#re-animator was a big turning point in my life if you couldn’t tell

[the-slaylus-parable]

“For god’s sake, Mad Scientist!” Villain couldn’t help but raise their voice. “I don’t want your experiments or your work! I want you! I want your hair and your smile and your laughter and your lips and that big, incredible brain and everything about you! I don’t care about the research, I...”

[crossbowking]

Honey & Whiskey

Summary: (Set throughout series) When the world ended, everything good died along with it. At least, that's what Daryl Dixon thought. But then he met a stranger in the woods and his entire world turned upside down.

A/N: HOLY MOLY. I can't believe it's here! I've been working on this story since October and I'm so excited for y'all to finally read it. This story is absolutely my favorite of all time and it's 20,835 words of pure Daryl POV (which is just *chef kiss*) — that being said, it’s also a slow burn...and I mean an entirely self-indulgent SLOWWWW burn. So strap in, y’all.

PSA: There are mentions of 'Dog' in this story that are sort of non-canon, especially now that we've seen a backstory as to how Daryl actually found him in the show...so for the sake of the story, let's just pretend 10.18 doesn't exist :)

Anywho, please be sure to share your thoughts with me afterward!

Happy reading!

xx Jess

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The sun dipped below the horizon, the sky alight with brilliant orange and yellow rays.

Daryl tilted his head back, glancing up at the shifting colors as night drew near. The air was crisp, a welcomed change from the usual summer heat. The streets of Alexandria were fairly empty, most already settling into their respective homes before nightfall. Though the unusual silence was near deafening, the archer paid it no mind.

He appreciated the quiet these days.

The grass poked and prodded beneath where he sat, but he simply shifted, drawing one knee to his chest, the other leg splayed out in front of him. He picked absently at one of the holes in his worn jeans, tugging at the string hanging off the fabric.

And then he thought of her.

Leaves and twigs crunched beneath Daryl’s boots as he traversed through the otherwise silent woods.

The farm was destroyed, winter was approaching, and there seemed to be an ever-looming pang of hunger in the pit of his stomach. He pushed away any inkling of weakness, forging ahead with determined strides. His people were waiting for him, hunkering down in an abandoned diner less than a mile East, hoping he’d bring back something to dull the growing ache inside all of them.

Daryl’s steps faltered — ‘his’ people.

The thought had come so naturally it nearly took him off guard. The feeling of community, of belonging, was something he’d never felt in his entire life. It was a strange notion, but that drive, that need he felt to provide, pushed him further out into the forest.

The archer kept his footsteps light, practically imperceptible, listening for noises only a seasoned hunter could distinguish. When a twig suddenly snapped off to his left, he froze, scanning the stillness around him. He raised his crossbow, the weight familiar in his grasp as he took a small step in the direction the noise had come from.

A moment later, Daryl spotted it — a lone raccoon just a few yards ahead.

The archer felt a rush of adrenaline, a tingling sensation in his fingertips as they hovered over the trigger. He exhaled a soft breath, focusing all his attention on the animal. But with his concentration elsewhere, it wasn’t until after he’d pulled the trigger that he’d realized he was no longer alone in the woods.

Daryl spun around, coming face to face with an incredibly grotesque-looking walker, teeth bared, arms outstretched, launching itself towards him. The archer braced his arm against the biter’s throat just in time, grunting under its weight as he stumbled backward.

“Shit,” he snarled through gritted teeth, tossing his unloaded weapon aside as he fought against the attack. Using his free hand, he reached for the hunting knife secured on his belt, grabbing onto the hilt.

But before he could yank it out, the world began tilting rapidly around him.

Daryl’s back slammed against the harsh wooded ground, his foot tangled up in an exposed root. He spat another vicious curse as the walker thrashed on top of him, snapping its mangled jaw closer and closer, growling in starved desperation.

Then suddenly, it stilled.

The archer froze, his gaze locked on the unexpected sight of one of his arrows now embedded through the biter’s temple. He snapped out of his reverie, shoving the dead off his chest and scrambling back to his feet.

And then he saw her.

She stood just a few feet away, her rapid breathing mirroring his own, looking as though she was seconds away from passing out. Her hair was matted by a mixture of blood and dirt, her clothes were torn and ratted, her wide eyes seemingly too big for her gaunt features. She had a nasty cut across her temple, blood dripping down the side of her face, past her neck, pooling at the collar of her shirt.

Daryl’s eyes bounced back up to meet hers — his guarded and calloused, hers unsure and fatigued.

“I’m assuming — this — is yours?” she spoke between heaving breaths, tossing something in his direction, the motion causing her to sway unsteadily.

Daryl glanced down, spotting the raccoon he’d shot earlier now lying at his feet — but the arrow he’d used to kill it was no longer there.

Now, it was lodged through the skull of the walker that’d attacked him.

The archer focused back on the stranger — but before he could respond, her skin was suddenly paling, her body crumpling to the ground like a paper doll.

Daryl stared down at her unmoving form in bewilderment. He could tell by the shallow rise and fall of her chest that she was at least breathing. The cut on her temple was still bleeding, the wound looking fairly recent — his best guess was a concussion or exhaustion. Most likely both.

He took a small step forward, almost hesitantly. But when his approach didn’t stir the stranger, he found himself facing an unforeseen decision.

He could leave her — he should leave her. She wasn’t his responsibility. She was a complete stranger. She chose to intervene, not him. She made that choice. Not him. Her.

Though as he turned to leave, as he scooped up the limp raccoon and shoved it into his bag, as he grabbed his strewn crossbow and strapped it across his back, one thing became startlingly clear.

He couldn’t do it — he couldn’t just walk away.

Daryl huffed a defeated breath. “Shit.”

He could’ve sworn that day in the woods was an entire lifetime ago.

Rick had nearly lost his damn mind when he’d returned to the diner with not only a small woodland creature in his pack, but a stranger slung over his shoulder.

“Is she dead?” Carl pressed nosily, hovering by the booth where the stranger was now laid out, still unconscious.

Lori quickly intervened, moving forward with one hand on her protruding belly, the other grabbing onto Carl’s shoulder. “Step back, baby. Give Hershel some space to work, okay?” she cautioned, pulling the inquisitive boy away.

“Oh, it’s quite alright — I’m just about done here anyways,” Hershel drawled, setting aside the blood-soaked cloth he’d been using to tend to the stranger’s head wound.

Daryl watched the exchange from across the room, arms folded tight against his chest, ignoring the stares coming from other group members.

The front door of the diner suddenly swung open as Rick marched through. He shot the archer a disapproving look before addressing the others. “I think we’re okay,” he finally spoke, re-holstering his pistol. “If Daryl had been followed here, I’m sure we would’ve known by now. We’ll keep somebody on watch — jus’ as a precaution — an’ get back on the road first thing.”

The archer gnawed on the inside of his cheek as the rest of the group began whispering amongst themselves, clearly distressed about the possible danger his decision may have put them in.

Rick approached a moment later, his steadfast strides immediately setting Daryl on edge. “Can I speak with you?” the sheriff hissed, glancing over his shoulder and locking eyes with Lori’s worried gaze. “In private?” he added in a hushed tone before turning around and storming back outside.

Daryl scoffed under his breath, pushing away from the counter he’d been leaning against and stalking after Rick.

The archer yanked the door open, the cool air biting at his skin as he followed suit. He spotted Rick pacing back and forth across the parking lot, surveying the surrounding woods warily before spinning around and facing him head-on.

“What the hell were you thinkin’?” Rick demanded, taking a step forward.

Daryl fought back the instinctual urge to be on the attack. Instead, he took a breath. “What was I supposed ta’ do, man? Jus’ leave her out there?” he countered, eyes narrowing.

“You don’t bring her here,” the sheriff snapped before pinching the bridge of his nose, attempting to collect himself. “We — we have ta’ look after our own, Daryl — you know that. We have no idea who she is, where she came from, who she’s with,” he specified sharply before shaking his head. “That’s jus' not a risk I’m willin’ ta’ take. Are you?”

Daryl held Rick’s gaze for a long moment before looking away, glancing towards the tree line. The sheriff had a point, he couldn’t deny that. But there was something inside him, a nagging sensation in the pit of his stomach that said otherwise.

Rick slowly nodded, interpreting Daryl’s silence as an answer. “When she wakes, she’s gone,” he finally resolved, stepping past the archer and back towards the diner without another word.

But Daryl couldn’t let it go. “Hey,” he called after Rick, the sheriff’s strides halting mid-pace as he glanced back, the harshness in his features fading, unveiling a man with nothing but the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Back when Carl got shot, if Hershel had turned us away, what’d ya think would’a happened?”

Rick paused before exhaling a long, heavy breath, some of the fight leaving him with it. “That’s not — it’s not the same —”

“It is,” Daryl interjected. “It’s the same damn thing.”

The air grew quiet as Rick’s shoulders sagged, one hand resting against his hip. “My family…” he suddenly murmured, shaking his head sadly. “I can’t risk it.”

Daryl nodded once. “I get it. After everythin’ with Shane an’ Randall, losin’ the farm the way we did, I get it, man,” he rasped, regarding him earnestly. “But m’ tellin’ ya…this’s the wrong call, Rick.”

The diner door suddenly flung open, interrupting the conversation and revealing a flustered-looking Glenn.

“Uh, hey guys,” he interrupted, sending the pair an awkward wave. “Just wanted to let you know that she’s, uh — she’s awake.”

Rick and Daryl shared a look.

“And kinda freaking out,” Glenn quickly tacked on at the end.

Daryl didn’t hesitate. He stormed past Rick and back into the diner, making a beeline towards the small crowd that had gathered around her.

“— okay, it’s okay. We’re not gonna hurt you, sweetheart,” Lori spoke softly, holding her hands out in front of her as though approaching a caged animal.

The archer pushed through the group, spotting the stranger a moment later.

She was still sitting in the booth he’d initially laid her out in — though now she was huddled away from everyone, back pressed up against the wall, knees drawn to her chest in a cowering stance. Her gaze darted frantically around the room, clearly confused and disoriented and overwhelmed.

Daryl couldn’t even begin to understand why, but he felt a wave of outrage course through him.

“C’mon, people. She ain’t a fuckin’ zoo animal,” the archer growled abruptly, taking a defensive stance in front of the booth and motioning for the rest of the group to move back. “Give the girl some damn space.”

The archer waited until everyone stepped away before turning back around and glancing down at the stranger. He was surprised to see her eyes trained on him — even more surprised at the flush of heat that spread across his chest. He held her gaze a second longer before Rick appeared, parting through the crowd like Moses and the Red Sea.

The stranger shrunk away.

Daryl wondered why the sight bothered him so much.

Rick came to a slow halt in front of her. “What’s your name?” he finally asked, his tone measured and firm.

The stranger did another sweep of the room, as though surveying just how much possible danger she was in. But when her eyes flashed up towards the archer once again, some of her unease faded. “Y/N,” she spoke hesitantly.

Rick nodded slowly before extending his arm. “Rick Grimes.”

Y/N looked at the gesture cautiously. Still, she reached out and took his hand in hers.

She appeared composed but Daryl noticed the slight tremble in her grip.

After a brief shake, Rick grabbed an empty chair and sat down at the end of the booth, resting his forearms against the table. “So, Y/N,” he began, giving the archer a look of resolve. “What happened ta’ you?”

The time after the farm fell was foggy, each day blurring into the next, suffocated by a heaviness the unknown inherently brought. But that day, the day he met her, ran stark against the rest.

Y/N had told her story like Rick asked her to do. She spoke of the small group she’d been staying with and the refuge they’d built, ultimately destroyed by the dead. Everybody had scattered — and if they hadn’t…

Any previous hesitancies the group held melted into understanding and sympathy almost immediately.

Daryl had known Y/N would be accepted into the group. Rick had hardened since the farm, but he wasn’t heartless. He wouldn’t be able to turn her away, just as the archer hadn’t been able to leave her out in those woods.

Spending the winter season on the run had been difficult for everyone — constantly running from the dead, cold and bitter nights, supplies growing scarce. The road was unforgiving, proving time and time again how completely fucked this new world was, how things would never return to the way they were, how this was now the new way of life.

Though for Daryl, if he was being honest, it wasn’t all bad — not in comparison to what his old life had given him.

He’d choose a lifetime of running over the stench of whiskey and the sting of belt buckles any day.

The only other person who’d appeared unaffected was Y/N. Besides showcasing a natural skillset in survival, she’d found her place amongst the group with ease — so effortlessly that Daryl hadn’t been able to recall what life looked like before her. She exuded a warmth that people were drawn towards — that the rest of the group clung to during the darkest of days.

But not Daryl.

He’d kept her at a distance, kept her at arm’s length because he refused to let her in as everyone else had.

Little did he know.

Daryl swiped at the beads of sweat dripping down the sides of his face.

The Georgian heat was nearly suffocating, blanketing over his body and setting his skin ablaze. He pushed away the discomfort, bending down and grabbing the ankles of one of the many walkers spread out across the prison’s courtyard. He’d lost track of how many bodies he’d dragged out, his group working tirelessly to clean out their newfound home.

The archer had just pulled the limp body through one of the fences, nearing the pickup truck used for disposal, when he heard someone approach.

“Need a hand?”

Daryl stilled — he glanced up, his eyes locking with Y/N’s, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Her hair was pulled back out of her face, a thin sheen of sweat laid out across her forehead. One hand rested on her hip, the other hovered near her face, blocking the sun rays. The sleeves of her shirt were rolled up past her elbows, streaks of dirt and blood visible against her exposed skin.

He realized then that she was really rather beautiful.

The intrusive thought caught the archer completely off guard. He quickly turned his attention downward, grunting a half-assed ‘nah’ before continuing his trek to the pickup truck, determined to preserve some space between them.

But instead of leaving, as he’d assumed she would, Y/N remained rooted in place.

Daryl faltered, the expression that flickered across her face hinting that maybe she hadn’t come to just ‘lend a helping hand’. She had something on her mind — he could tell by the way she snagged her bottom lip between her teeth, gnawing absently as she shifted her weight back and forth.

The archer dropped his hold from around the walker’s ankles and straightened. “What?” he demanded gruffly, curiosity getting the best of him.

Y/N’s eyes found his as she took a small step forward — Daryl fought back the urge to back up. “I, uh —” she paused, her mouth twisting to the side as though fumbling for the right words. “Just — thank you.”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. “For what?” he huffed.

Y/N’s head cocked to the side, seemingly surprised. “I — I don’t know,” she murmured, a soft, sort of bewildered laugh slipping past her lips. “For bringing me here, for introducing me to your people — for everything, I guess,” she expressed sincerely. “You could’ve just left me out in those woods that day — most people would’ve.”

The archer chewed on the inside of his cheek, feeling incredibly exposed for some strange reason. “Was nothin’,” he finally grunted, ignoring the prickle of heat at the tips of his ears.

“It wasn’t nothing,” Y/N replied indignantly, like she was offended at the notion that he didn’t deserve her gratitude. “You saved my life.”

Daryl shifted uncomfortably, wanting nothing more than for this interaction to be over with — because once that happened, he could go back to maintaining his distance, he could go back to allowing the air between them to be just that. “Figured I owed ya,” he finally mustered, recalling the first day they’d met.

Y/N’s lips curled up into a megawatt smile and Daryl could’ve sworn he’d never seen anything so damn captivating in his entire life. “Okay,” she grinned, sticking her hand out in front of her. “We’ll call it even then.”

The archer glanced down at the gesture before warily reaching forward, taking her hand in his, and shaking once, twice, three times. Her grip was firm and she didn’t seem to mind the grime coating his skin.

When she pulled away, Daryl felt the empty spaces she’d filled set ablaze.

Y/N shot him one last smile before turning around and heading back towards the courtyard. But she’d only made it a few feet when she paused, glancing over her shoulder. “Make sure you eat something, okay?”

She didn’t wait for a response — instead, she narrowed her eyes, shooting him a look in mock-seriousness as if to say ‘I’m watching you’. Then her face broke out into another grin before she sent him a small wave — and she was gone.

Daryl watched her leave, unable to pull his gaze from her retreating form.

He tried to ignore the mess his mind was becoming, littered with confusion and insecurity, the nagging voice that lingered telling him he’d never be good enough, strong enough, brave enough for anything other than what he’d always known.

He wouldn’t let her in — he couldn’t let her in.

But as he bent down, grasping onto either ankle of the walker at his feet, he felt a tingling sensation in his fingertips he swore had everything to do with the Georgian heat and nothing to do with her.

A gentle breeze roused Daryl from his thoughts.

He shifted from where he sat, reaching into the pocket of his jeans for the pack of cigarettes he kept there.

The package was falling apart, half-crushed, half-wrinkled from everyday wear and tear, but the archer slipped one of the few remaining cigarettes out anyway and caught it between his lips.

It hadn’t taken long for him to realize that keeping Y/N at arm’s length was a futile attempt — he’d been naive to think it was possible in the first place.

Before he knew it, she’d wormed her way into the forefronts of his mind and found herself a nice, cozy corner to call home. She’d done it as effortlessly as the blink of an eye or the beat of a heart. It just happened — no rhyme or reason, no explanation or logic. It just happened.

Which made leaving that much harder.

“Daryl!”

The archer ignored Glenn’s shout, marching further into the woods and approaching a snide-looking Merle. “C’mon, bro,” the younger brother grunted, worried if they didn’t leave right then and there, he’d change his mind and return to the prison with the others.

Merle’s booming laugh sounded, drawing Daryl from his thoughts. “Well, I’ll be damned,” the man sneered, tossing an arm around the archer’s shoulders. “Looks like somebody decided ta’ grow himself a big ole’ pair a’ cojones while I was gone,” he snarked, pushing Daryl forward and falling in step beside him.

The archer pressed his lips together, swallowing his retort and focusing ahead.

“Hey, wait up!”

The voice that sounded halted Daryl in his tracks. He spun around, spotting Y/N making her way through the forest, her strides long and determined as she headed straight towards him.

“Well, would ya look a’ that,” Merle quipped under his breath, leering at her approach, his tone sending a swell of aggravation through the younger brother.

“Jus’ gimme a minute,” Daryl quickly waved him off, ignoring the prickle of heat creeping up his neck as he trudged towards her.

Y/N came to a stop in front of him, slightly out of breath, her eyes searching his for a long moment.

She seemed to have something to say, a reason for chasing after him — but it was as though she couldn’t get the words together. She glanced down, shaking her head slowly before taking a deep breath. When she looked back up, Daryl noticed a resignation in her gaze that wasn’t there before.

“Are you sure about this?” she finally asked, her troubled expression sending a pang of guilt through him.

Daryl looked away. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure — he wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

He shifted his weight, focusing back on her. “Ya watch out for yourself, ya hear me?” he rumbled, pushing away the unexpected worry gnawing at him.

Y/N’s shoulders sagged in disappointment, her defeated expression damn near changing his mind altogether. “I will,” she murmured, a bittersweet smile ghosting across her features.

Daryl held her gaze a moment longer before nodding once, turning without another word.

But he’d barely taken a step when he suddenly felt her grab his wrist and twist him back around.

Before he knew what was happening, Y/N was hugging him. She threw her arms around his middle and squeezed tight, leaving Daryl completely and utterly dumbfounded. His arms hung limply at his sides, caught off guard by the surprising gesture. Though as soon as it’d begun, it ended. Y/N unwound herself from around his body and took a step back, a pink tinge to her cheeks he hadn’t noticed earlier.

She whispered a somber goodbye — though Daryl couldn’t hear it over the sound of the blood rushing to his ears — and then she was gone.

The archer fought back the urge to follow, telling himself over and over again that he was making the right decision — he was choosing blood, he was choosing family, he was choosing —

“Hey! Where’s my hug at, sweet cheeks?” Merle’s suddenly hollered, calling after Y/N.

She didn’t look back and Daryl fought back the impulse to start swinging.

But Merle just laughed, the noise loud and boisterous as he sauntered forward. “Damn, lil’ brother. Didn’t think ya had it in ya! I was startin’ ta’ think ya played for the other fuckin’ team’,” he jeered, clapping the archer on the back with more force than necessary.

Daryl’s entire body tensed up, his darkened gaze snapping towards his brother. He noticed then that Merle was also watching Y/N — though his eye line was fixated on one specific part of her body…

“Let’s go,” the archer spat under his breath as he spun around and stormed off, his hands balling into fists.

He had to walk away. Otherwise, he’d lose it — he’d give in to instinct, he’d allow the rage coursing through him to take over, and all of this would’ve been for nothing.

So he took a deep breath, relaxed his clenched fists, and dismissed any lingering thoughts of her.

Daryl scoffed at the memory, an unlit cigarette still caught between his teeth.

He pulled out his lighter and flicked his thumb against the wheel, sparking a small flame before inhaling a deep breath. The familiar taste of nicotine and ash filled his senses as he drew smoke into his lungs, immediately feeling a rush of calm flow through him.

Daryl existed in the quiet, taking another long drag of his cigarette. He pulled his legs towards his chest, resting his elbows atop his knees, letting his hands dangle in front of him. He watched the lit cigarette butt dim and dance between his fingertips, the embers burning off and drifting into the grass.

It’d only taken a single day for the archer to come to his senses — to realize the mistake he’d made in leaving with his brother. And if he was being honest, it’d had nothing to do with Merle. He couldn’t blame his brother because his brother hadn’t changed — his brother was still the same brash, volatile, ill-tempered redneck he’d known his whole life.

No, it was him — he was the one who had changed.

“Would ya slow yer damn roll? I ain’t the athlete I used ta’ be, ya know!” Merle bellowed from somewhere behind Daryl, clearly struggling to keep up with the younger brother’s pace.

But the archer didn’t slow, his strides matching the beat of his pounding heart. He ducked under tree branches and side-stepped exposed roots, the prison growing nearer with each step he took.

It wasn’t until Daryl heard a sudden thud, followed by a viciously snarled curse, that he slowed. He spun around, spotting Merle pushing up off the forest floor.

“Ya good?” Daryl called out, crossing back and reaching down, offering his hand.

But Merle just swatted him away, his expression twisting in contempt as he staggered back to his feet. “Lemme ask ya somethin’,” he growled. “How the hell ya think this’s gonna go, huh? Ya think those assholes are jus’ gonna forget ‘bout everythin’ that happened? Ya think we’re jus’ gonna hug it out an’ sing ‘round the campfire like some kinda damn afternoon special?”

The archer fought back the urge to roll his eyes. “Ya —”

“This ‘bout that skirt from yesterday? Huh? That it?” Merle steamrolled over his attempt to interrupt, taking a step forward, the brothers now toe to toe.

Daryl felt a prickle of heat flush the back of his neck, his chest tightening. Merle was just trying to get a rise out of him — he knew that deep down — but damn, was it working. “It ain’t ‘bout her,” the archer growled defensively, fixing him with a glare. “It’s ‘bout survival, ’bout rebuildin’ — ‘bout tryin’ ta’ make somethin’ outta this shit world. It can’t jus’ be us out here, man — not anymore.”

Merle rolled his eyes. “Oh, c’mon, did Officer Friendly force-feed ya that bullshit?”

Daryl stiffened before huffing a breath and waving his brother off. He turned away, determined to continue his trek back home before it was too late — but he’d only made it a couple of feet when Merle called after him once more.

“It ain’t ever gonna work,” the older brother voiced, his usually brash tone dimming into something surprisingly vulnerable. “It — it jus’ ain’t. Not after everythin’ — not after what I did.”

The archer glanced back, watching Merle’s notorious bravado finally melt away, replaced with something he could’ve sworn looked like guilt. “We ain’t dead yet, man,” Daryl rumbled simply. “Still time ta’ make shit right.”

Merle considered his words for a long moment — but before he could respond, the sound of barraging gunfire exploded through the air.

Daryl’s head snapped in the direction of the noise, feeling his stomach drop when he realized where exactly it was coming from.

He took off into a sprint, Merle’s pounding footsteps echoing directly behind him.

Daryl lied to his brother that day.

In his defense, it hadn’t been deliberate. When Merle had questioned his intentions, alluding to the idea that Y/N was the main reason for his urgency to return home, the archer had denied it.

He hadn’t known it back then, but the truth became startlingly clear once he’d made it back to the prison, marched up the pathway leading to cellblock C, and laid eyes on her.

Daryl found Y/N crouched down beside Axel’s unmoving form, one hand resting on his shoulder.

His steps faltered, feeling as though he was intruding on a private moment — but he couldn’t help himself. The Governor had attacked the prison, his people were shaken, and damn it, he just needed to make sure she was okay.

She stood a moment later, turning to rejoin the rest of the group huddled by the fence, her despondent expression filling his bones with a red-hot rage.

But then her eyes met his.

Y/N’s footsteps stilled, her gaze widening in disbelief as she looked at him. A heartbeat passed between them before Daryl noticed how she was holding herself — hunched over slightly, one hand wrapped around the opposite arm, blood seeping out from between her fingertips.

He crossed to her in three long strides, ignoring the heat that flushed his chest the closer he neared.

Instead, he focused on the wound — that he could deal with, that made sense.

