking at Oscar who quickly returned to packing the car as Daryl kneeled down to Daisy’s level. “Why not?”

“What if you don’t come back?...”

“Ya want me to come back?” he asked and she nodded, making him nod as well “then I’ll come back, ain’t nothin’ that’s gonna stop me, a’ight? Be a good girl ‘n watch out for lil’ ass-kicker. And remember; don’t-”

“Pussy out” Daisy finished as she sniffled a little, Daryl nodding as he studied her “you good?” he finally asked and she hesitated but nodded, making Daryl nod again as well “a’ight. Don’ worry, we’ll get ‘em back” he stated as he stood up and ruffled her hair, making her pout a little but she hugged him tightly “bring back uncle Glenn and auntie Maggie…” she pleaded, Daryl studying her before nodding, grabbing his kutte from the car before putting it on her, smirking a little “you look badass as shit, now go on, get” he ordered softly and she grinned before running off with the kutte on, passing Carl as she did who grinned at her, Oscar smiling at the little girl, which Daryl noticed “what the hell’re you smiling at?!”

“Nothing-”

“It ain’t nothin’. Don’t look at ‘er” he growled, Oscar studying him before nodding, yet with a tiny smirk “she’s a brave girl, that’s all. I see who she got it from” he stated, Daryl frowning “she ain’t mine, she’s my niece” he clarified defensively and Oscar just scoffed lightly “doesn’t make her not yours. You’re here, you might not be her father, but you’re as close to a dad as she can get from what I can see.”

“Yeah, well, ya can’t see very well then” he grumbled, Oscar chuckling lightly “oh I see just fine, ain’t nothing to be ashamed of. I’d be proud as hell if that was my little girl, niece or not” he stated casually, Daryl studying him with narrowed eyes before forcing himself to scoff like he didn’t care.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Daisy caught up with Carl as he was about to go to the tombs, Daisy catching him, making him stop and she panted heavily before nodding, Carl smirking a little “you don’t have to come, you know.”

“Yes I do. Your dad would’ve gone, which is why you’re going. And my uncle would’ve gone with him” she rationalized, Carl shaking his head with amusement “you don’t have to just because your uncle would.”

“Then why are you down here?” she asked cheekily with a smirk, turning on her flashlight and raising it with her gun as Carl led her through the tombs towards the screams and cries of pain and fear, something they should have been running from, but then again, the men who raised them weren’t exactly the ‘running away’ type. As they walked, Daisy suddenly realized that Carl had stopped, turning and looking at him as he stared at a metal door that was slightly ajar, her eyes studying it before she walked over to him, carefully and quietly pushing the door shut before turning to him “which way?” she asked, snapping him out of whatever he was in, forgetting about the door in order to lead once more, Daisy casting a final glance at the door before following after Carl, firing a muffled shot at a walker that walked around the corner towards them, the body landing with a thud and she caught back up with Carl. They both got around the corner to see a group. A woman was crying, bleeding into the arms of someone with someone else guarding over them, two other people fighting the walkers and both Daisy and Carl raised their guns, each firing a shot, two walkers dropping dead and when the people turned to look at them, Daisy looked at Carl who looked at her, hesitating before giving a nod, agreeing on what he wanted to do with them, and so Carl turned to face them “come on! Hurry!” he yelled, beginning to back up to lead them back to safety with Daisy watching them closely, following alongside him.

Daisy fired a shot at a walker that came towards her, turning around as the woman began to slow down the group, walkers closing in and Daisy fired another shot “you have to leave her!”

“No! No way!” The tallest one yelled at Carl, Daisy frowning at them as she kept leading them with Carl, until a walker popped up around another corner. It reached for the woman with the curly hair and Daisy squeezed her gun’s trigger, except her gun was empty. Her eyes widening and without thinking she charged at the walker, kicking it’s knees, her knife in her hand as she buried it into the walker’s skull, Carl running over after firing a shot at a walker near her, grabbing her and leading her with the others to safety.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rick hesitantly approached the cell, peeking inside, finding her laying on her side, facing the wall in front of her, Daryl’s kutte clutched tightly in between her hands and when she heard someone, she sat up straight, standing up so fast it was a miracle that she didn’t bump her head on the bunk above her, eyes wide with hope, until she saw who it was. Or rather, who it wasn’t. “Oh…”

“It’s good to see you too” Rick joked teasingly, stepping closer, sitting down on the bed with her, his eyes on the kutte she was still holding close “your uncle let you borrow that?” he asked, Daisy nodding, the two of them sitting in silence before Daisy looked up at him. “Where’s uncle Daryl?” she asked as she leaned away from him, looking past him in an attempt to find the person in question, Rick hesitating before kneeling down, Daisy’s expression softening, tears already in her eyes and Rick shook his head “Daisy-”

“Where is he?”

“He-...” he hesitated, he made a promise. It was wrong. But it was a promise. “He-... fell behind…” Rick lied hesitantly, straining himself to not crumble when he saw the tears in the little girl’s eyes. “He fell behind, I’m sorry… we tried to get to him but we had to get Glenn and Maggie back to safety… I’m sorry, Daisy-”

“Don’t!” she snapped, pushing him away with tears running down her cheeks “don’t call me that!” she yelled, pushing him, Rick allowing her to do so, letting her push him out of the cell, flinching a little as the cell door was slammed shut and locked from the inside. Rick closed his eyes in regret and sighed heavily, looking down, jaw clenched and when he turned to walk away, he saw Carl, Carl frowning at him with confusion. “Carl-”

“Why-” Rick stopped him and gently took his arm, leading him a little further away from Daisy’s cell, kneeling down hesitantly “I want you to keep an eye on her, alright?...” he asked softly, watching Carl intently as the boy nodded hesitantly, Rick nodding in return, standing up and walking off, running a hand over his face in frustration, Carl watching him before moving over to Daisy’s cell, peeking inside to see her sit in the small corner between the bed and the wall, right by the cell door, knees tucked up to her chest as she cried.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Maggie hesitantly approached the closed cell, leaning against the wall before knocking on the iron, the clanging making Daisy lift up her head to look at who had disturbed her, her eyes red and puffy from crying and Maggie gave her a sad smile “mind if I come in?” she asked, Daisy hesitating, a hand touching her leg where the scratches were covered by her jeans and Maggie smiled affectionately “I’m not scared of you, I promise. I know you won’t turn” she whispered softly, Daisy hesitantly nodding, leaning up to turn the key in the lock before sitting back down and Maggie walked in, sitting down on the bed, looking at Daisy as she continued to sit in the corner, knees tucked to her chest. Maggie studied her a while longer before smiling “it’s kinda cool” she started with a smirk “you being immune-”

“I’m not immune…”

“You feel like bitin’ anyone?” she asked jokingly, Daisy shaking her head once more and Maggie nodded “then why’re you worried? You got those scratches before winter, that was months ago now, almost half a year… listen, I wanted to talk to you about something…” she began, opening her mouth to continue when she stopped herself, sighing heavily. “Is it about my uncle?...” she asked, Maggie looking at her, nodding ever so slightly and Daisy looked down “Rick said he-... that he fell behind… Do you think he’s dead?”

“Do you?”

“I don’t know…” she muttered, Maggie studying her before looking away, deciding to keep the promise that Daryl made them all make. “I’m sure he’s just fine, I’m sure he’s trying to get back to you” she stated softly, Daisy just shaking her head, a tear rolling down her cheek “no, he’s dead… like my mom… like my dad…” she muttered, Maggie’s compassionate smile fading into a look of sadness, Maggie studying her a while longer before getting up, walking over and kneeling down in front of her, placing a comforting hand on her knee, forcing a smile “you’re not alone. You have me and Glenn and Rick, you have Carl and Beth and Hershel and-”

“Little Ass-Kicker?”

“And little Ass-Kicker, yes” Maggie nodded with a grin, feeling a sense of joy seeing Daisy smile a little. “Why don’t you come on outta there, hm? It’s gotta be a bit glum, sitting in the dark.”

“You’ve been laying in the dark almost since you got back…” Daisy pointed out, Maggie studying her before nodding “I have, yeah… and I don’t wanna do that anymore… I could really use your help, getting out of that dark hole…” Maggie trailed off, Daisy studying her before nodding, Maggie helping her up to stand. “How about we take a walk?” she asked, Daisy nodding with a small smile when the gunfire began, both of them instinctively dodging down even though it came from outside. “What’s going on? Is it the Governor?” she asked, Maggie looking at her with wide eyes, shocked that she knew and Daisy shrugged shyly “you weren’t whispering when you talked about him…” Daisy admitted, Maggie sighing heavily, briefly cupping her cheek in her hand before the two of them ran out, getting as many guns as they could before running outside to disperse them. She hid behind some file cabinets with Maggie, peeking out every now and then to fire her gun, fitting better behind the metal than Maggie, Carol running for cover as Daisy and Maggie both fired at the man in the tower. “How did they get into the tower?” Daisy called over the gunfire, Maggie shaking her head as she reloaded her automatic rifle “I don’t know. Listen, I’m gonna cover you and you’re going to run over to Carl-”

“No!”

“Daisy-”

“I can fit better here than you can!” she rationalized, the distant sound of a roaring engine cutting off their small argument. As the truck broke through, the two of them watched with wide eyes as it just stood still… until the small gate at the back of it fell open, walkers spilling out and Daisy looked at Maggie, the gunfire picking back up and they both made themselves even smaller behind the cover before Daisy peeked out and fired a few shots, Maggie doing the same. Maggie looked Daisy’s way when she heard a grunt and the sound of something hitting flesh, looking over at Daisy to see her clutching her left upper arm, towards the ball of her shoulder, blood pouring out between her fingers “Daisy!”

“I’m okay!” she lifted her hand, showing Maggie that it was just a graze. It’d have to get sewed up, that’s for damn sure, but it was still just a graze, Maggie letting out a deep sigh of relief “don’t you scare me like that!” she hissed even though she knew it wasn’t Daisy’s fault, Daisy managing to smile a little “sorry” she muttered, Maggie chuckling, still relieved at the safety of the little girl. As the truck left and the man in the watchtower fell limp with a bullet through his head, Maggie and Daisy hurried to the gate, Beth, Carol and Carl meeting up with them, helping pull the gate open, each of them taking a position, killing as many walkers as possible while Glenn picked up Hershel and the new person who showed up back when Glenn and Maggie was taken, Michonne, driving over. Once they were inside the gates, Daisy rushed to Glenn, tears running down her cheeks “uncle Glenn” she sobbed and Glenn kneeled down to hug her “I’m okay, I’m okay” he whispered, pecking the side of her head “what happened to your arm?” he asked with worry, Maggie sighing heavily “got shot” she muttered, Glenn staring at her before hurriedly pulling her hand away from the wound, using some of his shirt to wipe away the blood as carefully as possible. “Sorry” he whispered when she winced, his eyes scanning the wound and he sighed, Hershel limping over “how bad is it?”

“It’s just a graze, she’s fine” he stated, hugging her tightly before she left to hug Hershel, who couldn’t kneel down but he still hugged her back as much as possible. “I’m alright, sweetie, better get that wound sewed up, we’ll do it as soon as possible” he promised, Daisy turning to Michonne, eyeing her before affording the woman a quick and shy smile “thank you for helping my uncle Glenn and Hershel” she muttered, barely sticking around to see Michonne’s eyes softening, watching the girl run over to Carl, hugging him tightly, the boy hugging her even tighter in return, though while being careful with her arm. “Are you okay? Is your arm okay?” he asked with worry, Daisy nodding with a smile as Carl fussed over her bleeding arm, tearing off some of his shirt and using it to wipe the blood away carefully and then bandage around it, nodding to himself “we’ll get some proper bandages soon” he promised, Daisy blushing a little as she nodded before turning to Beth, hugging her before hugging Carol “we’re okay” Carol whispered, Daisy nodding as she parted from them, turning to look out over the yard, the walkers piling it, stumbling around, and Carl stepped closer, both of them looking at the yard, his hand taking hers as they both stared at it with frowns.

[effielovesapples]

PUSH TH' LITTLE DAISIES AND MAKE EM COME UP~ PUSH TH' LITTLE DAISIES AND MAKE EM COME UP~~~

[edwin-payne-enthusiast]

electing strange perfections (in any stranger i choose) - Chapter 2

next | masterlist | AO3

Word count: 3473

(logince fae au :])

Roman awoke just like he did every other morning, the smell of freshly fallen summer rain drifting through his window, the sound of the soft wind in the trees outside, rustling through his old faded maroon curtains, ridden with holes and loose strings, carrying the warm morning air into his room.

The young man turned over in his bed and took a deep breath, smiling softly as he felt the breeze tousle his hair slightly. He sat up, pushing the ancient, knitted wool blanket off of him and stretching his arms languidly. He wasn’t in any rush, he only had one thing planned today, and that was not urgent. No, as far as anyone was concerned Roman had all the time in the world to laze around in his bed, enjoy the rays of sun sneaking through his broken window. But he wasn’t going to do that, even though he knew it was well within his ability to stay exactly like this, Roman wanted to get a start on his day.