Unlike the unexpected and rapid thrumming of his pulse.

“Daryl,” she breathed in disbelief, her voice thick as though the word had gotten tangled somewhere in her throat.

His name sounded like honey the way it rolled off her tongue.

He shrugged off his crossbow and tossed it aside, wordlessly reaching forward and pulling her hand away from the injury. He examined the laceration carefully — which upon closer inspection appeared to be a gunshot wound — though luckily enough, the bullet seemed to have only grazed the side of her arm.

The archer reached into his back pocket, grabbed the red rag he kept there, and gently pressed it against the wound. “Jus’ keep pressure on it, alright?” he rasped, guiding Y/N’s limp hand to rest over the cloth, stalling the blood flow.

He glanced down at her, doing a slight double-take when he realized she was watching him, a slightly strained smile pulling at her lips. “You came back,” she whispered, her eyes warm despite the blood splattered across her cheek, the pallor in her complexion.

Daryl swallowed the lump in his throat, incredibly aware of how little space remained between them. He managed a stiff nod in response, his voice suddenly lost.

But Y/N’s smile merely grew, like the first hint of sunshine after a devastating storm.

And the tightness in his chest finally faded.

The archer inhaled another long drag from his cigarette, the smoke spilling past his lips and disappearing into the growing night.

Returning to the prison had given Daryl a sense of purpose, a sense of hope — he was back where he belonged and the threat of the Governor just didn’t seem so insurmountable anymore.

And then his big brother went and got himself killed.

Daryl stormed across the field that led to the prison’s courtyard, shoulders set, fists balled, eyes rimmed red.

The Governor would pay — he’d pay for what he’d done.

To Glenn, to Maggie, to countless others.

He’d pay for what he did to Merle.

The archer’s footsteps faltered, only briefly, when he spotted Y/N pacing back and forth behind the gate. Her head snapped towards him as he approached, her worried expression melting into relief as she quickly pulled the gate open for him.

“You okay?” she called to him, brow furrowing as she craned her neck, now looking behind him. “Where’s Merle?”

Daryl kept his gaze forward, digging his fingernails into the palm of his hand as he marched past her without a second glance. “Dead,” he grunted, ignoring the prickling sensation growing behind his eyes.

“What?” he heard her exclaim, though he didn’t turn around — he kept his momentum pushing ahead, hellbent on going after the Governor and taking him down once and for all.

No matter what the cost.

He stalked towards where he’d parked his motorcycle, slinging his crossbow over his back and mounting the bike in one swift motion.

But Y/N was just as quick.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she jogged towards him, planting herself in front of the bike, an alarmed look in her eyes. “What’re you doing?”

Daryl felt a swell of anger wash over him, an unusual feeling when directed towards her. “Move,” he growled, using his heel to knock the bike’s kickstand up.

Y/N’s brow furrowed, his intent becomingly startling clear. “No.”

He was caught off guard by her protest, though snapped out of it just as soon — his scowl deepened, his eyes darkening, seeing nothing but redness and fury and Merle’s reanimated corpse flickering through his mind. “Move, damn it,” he snarled once more.

But Y/N stood her ground regardless of the wariness in her gaze. “No.”

The archer’s rage churned inside him, his grip white-knuckled around the throttle. “Ya —”

“Please, don’t do this,” she interrupted his brusque retort, shaking her head. “I promise — I promise — he’ll get what’s coming to him, but Daryl…this is not the way.”

He knew deep down she was right, but he didn’t want to hear it — he didn’t want to hear ration or reason or the pity in her voice.

He didn’t want to hear any of it.

“I’m sorry,” she suddenly whispered, emotion clouding her eyes. “God, I’m so sorry about Merle. I’m —”

Something inside the archer snapped. “Ya know what, ya can drop the damn act,” he hissed, springing off the bike and shoving it to the ground with a deafening crash. He ignored the way Y/N flinched as he barreled towards her like a surging storm. “Ya can stop pretendin’ like anyone in this fuckin’ place gave a single shit ‘bout my brother!” he fired back, his voice rising. “Or me, for that matter!”

Y/N recoiled away from him, eyes wide. “I’m —” she started, shrinking under his heated approach. “I didn’t —”

“Forget it,” the archer spat, unable to stop the fervor spewing out of him. “Ya don’t know shit.”

A beat of silence passed as they stared one another down — but the more the quiet stretched on, the more a different emotion began to seep through the archer.

Guilt.

Unable to watch the hurt settling across Y/N’s features, Daryl turned away, allowing his brewing vehemence to carry him across the courtyard and to the doors leading into cellblock C. He paused at the doorway, unable to stop himself from looking back.

He watched Y/N’s head lower, her shoulders drop, before she slowly reached down, grabbing his toppled motorcycle by the handlebars and propping it upright.

The archer swallowed his remorse, buried his instincts, and stalked inside.

Daryl hissed a breath as the burnt end of the cigarette singed his fingertip. He stubbed the flame out against the heel of his boot, flicking the butt away into the grass.

Still, to this day, he felt bad about losing his temper. The anger had clearly been misdirected, but in the moment, he hadn’t been able to get a handle on it — Y/N had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Despite the aftermath of his outburst weighing heavily on him, he’d kept his distance from her throughout the days that followed.

Old habits die hard.

Daryl woke with a start, his eyes snapping open, chasing away lingering images of the nightmare he’d found himself immersed in.

Sleep had never been kind to him, even before everything went to shit — tonight was no different.

He could still see flashes of redness and death, smell the scent of rotting corpses and bloodshed, hear the sounds of tormented screams and anguished whimpers —

Daryl’s thoughts faltered as he quickly pushed up onto his elbows, straining his ears.

He realized then that the whimpering wasn’t coming from just his imagination. No, it was real — and it was coming from somewhere inside the cellblock.

The archer sprang up, untangling himself from the bed sheet coiled at his feet before shuffling towards the doorway. He paused there, his senses on high alert, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as he listened carefully.

When another soft cry sounded, he moved from the entryway, slowly slinking past cell after cell and following the noise.

It wasn’t long before he found himself standing outside Y/N’s cell.

Daryl peered into the shadowed room, just barely able to make out the shape of her beneath the covers. She murmured something jumbled and incoherent, her words muffled as though her face was pressed into the pillow. She tossed and turned for a moment before finally settling.

When she remained still, the archer nearly left for his own cell.

But then he heard a quietly gasped sob and began moving forward before he could think twice.

Daryl crouched down beside Y/N’s bedside, turning on the lantern she’d left sitting on the floor. He shielded his eyes from the light until they adjusted before focusing on her.

She was curled up, covers drawn to her chin, faint tear tracks marking the sides of her face. Her brow was knitted, causing lines to form across her forehead — he fought back the urge to reach out and smooth them away.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one sleep was unkind to.

Another soft whimper blew past her lips and Daryl reached for her, gently shaking her shoulder.

Y/N immediately jolted awake, shooting upright, disoriented and alarmed as her bleary eyes darted around the cell.

“Hey, hey,” Daryl quickly rasped, holding his hands out in front of him. “It’s alright.”

“What — what happened?” she croaked, her voice thick with sleep, her wide gaze finally settling on him.

The archer shook his head, pulling back slightly, second-guessing his decision to wake her. “Nothin’ — nothin’, alright? We’re okay.”

“What —” she sounded, a bewildered look flitting across her face as she settled her hand against her undoubtedly racing heart. “Are you okay?”

Daryl’s brow furrowed at her question, confused as to why that would be her next question and not ‘what the fuck are you doing in my cell?’ Regardless, he nodded once. “Yeah,” the archer brushed off her concern, sitting back on his haunches. “Ya — uh, ya were cryin’,” he revealed hesitantly, scratching the back of his neck as he watched for her reaction.

Y/N straightened, the top bunk just grazing the crown of her head as she dabbed her fingertip at the corner of her eye, appearing almost embarrassed suddenly. “Oh,” she whispered, wiping away the tears that’d formed.

Daryl gnawed on the inside of his cheek. “Ya alright?” he rasped after a long moment.

She quickly nodded her head, waving off his worry. “Oh, no — yeah, no, I’m fine,” she replied flippantly, shooting the archer a tight-lipped smile.

Despite Daryl seeing right through her bullshit, he didn’t push.

Instead, he nodded once and clambered back to his feet.

But he’d just barely turned to leave when Y/N spoke up once more. “Hey, Daryl?”

The archer faltered, glancing back at her. “Yeah?”

Her demeanor appeared collected, though he could see her hands twisting nervously around the sheet splayed out across his lap. “I —” she paused, seemingly working up the nerve to say what was next. “Are we okay?”

Daryl felt his chest tighten, the heaviness that’d grown between them splintering in that moment. There was something about her words, the smallness in her voice, that had him kicking himself for being so damn stubborn, for not making things right sooner.

She raked a hand through her tousled hair. “I just — I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have — I mean, I wasn’t trying to —”

“Stop,” Daryl cut off her rambling, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I was actin’ like an asshole,” he grumbled admittedly, the shame he’d buried creeping back in.

The tension in Y/N’s features softened as she regarded him. “It’s okay.”

For some reason, her easy forgiveness made Daryl’s insides churn.

“Nah, it ain’t,” he shot back sharply, almost wishing she’d curse him out instead. “Wasn’t right ta’ take that shit out on ya.”

“You were grieving,” she justified, her explanation simple and understanding.

Daryl worked his jaw, clenching and unclenching as he stared at the far wall of her cell, his gaze darkening — he didn’t deserve her compassion. “Well, ya probably stopped me from doin’ somethin’ real stupid,” he muttered dryly.

She merely shrugged, still completely unfazed. “Grief makes us do stupid things,” she murmured, defending him yet again. “I am sorry about your brother, you know,” she whispered a moment later, the sincerity in her voice knocking down the wall Daryl had worked so hard to keep between them.

He nodded slowly, clearing his throat before speaking again. “Merle was no hero,” he finally rumbled. “But he died tryin’ ta’ make shit right,” he mustered, his eyes finding hers amidst the shadows of her cell.

Y/N shot him a small, somewhat sad smile. “Then he didn’t die for nothing.”

Daryl swallowed the lump that formed in his throat, feeling as though his heart was moments away from bursting out of his chest. It was as though the cell was shrinking around him, the walls closing in — and the only thing keeping him above the surface was her.

“Get some sleep,” he managed gruffly, turning to leave once more.

“Daryl?”

The archer stilled. “Hm?” he sounded, not trusting his voice.

“Can you stay?” she whispered, so softly he almost missed it entirely. “Just a little longer?”

Daryl shifted his weight back and forth, feeling the overwhelming urge to run, to retreat to his own cell and pretend he hadn’t heard her.

But the slight tremble in her voice, something others surely would’ve missed, pulled him right back in.

The air thickened as he walked towards her, every fiber of his being screaming at him to make a run for it while he still had the chance. Y/N watched him approach, slightly wide-eyed, his steps faltering the closer he neared. She maneuvered slightly on the bed, moving towards the wall as though making room for him beside her.

Instead, Daryl did the most rational thing he could think of — he grabbed the empty mattress on the top bunk, slid it off the frame, and dropped it onto the floor next to her.

Y/N’s brow furrowed. “Oh, you don’t have to —”

“G’night,” Daryl interjected abruptly, avoiding her gaze as he quickly turned off the lantern and laid down. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest and squeezed his eyes shut, his face surely on fire.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Daryl peeked an eye open, certain she could hear his thrumming pulse from where she sat. But a moment later, the bed creaked as she settled back down against the rickety mattress.

He released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

The archer wasn’t sure how much time passed before Y/N’s breathing evened out, the stranger from the woods all those days ago finally falling into a deep and restful sleep.

He, on the other hand, remained awake until morning came.

She’d asked him to stay and that was exactly what he was going to do.

Not even sleep could take him from her.

Everything changed after that night.

After the people from Woodbury moved into the prison, the demand for supplies nearly tripled. The archer found himself going on runs more often than not, hunting for game or scavenging local businesses — but the days and nights he was home were spent with her.

They fell into a routine of sorts. The days were spent working the fence or tending to things around the prison — but most nights, they’d sneak away from the others and spend hours sitting atop one of the unused watchtowers.

It became ‘their spot’, as Y/N had put it.

Some nights they sat quietly, existing in comfortable silence, watching the vast night sky. Other nights, Daryl would learn things about her — those were his favorite nights.

Y/N would talk about anything and everything — the mundane stuff, the deep stuff, the things in between — while Daryl would rest his head against the watchtower and close his eyes, listening to the way her voice rose and fell. She’d tell stories of her life before the end and her hopes for the future as though there still was one.

And over time, despite the world decaying at its very core, even Daryl started to believe that maybe, just maybe, there could be one.

She became his solace.

Hell, maybe she always had been, but he’d been too damn stupid to realize it.

“I’m sick of hearing myself talk,” Y/N suddenly spoke, a soft laugh following.

Daryl’s eyes snapped open as he glanced over at her, his brow furrowing.

She shifted from where she sat, the side of her face illuminated by moonlight. “Tell me something about you,” she said sweetly, her knee brushing against his as she rested one shoulder against the watchtower, giving him her full attention.

The archer felt his face warm under her curiosity. “Ya know plenty,” he grunted — and it was the truth. He’d told her more about himself than anyone else in his entire life.

“Oh, come on,” she countered and though Daryl couldn’t see it, he sensed an eye roll. “Just one thing? Something I don’t already know and then I’ll leave you alone.”

He huffed a breath. “Fine,” he grumbled, giving in.

Y/N waited patiently as the archer fell into thought, racking his brain for something to share — something even worth sharing. The silence that dredged on wasn’t helping either — if anything, it only added to the pressure. His life wasn’t all that interesting, never had been, never would be.

Daryl snuck a glance at Y/N — well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true.

“Uh,” he rumbled, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t know. Guess I always wanted a dog?” he mustered, the confession coming off more so a question than an actual statement.

Still, Y/N’s face broke out into one of her million-dollar smiles. “I can totally see you with a dog,” she beamed. “You never had one?”

Daryl almost shook his head, but then a faint memory came to mind. He looked away, propping his elbows against his knees and focusing straight ahead.

“When, uh —” he cleared his throat uncomfortably, picking absently at the skin beside his thumbnail. “When I was a kid, I was walkin’ home from school. Found this stray covered in mud, damn near skin an’ bones. An’ so I took it home,” he pressed his lips together before snorting a breath. “Even tied my shoelace ‘round its neck like a leash.”

“Aw,” Y/N sounded softly.

“Mhm,” the archer mumbled, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

After a stretch of silence lingered, she spoke up once more. “But you didn’t keep it?”

Daryl began picking at his skin a little more aggressively. “My old man — he was on a bender. Started screamin’ an’ hollerin’ when he saw me ‘cause he ‘didn’t wanna take care a’ no mangy mutt’,” he bit out, echoing his father’s words from all those years ago. “He threw somethin’ — don’t remember what. Maybe an empty whiskey bottle. Poor dog was scared outta its mind,” he murmured, shaking his head. “It pissed on the floor, right in front a’ him.”

Y/N’s expression turned troubled, her lips forming into a small frown.

Daryl ignored the tightness growing in his throat. “So he tossed the dog in his truck, drove off, an’ that was that — I never saw it again,” he finished, wincing as he ripped a small piece of skin off his thumb, drawing a drop of blood.

“What’d your dad do?” Y/N asked, her voice small.

The archer wiped the blood off onto his jeans. “Don’t know,” he shrugged, glancing over at her. “He never said an’ I never asked.”

She held his gaze for a long moment before letting out a soft sigh.

Daryl turned his head, staring out over the railing and into the darkened forest. He’d never told anyone that story — not even Merle, who’d been doing another stint in juvie at the time. The truth was, he carried a lot of guilt from that day. Sure, he was only a kid, but he was the one who’d brought the stray home in the first place.

Whatever happened to that dog…well, that was on him.

“Hey,” Y/N murmured, gently poking the side of his arm, drawing him back to her. “Maybe we’ll find you a dog of your own someday.”

Daryl quirked a brow, unconvinced.

“You never know,” she shrugged. “What would you name it?”

He scoffed softly in response, shaking his head.

“Come on,” she reached over and poked him once more. “Humor me.”

“How ‘bout this,” the archer relented. “If — an’ that’s a big-ass if — we ever find a dog someday, ya get ta' name it.”

Y/N’s face immediately lit up. “Me?”

“Mhm,” he nodded his head, feeling the corners of his lips twitch.

She exhaled a breath, her gaze widening. “This…this is a shit-ton of pressure, Dixon,” she whispered, the wheels in her mind, very obviously, turning.

Despite everything, a soft laugh rumbled from deep inside Daryl’s chest, the sound strange and unfamiliar. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d genuinely laughed — the noise got stuck in his throat, like his body was physically rejecting the sensation.

When he noticed Y/N watching him, a cheeky grin plastered across her face, his skin flushed.

“Okay, okay, let me think…” she grew serious, closing her eyes and resting her chin against her clasped hands. Not even a second later, her eyes shot open. “Got it!”

Daryl motioned for her to continue. “Lemme hear it.”

“Alright,” she shifted, facing him head-on. “Dog.”

The archer’s brow knitted together, his gaze narrowing. “Dog?”

“Dog,” she nodded resolutely.

“Ya — ya wanna name the dog ‘Dog’?” he questioned dubiously.

“Yup,” she grinned, popping the ‘p’.

Daryl rolled his eyes, fighting back a smirk. “Ya got a couple a’ screws loose, ya know that?” he teased, tapping the side of his head.

“Shut up,” Y/N laughed softly, nudging him with her elbow.

A beat of quiet passed between them before Daryl cleared his throat. “We ought'a head back,” he grumbled, starting to stand.

But then Y/N reached out, grabbing onto his hand. “Hang on,” she objected, looking up at him. “Just a few more minutes?” she asked, gently tugging his arm down.

The skin on his hand tingled beneath her touch as her gaze, warm like honey, melted further into his.

Before he could think twice, he found himself settling back down beside her, his hand still intertwined around hers.

Besides, when had he ever been able to say ‘no’ to her?

Daryl could’ve sworn those nights up in the watchtower were the best nights of his life.

Then the prison fell.

And destroyed everything good along with it.

“Do you miss her?”

Daryl’s eyes snapped open, just then noticing the quiet that’d settled over the funeral home. He glanced over at Beth, who remained seated in front of the piano, her kind gaze watching him curiously.

Settling further inside the casket he laid in, the archer turned to stare up at the ceiling, folding one arm behind his head, the other laid out across his stomach. He ignored Beth’s question — not because it wasn’t true, but because he knew if he spoke, if he started talking about her, the hollowness inside his chest would swallow him whole.

“I think she’s still out there,” Beth assured him quietly, steadfast in hanging onto whatever hope she could muster. “I think they all are.”

Daryl grunted softly in response, not trusting his voice.

He wanted to believe that — he wanted nothing more than to believe that Y/N and the others were out there somewhere, somewhere safe. But he wasn’t a foolish man — and he just couldn’t bring himself to feign the kind of certainty that came so effortlessly to Beth.

“‘And whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive, if you have faith’,” she suddenly murmured, her eyes glowing against the candlelight, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. “Daddy used ta’ quote scripture — that was one of his favorites,” she explained, her voice growing thick at the mention of her father. She pulled herself together before continuing. “I have faith,” her words were resolute, as though not only trying to convince him but herself as well.

The archer huffed a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “Got enough for the both a’ us?” he muttered dryly, quirking a brow.

Beth laughed, breaking the heaviness that’d spread. “Sure do,” she beamed before shooting him a meaningful look. “You can thank me later.”

With that, she swiveled around on the bench and faced the piano once more, her fingers dancing along the keys, filling the room with a gentle melody.

Daryl wasn’t a religious man — never had been, never would be.

He didn’t buy into all that bullshit. If there was a God out there…what the fuck was he doing? Where was he? Why didn’t he stop the world from ending? Why did he let the bad destroy the good, time and time again?

He just couldn’t put his faith into something so cruel, so merciless.

Daryl wasn’t a religious man.

But for the first time in his entire life, he closed his eyes and prayed.

The archer felt his throat constrict.

He tilted his head back, looking up at the darkened sky. The sun had melted into the Earth, in its place thousands upon thousands of littered stars, surrounding a glowing crescent-shaped moon.

Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe there was a God out there — some higher power or greater being — who’d been listening that night in the funeral home.

Because somehow, someway, despite all the odds stacked against him…he’d found her.

Daryl felt his lip split beneath another vicious punch, his head snapping to the side.

He was losing strength, his bruised body slowly giving out on him as two of the Claimers continued to relentlessly beat him. It seemed like no matter how hard he fought back, he just couldn’t get the upper hand.

He was outnumbered and unarmed, but as long as their attention remained on him, he wouldn’t back down — because once they were done with him, they’d move on to the others.

They’d move on to her.

Daryl caught Y/N’s horrified gaze from the other side of the road — she was knelt in front of Tony, who had a fistful of her hair in his grip, simultaneously holding Michonne at gunpoint. Y/N was struggling against his hold, attempting to break free, her features twisted in pain.

A low growl rumbled from deep inside the archer, a red-hot rage coursing through his veins as he fought even harder against the two men.

He managed to dodge another punch, but in the process, connected with a swift jab to the ribcage. He exhaled sharply, losing his breath as the two closed in on him once more — though as the archer braced himself for the next strike, he noticed that the men had suddenly frozen in place.

Daryl followed their stares, finally understanding what had caused the abrupt standstill.

Rick was staggering away from the leader of the Claimers, red staining the bottom half of his face — the archer didn’t even realize it was blood until he saw Joe. The man swayed unsteadily on his feet, eyes wide, mouth agape, as his hands reached for where his throat should’ve been.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Michonne grabbed Tony’s gun and turned it on himself, shooting him once. Daryl followed suit, landing a solid hook against the side of Billy’s face. He heard another gunshot ring out but was too focused on the man at his feet to notice. Without any hesitation, the archer stomped the heel of his boot into the man’s skull, killing him instantly.

He backed away from Billy’s crushed form, stumbling over Harvey’s body, a bullet hole now between his lifeless eyes. He spun around, steadying himself against the hood of the car in front of him as he worked to control his heaving breaths. He’d turned just in time to see Rick mercilessly stabbing Dan, over and over again until the man’s center was nothing but a mess of blood and guts.

And then he saw her.

She was still on her knees, though now hunched over beside Tony, staring silently at his unmoving figure.

Daryl pushed away from the truck and rounded the hood, his heart leaping into his throat as he made a beeline towards her. His footsteps faltered the closer he neared, the sight before him suddenly registering — Tony had been shot through the neck by Michonne, but the front of his skull had also been caved in.

His gaze flickered towards Y/N, just then noticing the blood-soaked boulder clasped tightly in her hand.

It took every ounce of strength to not rush forward, to not pull her into his arms and hold her close because damn it, she was alive, she was okay, she was here.

The archer stepped over Tony’s body, slowly crouching down in front of Y/N — when his approach didn’t stir her, a jolt of unease shot through him. Her vacant eyes were trained on the dead man, her features expressionless and ashen. There was a cut just above her eyebrow, a small trail of blood trickling down the side of her face, but other than that, she appeared relatively unharmed.

Daryl gently took her hand in his and carefully unclasped her fingers from around the rock. He tossed the boulder aside before settling down, kneeling opposite her, his deep blue eyes maintaining a watchful look.

The archer brushed his thumb over the back of her limp hand, squeezing softly a moment later.

And then, almost hesitantly, she squeezed back.

Daryl held his breath as her eyes found his, welling with unshed tears, the helplessness in her haunted gaze twisting his insides. “I never killed someone before,” she whispered suddenly, choking on her words as though speaking shards of glass.

He wasn’t used to seeing her this way — she’d always been so steady, a light others were drawn towards, that he’d been drawn towards. And now…well, now he wished the Claimers would come alive so he could rip them apart all over again.

Unable to stand the sight of her broken expression any longer, Daryl reached for her. “C’mere,” he rasped, slipping his hand behind the back of her head and pulling her forward.

Y/N’s features crumpled as she fell against his chest, a hitched sob catching in her throat. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, gripping onto the front of his vest as though he was the only thing keeping her afloat.

He wrapped his other arm securely around her back, keeping her cradled against his body. “S’ alright,” the archer rumbled as she held on tighter to him, her frame trembling as she cried. “I got ya, Y/N, I got ya.”

Daryl wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, woven around one another, his pounding heart echoing hers.

But he didn’t mind — because he’d found her.

And nothing else seemed to matter much with her engulfed in his arms.

The weeks that’d followed nearly destroyed them all.

With unrelenting heat, dwindling supplies, and the hollowness of loss inside each of them, morale had been at an all-time low. The little amount of food they’d managed to scrounge up had been divvied into morsels — though not enough to soothe their aches of hunger. The water supply eventually depleted, leaving their throats raw and mouths like cotton as they walked — day after day, down winding road after winding road, searching for salvation that was nowhere to find.

The line that’d separated them from the dead had become alarmingly thin.

And it’d only been a matter of time before that line disappeared altogether.

Daryl roused from his sleep, somehow feeling even more exhausted than when he first closed his eyes.

He scrubbed at his face, wiping away the thin sheen of sweat that’d formed before huffing a breath. The sign of first morning light seeped through the canopy of trees above him, visible through the motionless overgrowth of leaves and greenery. The heat was already suffocating — his clothes stuck uncomfortably to his skin, his throat desperate for water he couldn’t afford to drink.

But focusing on that, focusing on the discomfort, was much easier than acknowledging the looming darkness that lingered.

The archer pushed up onto his elbows, the forest floor digging into his skin. He scanned the makeshift camp his group had set up, positioned just off the main road. Almost everyone was still asleep, curled up on the harsh wooded ground within the permitter they’d barricaded.

Except for Y/N who was nowhere to be seen.

Daryl felt his stomach lurch as he pulled himself off the ground and staggered to his feet, ignoring the wave of dizziness he felt — it’d been days since he’d eaten, since any of them had eaten. He grabbed his crossbow and slung it over his shoulder, tiptoeing around the others as to not wake them — they deserved a few more minutes in a reality that wasn’t as fucked as this one.

The only other person awake was Glenn, who’d volunteered to be on watch. He sat with his back against a large tree trunk, Maggie at his side, her head resting against his shoulder.

Daryl headed towards them, drawing Glenn’s attention. But before he could say anything, Glenn nodded his head towards something on the main road, careful not to jostle Maggie awake.

The archer followed his gaze, spotting Y/N through the trees. He nodded once in silent ‘thanks’, feeling the pit in his stomach loosen as he marched out of the woods and crossed over the asphalt.

Y/N was sitting on the hood of a long-since abandoned car, her feet perched atop the dented front bumper. Her eyes flashed towards him as he approached, prominent dark circles beneath a weary gaze, so unlike the warmth he was used to seeing.

Daryl felt his throat constrict — he could handle his own demons, the heaviness that’d latched onto his bones after the last few weeks.

But hers?

She needed to be okay — he needed her to be okay.

He slid onto the hood, the car dipping below his weight as he settled beside her. A comfortable silence stretched on as they stared down the long and desolate road ahead, each lost in their own thoughts.

“I miss ‘our spot’,” Y/N suddenly murmured, her tone wistful.

Daryl grunted softly in response, the nights they’d spent up in the watchtower flashing through his mind.

He missed it too — he hadn’t known peace like that before.

“God, we had it so good back then,” she exhaled a breath, lowering her head.

The archer peeked over at her, hearing the hint of emotion growing in her words, the sadness she tried to conceal. But she couldn’t hide it — not from him.

He could tell how she was feeling by the steadiness of her breath.

“We still had Hershel…” she whispered, clasping her hands together, her knuckles turning white. “Bob…Tyreese…” her voice cracked slightly before she glanced up. “Beth.”

It was Daryl’s turn to look away.

He couldn’t think about her — not without smelling moonshine and ash, not without feeling the weight of her lifeless body in his arms.

He never got to thank her.

When the prison fell, Daryl had been certain he’d never see Y/N again — that somehow, someway, she’d burned along with it. But Beth…she’d known — she’d known he’d find her again one day.

And he never got to thank her.

“I know you’re in pain,” Y/N’s voice broke through his guilt-ridden thoughts, drawing him back to her. “And I know how easy it is to just shove it down and push it away and pretend like it doesn’t exist,” she looked over at him then, her gaze steady and knowing — and despite the scrutiny, he couldn’t find it in himself to look away. “And I’m not asking you to talk about it. But please, just — just don’t pretend like it’s not there.”

Daryl gnawed on the inside of his cheek, his teeth breaking skin and filling his senses with the metallic taste of blood.

When Y/N reached towards him, he stiffened.

She slowly brushed away the hair that fell in front of his eyes, smoothing the strands back out of his face. “You’re not carved out of stone, Daryl,” she murmured gently before resting her palm against his flushed cheek.

The air suddenly thickened, the archer becoming painfully aware of how little space remained between them. There was a pull — almost magnetic — that urged him to lean closer, to draw nearer, to take her in his arms and shut out the rest of the world.

But before he could give into instinct, he pulled away and hopped off the hood of the car, landing on his feet with a huff.

Daryl looked anywhere but at her, ignoring the slight tremble in his fingertips. “M’ gonna —” he quickly cleared the thickness in his throat. “M’ gonna take a look ‘round — see what I can see.”

Y/N was quiet, though the archer didn’t dare look at her. “Okay,” she finally sounded — and even though Daryl couldn’t see her expression, he could hear the tangible defeat in her tone.

He clenched his jaw, kicking himself for being the source of her disappointment as he beelined towards the woods on the other side of the road, opposite the campsite.

But he’d only taken a couple of steps when he faltered, realizing then that he couldn’t just walk away — he’d never been able to just walk away.

Not from her.

“I hear ya,” he rasped, glancing back at her, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could stop them. “Ya know, what ya were sayin’ before an’ — an’ all that. I jus’ — I hear ya,” he mustered, the jumbled explanation all he could offer.

A tired smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. “I know,” she assured him softly.

Daryl held her gaze before nodding once, turning without another word, and disappearing into the trees.

A newfound determination coursed through the archer as he ventured further into the woods — there had to be something else out there, somewhere his people could call ‘home’. They couldn’t keep going on like this, fighting day-to-day just to survive — it couldn’t be them and the dead anymore.

There had to be something else, something more.

The world couldn’t be all bad.

Not the same world that’d given him her.

Daryl pulled his gaze away from the darkened sky.

His eyes trailed over the towering gates that surrounded Alexandria — sturdy iron sheets and impenetrable steel, the only thing keeping away the dead that roamed just outside them. He brushed his fingers over the ground, tugging at the overgrown blades of grass beneath where he sat as he fell back in thought.

Despite his initial doubt that Alexandria was all it promised to be, in time, the community had proven him wrong. Sure, there were fractures in its foundation, but it was better than nothing.

It was better than before.

And for the first time since the end of everything, there was hope for a future.

Smoke spilled past the archer’s lips, wafting in front of him before disappearing into the night air.

The streets of Alexandria were still — a welcomed change in comparison to life outside the walls. Daryl shifted on the porch steps, taking another drag from his cigarette as he rested his back against the railing. He tilted his head backward, blowing out a lungful of smoke, feeling his nerves calm in the process.

“Hey, stranger,” a voice suddenly called, breaking the quiet that’d stretched on.

Daryl knew that voice — knew it better than the back of his own damn hand.

He quickly shook away the hair that’d fallen in front of his eyes, watching as Y/N approached.

She looked different — her hair was washed, her clothes no longer blood-stained and tattered. The lines of worry that’d marred her features were smoothed away, replaced by a warm smile that only grew the closer she neared. It was strange — almost like getting a glimpse of her before the dead started walking.

Her footsteps slowed as she stopped in front of him, her head cocking slightly to the side. “What’s that look for?”

Daryl ducked his head down, his face feeling fuzzy — like a kid getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Nothin’,” he shook his head, inhaling another drag from his cigarette before stubbing the flame out against the porch steps.

Y/N plopped down beside him, propping her back up against the railing opposite his. “So,” she started, turning her attention towards him. “Deanna was asking where you were tonight.”

The archer scoffed as he flicked the cigarette butt away. “Aaron’s,” he rasped, pulling one knee to his chest, resting his elbow on top of it.

Y/N appeared surprised at his response but didn’t push further. Instead, she exhaled heavily. “This place is like the fucking Twilight Zone.”

He huffed a breath, nodding in agreement. “Ya headin’ back over there?” he rumbled after a moment, jerking his head in the direction of the welcome party.

“Oh, no,” she quickly shook her head. “I’m sick of people,” she admitted before glancing over at him. “You don’t count.”

Daryl snorted a laugh, rolling his eyes despite the strange sort of pride her words brought him.

A beat of silence passed before Y/N spoke again. “Aaron seems like a good guy.”

The archer grunted softly in response, their conversation from earlier coming to mind. “He wants me ta’ start scoutin’ with him — findin’ other survivors, bringin’ ‘em back.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Mhm,” Daryl sounded, nestling the side of his thumb between his teeth.

“Is that something you’d wanna do?” she asked, leaning forward a fraction.

He paused, taking a minute to consider her words. If he was being honest, he felt more comfortable outside Alexandria’s walls than inside — and having a good enough reason to be back on the road didn’t seem like such a bad thing. But if he was being really honest…

Daryl’s gaze met Y/N’s once more — he hadn’t been away from her since the prison fell.

That wasn’t exactly a time in his life he’d like to revisit.

“I do alright out there, I guess,” he shrugged a shoulder up, dropping his hand back into his lap.

A look of amusement flashed over her features in response. “That’s quite the understatement.”

The corner of his mouth quirked, but he couldn’t seem to ease the sudden worry gnawing at him. “Ya gonna be alright in here?” he rasped, steadying her with a serious look.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” she countered smoothly — but Daryl could hear the hint of something in her tone, something he couldn’t quite place. When he remained silent, Y/N’s expression turned reflective. “I think it’ll be a good thing — you could help a lot of people out there who need it.”

The archer picked up on her deflection. “That ain’t what m’ askin’,” he retorted, calling her bluff.

Y/N looked as though she wanted to argue — but then her lips pressed together, forming a thin line. “I don’t know,” she finally said, avoiding his gaze. “I just — I don’t like being away from you, that’s all,” she admitted quietly, wringing her clasped hands together.

He stilled, never having been more grateful for nightfall — otherwise, she surely would’ve seen the sudden redness creeping over his cheeks.

“But, like I said,” she continued, exhaling a slightly awkward laugh. “It’ll be a good thing.”

He nodded once. “Mhm,” he sounded, not trusting his voice.

Her eyes softened before she began pulling herself up off the porch steps. “Well, I’m gonna get some sleep — see you in the morning?”

The archer cleared his throat. “I’ll see ya,” he rumbled.

A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips as she headed up the steps, gently squeezing his shoulder as she passed.

He didn’t move a muscle, listening intently for the sound of the front door shutting before closing his eyes, ignoring the tingling sensation beneath where she’d touched him.

Daryl huffed a defeated breath. “Shit.”

Had he given into instinct that night, he would’ve told her the truth.

He would’ve told her that he felt the same way, that being away from her felt like losing half of himself, that nothing in his life had ever made sense until he met her. The words had toyed at the tip of his tongue, desperate to be heard after being swallowed time and time again — but he just hadn’t been able to do it.

He could almost hear Merle’s snide voice in the back of his head — taunting him, calling him ‘whipped’ and a ‘pussy’ and a ‘good-for-nothin’ redneck’, mocking him for even considering that someone like her could feel anything for someone like him.

So instead, he’d reverted back to what he knew best — shutting down and pushing away.

It wasn’t intentional, merely second nature after years and years of repetition.

But the wall he’d worked so hard to build stood no chance.

Not against her.

Daryl knew something was wrong the moment he crossed back through Alexandria’s gates.

And then the screaming started.

He took off into a sprint, his heart mimicking the echo of his footsteps pounding against the asphalt. He could hear Aaron and Morgan just behind, right on his heels, their heavy breathing mirroring his own as the sounds of anguish grew louder.

The archer felt his stomach drop the closer he neared, his mind repeating one, single phrase over and over again —

Just let her be okay.

When he and Aaron had gotten trapped in that car earlier, surrounded by walkers, he’d thought that was it for him. He was going to lead the dead away and give Aaron enough time to make it out, to make it back to Alexandria where he could continue doing what he did best — bringing salvation to those who needed it.

He’d made peace with his decision.

And as he’d grabbed the door handle, moments away from pushing into the raging swarm, he’d only been thinking one thing —

Just let her be okay.

For some reason, he’d been given a second chance and all he wanted was to see her again. It was nearly overwhelming, setting his nerves ablaze, sending his heart racing — it consumed him entirely, the thought of her.

He’d realized then what he should’ve known all along.

He’d never felt for anyone the way he felt for her.

Daryl finally found the others, all gathered in the center of town — but he barely had time to register what was happening when a single gunshot rang out.

Aaron and Morgan stood frozen beside him as they took in the scene — Rick had a gun in hand, the barrel pointed towards the ground, directly above Pete’s now-shattered skull. The crowd looked on in horror, huddled together near a dimly lit fire, eyes wide, mouths agape. Then he saw Reg — his throat sliced open, his body splayed out across Deanna’s lap, Michonne’s bloody katana lying beside him.

“Rick?” Morgan suddenly spoke, breaking the deafening silence that’d followed.

The sound drew Rick’s attention, his vacant eyes finding Morgan’s — but Daryl’s gaze drifted, meeting hers instead.

His stomach dropped when he saw her — she had one hand pressed against her cheek, blood trickling out from between her fingers, her face frozen in disbelief.

Daryl moved towards her, the rest of the world fading away.

Just let her be okay.

Y/N’s expression shifted as he neared, the apprehension that’d marred her features melting, turning into relief despite her ashen complexion and the chaos surrounding them. She absently shook her head back and forth, opening her mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out.

The archer came to a stop in front of her, his own voice lost somewhere deep inside his chest. So instead, he reached for her, very carefully, as though she’d been spun from glass. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and gently pulled her hand away from her face, revealing a gash that stretched across the entirety of her cheek.

The swell of rage that coursed through him felt red-hot, flushing his skin as he stared at the wound, his eyes glinting dangerously by the light of the fire.

“She caught the nasty end of Petey-boy’s backswing,” came Abraham’s gruff voice.

Daryl hadn’t even realized the man approached — he was too busy thinking up new ways to bring Pete back to life, all so he could shoot the dead prick dead all over again.

Abraham crouched down a few inches beside him, taking a closer look at Y/N’s injury before whistling softly. “Ya must be ridin’ the gravy train with biscuit wheels, lil’ lady. That sack a’ shit damn near took your eye out,” he drawled before glancing over at Daryl. “Don’t think she needs stitches — unless someone wants ta’ reincarnate Dr. Dickwad for a second opinion.”

Y/N attempted to huff a laugh, but the motion had her wincing, her features twisting in pain.

And Daryl had seen enough.

He grunted a gruff ‘I got it’, giving Abraham a nod of appreciation before taking Y/N by the elbow and maneuvering her away from the others, back onto the street.

She allowed him to guide her elsewhere, neither saying a single word.

The two houses Deanna had provided to the group had been split amongst the lot of them. Daryl chose to reside in the finished basement — it was small and dingy, but he didn’t mind. The room had a couch and a bathroom and was much nicer than any other place he’d ever stayed at — even before the end of times.

And right now, it was serving as a makeshift infirmary.

Y/N sat perched on the edge of the couch, her knee bouncing anxiously as she watched Daryl barrel around the space like a rampant tornado. He grabbed whatever he could think of — the first aid kit stored beneath the bathroom sink, a bottle of water, a clean t-shirt to swap out for her blood-spattered one — before making his way back to her. He set the items down on the coffee table in front of the couch and took a seat on the edge of it, opposite her.

Still, neither spoke.

Daryl kept his eyes focused on the slash mark — that was much easier than acknowledging the absence of space between them. He unscrewed the cap to the water bottle, emptying a small amount onto a dry piece of gauze before leaning forward. Ever so slowly, he dabbed at the blood that’d dripped down her face and onto her neck, ignoring the near-palpable tension.

Y/N sat still as a statue, tilting her head back slightly as he wiped away the redness. But when he moved further up, nearing the wound, she flinched, hissing reflexively. Daryl snatched his hand back as if slapped, his eyes meeting hers, quietly apologetic.

She nodded for him to continue, taking a deep breath and balling her hands into fists atop her thighs.

The archer worked his jaw, lightening his touch.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat like that — all he knew was that when he was with her, nothing else really seemed to matter.

Luckily, the wound wasn’t as severe as it’d initially appeared — it was fairly shallow, faint towards the edges, and in time would heal completely. He wanted to tell her so, but the words wouldn’t formulate — the silence that’d stretched on felt untouchable.

So instead, Daryl focused on her hands, wiping away the blood that’d stained the grooves of her skin — and although she tried to conceal it, he could feel the slight tremble in her fingertips.

After he was done cleaning her hands, he sat back, his knee brushing against hers. He glanced up, flicking his hair away and studying the cut on her face — it’d stopped bleeding, though the edges were an angry-red, spiking his own temper once more. The collar of her shirt was soaked crimson, the color more muted in areas that’d already dried.

He hadn’t noticed the way their hands remained intertwined until Y/N squeezed softly, snapping him back to reality.

Daryl pulled his hand from hers and stood, grabbing the extra t-shirt off the table and dropping it into her lap. He scooped up the first aid kit before spinning around and stalking back towards the bathroom, giving her privacy as she began to change.

The archer avoided his reflection entirely, certain he’d see nothing but flushed skin and remorseful eyes. He squatted down, yanking open the drawer beneath the sink and tossing the kit inside. He gnashed his teeth together and grabbed onto the counter, his grip white-knuckled around the edge.

He needed to get a fucking hold of himself, that was for damn sure.

After regaining his composure, Daryl slammed the drawer shut with more force than necessary and pulled himself up in one swift motion.

But his entire body froze, his blood running ice-cold, when he noticed Y/N in the reflection of the bathroom mirror, standing in the doorway behind him.

Their eyes met through the glass before the archer twisted around, facing her head-on.

Her brow was furrowed as she stared at him, her head tilting to the side, the wheels in her mind visibly turning though her expression remained unreadable. She looked like she wanted to say something but didn’t quite know how to say it. She inhaled a breath, opening her mouth, but quickly snapped it shut — and then something different flickered across her features, an expression he hadn’t seen before.

Daryl waited for her to speak, to finally break the prolonged quietness that’d carried on.

But then she was suddenly crossing towards him.

He didn’t realize what was happening until Y/N’s lips crashed against his.

It was as though a dam had broken open — every fleeting feeling, every moment of suppressed longing coming to a head after dancing around one another for so long. At first, Daryl’s entire body went numb, his brain scrambling to figure out just what in the hell was actually happening. His breath caught in his throat as he stiffened instinctually, years of touch deprivation and self-consciousness clawing their way to the surface, leaving him paralyzed against her.

But when Y/N pulled back, breaking away from the kiss, he found himself craving her in the spaces she’d filled.

Her eyes were wide, boring into his, her gaze a mixture of shock and awe that he was certain mirrored his own — like even she couldn’t believe what she’d just done. She clung onto the collar of his shirt, the material balled in her fists.

Daryl’s chest heaved beneath her touch, his breathing syncing up with hers as they stared at one another, their noses only a few inches apart, each soaking the other in for what felt like the first time.

Something inside the archer fractured, right then and there. The wall he’d created inside his mind, the one designed to keep everyone at arm’s length, began to crumble. His guard fell to pieces, brick by brick, shattering at the very foundation he’d built it on.

And in its place…her.

Without any hesitation, Daryl slipped a hand behind Y/N’s neck and surged forward, closing the gap between them and bringing his lips to hers once more.

A soft gasp escaped her at first — one of surprise — the feel of it against his mouth sending a tingle down his spine before she returned the kiss with equal fervor. Her hands slid down his chest, snaking around his middle as she pressed herself against him with similar desperation.

He slid his hand up the back of her head, holding her in place as their lips parted, exploring each other with a deeper intensity. His fingers tangled throughout her hair, desperate to feel her in all of the ways he’d denied himself of, his other hand rising to gently cup the side of her face.

But when Y/N inhaled sharply, suddenly jerking back a fraction, Daryl’s eyes snapped open.

“Ow, fuck,” she hissed, her expression pinched.

“Shit,” the archer rasped, realizing then that his hand had brushed up against the cut on her cheek. “Ya alright?” he rumbled, pulling back further to get a better look.

Y/N let out a breathy laugh, her face lighting up in a way he’d never seen before. “Yeah,” she whispered hoarsely, her cheeks tinged pink, her lips red and slightly swollen.

Once again, Daryl found himself fighting to catch his breath.

He swallowed the thickness in his throat, carefully reaching forward and picking at a strand of hair that’d been swept out of place, tucking it behind her ear instead.

Y/N leaned into his palm, laying her hands against his chest, staring at him like she thought he’d hung the moon and painted the stars.

The look shifted into something deeper as she stepped back, ghosting her fingertips down each of his arms, his skin catching fire beneath her touch. She intertwined her hands around his calloused ones and began inching backward, slowly leading him out of the bathroom without another word.

The archer felt something stir deep inside him, a warmth settling in the pit of his stomach as she guided him towards the couch. He was entranced — like a man who’d been lost at sea for far too long, finally catching a glimpse of salvation from a lighthouse, beckoning him home.

And for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t afraid.

Daryl flushed at the memory.

She still had that same damn effect on him. It didn’t matter how much time passed, how many years went by, he’d never tire of her. She was, without a doubt, the best thing that ever happened to him.

He’d always felt out of place — even before the end. It was like everybody who’d ever lived was somehow born knowing the same song and dance — and yet there he’d been, stumbling along, fighting to catch up and fall in step with the rest of the world. It’d isolated him, made him feel weak and undeserving — like no matter how hard he tried, he’d never truly belong.

And now?

The only comfortable place his mind seemed to know was her.

Daryl fought back a wince, his entire body tensing up.

“Almost done,” Denise murmured as she continued stitching up the laceration on his back.

“Ya said that an hour ago,” the archer grumbled in response, grinding his teeth together.

“It definitely wasn’t an hour and you’re the one who refused the numbing cream, remember?” she countered evenly, her tone unwavering.

The archer merely huffed in response, fighting back a scowl as he gripped tightly onto the edge of the metal table he sat on top of. He ignored the feeling of Denise’s needle digging into his skin, closing up the knife wound he’d received back on the road, surveying the quieted house-turned-infirmary instead.

Rick was in the next room over, not having moved from Carl’s bedside since the survivors had taken Alexandria back from the dead. Glenn and Maggie were huddled together on the cot across the room while Michonne rocked Judith back and forth, exiting the infirmary with her a moment later. The others were gathered outside, recuperating after the long and harrowing fight that’d taken place mere hours ago.

And then there was Y/N — she sat on the floor beside his dangling legs, her head resting against the side of his knee, his vest laid out across her curled form. He could tell by her steady breathing and the way her head lolled every so often that she’d fallen asleep against him.

The entire community was running on little to no sleep, having fought through the night, taking on the herd that’d invaded their home — now, hundreds of bodies littered the streets, the wall that’d collapsed needed to be rebuilt, and those they’d lost during the attack needed to be buried.

Daryl glanced down when he heard a soft sigh, feeling his chest constrict as Y/N nestled closer.

She hadn’t strayed far since he’d returned and honestly, he wasn’t quite ready to be away from her either — especially after what happened on the road. Over the two days he was gone, he’d nearly lost his life on more than one occasion — and from what he'd heard, she’d nearly lost hers when the Wolves attacked.

But they were okay — she was okay — and that was what mattered.

Michonne reentered the infirmary a moment later, the exhaustion on her face mirroring his own. Judith, on the other hand, had fallen asleep in her arms, curled up against her chest, dark blonde wisps of hair sticking to her forehead.

“How’re you holding up?” Michonne asked softly as she approached the table, not wanting to wake Judith — or Y/N, for that matter.

“Jus’ a scratch, is all,” Daryl rumbled in response, peeking over his shoulder at Denise who remained focused on the wound.

Michonne nodded, rubbing small circles against Judith’s back. “I sent everyone home — Rosita and Heath are keeping watch where the wall came down. We’ll clear the dead once everyone gets some rest.”

“Alright,” Daryl rasped, a bone-deep tiredness beginning to seep in.

Before leaving, Michonne paused, looking down at Y/N’s sleeping form. When she glanced back up, her expression had shifted into something softer, something less tense. “She’s good for you,” she suddenly murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You deserve that,” she whispered, reaching out and squeezing his hand, still latched around the edge of the table.

Daryl’s hand flexed beneath hers as he glanced down at the top of Y/N’s head — did he really deserve someone like her?

He’d spend the rest of his life wondering that.

Michonne patted the top of his hand before pulling away, disappearing into Carl’s room without another word, Judith still fast asleep against her.

“Alrighty,” Denise exhaled, drawing him back to the present. “You, my friend, are free to go.”

The archer grunted a gruff ‘thanks’ as she began cleaning up the supplies she’d used to stitch him up. He bit back a grimace as he pulled his shirt over his head, feeling the stitches stretch as he moved.

He reached forward then, gently ruffling the top of Y/N’s head, stirring her awake. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes before craning her neck and looking up, her bleary gaze meeting his. “All done?” she murmured, her voice slightly croaky.

“Mhm,” he sounded, sliding off the table and offering his hand to her.

The corner of her mouth quirked up as she grabbed it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She swayed, fighting back a yawn, Daryl’s hand finding the small of her back and steadying her. Wordlessly, she held out his vest, which he slowly slipped back on, grinding his teeth together as a sharp jolt of pain shot across his shoulder.

Y/N’s brow furrowed as she watched him, her eyes narrowing — but before she could comment, Denise approached once more.

“Change the gauze in a couple of hours and take two of these for the pain,” she informed, holding out a small bundle of supplies, including fresh bandages and pills. “Doctor’s orders."