His bed groaned and creaked as he stood up; the wood was old and temperamental, but it had been like that when he found this place. And he was lucky to find it, truly. He stumbled upon the tiny old cottage deep in the woods completely on accident a few years ago, and when he discovered no one living there but a few moths and house-spiders, he proclaimed himself the owner of it, to which no one disputed or really cared much to notice. It was a bit secluded, a little ways away from the nearest fae population, but it was comfortable, and Roman liked it.

Roman’s day started the moment his feet hit the cracked wooden floors, taking a few moments to stretch and get his body moving. When he felt his limbs had sufficiently been stretched out of sleep, he then picked up the little pot against the wall, which had collected the droplets of water that snuck in the ceiling from the previous night’s rain, and used it to water the various plants he kept around his room. There were plenty, from a large patch of bright orange marigolds growing from a spot where the floor had weathered away in the corner, a beautiful grapevine that had snuck in through his window and wrapped around his walls giving him lovely fruit in the summertime, moss and daisies and daffodils and violets, just to name a few, all poking in their little flowery heads from every corner of the room, growing all year round thanks to a little magical help from Roman.

Plants weren’t the only thing that were welcomingly cluttering up Roman’s space, with almost every surface of the room, in fact the entire cottage, being covered in little trinkets. Most of these trinkets were already in the cottage when he found it, strange little handheld circles that opened to a reflective piece of glass, paper that had been bound tightly together and filled with words in a foreign language, tiny bottles of sweet smelling liquid, pieces of fabric that had been stitched together to make odd pieces of clothing, a circular device with a glass face and hands pointing towards a sequence of symbols around the edge that made such an annoying ticking noise Roman had to pull it apart to get it to stop, long sticks of fragrant wax attached to a ceramic holder that Roman honestly couldn’t figure out the use for; all things that had, at some point, belonged to a human.

Now, Roman wouldn’t say that he had <em>stolen</em> these things, rather he had found them, well at least he had found the ones in the cottage. The ones that he had taken from elsewhere – other areas of the fae realm, parts of the human realm on the rare occasions that he visited – those were just borrowed, and he would gladly return them should anyone come looking for them. For now, he would keep them safe and cared for on display in his home.

Roman was extremely fond of humanity, he always had been fascinated by stories of them and their odd little inventions, so he couldn’t help but be an enthusiastic collector of whatever human trinkets he could get his hands on, even if he didn’t know what most of them were for. Most other fae found this hobby of his to be strange. He supposed it was a part of their nature, wanting to be as far removed from humanity as possible, keeping them at an arm’s length and at the mercy of faekind should they wish to take control. He wasn’t ashamed of his interest, not anymore, but at the very least, he was glad to be a bit more isolated from the rest of his court, away from the judgemental eyes of his kin.

Roman didn’t like to think about it too much, but he kept his spirits up even as it had crossed his mind. He would be travelling into the centre of his court anyway today, might as well show his face proudly, as he did on each occasion that he travelled out.

Faeries were very much a species that kept their head down, but Roman liked to consider himself an exception.

At the thought of Roman having plans to go out, he stuck his head out of his broken window, and looked up at the sun in the sky, squinting at it for a moment to gauge the time before pulling his head back inside. He should probably get moving, Patton would be waiting for him.

Quickly grabbing a small, human-made, fabric basket from a moss ridden set of drawers and running a hand through his hair, Roman walked through his home, past his cramped, cluttered living room and virtually unused kitchen, and outside into the fresh summer air. The young fae took a moment to appreciate the outdoors, breathing in and out in a rhythm with the rustle of the breeze. A fae’s connection to nature was an important thing, and Roman was not one to ignore such a calling. But of course, he had somewhere to be, so he shook himself from his thoughts, cutting his small moment of tranquillity short, and headed off down the familiar trail that lead to the small creek where Patton would be waiting for him.

Connections between fae weren’t in surplus. They were usually few and far between, as their species was certainly one less aligned with traits like trust and friendliness. Even so, connections that did manage to be formed were usually deep and incredibly loyal. Patton had been Roman’s best friend since they were children, and it was normal for them to catch up beside the creek during the late morning, particularly in the summertime. Patton had always had a particular affinity for water, and Roman knew that he liked to visit after it had rained, so he always made a point to visit him when the water was high, his friend knew this.

Roman knew when he was getting closer to the water, the smell of rain was denser and the air was damp and cool down in this part of the woods. It didn’t take much walking along the edge of the running water to get to their usual spot where his friend was waiting, knees deep in the water as he watched fish swim downstream. He looked up as Roman approached and grinned, using his magic to direct a spray of water at Roman, to which he squealed and giggled as he attempted to bat away the mist that got his hair moderately wet.

“Pat! The water’s cold!” Roman spoke in fae tongue, a language that had survived through millennia, made up of stressed vowels and quick words, certainly one that would be difficult to learn.

Patton stuck his tongue out at Roman with a giggle, using the water to guide him back to the edge of the creek, stepping up onto the solid ground and grinning at Roman “We’re still heading to the market?”

Roman pouted dramatically “You don’t wanna catch up with me?”

Patton laughed softly and bumped Roman’s shoulder with his elbow “We can catch up on the way, I want to get to the market before all the herbs are gone. Remember last time we dawdled and by the time we got there, the only thing left was coriander?” he made a face of distaste, before starting to walk away from the water, Roman quick to catch up and fall into a stroll by his side.

There was always much happening in the very centre of their fae court, festivals, dances, celebrations, you name it, but a daily staple of the centre was the marketplace. Many things were traded, vegetables, fruits, flowers, seeds, various materials like silk and wool, anything that could be considered a necessity could be found at the marketplace. It was entirely communal, any fae could take what they needed as long as they gave what they could when they could. Only last week Roman had brought over several large batches of various flowers, and a few days before that Patton had brought root vegetables he had grown by the water. It was a system everyone benefited from, and it kept the community tight knit.

This particular market would be much larger than a usual one, as it followed the new moon, a time when magic was flowing most freely and powerfully. Most fae used magic to grow their crops, so it wasn’t uncommon to use the new moon to finish off the growing period and harvest quickly in time for the market the next morning. It meant better crops for the community, and whether the individuals were close or not didn’t matter, they were a collective.

Roman and Patton talked the entire walk there, catching each other up on the events of the past day that they hadn’t seen each other. Patron spoke about the warming of the rivers and how the summer fish were finally starting to move in to their areas. Roman spoke about new trinkets he had found up in the cliff areas buried deep in the dirt and speculated what they could be used for. He swung his basket in his hands as the conversed, feeling content as the breeze dried his hair.