But Daryl waved her off. “Save ‘em,” he grumbled, carefully adjusting his vest.

He saw Y/N throw him a glance from the corner of his eye, though she didn’t protest — instead, she stepped forward and held her hand out.

Denise passed the supplies to her before lifting her glasses and rubbing one eye with the back of her hand, her fingertips stained red with blood. “Make sure he doesn’t do anything strenuous for a few days or he’ll tear the stitches,” she continued, speaking solely to Y/N as she set her glasses back in place.

Daryl huffed a breath. “M’ standin’ right here, ya know.”

Y/N nudged him in the ribcage, giving him a look that clearly translated to ‘be nice’.

Denise directed her attention back to the archer. “Don’t tear my stitches,” she reiterated emphatically before her expression eased. “Rest, relax, sleep — both of you.” She shot Y/N a pointed look before shooing them towards the front door, heading over to check in with Glenn and Maggie.

Y/N glanced over at Daryl once they were alone, her eyebrow quirking playfully. “I like this new side of Denise.”

The arched scoffed in response, flicking the hair from his face. “I liked it better when she was scared a’ me,” he grumbled as they fell in step, making their way out of the infirmary and back outside.

A laugh slipped past Y/N’s lips as they crossed over the porch. “Sounds about right,” she grinned, thoroughly amused.

“S’ true,” he shrugged his uninjured shoulder up as they made their way down the stairs and back onto the street.

“You know, you really aren’t that sc—”

Y/N stopped mid-sentence, her footsteps halting abruptly. Daryl faltered as well, glancing back at her, his brow knitting together. Before he could ask what was wrong, he realized what she was looking at.

In the light of day, the aftermath of the attack was startling. There were more bodies than he could count, rotted and decaying, bones torn through skin, blood spilling out onto the street, stark against the asphalt. The carnage was overwhelming, the reality of what they’d accomplished, as well as what they’d almost lost, suddenly settling in.

“We’ll fix this place up — make sure nothin’ like this ever happens again,” Daryl rasped, not entirely certain if he was trying to reassure her or himself.

Y/N’s expression turned solemn. “It’s not the dead I worry about,” she fixed him with a stare, her gaze flickering towards the wound on his back before she continued surveying the damage done to their community.

There wasn’t anything he could say that would make her feel better — not in a world as dark and void and meaningless as the one they lived in.

The only thing he could do was just be there.

Daryl reached for her, slipping his hand around hers and squeezing softly, drawing her back to him.

Although Y/N kept her eyes forward, he felt the tension leave her.

And then she squeezed back.

The archer huffed a breath, nestling the side of his thumb between his teeth.

Well, maybe the world wasn’t entirely meaningless.

Daryl stood still beneath the shower head, warm water washing over his body.

But he couldn’t focus on that — all he could focus on was Y/N, standing behind him, her arms wrapped around his middle, her bare chest pressed against his back. He closed his eyes, committing the feeling to memory — her heart steadily pounding against him, her cheek resting against his shoulder as water continued to cascade down their bodies.

She pulled back slightly, gently pressing her lips against one of the scars on his back.

Daryl felt a chill run down his spine despite the steam around him, fighting back the instinctual urge to stiffen — and as she moved to the next scar and the next, softly kissing each one, he couldn’t help but melt beneath her touch.

He turned then, feeling the tips of his ear redden at the sight of her before he quickly averted his gaze.

Y/N laughed, soft and sweet, reaching towards him and brushing the hair from his face.

Daryl caught her hand with his own, pressing her palm flat against the curve of his jaw. The cut on her cheek had healed, leaving only a faint, thin line below her eye. His own knife wound was still fresh, but in time, would heal as well.

He brought his hand up and gently brushed his thumb across the length of the mark before tilting her head back, bringing his lips to hers.

He wasn’t sure where the sudden boldness came from — still, Y/N returned the kiss, her arms snaking around his neck, his around her waist.

It wasn’t until the water began to run cold that Daryl, begrudgingly, turned the shower off.

They moved about in comfortable silence — drying off, changing into clean clothes, completing eerily normal and mundane tasks that had the archer wondering if he’d somehow transported into an alternate reality without realizing it.

But the blood and muck that’d washed off their bodies and collected at the bottom of the tub reminded him otherwise.

It’d taken three whole days to clear Alexandria of all the walkers that’d infiltrated their walls. Now, they could start rebuilding, reinforcing, doing whatever they needed to do to make sure an attack like that never happened again.

Daryl climbed into the bed he shared with Y/N, having moved up from the basement and into her room after that first night they’d spent together. He winced as he rotated his shoulder — despite Denise’s instructions to limit arduous activity, he’d worked the past three days from sun up to sun down in removing all the bodies from within the gates.

Y/N had tried to get him to take it easy, but he hadn’t — that just wasn’t in his nature.

She crawled into bed after him, sighing softly as she settled by his side, sitting with her legs crossed beneath her. She held her hand out towards him and in her palm, two pills — he recognized them as the ones Denise had given her.

Daryl huffed a breath.

“Don’t make me say ‘please’,” she warned, raising her brow expectantly.

The archer fought back the urge to roll his eyes but took the pills anyway, popping them into his mouth and washing them down with the bottle of water he’d left by the bedside. Y/N shot him a cheeky grin as she laid down, curling onto her side, facing away from him.

He reached over, wrapping an arm around her middle and dragging her towards him, eliciting a surprised laugh from her. She nestled closer, her back pressed against his chest, one hand clasped around his forearm, drawing absent circles against his skin with her thumb.

Daryl felt himself fading, slipping into unconsciousness after a long, tiring day of survival.

But just before the world darkened entirely, a whisper broke through the quiet.

“I love you.”

The archer’s eyes snapped open. Part of him wondered if Y/N was sleep-talking. An even bigger part of him figured he’d imagined it because there was no way — no way in hell — she could’ve consciously and deliberately said that to him.

But then she was shifting, rolling onto her back and looking up at him.

He searched her gaze for something, anything — a punchline, an explanation, a ‘hah, fooled ya!’ — that would explain what in the fuck he’d just heard.

Except that didn’t happen.

Instead, Y/N slowly nodded, like she was finally coming to terms with her own blatantly impromptu confession. “Yeah, I-I do — I —” she fumbled slightly in her admittance before steadying. “I love you,” she murmured, blinking up at him.

Daryl swallowed the lump in his throat, his mind screaming at him to say something instead of just staring at her like he’d seen a ghost. He could feel the words toying at the tip of his tongue — he wanted to say it, he did, because…well, of course. Of course, he wanted to. But it was like his body was physically rejecting a response.

Y/N patiently watched him struggle, giving him a second to get his shit together, a small, knowing smile playing at her lips.

The archer pushed up onto his elbow, clearing his throat, his cheeks burning red. “I, uh,” he grumbled, shaking his head slightly. “Y-Yeah, I —” he faltered, clearly struggling. But when his baffled gaze met her kind one, almost instantly, his wall of insecurity diminished. “Yeah,” the single word came out resolute and sure, everything he needed her to hear.

Y/N’s smile grew, stretching across her face, bright enough to light the sky on fire. “Yeah?” she asked softly, reading between the lines.

Daryl nodded once. “Yeah,” he rasped thickly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world — because it was.

He’d felt that way since the day he met her, even if he hadn’t known it.

She reached up, twisting her fingers in his hair and bringing his face down to meet hers, pressing a gentle kiss against his lips.

Then she was curling onto her other side so they laid chest to chest, her head tucked beneath his chin as she snuggled closer, his arms wrapping around her instinctually.

Daryl wasn’t sure how long they laid like that, limbs weaved around one another like coiled rope. But when her breathing evened out, he pulled back and snuck a glance, tracing every inch of her face as though the first time and the last. He brought his hand to her face, carefully brushing back the hair that’d swept over her features before leaning in and pressing a kiss against her forehead.

Then sleep came for him as well.

Daryl dropped his hand back into his lap, drawing his legs to his chest.

Being with Y/N was effortless — as easy as breathing. It came, somewhat alarmingly, natural to him. He’d never pictured himself with anyone ever. Before the end, before her, he’d been content to sit on the sidelines and watch all the relationships around him undoubtedly burn — it was all he’d ever known, it was all he’d ever seen.

But then she came along and flipped his entire world upside down.

A love that came without warning.

“Let’s get this shit loaded up — looks like it’s gonna rain soon,” Daryl rumbled, peering up at the darkening sky, noticing a cluster of bulbous clouds rolling in.

Y/N tilted her head back, following his gaze before humming a breath. “I don’t know — the wind’s blowing East. It might just miss us,” she remarked, catching the archer’s eye, a mischievous look flashing across her features. “Wanna make a bet?”

Daryl scoffed a breath in response, shutting the car trunk filled with scavenged supplies and adjusting the strap of the rifle slung across his chest — he was still getting used to the weapon. It felt unfamiliar in comparison to the weight of his crossbow. The reminder of his stolen weapon sent a flush of anger through his veins. He’d find those assholes someday and get it back, that was for damn sure.

“Come on,” Y/N grinned, drawing him back as she hefted another box over to him, dropping it onto the ground with a huff. “How about this? If it rains…I’ll take your watch shift tonight with Elizabeth.”

The archer quirked a brow, suddenly intrigued. Elizabeth was one of the original members of Alexandria — and she was…chatty. “Fine,” he nodded, opening the car door and lobbing the box she’d brought over onto the backseat. “She’s always yappin’ ‘bout books an’ shit I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout. Damn irritatin’ sometimes,” he grumbled.

Y/N laughed at his aggravation, turning to pick up another box. “I like her,” she shrugged, making her way towards him.

Daryl huffed a breath, waving her off. “Alright an’ if it doesn’t rain? What’d ya want?” he questioned, taking the box from her hands and sliding it into the car.

Before she had the chance to respond, Rick suddenly appeared, pushing through the front doors of the high school they’d been scavenging — it’d been turned into a FEMA evacuation center right at the beginning of the end. It’d somehow, miraculously, been left untouched — the doors and windows had been barred and chained, but luckily they’d had the tools needed to break in.

It’d been a little over a month since Alexandria had been overrun with the dead — the wall had been rebuilt and fortified, but the survivors had been hesitant to venture outside the gates after what happened the last time. Regardless, supplies were dwindling and a run had to be made.

“How’s it comin’ along out here?” Rick called as he jogged down the front steps and into the parking lot.

“Filled up the trunk pretty good — gonna need another car or two jus’ ta’ fit the rest a’ this shit,” Daryl remarked as the sheriff approached, motioning to the rest of the unpacked boxes lying around.

Rick came to a stop in front of them, one hand resting on top of the handle of his pistol strapped around his waist. “This is good — this is real good,” a rare smile spread across his face, so unlike the usual tension in his features.

“Tara’s finishing up around back — she’s grabbing the rest of the stuff from the greenhouse,” Y/N relayed to Rick, sharing a hopeful look with the archer. “We’ve got enough stuff to last us, I don’t know, at least another couple of months — that’ll be enough time to get some crops growing, maybe even a garden or two.”

Rick huffed a laugh in disbelief, shaking his head. “Who would’a thought,” he mused to himself before taking a breath. “Alright, I’m gonna grab a few last things inside an’ then we’ll lock up — come back tomorrow with a couple a’ cars an’ clean this place out.”

The sheriff left without another word, leaving Daryl and Y/N alone once again.

He began rearranging the boxes in the backseat, making sure there was enough room for two people to sit there on the way back home.

“A date,” Y/N suddenly spoke, catching him off guard.

Daryl straightened, turning back around to look at her, his brow knitting together. “Huh?”

The corner of Y/N’s mouth quirked up as she took a step towards him. “If I win, if it doesn’t rain today…I want you to take me on a date.”

The archer tilted his head to the side, trying to distinguish if she was joking or not. “Ya serious?”

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded, a sort of awkward laugh slipping past her lips. “I know it’s stupid — and given the way you’re looking at me right now, I know you’re thinking the same thing,” she laughed again as he quickly erased the skepticism from his expression. “But that’s —” she shrugged a shoulder up, “— that’s what I want.”

Daryl scratched the side of his head, flicking the hair from his face as he studied her, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the car. “That really what ya want?”

“Mhm,” she sounded. “And it doesn’t have to be anything special — just us and, I don’t know…maybe Aaron can whip up some of his famous spaghetti,” a soft smile grew on her face as she looked at him. “I, uh — I just — I want to do this right, you know?” her expression turned earnest. “I want those moments with you, Daryl.”

The archer felt a swell of warmth spread throughout him as he looked at her, feeling his resolve give way. “Alright,” he managed to rasp, his throat tight with emotion.

“Alright,” Y/N reiterated with a nod, sticking her hand out, a playful look in her eye.

Daryl snorted a laugh as he reached out and grasped her hand with his own, shaking once to seal the deal.

Y/N shot him a cheeky grin as she pulled from his grip. “We should —”

“Guys?” Tara’s voice suddenly sounded, drawing their attention.

Daryl knew as he pushed off the car, as he turned around that something was very wrong — he could hear it in her tone.

It took a moment for him to fully register the scene before him — a wide-eyed Tara just a few feet away, standing straight as an arrow, holding her hands up near her head.

Then he spotted a man.

The stranger stood just behind Tara, one arm wrapped around her neck, the other holding a gun, the barrel pressed against her temple. He was young, maybe early twenties, though it was hard to tell with all of the blood coating his skin. He peered over Tara’s shoulder, his frantic gaze bouncing wildly back and forth between the archer and Y/N.

Daryl’s protective instinct kicked in as he took a step forward, drawing the man’s attention, keeping Y/N out of his line of fire. His hand automatically reached for the rifle strapped around him but his movements stilled when the man’s eyes widened, his arm tightening around Tara’s neck.

“Hey, take it easy,” Daryl held out his hands in front of him.

“Move,” the man growled, jerking his head to the side. “Away from the car.”

Daryl felt Y/N grab a fistful of material from his shirt, slowly pulling him back as the man moved towards them, keeping Tara in front of him to conceal his body.

A tense standoff of sorts stretched on as they maneuvered around, the man never taking his eyes off of Daryl. When the stranger made it to the driver’s side of the car, he unwound his arm from around Tara’s neck, using it to open the door instead — though his finger remained twitching above the trigger. Once the door was opened, he faltered, realizing he’d lose the coverage of Tara’s body if he tried to get inside.

“Take it,” Y/N suddenly spoke, stepping out from behind Daryl with her hands near her head, drawing the man’s attention.

The archer shot her a sharp glance. “Y/N —”

“Take the car, take the supplies, take whatever you need,” she continued calmly, ignoring Daryl’s growled protest. “Just let her go, okay? No one’s here to hurt you.”

The stranger’s expression shifted, the animalistic look on his face shifting into something that resembled more of a quiet desperation than anything else. “I —“ he shook his head quickly, shifting back and forth. “I just need — I just need to go — I need to go.”

Y/N took another step forward, the side of her arm brushing against Daryl’s. “Okay,” she nodded, exhaling a breath. “That’s okay — just let our friend go and —”

Her sentence was interrupted by the front door of the school swinging open.

Daryl whipped his head around, feeling his stomach drop when he spotted Rick walking out with a stack of boxes — but when the sheriff noticed the standoff happening just down the steps, the boxes came crashing down, falling out of his hands, and instead…he grabbed his pistol.

It was as though everything happened in slow motion.

The stranger’s expression twisted as his sights set in on Rick — he swung the barrel of his gun away from Tara, who instantly dropped to the ground as the man pointed the weapon up the steps, and then…

A barrage of gunfire sounded as Rick and the man began shooting at one another in rapid succession. The sheriff used the front door as a shield, attempting to fire from around the frame, the awkward angle throwing off his aim. The stranger, on the other hand, fired away in no particular direction — his aim was erratic and panicked as he tried using the car door as coverage.

When a bullet flew past the side of Daryl’s head, he dove towards Y/N. He knocked her off her feet and onto the pavement, attempting to take cover from the shootout. The archer flipped onto his back, fumbling for his rifle before finally getting a grip and pointing it at the man.

But before he could take a shot, the stranger threw himself into the car, slamming the door shut, bullets from Rick’s pistol embedding into the metal. He peeled recklessly out of the parking lot, still firing from out of the opened window as he made his getaway.

Despite one of the back tires exploding after getting hit with a stray bullet, the stranger kept driving, disappearing onto the main road and out of sight, leaving a wake of destruction in his path.

“What the fuck?” Tara called from where she’d taken cover.

“Is everybody alright?” Rick yelled back, coming out from behind the door and running down the steps.

Daryl twisted onto his side, looking over at Y/N. “Hey, ya alright?”

“Y-Yeah,” she murmured shakily, pushing up onto her hands and knees. “I’m okay.”

The archer let out a sigh of relief, climbing to his feet and surveying the damage done around them as Rick appeared at his side.

“What an asshole,” Tara swore, coming to a stand as her eyes bounced between Rick, Daryl, and Y/N. “Seriously, what kind of —”

Daryl looked over at her, waiting to hear the rest — but that was when he noticed her staring at something just behind him, the horrified expression on her face filling him with a vast and all-consuming sense of dread.

The archer spun around.

And that was when he saw her.

Y/N stood a few feet away, swaying unsteadily, her hand pressed tightly against the center of her stomach. Her head was lowered, bowed to her chest as she slowly pulled her trembling hand away, revealing a stark redness pooling from her midsection, staining the front of her shirt. She looked up then, her eyes meeting his, the shock in her gaze surely mirroring his own.

“No,” Daryl whispered, the word sounding strangled in his throat as Y/N’s knees suddenly began to give out. “No!” he roared, rushing forward and grabbing onto her before she could collapse.

His arms slipped around her middle before he carefully lowered her onto the ground, her head drooping down against his shoulder. His heart pounded so violently against his ribcage, part of him wondered if it was giving out on him entirely — maybe it was. Maybe this was what dying felt like. Maybe this was what it felt like to have your soul ripped straight out of your body.

Daryl cradled the back of Y/N’s head with one hand as he laid her down flat against the pavement, her eyes wide and unseeing, staring straight up at the sky. “Hey, hey, look a’ me, jus’ look a’ me,” he urged, brushing the hair back from her face, ignoring the blood now staining his hands — her blood.

“I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay,” she mumbled, repeating it over and over again as though she could will it to be true — though her skin grew more ashen with each minute that slipped by.

Rick suddenly kneeled on the opposite side of Y/N, taking a piece of cloth and holding it against the wound. “Keep pressure on it,” he instructed Daryl and although he tried to conceal it, the archer could hear the way his voice wavered. “You jus’ hold on, Y/N, understand? We’re gonna get you outta here,” he promised, reaching down and squeezing one of her hands before disappearing.

Daryl watched him leave, dragging a teary-eyed, slack-jawed Tara along with him as they began frantically searching the abandoned parking lot for any working vehicles — it was their only chance at getting her back to Alexandria.

And if they didn’t…

No.

No, he couldn’t go there.

Instead, he pressed the cloth against the gunshot wound, attempting to stall the blood flow, the pressure eliciting a pained whimper from Y/N that almost made the contents of his stomach reappear. “I got ya, Y/N, I got ya,” he rasped, grabbing her limp hand with his own and intertwining their fingers, holding his other hand firmly against her stomach.

His words seemed to bring her back to him, her hollow gaze shifting into one of panic — like she only just realized what was happening. Her features crumpled, a flash of fear skirting across her face as the shock began to wear off. “Am — am I dying?” she managed to choke out, her eyes filling with unshed tears as she looked up at him.

“No,” he shook his head resolutely, feeling moisture build in the corners of his own eyes. “No, ya ain’t goin’ nowhere, ya hear me?” his grip tightened around her hand — like his touch alone could keep her there with him. “We’re gonna get ya back ta’ Alexandria an’ — an’ get ya patched up, good as new, alright? Ya jus’ gotta hang on for me, girl.”

Y/N’s bottom lip quivered as a tear snaked down the side of her face. “I-I don’t want to leave you,” she whispered, a sob hitching in her throat.

“Hey, it’s gonna — ya gonna — jus’ — Rick!” Daryl suddenly bellowed, sitting back on his haunches and desperately scanning the area for any sign of him or Tara. He spotted them at the opposite end of the parking lot, running from car to car, searching for keys or at least a way to jumpstart one of the abandoned vehicles.

But luck was not seeming to be on their side.

Daryl let out a vicious string of curses before focusing back on Y/N. He’d never felt so helpless in his entire life — and God, if he could, he’d take her place in a second.

She was fading — fading so rapidly it made him dizzy. Her skin was cold to the touch, her lips tinged a disturbing shade of blue, her eyes lacking the warmth he was so used to seeing. He felt a swell of emotion rise in his throat, threatening to consume him, but he shoved it down.

“Hey, y-you were right,” she murmured weakly, the corner of her mouth twitching up as she tilted her head to look up at the sky once more. “I think it’s gonna rain.”

Daryl felt a tear spill down his cheek as he followed her eye line, the previously blue sky now blanketed with thick, dark clouds. He huffed a humorless laugh, their conversation from a few minutes earlier ringing through his mind, somehow seeming like an entire lifetime ago. “Guess that means ya — ya gotta take watch tonight, right?” he rasped despondently, keeping his gaze towards the sky.

He stilled when he was met with nothing but a deafening silence.

He felt his stomach roll as he squeezed his eyes shut, afraid of what he'd see if he looked down. “Y/N?” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

When she didn’t respond, Daryl knew.

She was gone.

His girl was gone.

And his entire world came crashing down around him.

Daryl forced his eyes open.

His body went numb at the sight of her, his mind refusing to accept the image before him — empty eyes, grey flesh, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. Her hand slipped from his grasp then, dropping onto the pavement beside her unmoving form as she continued staring vacantly up at the sky.

His brain couldn’t process what was happening — where he was, what he was doing, why he was there. It felt like a nightmare — a reality that wasn’t quite reality, warped and desolate and consuming him whole. The only tangible thing he felt was a sharp, physical pain in the center of his chest, his breaths short and hitched, causing black spots to dance in his vision.

Over the blood rushing to his ears, he could just barely make out the sound of a car engine, the noise muted and dull as it approached…

But it was too late.

They were too late.

Daryl reached for her hesitantly, hands trembling as he wound his arms beneath her back and carefully scooped her up off the ground, falling back slightly as he pulled her body across his lap. When her head lolled listlessly to the side, he brought his hand up, brushing his bloodstained fingers through her hair before cradling the back of her head, pressing his cheek against hers.

“Ya said —” he squeezed his eyes shut, rocking back and forth as his grip around her lifeless body tightened. “Ya said ya were okay,” he choked out brokenly, his own shock slowly wearing off as something deep inside his soul fractured.

Then he broke.

And the sky opened up and wept alongside him.

The sound of barking drew Daryl back to reality.

He glanced over his shoulder, quickly blinking away the tears that’d formed, spotting Dog trotting towards him. The German Shepard’s tongue hung lazily out of his mouth, his easy pace picking up the closer he neared, letting out another short bark.

Daryl rumbled a laugh as Dog came to a halt at his side, plopping down next to him. “Hey, boy,” he rasped softly, scratching behind his dog’s ear and earning a sloppy lick in return He wiped away the moisture from his cheek as the canine laid down beside him with a huff. “Good, Dog.”

The archer ran his fingers through his sleek fur, feeling his throat tighten. When he’d found the German Shepard a few years back, he’d remembered the conversation with Y/N from back at the prison — and it’d only felt right to name him ‘Dog’.

It’s what she would’ve wanted — and somehow, it made him feel just a little bit closer to her.

“Man, she would’a loved ya,” he whispered thickly, sighing a long and heavy breath.

Daryl looked forward once more, studying the small gravestone in front of him — her gravestone.

For a long time, he stayed away. He hadn't been able to go near where she'd been laid to rest, he just couldn’t — it was too fucking painful, like part of himself had been buried right along with her. But over time, the grief became easier to manage — it never went away, it'd never go away — but he found a way to exist alongside it.

Now, he found a strange sort of peace here.

It’d been years since he’d lost her — she’d been gone for longer than he’d known her. It was hard to keep track of time these days, they seemed to come and go without rhyme or reason. So much had happened since that day — the war against the Saviors, the looming threat of the Whisperers, losing friends, family, Rick…

Time seemed to move differently after losing the people loved most.

After that day at the high school, Daryl had tried to find the man responsible for what happened to Y/N — he’d gone back to the high school, wild and unhinged in his grief, hellbent on retracing their steps and tracking down the stranger. He’d needed revenge, bloodshed, he’d needed the man to know what he’d done, who he’d taken from the world.

Despite the improbability, the archer had no trouble finding him.

The back tire that had been blown out during the exchange of gunfire had sent the car careening down an embankment and into a large tree less than a mile from the school. One of the branches had broken through the windshield and punctured the man’s chest, most likely killing him on impact.

He’d reanimated still strapped in the driver’s seat.

Daryl left him that way.

It wasn’t the ending he’d hoped for, but maybe it was the ending he deserved.

He reached down, absently stroking the top of Dog’s head, and inhaled a deep breath.

Not a single day went by without the thought of her.