The warm morning had turned over into a hot afternoon, and when they arrived at the market place, many fae were taking shelter under the denser canopy of the trees, relishing in the cool shade. The market was mostly laid out in the gaps between the canopy, with the sunlight drifting over the items, although there was limited space for such a big market to rest in the sun, so some fae had the ability to peruse the items that rested in the shade on the far side of the market. Produce and materials had been organised and laid out on woven leaves held up by sticks, with a few fae walking between the lengthy rows and picking out things, carrying them in their arms.

Roman made a point, as he did each time he visited, of running straight up to where the flower seeds were, and grabbing a large handful of whatever miscellaneous ones were closest, placing them straight in his basket before running back to Patton to look through the herbs and vegetables.

“What’s that you’re using?” Patton asked curiously, pointing at his basket as he selected a large bundle of basil “I didn’t notice it before”

“It’s some kind of human thing. See, they use their colourful fabrics and sew them together with some handles so that you can carry more things at once!” Roman said with a proud smile, holding up the basket so Patton could see. The fabric was a faded lilac colour, with little white embroidered swans on it. It was obvious that it was old, with the fabric being quite worn in some areas and the embroidery being missing in others, but it was still functional. “I’ve had it laying around my home for ages but I’ve never realised what it was for until a couple moons ago”

“Well hey that’s pretty cool!” Patton said with a grin, admiring the basket before looking back at Roman “Seems easier than carrying everything in your arms”

Roman flashed a bright grin back and nodded in agreement, grabbing a couple handfuls of herbs and dried tea leaves to put in his basket along with his seeds. Patton had always been supportive of his interest in humanity, even if he didn’t have the same enthusiastic curiosity about the topic like he did. Patton was the one who helped him fix up the cottage to make it liveable, the one who speculated the uses of different human objects with him, the one who tried to learn a human language with him. Roman was really grateful for his friend, it was nice to at least have one person who didn’t find his hobby so strange.

And of course, as they walked further through the rows of produce, and passed more and more fae, it was becoming increasingly obvious to Roman that pretty much everyone didn’t find his little human knick-knacks as welcome as he did. He began to notice fae looking at his basket with strange and confused expressions, some fae whispering to their companion if they had one with them, others making a quiet, sharp noise of disapproval. Not for the first time, Roman felt their judgement, and it made him feel small.

Patton seemed to have noticed this after a while, as he turned to Roman with a concerned look in his eyes “You feeling okay Ro?”

“Hm?” Roman said, lost in his thoughts until he heard Patton speak to him “Oh… yeah, I’m fine it’s just… I think I’m weirding people out a bit, maybe I should go”

Patton frowned and shook his head “You don’t have to Ro… it’s just…” He paused, then sighed “You know they’re not used to it… all this human stuff”

Roman put on a small smile and nodded “Yeah I know, and it’s okay, I get it. The basket was probably a bad idea” he sighed a bit and looked down at the basket in his hands, his eyes tracing over the messy embroidery “I wont bring it next time… but hey I should probably get home anyways… I uh, didn’t water my flowers this morning and I don’t want them to wilt with all this sunlight”

Patton looked sceptical still, but didn’t push any further, just nodding and offering Roman a sympathetic smile “You sure you’re okay?”

Roman smiled back, but it was slightly pinched “Never been better Pat, don’t worry about me” he said, wishing him goodbye with a nod of his head before turning around and heading away from the market, avoiding the eyes of and fae that he passed. He knew that fae were usually quick to reject anything remotely related to humanity. That was just they way they were. For as long as Roman could remember, he had always been told stories of how evil humans could be, and how fae should strive to never become like them, but the books in his cottage and the stories from the elders when he was a child told him different things. They recounted the cleverness of humanity, their capacity for friendship, the way they seemed to always try and make things right. Many fae would say those stories aren’t true, that the real humanity was cold and cruel, but Roman had always been stubborn in his beliefs.

Even so, as he walked away from the market and back into the shade of the woods, he understood that even just a small, embroidered basket was a bit too ‘human’ for the common area of his court. Maybe it was better if he left his trinkets at home.

He walked back through the woods, taking a small trail that lead back in the direction of his home, slightly dejected, but trying to lift his spirits. The summer afternoon had dried up all the remnants of the previous night’s rain, but he knew that the soil would still carry enough moisture, and would probably still be more fertile that usual thanks to the new moon, so he could plant his flower seeds when he got home, then harvest some of his vegetables for tomorrows market, maybe even try cooking something instead of eating whatever fruit had ripened in his garden; he was pretty sure he had enough firewood for that. The thought of returning home to his comfortable afternoon routine did lighten the weight on his shoulders quite a bit, and any previous negative thoughts were soon forgotten as he quickened his walking pace, eager to get back home as soon as possible, until suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks.

Now, every species had instinct, this was known, but faeries instincts tended to be rather heightened, fine-tuned alongside their unique ability to adapt to any environment, and at that moment, Roman felt his instincts spike. He couldn’t explain why, but as he looked around the woods, deafeningly silent, he felt the urge to go off trail, like there was something there that he was supposed to find.

Roman wasn’t the type to ignore such a calling, so, with a final wistful look towards the direction of his cottage, he turned away from the trail, and started walking in another direction, deeper in the woods.

The young fae walked slowly and silently, his light footsteps making no noise on the leaf littered ground. He didn’t know why his instincts told him to walk this way, he didn’t know what he was supposed to be looking for, but as he got closer, he heard it; the rustling of someone walking, laboured breathing, as if they were in pain or frightened. Roman quickened his pace, still staying as silent as he could manage, and when he finally reached the clearing that the noises were coming from, he hid himself behind a tree, wanting to get a closer look before he just walked right on out. Slowly, he peered out from behind the trunk of the tree, his eyes widening at what he saw.

It was a young man, appearing to be no older that Roman, kneeling on the ground. He had a pained expression on his face, as he picked out tiny, jagged pieces of rock from his scraped up palms and knees, his eyes wincing from behind strange frames that rested on his face, an item that Roman instantly recognised from something from his collection of trinkets, a human accessory.

He didn’t believe it first, but as he took in more of the young man’s appearance – his round ears, his clothing, the complete un-fae look about him – and he had to cover his mouth with his hand to stop himself from gasping; it was a human! A human in the fae realm!

His excitement and surprise quickly faded to concern. The fae realm was not a safe space for a human, certainly not one that was injured and on his own. Roman had to do something, he had to help him, his instinct was calling out for him to help him.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Roman took a step out from behind the tree, speaking softly and trying his best not to startle the poor thing “Hello? Are you lost?” he said, speaking in fae tongue at first.

The human’s head shot up and his eyes widened as they landed on Roman. He scrambled to his feet and took a few steps backwards, his body tense with fear. He didn’t respond to Roman’s words with his own, so the fae figured he didn’t understand his language, and tried a different approach.

“English?” Roman rasped out, wincing at his strange accent and how foreign the words felt on his tongue. It had certainly been a long while since he had spoken English, as few fae appreciated other languages ‘invading’ their court. Back when Roman was a child, it had been taught by elders, but as newer, younger, fae stepped up to lead in their place, the human language had been largely shunned. Luckily, Roman had enlisted the help of Patton to help continue to teach each other to read and write and speak through the books he had stumbled upon, tucked away in a little wooden bookshelf in corner of his cottage, that skill becoming quite useful at a time like this. “Do… you speak.. English?”

The human promptly turned on his heel and ran.

Roman, certainly not willing to let this poor human go running off into the wilderness alone, dropped his basket of things in a hurry and immediately set off in close pursuit behind him.

[bikepackinguk]

Day Fifty-nine

Up and at 'em by Stranraer golf course this morning, the stiff winds jave persisted through the night but the shelter of the trees allows getting some breakfast cooked up before hitting the road once more.

It's a couple of miles back down to Stranraer proper to load up on some water, then it's back off southward up the hills to the A716.

Whilst the sun is shining nicely, the winds are coming in over the hills from the southwest and causing a good deal of work, hitting me diagonally and not only buffeting me to the side but causing a great deal of drag as the road carries on through the foothills.

There's lots of pretty farmland being passed through here, with bronze fields of wheat and forests of corn alongside fallow fields full of daisies, but I can't savour the sights too much due to having to keep my head down through the gusting winds.

I take a short break at Sandhead, which features a nice little bay, before slogging onward again.

A lot of the stretches of road here are in fairly poor condition due to weighty farm traffic, which furthers the work required to keep going. And the winds continue to rise along with the climbs.

By the time I push up the hill and in to Drummore I'm feeling pretty worn out, and have a bit of a longer break for lunch bu the small park which offers a little respite from the weather.

This is a really damn tough day so far. A combination of high headwinds, long climbs, heavy traffic, and poor road surfacing, is a full set of the things I dislike riding with. But there's still further to go, so not much option other than to grind it out.

From Drummore, it's more climbing up over the hills past Damnaglaur as the winds begin to gust to gale force levels.

As the road narrows to a single track it throws some big undulations along with being fairly busy with traffic from other sightseers.

Passing on through the pastures full of cows and sheep on the end of the peninsula, I'm forced to push the bike most of the last way as otherwise I'd be blown over by the howling gale rushing in over the sea, but with a final effort up the last hill I finally get in to the Mull of Galloway Lighthouse.

I have a bit of a potter around to take in the impressive views here. The Isle of Man is just visible on the horizon, with the coast opposite shining in the sun. Looking back up the coastline I've come down, the far stretch is shadowed by rain from the clouds pouring over from the west.

The strong winds are at their worst up here with many folk struggling to stay on their feet, so I make a short retreat to grab a coffee at the cafe and give the legs some needed rest.

Time for the return trip! I walk down some of the initial hills due to the intense crosswinds, before mounting up and getting going.

One disadvantage of panniers is their surface area in a headwind, which causes a great deal of extra resistance and work. But witha tailwind like this, they act like sails to help speed me along, and soon I'm flying back round the hills towards Drummore at breakneck pace.

With the wind finally in my favour, it's comparatively easy going after the intense labours of the morning, and I zoom back up the road before stopping off for a brief breather at the picnic spot by the sea at Ardwell.

As I head north I'm getting beneath the very dark clouds that are drifting across the skies and heavy drops of rain begin to come down, but the high winds mean the clouds are passing swiftly by, making for some scattered showers but nothing torrential.

Further along, I swing back through Sandhead again to top up on water, and have a brief chat with a couple of Brummies. Gotta love small world syndrome!

I take the turn off the A road finally to head northeast and suddenly it's blissfully quieter, with the traffic practically vanishing. And as the road passes along an MOD firing range, the winds begin to calm down as well.

The rains are still coming intermittently though, and I am thoroughly worn out by all of today's hard effort, so I'm pondering an earlier finish for the day. Which is well timed as I roll around the corner and come across Torrs Warren just before hitting Dunragit.

With the rains starting to intensify, I've setup beneath the shelter of a nice big ash tree to batten down the hatches for the evening and get a mich needed lie down.

Until tomorrow!

[yuuniee]

Oc interactions! I'm handing you Finn and I don't know how this works so here to take the squishy shark

(Also I'm so sorry for not getting to your fics yet I've got four pages of bio to summarise then I'll be reading em!)

A/N: And I’m sorry for taking this long to answer this... :(( (And sorry in advance if I mischaracterized Finn or the octotrio :()

“Table 7’s order is ready!”

“On it!”

“Hey, what about the quiches?”

“They’re almost ready!”

Today, too, had the usual chaos. Order after order, too many customers and too many to entertain. It was like almost all the student body was there, just enjoying themselves, much to the dorm leader’s delight.

“Now then, let us begin the show.” Said he, the aforementioned dorm leader, as the Leech twins stepped on the stage with him.

Guess it was going to be another performance from them for the day, much to Finn’s dismay.

He sighed from across the bar while drying a glass in hand with a cloth, keeping an eye out just in case if anyone else hurts any of the trio on the stage... He still had some resentment, if not grudge, towards those who defeated Azul before. He knew it was to snap him out, but yet... he couldn’t shake off the bitter feeling even though none of those people were there right now.

“...Are you alright, Sir Finn?” Said the familiar voice of a fellow Octavinelle resident.

He turned his face to look around and noticed that one of his upperclassmen was sitting there. He knew who she was, the former honor student, rumored to have become vile and twisted lady... He knew the rumors weren’t exactly true since she seemed to show concern to her dorm members just like she did before. Regardless, he turned away from her.

“You look a bit worn out.” She spoke again while turning away as well. “You know it’s not good to push yourself to your limit, right?”

“I’m fine, Fawn.” He replied to her with his usual, stern tone and put the glass back to where it was supposed to be. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

She stayed silent before standing up from the chair she was sitting on.

“...Whatever you say.” She shrugged and left before leaving a little flower for him. He grabbed it and looked at it. It wasn’t anything special, just a little daisy. He sighed and kept his gaze on the crowd, again, just in case.