She came and went — like a flash of light or the beat of a heart. Daryl had barely had any time to hold onto her before she was gone — and he would’ve held her so much tighter had he known it’d be the last chance he’d have.

Some people were just too bright to stay, too good for what the world had become — at least that’s what he told himself on the really dark days.

The archer closed his eyes, imagining her at his side — sometimes if he sat like that for long enough, he could almost hear her voice, her laugh, he could almost feel her warmth, her touch — and it was like she was still there, sitting right beside him.

It wasn’t the same, but it was enough — at least until he could be with her once more.

Daryl opened his eyes, peering up at the vast night sky, and released the breath he’d been holding.

Someday, he’d find his way home again.

Fin.

A/N: ...hi...how y'all doin'? lol

So yeah, this is a lot to unpack. If you've made it to the very end, THANK YOU! I know this was a super-dee-duper-long oneshot but hopefully (heartbreak and all) it was worth it.

Most of this story was purely self-indulgent - I mean, come on, who doesn't want this kind of love? But aside from that, I also wanted to write a relationship for Daryl that felt authentic and true to his character (*cough cough* definitely not throwing shade at 10.18...nope...not at all...lol)

What also made this story super fun was the fact that I was able to incorporate other characters from over the course of the series! (Even though he's only in it for .2 seconds, Abraham is probably my personal favorite lol I'd never written for him before, and damn, is it fun!)

I also like the little 'twist' at the end when we realize that in the present parts of the story, he's been hanging out at the reader's grave the entire time, reminiscing. Ow, that hurts my heart.

After writing this for months, I was the last person who wanted to see the story end like this. I honestly grew super attached to this relationship and part of me contemplated ending it on more of a 'happy' note...or as 'happy' as you can get with a show like this one. But this was the ending I'd envisioned from the beginning. We got to experience a Daryl x Reader relationship from the very start to the very end. No open-ended questions, no 'what ifs'.

And I think that's sorta beautiful.

P.S. Feedback is incredibly important. I write for my own happiness, but I also write for YOU. So don’t be afraid to shoot me an ask or leave a comment with your thoughts! It truly motivates me and helps move along the writing process. Also, please consider donating to my Tip Jar. Every little bit helps!

P.S.S. I can no longer tag people on this account, so my tag list has been transferred to my side blog @crossbowking2. If you'd like to be added/removed, please let me know!

[mrpenguinpants]

Diluc: Comfort HCs

Oh no worries anon! We’re getting through everything and I can just see the top. I’m not sure if people saw it - probably not - but my entire blog has devolved into “See this genshin character? Animal.” and I refuse to have another cat character so I’m making Diluc a hawk.  

Apparently (maybe) Diluc’s bird is a nightingale [voicelines]. But I don’t really see Diluc the kind of guy to serenade you at night in secret because your father doesn’t approve of your marriage.

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Today’s appreciation post goes to fulltimeventisimp. Tumblr throws a goddamn fit when I try to tag people (even though I literally have a tag list but that’s apparently not good enough) so I hope you see this^^ You’ve been so nice and caring to me I feel so soft 😭 and I hope you’re doing alright! I’m remembering to take breaks and rest  💕💕

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Semi Part 1: Relationship HCs [I would read this just for the last point]

Diluc Ver: Jealous HCs

[Masterlist]

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[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@hanniejji​  @mikeysbike​ @unionwitch​ @musekala​ @twistedsunnshiii​ @stanzastic​ @akaasea​ @xoneaboveallx​ @adoring-ghost​ @asheseiler​ @childelover​ @dilucsz​

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Diluc: Comfort HCs

Diluc has always had either an aloof or professional persona based on who he needed to talk to. In both cases, no matter the subject or how Diluc talked, there would always be some sort of forced distance so no one would mistaken it as familiarity or friendliness. There were only a two cases where he felt comfortable and those were with close friends and his staff. The third case being Kaeya but Diluc prefers to not acknowledge him and stashes that folder away. Even with friend’s such as Jean or Elzer, he could never really relax and let his true feelings slip until you burst into his life. Literally. “An unexpected outcome of an experiment,” is what Albedo had told him but regardless, since you entered his life he’s let himself regress into his younger days and let himself take for once.

Maybe that was why you had gotten so used to Diluc’s touched starved self that, when it was suddenly gone, you were feeling uneasy. Lately Diluc seemed to be spending longer hours at his desk or working at the tavern. You knew that he was just busy and there wasn’t any underhanded reasoning behind it, Diluc wasn’t that kind of guy. But did he seriously have to spend every waking moment, day or night, talking to the same people? When was the last time you saw him for more than two minutes? Diluc isn’t a big fan of idle talking but would it seriously hurt just to catch up? You didn’t even get together to have your weekly chess matches too.

You didn’t consider yourself a very clingy person and you knew what a relationship with Diluc was going to be like so why were you getting so bothered? You decided to take the situation in your hands and go visit him at the tavern only to see him so busy at work. It both made you a bit huffy, you wanted to storm in there and drag the man away from his work so he could stop trying to speed run life - not like that would ever happen because the second hand embarrassment would make you dissolve into the ground and you could never show your face to Diluc if you actually did that - but also making you more upset. Here he was, working and running his business, and you couldn’t go at least a couple weeks without seeing him. You ended up turning around and going home to scream into your pillow and sleep the heavy feeling away.

Your inner turmoil seemed to seep out into the open that Kaeya felt the need to bring it up. As much as Diluc dislikes Kaeya around you, he really does care about you and he still does owe you for the troubles he gave you when you first started going out with Diluc. He catches you while you’re off running errands and manages to coax you into getting some lunch with him. You’ve been bottling up your feelings so much that when Kaeya shows some concern you let it all pour out. At this point you don’t care if it’s Kaeya of all people you’re confessing your feelings to, you just want to get it off your chest because the man you’re in love with doesn’t seem to notice you’re actually there and it’s making you feel insecure about yourself. Kaeya gives you a sympathetic smile and tells you not to worry about it, he’ll personally knock some sense into Diluc.

Diluc’s been hard at work on another possible Fatui plan and business with the winery that he can’t help but feel that he was missing something. Was he overlooking something? He had planned this for a while so everything should be perfect. It wasn’t until Kaeya himself had to walk in, press his hand on the tavern counter, and call him an idiot that he realizes that he had been so wrapped up in his work and personal duties that he completely neglected you. He quickly passes his duties to Charles with a quick apology, throws his coat on, gives Kaeya a very strained thank you, and he’s out the door to find you. He’s already lost so much so he’ll be damned if he looses you. Not right now. 

You gave him the key to your home after a few months of being together, in case his he needed to temporarily hide should his night activities get the best of him. He’s already at your door in seconds as he quickly unlocks and steps in. 

“Beloved?” he softly calls out to not accidently scare you but he receives no reply. It’s dark inside but he can see your shoes at the door so he knows you’re inside somewhere. He softly closes and locks the door as he hangs his coat up. Carefully running a hand down the fabric and beside your coat as he looks around your small home. He’s always felt it was warm even when you weren’t here. The “home” he has will always be the place he grew up in but after everything that’s happened, he feels a bit alienated in there so he always appreciated that you lent him a key.

He catches the sound of some shuffling and follows the sound to see you under your blankets. He breathes a quick sigh of relief that you weren’t in any danger as he carefully circles around your bed before gently placing a hand on your back. He’s never been good at words or communicating his feelings so he’s at a bit of a standstill. Despite his reputation of being a nobleman of high esteem, you’re his first serious relationship. As far as he’s concerned you’re going to be his only relationship for that matter.

“I...apologize for my recent behaviour. It was never my intention to hurt you. I ended up letting myself get too blinded to see you were in pain and that was my fault. You don’t have to forgive me now but won’t you let me see your face my love?” he asked in all his awkward pose, put him in front of massive event and he’ll perform with flying colours but put him in front of his partner and he stumbles over his worlds like a new born fawn. But it seems to bring a small laugh from you as you peek from under the covers. 

He smiles softly as he sees your ears flush pink. No matter how many times he calls you that you always get so shy, he adores it. But he can feel the guilt rise up in his chest, you’ve always been there to support and reassure him that he was doing everything right. That things were going to be okay when he re-took his father’s business and you would be with him every step of the way. So in the best and awkward way that Diluc can manage, he tells you this. By the time he’s done he can feel his own face start to pink but it’s made you feel better so it was worth it. 

“Feeling better?” he smiles softly as you nod up at him as he lays down beside you, opening his arms in comfort, “Good, come here.” 

You shuffle closer to him as he holds you. It’s been awhile since he’s held you like this and even without realizing it, he’s missed this. Just you and him together, basking in each other’s presence. No work that needed to be attended to. No Fatui trying to cause him any more trouble. It was a safe place and one he didn’t want to let go.  

“What if we got married?”

There’s a beat of silence. 

Then a thud. 

You end up scrambling and falling off your bed face first. It’s a bit silent as you give off a pain groaned and climb back up and he can see your face has exploded red. He can almost see steam coming off as you try and nurse your nose. He blinks a bit at you taken aback as you stutter and scream into your hands as your brain seems to process what he just asked. You lift your face from your hands to look at him, somehow go even redder, and scream louder into your hands. He’s not sure if this is something he should be offended or concerned about but the weight he had been feeling earlier starts to fade away as a new and familiar feeling bubbles up. For the first time in half a month, Diluc let’s out a laugh as he tries to console you as you manage out a yes.

---

Gripping my writing hand why is no one stopping me? Diluc you’re literally acting like Childe rn. [if anyone is confused ahem Childe: Fiancé HCs (should be in my masterlist)]

Also, I continue to look away from the lore. Kaeya and Diluc are not on the best of terms but if they can have petty rich lady wine talk then Kaeya can walk in and call Diluc an idiot.

I was serious when I said that I researched hawk behaviours. I have learned the internet is horrible in telling me how hawks behave. But I did find this and I found this hilarious:

In the case of the red-tailed hawk, for example, the pair soar, screaming at each other; then the male dives at the female, who may roll in the air to present her claws to him in mock combat.

[fruitcoops]

Two of A Kind

I’ve been focusing on asks a lot lately because of everyone’s awesome ideas, but I saw a Cut video that was similar to this and just couldn’t resist. Hope you enjoy! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for mentions of sex and endless simping!

“Are you ready?” Marlene asks behind the camera. Kasey sits alone on a stool in the middle of the room, drumming his fingers on his knees.

“Yep. What am I doing again?”

The video cuts, revealing the same room, this time with James Potter on the stool. “You’re going to be answering a few questions,” Marlene explains. “And then we’re also going to be interviewing your wife and comparing your answers.”

“Oh, God,” James laughs. “Okay, hit me with your best shot.”

A title card appears on the screen. First Question: What was your first date?

Remus thinks for a moment. “Like, our first official date, or something that was definitely a date but we were both too dumb to notice?”

“Kasey took me to an ice rink,” Natalie says. She is inexplicably sitting on a folding chair rather than the stool. “We spent about three hours there, drinking cocoa and talking. It was a ton of fun!”

“Ice skating.” Kasey grins. “She told me she could skate, but she had never stepped on the ice in her life.”

“It was at Sid’s.” Sirius smiles to himself. “We had been together for about three months at that point.”

“Remus asked us to define ‘first date’,” Marlene says, sounding amused.

“Is there a different definition that I’m not aware of? We hung out at Sid’s a bunch before we actually got together, but those didn’t qualify as dates.” He pauses. “Looking back, they kind of were dates. We just didn’t know it.”

The video transitions to Lily and James, whose interviews are lined up side-by-side. “Lily took me to get ice cream after we went for a walk in the park,” James answers with a bright smile.

Lily laughs. “Our first date was a disaster. It was twenty-five degrees outside and we got ice cream. I think our brain freezes lasted about three straight minutes, but I had a great time.”

Second Question: When and where was your first kiss?

“Our first kiss happened on our first date,” Natalie says. “Kase caught me when I fell over and I just leaned right in.”

Kasey’s dopey smile makes his eyes crinkle. “At the ice rink. It felt like something out of a movie.”

Lily frowns in thought. “Oh, god, maybe our sixth date? He dropped me off at my apartment and kissed me goodnight.”

“I pulled a move straight from a John Hughes movie.” James grins and stretches his arms out. “Walked her to the door and everything. It was perfect.”

“Pascal Dumais’ basement,” Sirius says with a light laugh. “Which is a surprisingly romantic place.”

“It happened right after Sirius’ birthday party, which I was tricked into attending.” Remus gives the camera a mock-serious look. “Always be suspicious of Pascal Dumais. Always.”

Third Question: Who said ‘I love you’ first, and what was your reaction?

Sirius bites his lip. “I said it first, but only by two seconds. It was a long time coming, to be honest.”

“Sirius said it first.” Remus smiles at the memory. “We were both kind of wrecks at the time, but it was…amazing. I think I just cried harder and kissed him.”

Lily rolls her eyes fondly. “James said it first. We were both super drunk and he just blurted it out in the middle of the club.”

“She ran away!” James practically shouts as the video cuts to him. “I told her I loved her, she gave me this shocked look, and then disappeared! I get a text an hour later saying she caught a cab and went home, and she signs it with ‘love, Lily’. What the fuck was I supposed to do with that?”

Natalie coughs slightly. “Um, I don’t remember who said it first.”

Kasey grins at the camera. “Natalie said she didn’t remember,” Marlene calls.

“Oh, she remembers.”

Fourth Question: How’s your sex life? Anything you can do differently?

Sirius, who was taking a sip of water, chokes. “Excuse me?”

Remus is dead silent for a second, blinking at the camera in shock. “It’s, uh, good.”

“If we gave you some alcohol, would your answer change?” Marlene asks.

“Probably. Does anyone else feel like they’re suddenly in danger?”

“What sex life?” James snorts. “We have a baby. There is no time or energy for anything anymore.”

Lily raises an eyebrow. “You think I want him anywhere near me after I just shoved a baby out of my crotch?”

“It’s damn good.” Natalie winks, uncapping her own waterbottle. “Pro tip for anyone looking for a hockey boyfriend: go for the goalies. They’re flexible.”

Kasey is laughing into his hands when his interview appears. “She said that?” he manages. “Oh, Christ.”

Fifth Question: Do you dirty talk?

“Yes.” Kasey and Natalie say at the same time. James winks, and Lily shrugs with a sly smile.

Remus gives the camera crew a disbelieving look. “Are all the questions like this? Were we lulled into a false sense of security?”

“Answer the question, Loops!”

Remus sighs deeply. “On occasion, yes. I’m going to regret saying that.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Sirius says, narrowing his eyes as he sets his water down.

Sixth Question: How well do you sleep?

“Not bad,” Remus says. “Better than I used to, that’s for sure.”

“I don’t sleep,” Lily scoffs. James just looks at the camera and wordlessly gestures to the shadows under his eyes.

“Pretty well,” Natalie muses, slinging one arm around the back of her folding chair.

Sirius nods. “I’d say I sleep well most nights. It’s more comfortable with another person, which was surprising.”

Seventh Question: Why do you feel obligated to share a bed?

“Obligated?” Sirius and Remus say with matching tones of incredulity.

Lily’s smile becomes softer. “I really like sharing a bed. It makes me feel safe.”

“Oh, I love sleeping next to Lily.” James’ gaze turns dreamy. “She smells nice, she’s so warm, and sharing a bed makes childcare much easier when the other person is within reach.”

“You can’t tell her I said this, okay?” Kasey looks around at the camera crew before answering, and his cheeks turn light pink. “Nat’s side of the bed faces east, so if I get up for practice and the sun is rising, she glows a little bit. I dunno, I like it.”

“Kasey is really warm and cuddly.” Natalie says after a moment of thought. “He’s like my own personal heater and I’m never cold if he’s there. Don’t tell him I said that.”

Remus bites his lip before speaking. “I’m not much of a cuddler, but I sleep better next to Sirius than I ever have before. It’s incredible.”

Sirius cocks his head to the side with a smile. “Hmm. Having someone there to hold, especially someone I care about so much, is the best feeling. If I ever wake up in the middle of the night, he’s just…always there.” He half-shrugs. “It’s sappy, but it’s true.”

Eighth Question: Rate your attractiveness on a scale of 1-10

“Eleven,” Lily and Natalie say in unison, as if it’s obvious.

“I’m going with a solid six,” Remus decides after a moment’s deliberation.

“Eight, maybe?” Kasey answers.

Sirius makes a face. “Six? Seven?”

James is mid-laugh when the video cuts to him. “Um, seven. Lily and I have talked about this before and I got in trouble for saying ten, that’s why I’m laughing. Sorry.”

Ninth Question: Rate your partner’s attractiveness on a scale of 1-10

Not a single one hesitates. “Ten.”

“Remus said he was a solid six,” Marlene says as the camera focuses on Sirius.

His eyebrows shoot up. “What? Where is he? Re!”

“What?” a distant voice shouts back.

“You’re a ten!”

“On what scale?”

“Nat said eleven, didn’t she?” Kasey asks with a grin as the clip changes. “I love it when she does that.”

Final Question: What animal is your partner and why? Give three reasons.

Lily gives Marlene a hard look. “Marley, I love you, but what I say right now needs to stay confidential from my husband.”

Sirius laughs quietly. “Oh, he’s going to hate me for this.”

“Lily is a lioness,” James says immediately. “She’s strong, fierce, and unbelievably brave.”

Natalie tilts her head. “Good question. I’m going to go with a bear, since he’s got a big, tough reputation but he’s all soft inside. He’s a pretty solid guy, too, and he likes cold weather.”

“Nat is one of those really colorful birds,” Kasey says. “The ones with big personalities and the pretty feathers.”

“James is a lion.” Lily thinks for a moment longer. “It’s not just that he plays for the Lions, but he really is one of the bravest people I know. He’s protective of his family and cares a lot about keeping everyone together.”

Remus grins at the camera. “Sirius is a dog, and I will happily tell you why. Number one: he loves going for walks. Number two: he is endlessly loyal to the people he cares for. Number three: peanut butter.”

“So, Re is either a cat or a dog, and I really can’t choose.” Sirius’ eyebrows draw together in thought.

“You can choose both if you have reasons,” Marlene calls behind the camera.

“Really? Alright, he’s a dog because he’s friendly, loyal, and brings people trinkets as gifts. Um, I don’t have a legitimate reason for the cat one, but do any of you know that one vine with the cat that’s being dragged around on a leash?”

The camera crew bursts out laughing, and a small picture of the cat appears in the upper left of the screen.

“Anyone who has tried to pick Remus up knows that he looks exactly like that. Goes completely limp, it’s the funniest fucking thing.”

The video cuts to Remus, who raises his eyebrows. “He said what?”

The title card appears and Marlene’s voiceover begins. “Thanks for watching, Lions! Special thanks to Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James and Lily Potter, Natalie Darcy, and Kasey Winter for being with us today. Like and subscribe for more!”

[choco-exe]

new series ayo? 👀 we'll see how long my motivation lasts haha :'D not sure if i want this to be romantic or not, too.. so many possibilities this story can take

Prologue - The Journey Ends.. or Starts?

trigger warnings: mentions of blood, corpses, and generally anything that has to do with a battle

Sword clattering soundlessly to the ground, you stood there in silence, not noticing the cold enveloping you. Chills wracked your body — not from the icy wind pelting at your figure, but from the view you had — as you held your hand to you mouth at the sight you beheld—

Dozens of bodies littered the terrain, looking as though the massacre never stopped going— and yet it did. The contrast from the stark white snow to the maroon red blood had almost made you go sick, and yet you kept on looking.

In the center of the mass murder, a.. living being, so to speak, was standing with their back faced to you, seemingly lost in thought. You couldn't tell what species they were; all you knew was that they were a hybrid of some sorts, judging by the pointed ears, they were tall, probably over six feet, and they had long, pink hair, braided neatly, with loose strands accentuating their red cape adorning their shoulders.

A bit sick to your stomach from all the gore you came upon, you decided to leave the area. Sparing one more glance at the corpses littered across the landscape, you hastily picked up your sword and spun around, letting out a loose breath as you did so— a fatal mistake. Taking all of one step, you hear the sound of boots thudding across bones and melted snow, and you only had time to spin around and lift your sword when you were slammed head-first in the ground with a blade to your throat, your weapon thrown out of your grip and into the snow beside you. Letting out a silent grunt, you grimace at the pain of the fall— only to feel hot breath on your upper lip.

"Give me one reason I should let you walk away." Your eyes dart up from the monotonous voice, and your breath hitched. No more than a few inches away from your face, your focus was on the male's gorgeous ruby eyes. They lured you inside them, beckoning you deeper and deeper into an abyss of darkness, one you wished would always last, as a fresh wave of chills scoured your body—

"Death it is." The voice snapped you back to reality, and as you vaguely saw the glint of a blade ready to strike down, you realized what was about to happen.

"Wait, wait!" You yelped in a panicked frenzy, struggling to move, although you were unsuccessful; the stranger had you pinned down in a way so you couldn't escape. "I need to find Phil— Philza Minecraft! He— I—"

As your mind scrambled to string words into a sentence, you missed the way the male's orbs darkened. He pressed the flat part of his sword onto your throat, the edge drawing blood from under your chin.

"What do you need of this 'Philza Minecraft?'"

You blinked at the question, the unfamiliar feeling of warm blood dripping down your neck making you hesitate. "I came to re.. return the favor I owe him." You managed to get out.

The stranger didn't lighten the grip he had on his blade. "And what do you have to gain from it?"

"..nothing?" The question he asked you threw you off. "I just hate the thought of being indebt to someone I hardly know."

The silence that had picked up after you said your part seemed to make everything still— the wind stopped howling, the snow had halted its fall, and animate objects decided it would be a good time to stay still. You wondered if this was the end for you, as the male had been quiet for awhile, when he suddenly stood up. He spun on his heel and started walking through the field of corpses, not sparing even a glance your way as he said, "if you want to find him, then I suggest you keep up."

Your legs comprehended what he had said before your mind did; in the blink of an eye, you were no longer in your position on the floor— instead, you were struggling to keep up with the tall stranger. Droplets of blood splattered onto the already blood-soaked snow, but you barely acknowledged it. The only thing on your mind was finding Philza, and you sure as hell are going to endure almost anything to get your goal— even following a person who was about to take one of your canon lives moments ago.

"I don't think we had proper introductions." You said after awhile, trying to start up a conversation, as the silence was starting to feel suffocating. "I'm Y/N, what about you?"

He took a couple long strides, much to your dismay, before responding.

"You have not earned the right to know."

A frown etched upon your snow-covered face. "And what makes it so special to need requirements to know?"

The male tossed his braid over his shoulder. "A lot of people have placed bounties on my head, that's what."

As you opened your mouth to question what the hell he did to be wanted, he stopped abruptly in his tracks, causing you to crash right into his back.

"What's the big—" You started to say, rubbing your nose, before your words got caught in your throat.

For the first time, the hybrid turned his head to look at you, although it was barely more than a glance.

"This is who you wanted to see, correct?"

Standing in front of you was a blonde man, with wings that you were oh-so-familiar with tucked under a rather shabby-looking cloak, only letting the tips be visible. He was weathered with age, although he still had that youthful twinkle in his eyes that you saw the first time you met him, and he was staring right at you, surprise and suspicion etched in his features.

"Who did you bring back, Techno?" He asked, confused.

Confusion mixed into the shock that you were feeling, along with a pinch of satisfaction when you heard Philza call the hybrid by his actual name. Did he not remember you? Was this actually the Phil you knew? Questions circled in your head. Didn't he tell you he never forgets who he met, even if it were years from then?

"..you don't know them?" You knew you weren't the only one confused when you heard the stranger's — Techno's — voice. Your emotion quickly morphed into alertness when he slowly turned his whole body around.

"I thought you said you'd never forget anyone you meet, Philza Minecraft." You were careful to not call him by his nickname, fearing it would only upset him if he legitimately didn't remember you.

Phil tilted his head, as a crow would when confused. "I.. I have said that, yes." He confirmed. "But the only person I said that to was.." As he drifted off with his words, his skin drained of color.

"Phil?" Techno said, noting how he stopped talking, although he never took his eyes off you.

"You- you said it to me, Philza." You took a step forward. "Y/N. You said it to Y/N."

Techno narrowed his eyes at your movement, but before he could do anything, a trembling hand landed upon his shoulder. He turned to look at Phil's pale face with his eyebrow raised, only to be met with his friend looking.. scared. Confused.

"Y/N.." The winged man started. "You.. you died."

Your eyebrows rose high. "I beg your pardon?"

"Your final life. You sacrificed it. To save me."

[strange-lace]

Misunderstandings

I HAVE FINALL MADE CONTENT FOR MY SPIDER MONKIE AU! And SURPRISE, it’s angst!

Despite his best efforts, MK knew that he was a terrifying image to humans when he dropped his glamor. He loomed over most people due to his size, lower body plated with a dark exoskeleton with long legs which were sharp enough to impale someone without much effort. MK had tried to make it look less intimidating by painting bright little doodles all over his lower body. Soft and precise strokes decorated his exoskeleton with a couple of noticeably lower quality, lines shaky and uneven as if done by a beginner. Yet they were the ones he treasured the most. Particularly the large purple and orange hourglass symbol dead center on his spider abdomen.

"Am I doing this right sweetie?" She asked, long black hair pinned back to keep it clean yet it was still stained with streaks of paint. The same can be said for her worn robe, the faded fabrics speckled with rainbow flecks of paint. Her lips were pursed in concentration as the paintbrush shook in her hands.

It was certainly an image of the feared Spider Queen that few had the luxury of seeing and living to remember it, MK being one of them.

"Yeah mom, you're doing great. Try focusing on where you want the brush to go instead, it'll help smooth out your strokes," he suggested, having to contort a slight bit to see what she was doing. She followed his advice and happily finished the symbol.

"There! Now everyone will know to fear my little spiderling the moment they lay their eyes on him," Spider Queen cooed, putting the paintbrush away to pat MK on the head, accidentally staining his dark hair with the purple and orange paint which had gotten on her hands.

MK held a brief smile at the memory before letting out a sigh. 

Unfortunately, bright colors and cutesy symbols could only do so much against the large collective fear of demons, especially big ones with fangs and multiple legs. Which he was unfortunate enough to find out when fighting a demon who's whole speciality was glamor magic and could see right through him.

"That must be uncomfortable, squeezing yourself into such a small form. How about I give you a chance to stretch your legs for a while?" The demon said mockingly and before MK knew it, he was enveloped in a cloud of shimmering dust. Suddenly, everything was a lot smaller to him and MK was left to clumsily stumble as his two legs became eight without warning. He squinted as the world was now a lot brighter through his four eyes, colors even more vivid than before to the point it nearly gave him a headache.

Yet it all only registered to MK when he heard people start screaming about a giant spider demon.

“Oh no…” He whispered to himself, wincing as his vision cleared only to see civilians running away from him. And while he understood why, it still felt like a stab to his heart to see people terrified of him. The hurt quickly became panic once he hit what felt like a blockade to his magic, preventing him from re-activating his glamor.

MK was stuck like this for the time being.

“This can’t get any worse,” he hissed, freely skittering through the now empty streets now that he wasn’t at risk of accidentally stepping on someone. He was instantly proven wrong when he heard the twin sound of motors headed right him and MK had to dodge quickly to avoid getting hit by Mei’s bike head on and from Pigsy’s truck from crashing into one of his legs.

It just got worse.

"Alright demon, might be best to give up now-!" Mei froze mid-boast, face going pale underneath her helmet. She was soon joined by Pigsy, Sandy, and Tang who looked at what had her so shaken and their own confusion quickly transformed into their own individual shows of shock. Pigsy looked genuinely sick, Tang didn’t seem to be breathing with wide eyes behind his glasses, and Sandy’s entire being seemed to bristle as if to make himself look even bigger out of self-defense.

It dawned on MK once he saw they were all staring at the staff still clenched in his clawed hand.

That he was still holding while in his true form. Which wouldn’t look out of place as part of the Spider Queen’s forces, skin now covered in purple fur and eyes a dizzying bright green. And was still wearing his easily recognizable orange and purple jacket and headband now draped around his neck from the chaos.

MK now realizes that this did not paint a good picture in his favor.

“I… can explain,” he stuttered, wincing at the sound of his own voice: hoarse and deeper to his own ears.

He had no way of explaining this.

“What did you do to my boy?” Pigsy was the first to break the silence, eerily calm yet everyone could tell that his rake was close to snapping with how tight his grip was. Following behind him, everyone else’s shock and horror morphed into rage and MK felt his stomach tighten further and further in fear. Tang’s eyes were hidden behind the glare of his glasses with a stillness to him that made you fear he would strike at any moment before you could react. Sandy’s entire demeanor had changed in a way that made MK understand Pigsy’s past descriptions as him being a feared warrior.

And Mei?

Well Mei’s entire being was wreathed in green and vibrating with barely restrained wrath.

MK stumbled back on his eight legs, feeling incredibly small in the face of his family’s anger despite towering over them.

They didn’t know it was him. As far as they knew, he was just another demon.

He didn’t know if this was better or worse for him.

“We will not repeat ourselves, demon: What did you do to our kid?” Tang demanded with a glare as sharp as knives. MK soon found himself surrounded, breath turning shorter and shorter as his family came closer and looked ready to tear him apart if it meant getting the answers they wanted. Yet he could only see the image of the calabash copies of his family and mentor pouncing at him to prevent him from escaping, countless nightmares of them successfully trapping them in his “perfect” world weighing on his spine.

So it was only natural that he panicked when they all descended upon him as he remained silent, throat closed up in sheer anxiety. It had happened so fast but before MK knew it, he had bound them all in web cocoons without even meaning to. 

Yet he took the opportunity while they were struggling to free themselves to go for the most logical course of action according to his panic-ridden brain: run away, far and fast. He didn’t even know where he was going, all MK knew was that he had to make himself scarce around the city until he could finally use his glamor again. If he wasn't sick from panic, he could almost laugh at the image of himself struggling to balance all eight of his spider legs on the staff as he pogoed through the city.

So it shouldn’t really have surprised to find himself on the beach of Flowering Fruit Mountain, the monkeys scattering away in fear at the sight of him as he created a small crater in the sand.

The following silence was deafening, allowing his thoughts to continue to run wild without anything to focus on. He only faintly realized that tears were running down his face as the mountain breeze gently blew against him, as if trying to offer its own form of comfort as he spiraled. 

MK couldn't stop seeing the faces of his loved ones, his family, as they looked at him with such hatred and rage. He tried to keep reminding himself that it was only because they didn't know it was him, as far as they knew he was a random powerful demon who managed to get their hands on the staff. But tell that to his heart, which felt like it was genuinely breaking into pieces. The pain was enough to put MK to his knees, choking on his tears and grip on the staff tight enough to make the joints of his exoskeleton-plated hands ache.

"Kid? You here kid?" MK didn't even think, he found himself scrambling towards the familiar voice of the Monkey King, desperate for comfort. Sun Wukong grunted as he found his arms now full of a panicked spider demon but was able to adjust his footing before he could lose his balance. He let out a sigh of relief, no longer struggling to hold since he had lifted far heavier people in his long life. Questions died on his tongue as the sound of muffled sobs entered his ears, his successor’s face buried in his fur as if wanting nothing more than to hide from the world.

“What happened bud? You wanna talk about it?” MK was silent for a moment before he gave a garbled response in the Monkey King’s fur. “Sorry, what was that?”

“A demon messed with my glamor, leaving me stuck like this and they saw me. They didn’t know it was me and they saw the staff and they thought… they hated me,” he rambled, a fresh round of tears leaving his four eyes. Wukong remained silent but silently walked towards his home, MK still in his arms.

“Oh kid, I’m so sorry. You know that they wouldn’t be that way if they knew that it’s you. But that definitely explains why Pigsy called me, threatening to eviscerate me the moment he saw me if anything had happened to you,” Wukong gave a smile at the wheezy chuckle MK let out at the image of his boss and father figure calling the Monkey King just to rip into him. Yeah, that sounded like Pigsy alright. “I think I can fix up whatever that demon did to your glamor. Then you can hang out here for a while, if you want, before going back home. That sound good bud?”

“Yeah… sounds great Monkey King,” MK answered before letting out a yawn, now left exhausted now that the anxiety and panic has leaked from his system with the presence of his other father figure mentor there to comfort him. Wukong gave a chuckle, gently placing MK down on his couch and putting on Monkey King: The Animated Series without a second thought. Seemingly realizing that he was no danger to them or their king, the monkeys quickly began to use MK as their personal jungle gym without any fear. That seemed to do the trick, as he was now chuckling at the sight of the little monkey’s looking at the doodles on his exoskeleton with curiosity.

Wukong watched the scene before him with a warm look in his eyes before it quickly hardened as he slipped out of his home for a moment. Pulling out his phone, he gave a deep sigh to calm himself before tapping to call a very specific number.

“Sun Wukong, to what do I owe the pleasure?” A velvety voice answered upon the third ring.

“A demon severely messed up the kid and I figured you’d like to… return the favor,” he answered, voice dead serious.

The line went silent, the echoes of enraged hissing barely audible in the background.

“What did they do to my baby?” Any hint of playfulness was gone in the voice, the Spider Queen enraged to know that someone had harmed her son in such a way to make the Monkey King willing to contact her.

“Messed with his glamor and the others saw him, nearly attacked him thinking he was a demon that had managed to get the staff. He’s fine physically but he’s an emotional mess. All the kid was able to tell me was that they specialize in glamor magic. Think you can work off that?”

“Of course I can, what do you take me for?! But… is he alright?” Wukong smiled, almost quipping about her getting soft over the years but she could very easily call him a hypocrite.

“I have him with me and have everything under control. Just do what you do best S.Q. and I’ll keep in touch, ‘kay?” Everything about him was casual yet the look in the Monkey King’s eyes was nothing but fire that promised he would have burned whoever harmed his kid without mercy, if he wasn’t “retired”.

“Of course, might as well make use of your “retirement” after all. I’ll make sure to make our… displeasure to that foolish demon evident for the both of us. Take care of my spiderling Wukong, otherwise I will figure out a way to make you mortal to end you.” Despite her tone, Spider Queen was only half serious since she knew ending the Monkey King would make MK upset with her. And the last thing she wanted to do was lose her spiderling after searching for him for so long.

“Sure you will S.Q., I totally believe that. But until later, see ya!” Wukong said before hanging up, satisfied but antsy which was typical after every occasion he spoke with the Spider Queen. Walking back inside, he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of MK now fast asleep with the monkey’s cuddled around him.

Totally worth it.

[lexosaurus]

Happy

A fic for dp side hoes week 2021!

Character: Sam Theme: Happiness

This fic was made especially with my good friend @ghostgothgeek in mind. Happy birthday, Steph! Thank you so much for everything you've done for me from helping me get into grad school, to helping me with my DST homework at 2am. You're such an amazing friend and I am SO so lucky to have you in my life. Love ya! Have a good one!

---

There was a lot that made Sam happy.

Rainy days where she could curl up with a good book, her weekly slam poetry meetup group, horror movies, that one hole in the wall coffee joint run by a woman who reminded Sam of her grandmother. Sam had so many little moments in her week that made her happy.

She knew some people—especially her mom—would be surprised by this. After all, Sam was the gloomy goth. The “dark and mysterious” teenage girl. The one who was constantly at rallies fighting for animals rights or renewable energy plans from the government. She knew how she came off, she wasn’t stupid.

But at the end of the day, she was still a teenager. And even with all that was wrong with the world, there was still so much that was right.

Like right now, sitting here with Danny. Well...sitting might have been too strong of a word. She was sitting, that much was accurate, but Danny had long since fallen asleep, having given up on math after an hour of struggling. Sam was going to wake him, but he just looked so peaceful, with his black hair brushing down on his face, his hand resting under his cheek.

So cute. 

She wasn’t exactly sure when their relationship had taken a turn from “just friends” to something more. If she had to pinpoint it, it might have been soon after the “fake out make out” session. Sure, she’d had feelings for him before, but that day just changed something between them. Something that neither of them could explain, neither could admit, but she knew that both of them felt.

It didn’t take too long after then for the study sessions to start. Just the two of them, alone, in one of their rooms, pouring over notes as Danny desperately tried to salvage his GPA. More than once, Sam had caught him sneaking glancing over to her when he thought she was utterly focused on her assignments. But Sam never said anything.

After all, she had been sneaking glances over at him too.

Eventually, it reached a point where Tucker called them lovebirds—as he always teased—but instead of the defensive, “We’re not lovebirds!” exclamation they reflexively shouted, Sam and Danny just blushed and looked away.

Sam would never forget the light of recognition in Tucker’s eyes, followed by a cheshire grin trained pointedly at Sam. If she hadn’t been so tomato-faced in the moment, she might have kicked his shin.

After that, the atmosphere around their study sessions changed. There was a new tension in the air that both of them could feel, but neither would acknowledge. 

Sam knew that in the end, she would have to be the one to make the first move. Danny was...well, he was Danny. He was an insecure, teenage boy. Sam could put up a neon sign shouting, “I LIKE YOU” above her head, and Danny would still doubt her.

But, as forward and outgoing as Sam was, she was still...Sam. The passionate, vegan goth of the grade. She wasn’t popular, she wasn’t surrounded by loads of other girls all the time. She wasn’t invited to the parties, girls didn’t come up to her to talk about their weekends or their crushes or anything else that could be interpreted as a budding friendship.

Danny and Tucker were her only friends. If Sam pursued Danny, and things didn’t end well, then she would have no one.

It was too much of a risk.

So Sam held off.

Anytime they were studying, and she saw Danny glancing her way, Sam wouldn’t meet his gaze. If it was movie night, Sam started sitting next to Tucker instead of Danny. After a big ghost fight, when Danny looked to her with adrenalin-filled, electric green eyes, Sam would walk away.

It hurt—it hurt so bad—but she couldn’t risk ruining their friendship. As much as she prided herself on her independence, she still was just a teen girl. 

She wanted to be liked. She wanted friends. 

But the crush wasn’t going away, the energy between them refused to dissipate. If anything, it was more obvious than before.

It was Sam’s mother of all people who finally, at one awkwardly silent dinner table conversation, was the one to talk some sense into Sam.

“So...you and that Fenton boy,” Pam had said, stirring her fork around her plate. “When were you going to tell me about that?”

Sam felt the blood drain from her face. She tried to play it off. “What do you mean?”

“Sammykins, I may be an adult now, but I was a teenage girl once. I’m not stupid. I may not...approve of that boy and his family. But seeing as you two are obviously an item now, and I want to support you as my daughter, I would expect you to invite him over to dinner to formally meet me and your father please.”

“We’re not—”

“Don’t be silly!” Grandma Ida piped up from across the table. “I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. You kids aren’t the sly foxes you think you are!”

There was a certain level of embarrassment at being called out by parents that Sam presumed came in the territory of being a teenager. But after the initial shock wore off, she realized something crucial:

Sam really really liked Danny Fenton.

Perhaps more than she thought she did.

So it was during another study session that it finally happened. The awkward energy was palpable, and she knew that Danny felt it too. Even if he would never say anything.

But when Danny glanced up at Sam, Sam finally looked back.

She saw the slight flush enter his cheeks as his eyes started to dart back down at his paper. But before he could retreat back in his metaphorical shell too much, Sam blurted out, “I like you.”

The pink dusting on his cheeks had spread across his face. His eyebrows shot up, and his mouth hung open like a fish. “I—uh—I think—what?”

She put her pencil down and hid her shaking hands inside the sleeves of her oversized black hoodie. “I like you. A lot.”

“Oh. I...”

Their eyes were locked, violet against blue. Sam wanted to look away, but she was never one to back down from a challenge.

“Oh.” Danny blinked, a grin slowly spreading across his lips. “I like you. Too, I mean. I like you too.”

Sam blinked. Once, then twice. But whatever she was waiting for—the “psych!” that her insecurities were sure he would say—never came. Relief spread across her body, followed by something else. Something warm, something bright.

Something like joy.

She didn’t think about anything after. She just leaned in and kissed him, allowing her body to take over. Danny reciprocated, his lips soft and gentle, as if he were worried about hurting Sam.

That much about him still hadn’t changed, not even months later. Danny still was gentle, sometimes too gentle. He still was often afraid to grab her hand, or reach out and hug her.

But, slowly, a level of comfort was beginning to settle between the duo, and with that followed confidence. It was small, it was subtle, but Sam could see Danny’s progression over the last few months. Slowly he was starting to lean over and kiss her first, or he would text her first, or he would reach over and take her hand just because. Slowly he was getting there.

And she could see her own progression too. The “what-ifs” that had plagued her life before were slowly diminishing. She was more confident now—not just on the outside, but the inside too.

And she’d even made a friend outside of Danny and Tucker. Mia, a girl who hung just outside of Paulina’s clique, had slowly become an unlikely friend, the two hitting it off after they realized that they listened to the same bands one day in class.

Sam was happy. Even if her dorky half-ghost boyfriend was sleeping instead of doing his homework, which meant Sam now had to wake him up and re-explain all the concepts. Even if sometimes Tucker teased them in that immature way he did, or if she felt at constant odds with the city about its lack of environmental awareness, or if Sam’s parents still made snide comments about the “wacky, lunatic Fenton boy’s parents.”

Sam was happy.

Which is why she leaned over and shook said dorky boyfriend awake. “Wake up, Danny. You’ve slept enough.”

Danny groaned, lazily shoo-ing her hand off his shoulder. “Come on, Sam, don’t be a party pooper.”

“What, gonna leave me to do all this by myself? Not even gonna help me a little?” Sam teased.

“Ugh, fine.” Danny pushed himself upright and rubbed the fatigue from his eyes. 

“My knight in shining armor.” 

Grinning, Danny closed the distance between them, pressing his soft lips onto hers. He was cold to the touch, but Sam thrived in the cold.

She broke the kiss, leaning back ever so slightly to gaze into his icy blue eyes. Up close, she could even see little freckles dotting his skin.

“Cute, but we still have homework,” she said.

Danny rolled his eyes and with a dramatic, “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” grabbed his notebook and pencil off the ground and readied himself for another hour of math.

Even with another treacherous hour of math ahead of them, when Sam looked at her dorky half-ghost boyfriend, his slightly crooked smile, his slightly too long black hair that was styled in such a way that could only be achieved through a high-speed flight, she couldn’t help but feel content.

Happy.

---

Thanks for reading!

[ladyyatexel]

I Went On A Manga Binge

So you don't have to

For those of you who have wisely avoided the shreds of it I've left around the blog thus-far, I had some weird notion to go re-experience Yu-Gi-Oh uuuuuh a week ago? We'll go with that. Time is meaningless.

I'd been able to read a good portion of the early manga at the end of highschool, and somewhere in my stacks and stacks of paper is fanart from this dark time, so you know I cared. I also still own a Dark Magician action figure somehow, so. I'd also watched a large portion of the anime with my brother because it had been laced with some kind of crack and we couldn't look away? I remember when we both were just like shit, wait, don't change the channel, I can't stop looking at it. And the next thing we knew we were waiting for new episodes and I was doing research on the Japanese original because I was that kid.

Anyway, unnecessary backstory out of the way, here are some... let's call them Observations and Consequences of having read somewhere in the neighborhood of 300 chapters (and growing) of a manga primarily hinged on card games from a spectrum of sources ranging from boringly lawful to sketchy as fuck.

Surprise actual character that develops in typical shounen fashion being Jounouchi. My limited experiences with the 4Kids dub and only early manga had not painted him in a particularly good light. I don't know if episodes were being aired out of order or if I had just missed the ones that established that he was making shit up as he was going along, but Wow I liked him a lot more going through the manga than I ever did watching the (dubbed, heavily edited and censored and thrown into a slurry machine) anime. I'd managed to come out with the impression that he was just as reasonably experienced with the game as Yugi back in the day. Wild.

I'm now reading every single comic-style post on Tumblr backwards.

Striking inverse to first point, wow, I don't like Seto Kaiba. Though he gets points for his general philosophy of the future, and the line I read in my sketchy online combo of scans and scanlations in which he said, "If God is in your way, you run him down," was Metal As Fuck. I somewhat shame-facedly admit to enjoying him a lot more as an Abridged Series character. (I watched Abridged as it came out back in the day! The experience of watching the anime with my brother had been so fresh that I got all the in jokes about the way things were edited and dubbed, it was great. Series remains influential part of my life to this day, which is hella weird.)

I almost understand how Duel Monsters works now. I don't want this.

That said, wow a lot of the decisions made in the anime made everything a lot more ridiculous than the admittedly already ridiculous original. I got the distinct feeling in the manga that the Duelist Kingdom stuff we were seeing was designed to be used and exploited in ways that don't make sense in an actual cardgame just played on a table like a normal person and this was part of testing everyone to think higher, differently. Maybe this is obvious to everyone already, I don't know. I had always liked that it was very, 'Not so fast, I'm going to blow up the moon to change the tides,' but I'm not really sure the anime gave enough explanation that this was an extra layer added to things for that event? You can see people actively getting used to it in the books, and people who aren't considering the real or 3D nature of it getting owned, but my memory of anime version is everyone just like, 'oh, shucks, fuck me, I forgot to consider the phase of the moon before i played this card, can't believe I forgot.' No one calls Yugi on any of this stuff because it's valid play in that situation. Plus Yami Yugi had mad trickster energy in the beginning and it suited him to think of ways to do things inside these little simulation boxes the way it suited him to set perverts on fire. I imagine the real card game trying to emulate this element as something that would be to its detriment, but I neither know nor particular care haha

Ryou Bakura.

Really, though. I think he became kind of casualty of 'wow, we have a lot of characters who really aren't able to do anything in this story anymore,' despite the fact that his whole inner life could have been as interesting as Yugi's. I always like thinking about the possibilities of stories in which main character falls into magical world and is given magical item and told they're the hero and then they find out they've been the bad guy the whole time. The first several volumes of manga were about the quiet weirdo kid that no one talked to who was always blacking out and turning into a fucked up version of himsef because he was so attached to his ancient Egyptian jewelry, so like, Bakura could have much the same shit going on. I want to know what's happening with him so much. He clearly doesn't love being possessed, but he's also so drawn to the ring. Despite it having stabbed him at least twice and him knowing it's a danger to him and his friends, he keeps being pulled back into it. You see so much more of him being like, 'Oooh, a creepy thing, I love that! :D' in the manga than ever in the anime, which I'm all about. Also more blood. I'm very about that as well. Though my memory of the anime also made it look very much like normal regular daily Bakura was just a weird facade in places before he ever would have been. I think that was it trying to compensate for what people didn't see from the Toei anime, but okay whatever, that I love everything about this guy is not news, I don't need to talk about Bakura excessively here, I'm pretty sure that's gonna show up on my blog by itself

On a related note though, damn, more of these people need to talk to each other. Can we have some existential crisis support clubs or something. Can we get like some apologies or something? "I respect you as a duelist." "Cool, but you literally built a tower designed to specifically assassinate me and my friends? You were supposed to get Better after I retaliated by putting you in a coma, but you kinda didn't." "Why would the coma have made it better" "I just told you it didn't" ---- "Sorry I went along with the plan of your evil parasite stabbing you, misled you, and then also jumped in and took up some real estate in your head too." "I understand, I also have an evil thing inside me that does things while I'm blacked out." "...no, I was conscious for all of that." "Oh." "..." "..." "..." "Do you like Ouija Boards?" "sure okay" ETC. Like damn we are reading shounen manga because no one is talking extensively about their feelings here and I'm tapping my foot angrily.

Holy shit there are so many mythologies happening at once. The ancient family guarding the Egyptian Pharaoh has a surname that's a Mesopotamian goddess. None of the god cards make any Egyptian sense except Ra, and just like. Baaarrrrely. Somewhere either Evil Ring Bakura or Mar/lik makes a reference to cremation and spirits being taken to heaven with smoke which several things, but definitely not Ancient Egyptian. Marik/Malik meanwhile is clearly trying to head Arabic, along with Rishid, but then, hey, our sister is just Isis. Goddess McGoddess. Sometimes they're the same goddess! Her name could be Isis Isis or Ishtar Ishtar. Meanwhile, all the obviously 'occult because Christians think it is freaky' stuff. ~ancient egyptian pentagrams~~~This isn't a complaint, I guess so much as a 'Wow, I can kind of see the cultural spot the author was coming from and where he was aiming' kind of thing.

Wonder where things would have gone if the card games had not been latched onto the way they were.

Managed to forget how gross the pre-cardgames stuff was on the sexual harassment front. I'm glad there was a sort of explanation of everyone drifting away from being dick heads and that that decision was made. It got way more comfortable to read after no one was bringing Yugi p*rn on VHS.

Yugi looks better with a nose, glad we got that upgrade.

Interesting to watch the series style shift as it goes away from being horror to being over the top cardgames and friendship (with blood!). The first picture of Mokuba is fucking Jarring. Also noticed that the nicer a character is, the less their teeth are defined.

Glad manga did not go as completely off the fucking the rails about Marik's face. I never got as far as seeing him back in the day because college occurred, but I remember seeing pictures and stuff and being like, "what in the Fuck happened to that dude, I think the house style has collapsed in on itself"

Things the author Really Likes: motorcycles, belts, SHOES, holy shit the shoes. These are some of the most lovingly rendered sneakers I've ever seen. All the detail on his characters goes straight to their feet and then it's stretched upward until it forms stiff peaks. Gently fold in 3000 years of trauma and bake face down in a crumb coat of scattered mythology. Remove when you roll two zeros.

Where the fuck am I going to put the extremely large omnibus volumes of this comic I purchased in order to balance out how much I would be reading for free on the internet. I should have grasped that a three in one edition would be Thick and yet somehow I was still :O when it arrived. Have I strategically purchased volumes that contain my favorite parts, maybe, what's it to you will i eventually get the whole thing because incomplete book series gnaw on my soul? yes

Wish the transition from "I've murdered several people in delightfully karmic ways" to "all you need is friendship in your heart and cards in your hand" Yami Yugi/Pharaoh had been discussed more/transitioned better. Buddy, where did you get this approved for television high horse? Please go back to strangling people with yo-yos or at least tell me why you stopped.