It wasn’t until later when their performance ended that he spotted a student going towards their direction with what seemed like their magic pen in hand. His eyes followed them, and he ended up getting out of the bar. Before he could do something, he noticed the tweels approaching the student and take them away.

A few moments later, the student was brought to the V.I.P Room for a ‘talk’. Finn followed them closely, quietly making his way in the room. His eyes spotted his lovers along with that familiar upperclassman and that meddlesome student.

“So, Sir Orion...” Azul started rather tearfully. “I suppose this wouldn’t be your first time coming here, hm?”

The student groaned as Jade and Floyd were sitting on his left and right. The shark walked closer, leaned on the wall and kept listening.

“You’re mistaken, Azul. There was another student that was actually going to harm you! I was going to stop them before they do that!” He loudly exclaimed in panic, “I swear to the gods above, I would never, ever do anything to hurt you..!”

“The way you were going in our direction says otherwise, Sir Orion.” Jade added, “The look on your face showed us everything we needed to know.”

Finn was used to see him make an attempt to hurt them of course, and it made his blood boil. His glare could be felt like an immense pain through Orion’s back. He bore his teeth in anger, a vein nearly popped out.

“But I wasn’t going to do anything..!”

“Ahhh, telling lame excuses as always... Ain’tcha tired of runnin’ away?” Floyd said, glaring at him as well.

“You wound me, Sir Orion. I’ll have you know that I would never do anything to warrant your hatred towards me.” The octomer replied while a tear fell from his cheek as he wiped it with the back of his hand, “This would be at least tenth time for you to come here... And you seriously leave me no choice.”

Finn knew what was going to happen now, and he felt lucky that he brought his ear plugs. Without a second thought, he put them on as the trio did the same.

With Azul’s light nod, the OK sign, Fawn came forward and carefully cradled Orion’s head with her hands.

“The pain and the suffering that haunts your mind,

Shall now come to surface to tear you apart...

Make no haste, embrace it all~”

『Nightmare Aria』...

.

.

.

After she was done, she gave them a quick sign to take off the ear plugs and immediately headed out of the room with a sour expression.

As Jade and Floyd took the unconscious, pale faced Orion out elsewhere, Finn immediately ran to Azul’s side and held him tightly.

“Did he hurt you?” He asked.

He simply shook his head and smiled.

“Thankfully he didn’t, my dear.” He replied and gave a kiss to his lover’s forehead.

“Next time he does something like this, I’m going to make him pay.” He snarled while holding Azul tighter.

“You needn’t bother yourself, the situation has already been taken care of.” He then leaned in and kissed him.

“...I know.” Finn replied with bright red cheeks and looked away.

“Oi, Azul. Quit hoggin’ angelfish, will ya?” Floyd shouted while entering the room and tackled the poor mershark and showered his face with kisses.

“Hmph, now who is being greedy?” The octomer mumbled under his breath and crossed his arms.

“You two.” Jade interrupted and took Finn out of his brother’s clutches to hold him. “Let’s not fight, okay?”

He then planted a kiss on Finn’s forehead and looked at the two.

“It seems Orion has been taken care of.” Fawn said while entering to the room. “That’s good, because I had to go to Headmaster’s office to let him know about this incident.”

“Thank you for your services, Miss Fawn.” Azul said to her, “Though, before you go... May I please ask what did he see that affected him this badly?”

She smirked while looking back at him, her eyes full of malice, a huge contrast to how she usually looks at other students...

“His worst fears coming to life~!”

With that, she let out a loud laugh and went away to somewhere else as Finn thought to himself, ‘She is.. a bit strange...’

[lucygraysboy]

“shouldn’t i be askin’ you that? how do you just mistake me for someone else? even if there’s some resemblance, people can’t be identical, you know?” unless… coriolanus. there’s no way, billy tells himself, pushing this idea as far away from his consciousness as possible before hope can begin to bloom between his ribs. his parents were murdered by the rebels, there’s no way his twin brother could have survived. that’s it. end of story. “look, i know you’re afraid and fear makes us vulnerable, that’s why our minds can play tricks on us in moments like that. think about it rationally. there must some differences between me and whoever hurt you,” he insists, stretching his arms and turning his hands towards the fire. “what about you? do you like playing games? cards?” the true meaning of her words flying right over his head, eyes lighting up momentarily, he wonders if maybe she’d like to play poker with him. if she doesn’t know how to, he could show her. “okay, not daisy then. is it a floral name, though? help me out? give me a clue?” he can tell that she’s frustrated with him, but doesn’t give up yet. they can either spend this night being scared of each other or they could try to become friends. “that’s smart, but my least favorite part about traps is when they don’t work quite as they should. when they don’t kill ‘em instantly? seems inhumane. shootin’ ‘em is probably the only quick and effective way to get it done, but… guns aren’t easy to find in the woods, right?” he rambles on, rubbing his hands together to warm up. 

“how’d you know i’m from —” brows inching in confusion, it’s his turn to grow wary of the other. who is she? how would she know where he comes from? he doesn’t even sound like someone from the capitol. he grew up in thirteen, where only a handful of people know his story. “like you know anythin’ ‘bout the capitol. am i supposed to believe you just went there on a field trip?” he rolls his eyes, thinking she must be losing what little sanity she’s got left. “you should change into somethin’ else. somethin’ dry. mind if i take a look?” billy points toward the bag beside the bed, genuinely wanting to help her. he’s about to head over there to retrieve something dry and warm for her to wear, when her face contorts in pain and captures his attention. his gaze naturally flickers to her feet, and his own features crumple as well. concern brimming in his eyes as he unceremoniously crouches down in front of her to examine the blisters. god, it looks so painful. “you come from far away, hm? it doesn’t look good. i have some iodine with me, would you care if i…?” knowing what she’s capable of, he doesn’t want to get closer and risk getting kicked in the head, but blisters can get infected if left untended to and then what? 