I still can't tell anything that looks like a big robotic monster apart from any other big robotic monster. My dude, I can't tell cars apart, all these monsters look the same.

Yami Yugi fascinated me way more in highschool? Maybe because it was still super early and the anime was like 'we need to torture you about his origins WeEkLy. Now I'm just like 'wait hold on, can we go back to Bakura and Marik for a minute, there's some extreme unpacking to do here?' Those two are paying so much more in baggage fees here my guy wow

Violently uninterested in any of the spinoff media

[all-that-tmnt-jazz]

I thought of this idea and was curious if you’d be able to do head cannons on it because your writing is amazing— how would the turtles react to having a human S/O that can turn into a mutant whenever they please?

Ooh I like this one!!

Warnings: Swearing.

Incarnation: Bayverse

Extra Info: The mutant the reader can turn into will be different for each turtle- don’t worry, I’ll explain each one.

Leo:

So, your mutation never really came up in conversation

However, it only came up because you had (accidentally) been dragged into a fight with the Foot Clan

You and Leo had been on a date when Donnie had reported Foot Clan activity not far from your apartment

He tried to convince you to lock yourself inside, but you figured it would be a good time to reveal yourself

So, you managed to be dragged into the fight a few blocks away, joined by Raph, Donnie, and Mikey

You watch the boys struggle. You want to help, but you also want to wait for the perfect time

So you wait until you’re being cornered by four Foot Clan soldiers, and the brothers are busy

Perfect.

One of the Foot Clan soldiers tries to throw a small knife at you…

And you caught it.

“Shouldn’t have done that.”

You throw the knife back and hit the soldier

Using the distraction, you turn

The next time the soldiers look at you, wings have sprouted from your back, your eyes have gotten much larger, talons had grown from your fingertips and through your shoes, and your legs had gotten longer to a scary extent.

You are a half-human half-owl mutant.

“It’s showtime.”

You jumped off of the ground and immediately grabbed two of the three soldiers that had tried to attack you

You flew up above the city, not afraid to press your talons into their skin

You unashamedly flung the two Foot Clan soldiers into the Hudson, then watched them struggle as the current pulled them

You went back to the alleyway where the turtles were, watching from far above as they were continuing to fight the Foot Clan soldiers.

It was like they didn’t notice.

You dove down into the alley and pulled up at the last second, grabbing Foot Clan soldiers as you went.

You dropped them into the Hudson as well

You went back to the turtles, who had retreated to the rooftops to converse about what jus happened.

You were able to grab Leo and brought him many, many blocks away, and he was fighting the entire time

You put him down and landed in front of him- it was weird being taller than him for once…

You turned back, and he gasped.

“Y/N… That was… You?”

You nodded.

“I figured I should tell you at some point but it never came up in conversation.”

He just looked at you, unsure of what to think

He pulled you to his plastron and held you, then pulled your chin up gently

“You’re fucking amazing.”

Raph:

Raph always noticed you looking at him

Especially since oftentimes, you would be looking sad

You knew you had to tell him at some point, but it hurt your heart too much

You had gotten cursed and your lifespan became elongated

Also known as semi-immortal

And Raph was not

You’re body has been 18 for years, but you’re actually nearing your 30s

That was why you had been so against getting into a relationship

You denied him every time he asked you, until the day he turned 19- just to be sure

That was three years ago, and you started seeing signs that he wanted to propose

And you were proven right, one night at dinner

It was just you and him at the Lair- he had talked his brothers into leaving him behind while going on patrol this night

Things were going well, yes, but you knew the reason why he wanted to be alone with you

“Y/N, I’ve loved you for years. I want to be your for the rest of my life, if you’ll let me be in the rest of yours.”

You started crying.

He smiled, thinking they were happy tears

“Raph, I… I don’t know.”

His face dropped, but he nodded

“It’s okay, Darling. You aren’t ready, and I shouldn’t-”

“I’m not mortal, Raph.”

There was a long silence between you two

You tried to stop crying

“I’m semi-immortal, Raph. I… I got cursed years ago. I stop aging and will die eventually, just later than you because my life span will be longer… Much longer… Maybe even by centuries, I don’t know…”

He just stared at you, confused, and almost hurt

The only noise was your crying

You didn’t know what to do

Raph kneeled on the ground in front of you, all possible hurt gone from his face

“Y/N, how old are you really?”

“Um… 29. I’ve been physically 18 for-”

“11 years?” Raph asked you, shocked.

You could only nod.

“That’s why you kept saying no- it felt wrong to you.”

You nodded again. 

He hugged you. You tensed, but soon relaxed into him when you realized he wouldn’t be letting go

“Is there anything you can control?”

“I… Just… Yeah.”

“May I ask what it is?”

You hiccupped- you had a bad feeling of where this was going.

“Age manipulation…”

“What?”

“Age manipulation. I can accelerate or reverse the age of organisms and non-living objects…”

You knew the lightbulb went off in his head the moment you said it

He let go of the hug, but remained holding your shoulders

“Raph, I know what your thinking, but no! It can backfire and you-”

“I don’t care-”

“You could forget memories, people, places. You could forget your brothers, even me!”

There’s another long silence

You see the light drain slowly from his eyes

You shrugged his hands from your shoulders and put your face in your hands

“I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have let it come this far…”

He hugged you again, pulling you off of your chair to put you in his lap

“You’re worth that risk, Y/N.”

“Raph, your brothers-”

“I can’t forget them- I have too many scars and too many memories to forget those assholes.”

You chuckled dryly. 

“I’m sorry for not telling you.”

“It’s okay. You were scared… I know it’s easy to be scared when you have such a big secret to hide.”

You nodded against his plastron and snuggled as close as you could

“I love you, Raph,” you tell him. “I really do.”

“I love you forever.”

You smiled- genuinely.

“Then, yes.”

“Yes?” he asked. “What do you mean?”

“To your proposal. I’m saying yes.”

He held you even tighter

Donnie:

Despite loving Donnie with your whole heart, it was hard to be around him while he was in his lab

He had so many thoughts running through his head, it was hard to keep track

So, you often spent your time in the kitchen, talking to you deceased mother

You possess telepathic powers, and you are also a necromancer

You can hear thoughts and speak to the dead after a freak accident you witnessed in your mother’s lab years ago

It was the accident that killed her, but you didn’t know that until your father told you to prepare for her funeral

That was five years before you met Donnie

You were 17 when you met him four years ago, and had been dating for three of them.

You had been able to control it when you were 17, but then when you met Donnie, you had to re-learn

You had never met someone who thinks so much, and so loudly

You can listen to the thoughts of his brothers, too, and you find Leo’s is the most entertaining

(You’ve never heard him physically swear, but his mind is like a sailor)

But Donnie’s is the one who overwhelms you.

“Y/N, you need to tell him,” you mother says to you. “I can tell he’s starting to feel bad- you keep leaving without explanation.”

“I know, Ma. I just-”

“Y/N, who are you talking to?”

You’re heart stopped for a moment. You slowly looked at the doorway, where Donnie loomed

He was totally confused

Thoughts ran through his head

Are they okay? Is something wrong? Maybe they’re just talking to themself. Yeah-

“You’re wrong.” you say to him.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I know. I still heard what you were thinking.”

“I’m sorry- you heard what I was thinking?”

You glanced at your mother, who had moved to stand next to Donnie

She nodded before disappearing

“I possess telepathic powers, and I’m a necromancer. I was talking to my mom- about telling you, actually.”

Donnie looks at you, shocked

His thoughts were louder than ever and were moving faster than you had ever heard

You covered your ears and closed your eyes- like that would help

He noticed this, and realization

They way I think is like someone screaming in your ear as loud as possible?

He thinks, knowing you were listening

“Yeah. I… I’m sorry,” you whisper, not moving

He approached you, but you didn’t see.

That’s why you leave the lab so suddenly sometimes? It gets overwhelming?

You nod.

He gently removes your hands from your ears and you finally look up at him

He smiles at you, almost guilty

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Don. You can’t help it.”

He takes you into his arms and holds you close

“Thank you for telling me, Y/N. Is there anything I can do?”

Mikey:

Okay, your mutation isn’t too spectacular

But it’s a mutation nonetheless

You were a test subject of the first recreation of mutagen that Shredder ordered Sacks and Stockman to make

But the Shredder and Sacks soon realized you wanted to rebel

Besides, your body was having different effects than they had hoped

So, they released you

And you went to the police

But did they believe you? No.

But a few years later, you saw Shredder fall. You saw Sacks get arrested.

Oh, now the NYPD listens

And when the man who “saved New York” was revealed, you immediately could tell he didn’t

“The Falcon” was a fake- you were surprised that everyone believe his story

Then two more years go by, and Shredder escapes prison, and then a “threat from the sky” tried to attack

But it was stopped- supposedly by “The Falcon” again

But this time, you knew it couldn’t have been him

A week after the incident, you saw a police escort heading toward Lower Manhattan

So, you followed.

Well, hitched a ride on the back of one of the trucks- which was easy in your mutant form

You hid when they stopped, then followed the path the officers made to a boat

In your mutant form, they let you onto the boat without question

Then, you saw the things that actually saved the city, proving your point

They were four turtle-human mutants- like yourself, but different animals. Obviously.

As the boat started to leave the docks, you approached the turtles, only you knowing that you shared their status as mutants

The one wearing an orange bandana immediately started cooing at you, picking you up off of the ground

“What a cute kitty… Leo, can we keep it?” he asked the turtle with the blue bandana

“We don’t know where it’s been, Mikey,” Leo had said.

So the one holding me is Mikey…

Mikey holds you the entire boat ride- and you don’t like to mention that you loved the way he pet you

Yup. you are a house cat. Specifically, a calico Turkish Angora

So, you followed Mikey off of the boat, and he kept smiling down at you as he walked

You soon realized you were at the Statue of Liberty

You saw that most- if not the entire police force of New York was gathered, as well as the Falcon, a woman from Channel Six named April, and some Ragamuffin Hockey Player-Turned-Police Officer

Then you saw Chief Vincent standing at a podium as she started speaking about the turtles who stood next to her

She thanked them for their bravery and service to this city and gave them Keys to the City

After a while of talking, she approached them to have a small group conversation for a moment

Then, she let them into the Statue of Liberty, and let them go into the statue’s torch

You followed them, of course

After the turtle’s celebration amongst themselves, you made your presence known by rubbing against Mikey’s leg

He squatted and greeted you, petting you

You soon backed away, though, and walked to the other side of the torch

You knew he followed, so, before he caught up, you turned into your human form

When he saw you, he screamed

The others immediately rushed over, and were shocked

“Hi. I’m the cat you were petting earlier,” you said- rather casually

“How? You’re a- person!” Donatello said- you had heard Chief Vincent say his name

“Yeah, I’m a person who got screwed over by Sacks and Stockman. I got mutated just before he got arrested.”

There was a long silence.

“Prove it,” Raphael demanded.

You turned into your mutant form and sat. You licked your paw, then looked up at Raphael, who had gone pale

All of them had gone pale, really, except Mikey

“Woah- you’re kinda like us, then?” Mikey asked.

You turned back and agreed.

“Awesome, dude!”

That was nearly five years ago now. Now, you and Mikey are dating, and have been for three and a half years

You never knew you’d meet your best friends because of the mutation you had wanted so badly to hate

[x0401x]

Febri Talk Interview with Jin (Complete)

Commissioned by the lovely @sodasexual​ again!

Part 1: overwhelmed by the power of friendship in “The☆Doraemons: Kaitou Dorapan no Chousenjou!”

Musician and creator Jin has been bringing countless topical works to the world, including “Kagerou Project”. In the first part of this serial interview, we had him talk about a work from the series “The☆Doraemons”, which he experienced in his childhood and continued to be influenced by for a long time.

A work that unexpectedly became one of the origins of “Kagerou Project”.

——Jin-san, we would like to ask you about anime shows that have had an influence on you, following in order from your infancy onwards, so would the first one be “The☆Doraemons: Kaitou Dorapan no Chousenjou!” (hereon, “The☆Doraemons”), which came out in the year 1997?

Jin: That’s right. I watched this one in the theaters when I was either 7 or 8 years old. It’s an animation short that was screened together with “Doraemon: Nobita no Neji-maki Toshi Bounen-ki”, and it had one hell of an impact on me. At the time, I was living in an isolated island in Hokkaido called Rishiri Island, so just getting to watch a movie was quite a spectacle in itself (laughs). Actually, not many animes were broadcasted in Rishiri Island to begin with. There were few channels, and other than that, they aired those black-and-white period dramas in cable TV, I guess.

——No, I think that last one is a stretch (laughs). Did you watch “Doraemon” because you liked it from the start?

Jin: I liked it a lot. But the so-called “The☆Doraemons” is a spin-off about six friends of different colors. If I were to talk about the contents of “Kaitou Dorapan” in a summarized way, it’s the story of the Doraemons receiving a letter of challenge from an mysterious enemy called Dorapan, then completely getting caught into his trap and falling into a pinch... And, surprisingly, Doraemon isn’t active at all in this movie (laughs).

——Aah, it’s a work where the Doraemon friends are the main characters, right?

Jin: That’s right. A duo that didn’t have much popularity among the friends, Dora-med III and Dora-rinho, were set as the main characters in this one (laughs). Of course, I didn’t go watch it thinking that Doraemon would participate actively, but he almost doesn’t do anything. Instead, we were shown these two, who are something like sub-characters, in a big scuffle. But when it ended, I began to really like Dora-med III and Dora-rinho.

——Ahaha. So you totally got into it.

Jin: They had something called a “Friendship Telephone Card”, which was introduced as a key item, and this “friendship” thing made the back of my nose sting – that was the kind of feeling I got from it. Dorapan, the one who plays the role of villain in this movie, attempts to take control of robots from all over the world using the power of the Doraemons’ Friendship Telephone Card. However, there’s actually a mastermind behind the scenes, and one heroine is taken hostage, so Dorapan is doing bad deeds because he has no choice. We find this out in the middle of the movie, and at that moment, Dora-rinho goes, “I see; so that’s what was going on” and voluntarily tries to sacrifice himself. By believing in self-sacrificing friendship, everyone was able to reach a happy ending. That kind of storyline was truly wonderful... To tell you the truth, the initial motif of Kagerou Project (hereon “KagePro”) was this movie.

Making KagePro out of wanting to create his own “Doraemons”.

——Eeh, is that so!?

Jin: I created KagePro because I wanted to write about friendship, or rather, I wanted to make my own “Doraemons”. I started KagePro when I was about 20 years old, as I was vaguely beginning to realize that friendship apparently doesn’t exist at that point in life (laughs). Also, same goes to music, of course, but among the books I was reading back then, quite a lot of them had cynical views. Although these stories were my own taste, I also had the impression that there was a generational trend in them, like “people shouldn’t look at this if they’re dumb” and “those who understand this thing are admirable”. Therefore, I did my best to pretend to be like that at first, but I gradually grew tired of it...

——Ahaha. You were getting out of breath.

Jin: That’s right. So, when I looked back, I thought, “I do like ‘Kaitou Dorapan’ after all”. Therefore, if I was going to make something by myself, I decided to use it as the theme. In that sense, amongst the things I watched in my childhood, this work was a turning point. After watching it in the theater for the first time, I watched it over and over again as rental video, and because of this, I even now remember the moments when the sound effects come in.

——Generation-wise, you’re precisely from the generation of “The☆Doraemons”.

Jin: Yeah, spot-on. Also, the Doraemons from “The☆Doraemons” are comical and cute, but on the other hand, they show us that they are extremely strong-willed characters. Moreover, the Doraemons are rich in individuality – as in, everyone is irregular and there are some characters that make you go, “Isn’t that a problem?” amongst them. For example, the wolf Dora-nichov can’t speak human language (laughs).

——I see! Thinking that way, I feel like I can see the points in common with KagePro.

Jin: Also, all of them are purely good guys. The fact that they’re all good people and only have one enemy is pretty awesome. I believe that this kind of thing has an influence on the KagePro series as a whole.

Part 2: paralyzed by the hardboiled worldview of “Cowboy Bebop”.

In the second part of this interview series, where we ask Jin about anime works that influenced him, we have “Cowboy Bebop”, a masterpiece still loved by many fans even now. Here, Jin, who works as both a musician and creator, discusses thoroughly about the appeal of it.

Learning the attitude and stance for creating things.

——You talked about how not many animes were aired in your homeland, but did you keep watching anime after that?

Jin: If you mean watching on TV, anime was what I enjoyed most. However, the shows on broadcast were limited, so when it comes to series that left an impression on me, it would be things like “Card Captor Sakura”, which I used to watch with my little sister. “Kinnikuman” was also re-aired and I liked it a lot. As expected, I was weak to “friendship” (laughs). When they were fighting for the throne or whatever, man, I cried, for real. This happened around the time I was in grade school, but when I got into middle school, I stopped watching anime entirely.

——And when you came back to it, it was right on time for...

Jin: For the series that I pointed out as second in line, “Cowboy Bebop”. Because my father had made up his mind to get his hands on a satellite television called SKY Perfect TV! I think he probably wanted to watch Discovery Channel, but back then, he also included Animax in the contract. And, by sheer coincidence, a re-run of “Cowboy Bebop” began right at that timing, around 2004 or 2005, I guess. I was a middle schooler then, and there were lots of CMs that went like, “Broadcast begins on X day of X month!” together with that opening theme by Kanno Youko-san.

——So that’s what caught your interest.

Jin: There was also the fact I’d been disconnected from anime for a while, so I watched the first episode not knowing anything. And the contents weren’t aimed at children at all (laughs). Dude sprayed an eye-drop drug into his eyes, went, “UWAH—!” and died, like.

——Ahaha. It was a shock.

Jin: “Cowboy Bebop” was my first time coming in contact with a hardboiled worldview. I was like, “What’s this? It’s so cool”. Until then, I had this impression that “anime was made for kids”, but for the first time, I felt like I was watching a drama. Plus, the story was interesting, so I was super hooked as I watched it, and while doing so, the episode “Jamming with Edward” (episode 9) had an impact on me.

——Satou Dai-san was the one who wrote the script for it, right? You later came to work together with Satou-san in “LISTENERS”.

Jin: That’s right. It was such an impact that it had me thinking, “You wouldn’t be able to do that in a TV drama”. And so, this ninth episode had me completely addicted to it, and in the end, I watched it up to the finale. Later on, when I began my own creations, I noticed that what I was doing overlapped with “Cowboy Bebop”, and when this happened, I realized I was doing something quite risky (laughs). To top it off, just when I thought, “There must be lots of animes like that out there”, there was surprisingly none.

The coolness of affirming that KagePro has both pop and hardcore songs and that this is what it is about!

——Ahaha. Did “Cowboy Bebop” have any influence on you? For example, on the music side...

Jin: Hmm... if you put it that way, maybe not (laughs). Only in the variety aspect of the narrative, as people call it. Each one of the 26 episodes has wholly different colors, so to say. They felt like a gashapon from which you couldn’t tell what was coming out next.

——Like, although there were episodes where they threw in comedy to their hearts contentment, there were also episodes that showed vigorous action.

Jin: When I think about it, there are also episodes that go through a simple approach by way of genres that even I would know. I think the creators must’ve had a lot of fun when making them. So when it comes to what influenced me, it I think it was the variation of songs. I think there probably aren’t that many composers like me, who make songs one by one and have no idea what song to write next.

——As in, you do it while intentionally deciding to change the tone and genre?

Jin: Rather than that, I guess it happens naturally. I was always the type who doesn’t listen to the same genre all the time – it’s like, “Today is rock day; tomorrow is punk day”. I believe it’s possible that “Cowboy Bebop” made me think this kind of feeling was valid. The themes also don’t have to be consistent, and even if you turn upside-down the things that you had been asserting in a previous episode, their value and meaning will still hold. Moreover, I didn’t think that the people who made “Cowboy Bebop” had to plan this stuff up in their heads and study about it so that they could put it to action. It just so happened that when they drew out the things they like and lined them up, it turned out the way it did.

——So they didn’t do it while aiming for that, but rather, it turned out to have a sense of variety to it when it was finished.

Jin: And I think it’s amazing because it validates itself with that. So I guess being able to say all we have to say is what actually matters (laughs). If I were to affirm, “This is what KagePro is about!”, then that’d be pretty much it. Even though there are both pop and hardcore songs in KagePro, nobody can say, “That doesn’t feel like KagePro”. That’s why I think that the coolness of proudly declaring, “That’s what it is!” is something I learned from Bebop. Like, “This is what’s cool”. It feels like, on my own accord, I accepted something that was like a stance to be taken when you create these kinds of things.

Part 3: obsessing over “Tokyo Godfathers”, which had developments where one couldn’t predict what lay ahead.

This is the third part of the interview series where the creator Jin talks about works that influenced him. Here, he discusses about a hidden masterpiece from the director Kon Satoshi, which also had a great influence on “Kagerou Project” and which he encountered during his vocational school years, while living a wasteful life.

——The third work is “Tokyo Godfathers” by Director Kon Satoshi, but when was it that you watched it?

Jin: It was during my vocational school years. After graduating from high school, I attended a vocational music school located in Sapporo, but my upperclassmen from that school taught me many bad ways of having fun (laughs). I used to buy lots of sick equipment. Then, obviously, I’d run out of money, so I worked to death in part-time jobs, and well, lived a wasteful life (laughs), but during that time, a friend from my class lent me a DVD of “Hidamari Sketch”. At first, I told him, “Nah, I’m not too into this kinda stuff”, but when I took it home and watched it, I wailed aloud.

——Ahaha.

Jin: That’s why I asked Asumi Kana-san (who voices Yuno) to play KagePro’s main heroine... Anyhow, “Hidamari Sketch” became the cue for me to start watching anime again. And Director Kon Satoshi was from Sapporo, so it was probably being featured in a video shop. “Tokyo Godfathers” is a 2003 movie, but I saw it in the video in 2008 or 2009.

——What piqued your interest about it?

Jin: It was tremendously well-done and fun, and on top of that, it was sharp – a work like no other up until then, I thought. A dramatic production with parallel storylines focusing on different characters is incorporated within the span of about an hour and half as if it weren’t enough. During that same time, there were also works by Mitani Kouki-san and Isaka Koutarou-san’s “Golden Slumber” was being made into live action, so I believe that the so-called multi-protagonist story kind of approach was being used in all sorts of places. But even among them, “Tokyo Godfathers” was outstandingly interesting. “Where the heck is this story heading to?” You can’t tell at all until the end. Three homeless people pick up a baby on Christmas night and try to take her to her mother, but as the story goes on, it gets to a climax like, “Does she even have a mother in the first place?”. Plus, we find out that the person who they thought to be the mother and handed the baby over to is actually someone who kidnapped her from a hospital. The story just keeps changing over and over.

As the story progresses, the characters’ pasts become visible. It was interesting that the past and present were firmly bound together.

——We can’t predict what comes next at all, huh?

Jin: So, the topic will go back to KagePro now: when I thought of writing a novel, first of all, I decided that I “wanted to do a multi-protagonist story”. To make a story like the one from “The☆Doraemons” into a multi-protagonist story. Back then, I really liked the type of novels that went on in first person – such as works by Isaka-san or Morimi Tomihiko-san, and also Yonezawa Honobu-san.

——I see, I see.

Jin: On the other hand, “Tokyo Godfathers” is structured so that the characters’ pasts can be seen more and more as the story progresses. As if the story progresses with the past mini-arcs as the main focus. Like, “Person A and Person B were actually parent and child!” – it was interesting that the past and the present were bound together so firmly. Moreover, the developments go on at an incredible speed, and there’s a proper catharsis at the end. Also, all the characters that show up in it have rich facial expressions.

——To begin with, the fact that the three main characters are homeless is a twist.

Jin: In the first place, it starts with the main heroine spitting onto people in the streets from a rooftop (laughs). I really like those sharp-edged points of it too. “Tokyo Godfathers” has a content that can be written even if the protagonists were parent and child from an ordinary household. But through making the protagonists homeless, it became extremely vivid.

——It’s as if it turns them into down-to-earth characters and gives you a sensation that they connect with the audience’s “present”.

Jin: If I were to speak of other words by Director Kon Satoshi, I also think that “Paprika” and “Sennen Joyuu” are amazing. But on the other hand, I end up thinking, “They’re so wonderful”. As in, “Awesome, aren’t they? I don’t get them very well, though” (laughs). But “Tokyo Godfathers” is a candid form of entertainment that even an idiot like me can instantly get hooked on. The fact that I indeed want to keep doing entertainment resides strongly inside me.

——Listening to you talk like this, Jin-san, it makes me think that the books you read and movies you watched because you liked them reflect straightforwardly in your own manner of expressing yourself.

Jin: I myself think that I’m usually straightforward (laughs). Rather than “I want it to be seen like this” or “I want people to think of it like that”, I prioritize “I want to do this” and “this is fun”, so to say. By multiplying “The☆Doraemons” to “Tokyo Godfathers”, it turned into “Kagerou Project” (laughs). I feel like that’s my foundation.