“how’s that? how does one just mistake someone for someone else who looks exactly like them. if it was little resemblance, i could see that. but you look just like yourself to me.” brows creased, crossing her arms against her chest before jaw clenches, “i figure you do.” love games… since playing games with her mind by lying to her about how many people he killed was his favorite. unfortunately for him, she’s even better at playing games. “close enough, i guess.” she angrily mumbles, finding it ridiculous she’s forced to keep playing like she’s as idiotic as he is. it’s idiotic… but it’s hard to keep believing he’s an idiot in the way he doesn’t act clueless on how to quickly start a fire the longer she stands here shivering, watching him. wondering if he’s just saying that to work his way in. “by draggin’ a trap with me.” lies because she’d never do that to a poor squirrel, they’re cute as can be and got little squirrel babies to tend to, she’ll starve first before murdering one and then roasting it alive or accidentally taking a mama from it’s babies. she’d keep making it off eating leaves and berries like she’s been. “you mean the capitol? people in the capitol don’t know a day’s worth of hard work.” she points out, confusion creasing her brows. standing still and quiet for a moment longer, his hand just stretched out for a long moment before reluctantly walking forward. “yes i do.” in the bag next to the bed. lucy gray goes over to the kitchen, dragging a chair out from the table over next to him in front of the fireplace and sits down in it to lean over and pull the strings on her boots. taking the left then the right off, making a look of discomfort as the blisters on her heels are rubbed against the shoes as she’s tugging them off. her socks are dry, but she tugs them off too so they don’t continue to make her blisters worse.

[wooahaes]

paper pumpkins

pairing: non-idol!junghwan x gn!reader

genre: fluff <3

word count: ~0.9k

warnings: food mentions. jeongwoo is a bad wingman.

daisy's notes: ngl i both do not miss living in a college dorm and also kinda miss it. just a lil bit in terms of seeing other ppl.

Junghwan was going to fight Jeongwoo for calling him over to the two of you and ditching him.

You had been sitting downstairs with several other people in this co-ed dorm, having been given permission to decorate the main room and kitchen with autumn-themed things. You didn’t live on Junghwan’s floor, but he always seemed to run into you whenever he had laundry to do. You were in a few of his general classes, too—the biology course he was taking to fill one of his science credits, the basic level writing course… If he wanted to be sappy, he’d say it was maybe fate pushing the two of you together. Jeongwoo knew you pretty well, and he’d been the reason Junghwan was officially introduced to you. 

And Jeongwoo, upon seeing Junghwan come in, immediately flagged him down and asked you to help in his place before pretending that one of the shorter girls elsewhere in the room had called him over. Junghwan knew that Jeongwoo probably joined their table and casually began chatting them up, mentioning that he needed to pretend to be busy while Junghwan talked to you.

“Junghwan?” 

He snapped back to reality, realizing he’d been somewhat glaring at Jeongwoo for the past few seconds. “Yes?”

You said nothing at first, merely chuckling to yourself as you continued cutting out the pumpkin you were busy making. “Nothing,” you said. “Are you mad he ditched you?”

Junghwan shook his head. He was, but he didn’t want it to seem like he was mad to be stuck with you when he felt the exact opposite. “I feel like he’s planning something,” he said, technically lying. He knew Jeongwoo had planned something… but he couldn’t shake the feeling there was another part to this.

“Aren’t all of us?” 

“Hm?”

“I mean… We’re always making plans for something—” And you paused, wincing. “Sorry, that was stupid—”

“No, you’re right…” He grew more flustered, “I just…” 

Say something cool. Say something suave. Oh my god, just say something that isn’t stupid—

“Do you have a plan?” He paused, “For this! For the pumpkin thing—”

And you giggled again, although he couldn’t shake the feeling it was more out of endearment than because he’d made a fool of himself. “I do! I traced out shapes for a face on these pieces of construction paper,” you slid it over. “Jeongwoo was supposed to cut them out and help me paste ‘em down before taping it up on the door, but… You can see where that went.”

Junghwan wordlessly picked up the scissors, looking over the shapes you’d drawn. The eyes and mouth for the jack-o-lantern, a stem, leaves… It was cute. It reminded him of what he’d seen people do in elementary schools. “I can do that.”

“Would you?” Your sweet smile would have made him say yes even if he didn’t want to, to be honest. “You’re sweet,” you hummed. “Thank you, Junghwan.” 

With that, Junghwan decided to prod a little to be nice. He asked about your day (good, thanks!) and what roped you into helping with the decor (I dunno, just felt like being crafty?), trying to act as casually as he could. You’d passed him a rubber band at one point since his hair kept falling into his face, apologizing that you didn’t have a proper hair tie—but he’d waved that off. The fact that you were thinking of him was more than enough for him to be happy, and he kept working alongside you diligently. 

“Hey… Junghwan?” You’d finished cutting out the pumpkin and were currently pasting down one of the eyes he’d slid over to you. “Are you seeing anybody?”

He looked up, nearly fumbling with the leaf he’d been almost done cutting out. “No?”

“I see…” You nodded along. “Is that why Jeongwoo keeps asking if I have a boyfriend?”

Thank god he just finished cutting out that leaf, because he would have fucked it up had he not. “What?!” 

The sound of your warm giggle put him at ease again—you didn’t seem bothered by any of it. “I dunno. Just an inkling I’ve had.” 

He slid the mouth of the pumpkin to you, and watched as you carefully coated one side of it with a glue stick. “Does it bother you?”

“Not at all,” you smoothed your hand over the paper once you stuck it together. “I was actually thinking maybe we could—”

Jeongwoo, with the worst timing in the world, popped up. “Hey! Are you two almost done?” If Junghwan could set someone on fire with his mind right now… 

“We’ve got it covered,” Junghwan said, already pushing his friend away by the shoulder, “go help someone else.”

Baffled, Jeongwoo stared back at him, before nodding along. “Okay…?” 

Junghwan turned back to you. “Yes.”

You just smiled, chuckling to yourself. “Okay,” you said. “I know a cafe just off campus. Thanks for buying my drink, Junghwan.”

If it meant he could see your cute, teasing smile again… He’d buy you whatever warm drinks you wanted. Especially if it meant he’d get to hold your hand on the way there, still electrified from the moment your fingers brushed while taping up the pumpkin.

(And maybe he’d grab a cookie for Jeongwoo… Even if his attempts at being a wingman didn’t work out perfectly.)

taglist: @twancingyunhao

[secretwhumplair]

Solstice, p.2

1,351 words | No Warrior (sequel to Solstice, p.1)

Content | Mention of past noncon, aftermath of trauma

Notes | Runar and Yves have a talk.

Not sure whether this isn't moving a liiittle too quick but I leave it for now.

Taglist | @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​ @whump-me-all-night-long​​​​ @whumpadump1939​​ @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight

@whumpzone​​ @angel-stars @kixngiggles​ @whumpsy-daisies​​ @briars7

@yet-another-heathen​​ @rosesareviolentlyread @cupcakes-and-pain @hollowtreesinhollowwoods​​​​ @much-ado-about-whumping

@nine-tailed-whump​​ @whump-em​​​ @itsleighlove @newbornwhumperfly @tears-and-lilies

@deluxewhump @whump-cravings @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning @neverthelass

@whumpsday @silent-orchid-lady @everynameistakencarrots

Yves didn’t bother lighting a fire when he arrived at the healer’s hut. He crawled into bed to curl up and try to calm his racing thoughts.

When he heard steps outside, he briefly remembered why he had been worried about staying here alone during the festival, but he was too upset to even be frightened. Let Brandr come if that’s what he wanted. Turned out he was right to be jealous.

But the man who quietly opened the door and asked, »Yves?« into the dark was Runar. Of course.

Yves didn’t reply.

»Yves, sweetheart, will you talk to me?« Yves heard him crouch down at the hearth, and moments later, firelight flooded through the cabin.

He sat up. Yes, he wanted to talk. He wanted answers. »Why do you call me that?«

»What? Sweetheart?« Runar got up, turned around and smiled at him, smiled at him. But when he saw Yves’ face, the smile dropped. »I can stop if it makes you uncomfortable.«

»I didn’t know what it meant.« The words bubbled from his lips, carried up from the seething fury. He couldn’t stop himself. »Do you want me?«

Runar’s face went through several shades of concern. He opened his mouth once, then closed it again, before he choked out, »I-«

»Is that. Is that what you saved me for?« Tears pushed at Yves’ eyes, and he didn’t manage to swallow them down.

»It’s not—no, Yves, it’s not like that. It’s never been like that.« Runar moved to sit beside him, leaving a careful space between them. »I called you sweetheart because you’re dear to me, that’s all.« He didn’t look at Yves, and Yves knew there was a lie somewhere.

»It was,« Runar finally continued, quieter. »It wasn’t—I didn’t save you for—for some kind of selfish purpose. But…«

But. There it was. The whole truth.

Runar still didn’t look at him. »It changed.« He took a deep breath. »I’ve fallen in love with you.«

»… what?«

»I’ve fallen in love with you.« Runar’s face looked so gentle when he finally looked down on him.

Yet Yves only felt a storm inside him. In love. This was just like You’ve got the heart for being a warrior all over again—except worse.

»Don’t mock me!«

He didn’t know what to do. He rolled over, curling in on himself tightly like he hadn’t in weeks and weeks.

* Runar barely slept.

He couldn’t stop himself from staring at Yves’ little, curled-up form on the other side of the bed as the fire burned down and darkness engulfed them. Tonight should have been a celebration, a new beginning—how did it go this wrong?

Why did Yves have to be like this about a normal fucking endearment?

And why didn’t he, Runar, lie and say there was nothing else, even now? It was crystal clear Yves wasn’t ready.

He wasn’t sure which between the two of them he was more upset with.

When a few hours had passed with nothing more than a few uneasy naps, he got back up, restoked the fireplace, and went to prepare breakfast. It must be close to their usual time. He had expected to stay up longer, to celebrate and be merry until late into the night, and sleep in today.

But it wasn’t to be.

When he started working in the kitchen, Yves appeared by his side; apparently he hadn’t been sleeping either. They avoided each other’s eyes as they prepared the meal, like they had done a thousand times.

It hadn’t been so tense and quiet in weeks. Probably months.

Runar felt an urge to apologize. But what for? He had had no way of knowing using such a sweet little word made Yves uncomfortable, and he had already offered to stop the moment he learned about it. And Yves—he didn’t want to call it an overreaction, not when Yves was struggling with the aftermath of everything he had been through… but yet, apologizing didn’t seem so simple.

Yves surprised him by breaking the silence first.

»I’m sorry I’ve been so harsh, earlier.« He still didn’t look at Runar; but Runar felt a pinch of relief that Yves agreed he had been, somewhat, in the wrong. He had been patient with Yves’ outbursts, of course he had been, but he had no interest in becoming his punching bag.

Maybe he should have been a little more concerned about whether it came from fear or some other twisted feeling, or from genuine remorse, but Yves had been doing well.

But then, more quietly, Yves added, »You can have me. If you want.«

»What?« Runar actually recoiled. »No, it’s—not like that. I don’t want—I’ll never want it like this, do you understand?« Yves’ words from the night before struck him again. Don’t mock me. Not for a moment had he even entertained the notion Runar’s love might be genuine. He thought this was about sex, and though it angered Runar, he had to face the fact that it must frighten Yves much more.

He looked Yves firmly in the eye. He already had told the truth when he should have lied, the least he could do was make himself clear. »I would lie if I said I do not want you, but you feeling comfortable and safe is a thousand times more important. I would never want you to—to just lie down and, and take it. I know you can…« His mind went back to the way Yves had looked at him the night he ran away, when he had been vulnerable and bare and it became more obvious than ever his captors’ cruelty had known no bounds. He cleared his throat. »But you don’t ever have to. I wouldn’t want you to, ever.«

Yves watched him impassively as he gave his little speech, then he turned away without speaking, leaning on the table and looking down on his hands. Runar couldn’t even read his face. It wasn’t the naked fear he had seen there so often; Yves was grappling with something, and Runar could only wait for the result.

Finally, he said, »Why did you say that, then? I know you’re not in love with me.«

»How do you figure that?!« Runar’s anger was overridden by an ache he couldn’t quite pinpoint. For the man before him, yes, who simply could not believe himself to be the object of such affection. But also for himself, more than a little.

Yves was still looking down, his voice filled with the bitterness that had become such a constant companion. »I’m just a tiny, weak, worthless stranger.«

»Yves, no.« The ache in Runar’s chest was enough to make his heart bleed. Was that really how Yves saw himself? How he thought Runar saw him? After all this time? »You’re not a stranger anymore, you have become one of us, because you chose so. And you’re not weak—you’re one of the strongest people I know, how could you have survived everything you have if you weren’t? I saw you pull yourself through, over and over. It’s not fair you had to be so strong, but you are. And Yves, they lied to you.«

Yves hadn’t moved from the spot, but his body was turning towards him. Tears had begun to fall, again. Runar resisted the urge to pull him into his arms, not now, but he couldn’t seem to help drifting closer.

»You’re not worthless. You’re incredibly precious.«

Finally, Yves wrapped his arms around him, and Runar returned the hug with a rush of physical relief as if he’d been holding his breath. Yves trembled, just a little.

»You are tiny,« Runar conceded, quietly, and his heart leapt when the words drew a wet chuckle from the man in his arms, still tinged with bitterness, but perhaps more out of habit than anything.

He hadn’t allowed himself to dream, and he didn’t now. But maybe they could find some sort of comfort in one another. He swallowed down tears of his own, and held Yves for as long as he would allow him.