[percabethfiles]

Charlie

Uh... Hello? Anybody still here? I haven't been around in years and years. But I keep my fandoms stored in some corner of my brain waiting for something to tug them out. And of all things this time it was Taylor Swift re-releasing her old songs, because I used to imagine so many percabeth scenes listening to "Fearless". So have this little something that's been sitting unfinished in my archives for years now.

Remember that time Percy saw Sadie Kane and thought “Hey, this is what mine and Annabeth’s daughter would look like”? Yes.

(Also there are small nods to that fic I wrote about Logan, Hidden Heritage, but I've been meaning to re-write it someday because there were SO MANY PLOT HOLES omg)

When they find out it’s a girl it’s a bit too soon to know for sure, or so the doctor tells them. They’ll have to wait for the next appointment to know for certain. “So don’t go buying any tiny dresses yet,” he jokes and they laugh along, but they’ve been together for approximately eighteen years now, they can tell what the other’s thinking with a glance and the ecstatic grin that breaks through their lips lets him know they’re on the same page. Too late. They’re already thinking plush bow and arrows and a Merida costume for her first Halloween.

Percy tries to keep his cool. As the weeks progress, he tries not to get his hopes up, but in his heart he knows already. They hadn’t really had a preference before, they’d been too happy knowing their baby was fully human and had all its limbs (with the number of deities they’d pissed off, you never knew), but a little girl? It feels right after their two boys, it feels like their family will be complete.

(He thinks about a slight blonde girl with streaked hair and a British accent dropping from the sky on a magic camel, remembers thinking “if Annabeth and I had a daughter…” and his chest squeezes tight with happiness so raw he has a little trouble breathing)

When the doctor beams at them next appointment and says “Congratulations, Jackson family, it really is a girl,” he’s not surprised, but no less elated. He doesn’t hear the lame joke about Jackson Five, he’s too busy trying to be a manly man and not burst into tears because he’s going to have a daughter. When Annabeth’s in the other room paying for the appointment, and he’s waiting for the doctor to print the really impressive high tech 3D picture of the ultrasound, the man asks him “So did you go ahead and buy a tiny dress anyway?”

Percy blushes.

The man shakes his head in amusement. “Every time”.

His work colleagues, proud dads of little girls themselves, try to terrorize him with tales of tea parties and future boyfriends, and Percy thinks somewhere in the middle of all that teasing they mean well, but really, he’s mostly annoyed. It’s not like he’s new to parenthood, he’s got two sons already and they seem to be turning out okay, and before, when Logan and Nathan were just a nice dream for the future, there was Estelle, the little sister Percy had never expected, but loved to bits all the same.

And then Charlie is born.

She’s tiny, warm and pink, all curled up in her yellow cable-knit blanket, a tuft of blonde hair peeking out of a tiny, tiny beanie, features scrunched into the most adorable variation of a grumpy face. He’s not new to parenthood, he’s been here twice before, but the rush of affection and protectiveness and awe and raw love is just as genuine. He’s smiling like a dork, can’t seem to stop, walking from side to side, avidly searching her traits. She’s bigger than Nate was when he’d been born, but smaller than Logan. Her hair was light, like Nate’s, would it stay blonde or darken with time? Would her eyes be like his or Annabeth’s? And oh, she had her mother’s nose (they all did).

It never fails to amaze him how such a small, vulnerable being can shake up his whole world until it’s made a space for her. And he’s done this before, he’s no first time sailor this time, he’d thought he had it all under control. But she blinks and looks up at him with half-lidded eyes and a frowny face and—they’re green. Her eyes are the blue-green Logan’s are, Percy’s are.

(He’s got two sons who are his life, and he does love all his children equally, but holding his daughter for the first time, he thinks he understands his friends’ warnings. He doesn’t love her more, it’s just… different. It’s special.)

When he goes back to work, Nick takes one look at him and bursts into laughter. He claps him on the shoulder in commiseration.

“I told you.”

He’s completely wrapped around her finger already.

It’s not too different, he finds out. Especially having been pre-trained by Estelle. He’s got to brush up on his Disney princess knowledge, and hair braiding skills. He hasn’t gotten much better at color coordinating the polka dotted bows and tiny shoes, but Charlie is really forgiving. She is a very happy baby, much happier and easy going than any of the boys had been.

She’s also fucking crazy.

She is smaller and skinnier than her brothers, likes to wear frilly dresses and talk to plush animals and dance around the house in a pink tutu, but she’s wild. She never learned to crawl, just held on to the couch until she was wobbling on two feet, and it seemed like the very next day she was running across the house, the mall, the park, and if he turned his eyes away for one second, she was shooting off in the streets and nearly getting run over.

He’d found her dangling from the kitchen cabinets, trying to reach the cowering cat. She had a phase when she thought she could fly and she would climb furniture and stairs and the window sill and just… Launch herself into the air expecting her flying powers to manifest spontaneously. If they hadn’t been trying to raise them away from the whole mythological world, he would have sat her down and clarified that she had the wrong Olympian Grandparent in mind. She might have had more luck jumping into the ocean.

She had a way to jut out her lower lip, and turn those big green eyes on him that could render his every effort to be a responsible parental presence useless.

Besides, she was so funny. He could never muster enough anger to discipline her, because if he found her on the kitchen table covered in peanut butter, somehow sporting a very sticky Mohawk, and looking entirely unapologetic, well, he just couldn’t stop laughing.

One day he’s coming home from work and he hasn’t even pulled the key from the lock when Charlie calls out ‘you’re back daddy,’ in what sounds vaguely like a new jersey accent. He finds her sitting on the floor of the living room, drowning in one of Annabeth’s bathrobes, pink plastic barbie sunglasses on, holding a pooh bear sippy cup with one hand and a pinky stretched out.

“Charlie, what are you doing?”

“It’s wine Wednesday, daddy.”

“It’s what?”

“Wine Wednesday.”

He had half a mind to check if her sippy cup actually contained wine because they hid their alcohol way up in the cabinets she can’t reach but that girl could climb like a monkey. He knows he should follow that remark up with some kind of questioning of where she’d even heard of ‘wine Wednesdays’ and then explain that kids don’t drink wine or some other kind of responsible parent speech, but a sudden burst of incredulous laughter bubbles up in his throat and he takes refuge in the kitchen, lest he encourages her behavior.

He finds Annabeth there, hand over her mouth, clearly in stitches over their daughter’s performance. He wants to question if she gave her permission to wear her bathrobe but finding his wife nearly doubled over in silent laughter in the kitchen is too much and he finally lets out the guffaw he’d been trying to hold on to.

It’s not the first time Charlie leaves them breathless with laughter, and he’s almost scared of what she’s going to cook up in the future.

Charlie is a hellion.

There isn’t one person safe from her pranks, but she’s so adorable she hardly ever catches hell for it, and she’s learning to use it in her favor – thankfully, just in time for her parents to develop immunity to her puppy eyes. And she’s… difficult, yes, but not always, and not in a terrible way. For all her climbing the roof, organizing illegal cookie sales, getting in fights with her classmates, she’s not a bad kid. She’s got Percy’s penchant for befriending the kids no one wants to go near, and defending her ragtag team of losers. She’s loyal to a fault, and it gets her in trouble often.

She and Nate have epic jealousy fights over everything, including – but not limited to – Logan’s attention, the crayons, the biggest piece of cake and all the videogame characters in the world are not enough, they will always want whatever the other picked. It gives them many, many headaches. Logan, on the other hand, positively spoils her, and whenever Charlie gets in trouble they can be sure to find her hiding behind her big brother while he gives them this solemn look and says “It’s ok, mom and dad, Charlie promises she won’t do it again. We’ve talked.”

When the whole “Logan being attacked by a dracanae in school and thus finding out his Olympian heritage” debacle came to pass, and they started frequenting camp again, there was nowhere in the entire Camp Charlie would rather be than the stables. She’d spend hours there with the Aphrodite kids, brushing the pegasi and talking to them endlessly about all her classmates and her friends, and her dolls, and her new dress, and the new book grandma gave her. It was all really cute until Percy realized the pegasi were talking back, and she fully understood their replies.

And it’s funny, really, because Logan had taken after Percy, to a point where bathing him had been hard as a child because he tended to stay dry in the tub, and Nathan was Annabeth to a T, but Charlie was a perfect mix of them both.

He guesses it makes sense it would be so explosive.

When Charlie is twelve, she gets kicked out of school.

Percy is not overly worried about it himself – the number of schools he’d been kicked out of reached double digits, and this was only her first – but he is worried about how she will feel. Getting the boot from a place that’s housed you for years, where your friends are, where everyone already knows you and having to start over is never pleasant, no matter how used to it you were.

He’d expected the school to have gotten tired of all her pranks and misbehaving, which was fair, he guessed. But when Annabeth comes home from the meeting with the school director, she is seething, and not at their daughter. Charlie is angry too. In fact, it’s the first time he’s ever seen his daughter well and truly pissed off. The two of them are a sight for nightmares, both blondes standing side by side ranting with righteous fury, they look ready to start a revolution. What he gets from her angry snarls and Charlie’s rushed rambling is that Charlie had talked back to a teacher that was picking on the autistic kid and demeaning the thirteen year old who was repeating sixth grade.

She’d called him a brain-washing small minded overgrown bully who, he was quoting, didn’t get enough love from his parents.

And Percy is so proud his eyes even get a little misty.

Because he’s getting old and sentimental and raising kids is very hard. No one knows what they’re doing, not one person, not even the fancy psychologists with those books on raising perfect, well rounded, high-achieving members of society that Annabeth insisted on reading when she was pregnant with Logan. You do your best and you hope for the best, and you don’t know what you get until it’s basically too late to do anything about it. And even if he did have the best mom in the history of the entire world to draw example from, he was also half of an absent Olympian father whose heritage condemned him to dance in and out of battlefields half his life.

He’s always been terrified of being a crap father.

He looks at Charlie cussing out with every mild version of actual cuss words, stalking around the kitchen like a little lioness in a cage, furious at the unfairness of the whole situation, caring less about being expelled and more about who was going to defend her friends from that awful teacher when she’s gone.

His daughter is only twelve, but she’s already so brave, such a force of nature. She won’t stand for injustice, and she won’t take insult lying down. And she’s so kind. She’s growing up, and the person she is slowly turning out to be… is good.

And something in his heart shifts and settles down, smooths over old fears and anxious thoughts.

Percy doesn’t mean to brag, but he thinks he’s not doing half bad as a parent.

[tessaliagrey]

Day 7 - Free Day

Summary: A family visit.

Author’s notes:

Okay, you guys (may) know I’m a sucker for BoFenn. I mean, yeah, I know, we see them together in only two episodes of Rebels, but I mean, come on! They just have that “I made heart eyes at her/ at him when I was younger” dynamic. To me, it feels like they have met before, most likely during the Mandalorian Civil War when they were much younger and maybe again during Bo’s regency. The fighting scenes in those episodes look like they have fought side by side before. And the way they talk together about Sabine; they are no strangers. Face it, they have potential ;-P

I like the fact that in order to save Satine, Korkie teams up with Bo-Katan. It’s like “Let’s break Auntie Satine out of prison – again – but this time, we’re gonna bring guns”. To me, Korkie feels like someone who knows that violence is always the worst answer and who will always try to find a better solution to a problem. But he’s no one to just sit there and watch things go overboard. He will take action if needed. I like the idea that he is kind of a middle ground between Satine and Bo-Katan.

This is written from Fenn’s POV.

I wrote this in one sitting tonight because I didn’t have anything for today until today, so be merciful with your judgement 🥰

Tagging: @bokatanweek

This is quite long, so maybe its more confortable to read it on AO 3.

07 - Free Day

It wasn’t the first time that Fenn had been to Evaar’la Yaim, the colony of the New Mandalorian exiles. The place at the edge of the galaxy that Bo-Katan and Korkie had picked to hide the survivors of Maul’s and Death Watch’s coup on Mandalore and the subsequent rise of the Galactic Empire almost twenty years ago. Evaar’la Yaim was one of the best guarded secrets in the galaxy. A safe haven for those Maul and the Empire would rather see dead.

Bo-Katan had deemed it sensible after being made Mand’alor, that, as leader of the Protectors, Fenn should know about this place. Just in case.

This time, it wasn’t a visit out of necessity, but for joyful reasons. Korkie’s wife had given birth to their fifth child a few weeks ago, and now Bo-Katan had finally found the time for a short visit. Two nights was all they could spare; Mandalore demanded Bo-Katan’s full attention.

Fenn walked out of their ship and onto the grass-covered clearing they had landed in. He had taken his armor off and just wore some gray pants and a black shirt. Though Korkie seemed to have no problem with his aunt being a warrior and wearing armor, others on this planet would always frown upon it. Korkie and Bo-Katan had deemed it sensible that for the durations of her short visits, she’d forgo the armor. And since he accompanied her, Fenn followed suit.

The planet Bo-Katan and Korkie had picked was a mixture of everything. Woods, lakes, mountains, plains,… You name it. It must have been inhabited at one point by others; ruins of a different civilization dotted the planet’s surface all over the northern hemisphere. The people, however, must have been long gone.

The Mandalorians in exile had taken the ruins of the larger settlements and used them as a base for their own permanent settlements. Bo-Katan had explained to Fenn that in the beginning, all it was were tents and mobile command units. There was nothing else left. The rebuilding of the ruined settlements had taken time, but by now, they were viable towns, if not small cities. The planet had gone from dependent on supplies from outside to self-sustaining within just over a decade.

As Fenn walked out into the clearing, he saw that Bo-Katan was already waiting for him. Fenn had seen her out of armor more than once. Mostly in training gear when they sparred. But now and then… He was her Protector – the only Protector, for now – and as that, he was around her almost all the time. He’d had to go and wake her up on more than one occasion, and he was one of the very few who knew what clothes the Mand’alor slept in. Or how she looked with tousled hair. Or how beautiful her face was when she slept soundly.

Fenn sighed and reminded himself that he shouldn’t be having thoughts like that about his ruler. But he just couldn’t help it. Even now, with her wearing just standard black pants and a black tunic, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

At first, Fenn had thought it was just a crush. That she was ‘just his type’. But the better he got to know her, the more he fell for her. Now, a year later, he was pretty damn sure it wasn’t a crush. It was love. But still, she was the ruler, and he was her Protector. And that was all they could be.

###

They walked the short distance from the woods to the small city mostly in silence, enjoying the warm sun on their faces, the fragrant air blowing in a gentle breeze and the sound of small animals hidden in the undergrowth. This world was so different from the dust ball they called home.

After a few minutes, they came across one of the main roads and took it to get to the city’s main gate.

Other people were on the road, too. Some on foot like them, others in speeders or on speeder bikes. Someone was pulling a large, fruit-laden cart tied behind one of the domesticated larger local animals. Some people threw them sideway glances, others even ogled them openly. But most people just ignored them. And some very few even nodded their heads or smiled.

The first time Fenn had been here, Bo-Katan had warned him about all the different kinds of reactions her visits got. But that, given that she was partially responsible for Satine’s death, being largely ignored was probably the best she could hope for.

When they were finally in view of the main gate, Fenn heard a high-pitched squeal and saw a young girl break into a run in their direction.

“Aunt Bo!”, the girl yelled, making everybody around them watch and shake their heads.

Fenn was pretty sure the girl didn’t even notice. She didn’t even slow down much when she reached them, but threw herself into her great-aunt’s arms.

“Hey, Ca’tra,” Bo-Katan managed to say, despite her breath being knocked out of her. Fenn had to chuckle.

“I saw your ship!”, the girl explained excitedly. “Buir said I could go and pick you up at the gate.”

“Thank you, ad’ika,” Bo-Katan said smiling, detangling herself from her grandniece. She pointed at Fenn. “Do you remember Fenn?”

“Sure,” the girl said with a broad grin, waving.

“My lady,” Fenn said and bowed slightly, only to watch the girl role her eyes. He grinned.

The girl, Ca’tra, took Bo-Katan’s hand and started to pull her towards the city.

“Come on,” she said impatiently. “Dinner’s almost ready. And Ka’ra is like having a growth spurt, so if we’re not home on time, she’ll have eaten it all.”

And so, Bo-Katan let herself be pulled through the city gates by an eight-year-old, a big grin plastered on her face. Fenn followed smiling.

###

Like the first time he had been here about a year ago, Fenn marveled at the city the exiles had built. Or re-built, in a way. Everywhere, the old structures could still be seen. It was a symbiosis of old and new. Some houses had the ground floor made of the yellowish stones that all ruins here seemed to be made of, while the top floor was all dura- and transparisteel. Classical Mandalorian architecture, intertwined with the remnants of a lost civilization.

The city itself was positioned on top of a hill, and the three of them had to walk uphill to get closer to the city’s center. Bo-Katan and Ca’tra made easy conversation.

“How is everybody else?”, Bo-Katan wanted to know.

“Well, Elyria has been taking flying lessons, and I think she’s kind of good at it. Evy is kind of annoying right now. She’s like super giggly and she starts to think boys are cute.” The girl shook herself, like she couldn’t fathom how that could possibly be. Fenn raised his eyebrows, Bo-Katan snorted.

“And as I said, Ka’ra is having a growth spurt. I mean…How much food can possibly fit into a five-year-old? Apart from that, she’s as annoying as ever.”

“And your parents?” Fenn inquired.

“Tired,” Ca’tra said, grinning. “But that’s all Ijaat’s fault. She cries a lot.”

“She’s just a few weeks old,” Bo-Katan tries to reason.

“Yeah, I know, I know,” Ca’tra answers with a sigh, and Bo-Katan affectionately ruffled the girl’s hair.

Fenn realized suddenly that the girls name, Ca’tra – Night Sky – was very apt. The girl had the pale Kryze skin, but dark brown hair and rosy cheeks like her mother. Her eyes were a deep blue, just like the night sky.

About halfway up the main street, they turned right, and the girl guided them through several smaller streets and alleys, before she stopped at a door that could have been any door in the city.

“Home sweet home,” Ca’tra said and punched in the key code that opened the door.

As the door slid open, the noise of several people talking all at once suddenly flooded out into the street.

“We’re here!” Ca’tra yelled into the hall. “Tell me you haven’t started dinner yet!”

Two other girls suddenly appeared. One about fifteen; tall, and with red-blonde hair and green eyes, she looked much like Bo-Katan, though her face looked more like her mother’s.

“Aunt Bo!” she said and embraced her aunt, though much gentler than her younger sister had.

“Hey, Elyria, how are you?” Bo-Katan asked, hugging her back in return.

“Good. There is-“

“Move over, I wanna say hello, too,” the other girl said, tugging at her older sister’s clothes.

Elyria let go and let her younger sister throw her arms around Bo-Katan’s middle. Apart from the blue eyes, this one – Ka’ra, Fenn remembered – looked like a miniature version of Bo-Katan. The same face, the same flaming red hair. Even the same freckles. Just the eyes were the pale bluish-gray eyes of her father.

“Come on,” Ka’ra said, tugging at Bo-Katan’s hand. “I’m starving.”

“So we heard,” Bo-Katan answered grinning.

The rest of the family was inside the large living area. Fenn liked the Kryze’s house. It felt…yaim’la. It was a place so full of life. A bit chaotic, a bit loud, and lots of love.

“Aunt Bo!” Korkie Kryze exclaimed as he walked over to hug is aunt.

In Fenn’s memory, Korkie Kryze was a lanky fourteen-year-old with a talent to attract trouble. And though he had seen the boy – no, the man – only a year ago, Fenn still hat trouble to reconcile the adult in front of him with his mental picture. Korkie Kryze was just a tat taller than his aunt, his hair blonde, and his eyes bright blue. And one point, he had grown a well-kept, close-cropped beard.

The biggest shock, however, was seeing Korkie’s second daughter. Evy Kryze was the spitting image of Duchess Satine in her early teens. The twelve-year-old just waved over from the table she helped setting.

Korkie’s wife was walking up and down in front a large window front, gently rocking a small infant in her arms. She smiled at them and came over.

“Sorry for the chaos,” she said, gesturing at the general surroundings. “You’d think that by kid number five, we’d get the hang of it…”

Bo-Katan waved her off. “Who cares?” she answered.

Before they got any further, Ka’ra yelled across the room. “Can we eat now?”

###

Dinner had been a joyful and delicious affair, and Fenn felt stuffed and content. He was now sitting on one of the comfortable couches next to Bo-Katan and had to take care not to doze off.

It would be all too easy. He was sitting on one of the sides, being pushed into the downy cushions. Bo-Katan was right next to him, being pushed into his side by Ca’tra, who was leaning into her. All Fenn would need to do was rest his head at the back of the couch and close his eyes.

It was slowly growing dark outside, and the younger children were yawning now and again, though they tried to hide it.

“All right, girls,” Korkie eventually said. “Time for bed.”

He was met with loud wailing from his daughters, but in the end, he managed to usher them all upstairs.

Bo-Katan now had a lot more room on the couch, but to Fenn’s great surprise, she didn’t really move. Korkie’s wife flopped down on next to them, the baby asleep in her arms.

“I though Ca’tra might have exaggerated when she said how much Ka’ra is eating right now,” Bo-Katan began. “But dang…that girl really is on a growth spurt, huh?”

“Oh, and you haven’t even seen the worst of it,” Soniee replied. “It’s moments like that I’m glad we don’t have any boys. I remember how Korkie and Amis used to eat at fourteen… Nothing was safe from them.”

“I bet,” Fenn answered, and the women chuckled.

“You were like that, too?” Soniee asked, looking at Fenn.

“You bet I was.”

Before their conversation could get anywhere near other topics, the noise level upstairs escalated again.

“Mom!” yelled one of the girls. “Can you come up?”

Soniee sighed.

“Here, can you take Ijaat for a second?” she asked Bo-Katan. “I’ll be right back.”

“Uhm, sure,” Bo-Katan answered, but Fenn thought he detected a hint of panic in her voice.

Soniee placed the infant in Bo-Katan’s arms and headed up the stairs.

Next to him, Fenn could feel Bo-Katan let out a long, low breath.

“You alright?” Fenn asked quietly.

“I’m always afraid I’ll break them,” Bo-Katan answered, an apologetic smile on her face. “I mean sure, I carried Korkie around as a baby, but that’s like almost forty years ago now. And Ursa used to shove baby Sabine into my arms on occasion. But it’s not like I got any real practice or experience.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Fenn answered. And he did. Both of them had no children of their own. And though Fenn knew that neither of them actively regretted not having children, it were moments like this that still made you think of the what ifs.

Fenn leaned in closer to get a better look at the small child. She looked so peaceful in her sleep.

“She’s a lucky girl,” Fenn says, though why he says it out loud, he doesn’t know.

“She is, isn’t she,” Bo-Katan agrees. Then she sighs. “I don’t think I could live here all the time,” she continues. “But it’s good to be here now and again. With family.”

Fenn nods. Family. His family used to be the Protectors on Concord Dawn. But now his family was gone.

Before Fenn could get melancholy, the child moved in Bo-Katan’s arms, giving off small noises.

“What do I do now?” Bo-Katan whispered.

“I have no idea,” Fenn whispered back, and they both quietly chuckled.

###

Fenn couldn’t sleep. He tried; he really did. But every time he closed his eyes, he could see his fellow Protectors being slaughtered by Saxon and his men.

So, he had gotten up as quietly as possible and was looking out of the window of the Kryze’s guest room.

The last time he and Bo-Katan had been here, they had separate rooms. But with the addition of Ijaat, only one guest room was left and he and Bo-Katan had to share. Not that Fenn minded. But he didn’t want to wake her, so he tried to pass the time by looking at the foreign sky.

But Fenn heard the rustling of sheets behind him and turned around. Bo-Katan was pushed up on one elbow, looking at him.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked.

Fenn shook his head.

“No,” he answered. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” she assured him. “I…have trouble sleeping through some nights myself.”

Fenn nodded. He understood.

With no more need to be overly quiet, he went back to his bed and sat down at the edge of it.

“What do you dream of?” Bo-Katan asked him, sitting up herself.

“Concord Dawn,” Fenn answered.

Bo nodded. She didn’t really need any further explanation.

“And you?” he asked in return, though he wasn’t sure if she would answer.

“Satine.”

To Fenn’s great surprise, Bo-Katan got up and walked over to him, sitting back down right next to him on his bed.

“Do you think we’ll ever be free of our ghosts?” she asked, looking down at her hands in her lap.

“I don’t know,” Fenn answered honestly. “On the one hand, I wish they wouldn’t haunt me. But on the other, I don’t want to forget.”

Bo-Katan nods, and, to Fenn’s even greater surprise, she carefully leans her head against his shoulder.

###

The next day passes in a kind of blur. Maybe because all Fenn could think about was Bo-Katan’s head on his shoulder, and how, eventually, her fingers had laced with his. Fenn knew it had been for comfort, but poor mind had a hard time to leave it at that.

And even worse – or best of it all, depending how you looked at it – was that fact that at one point, they must have fallen asleep. In the same bed. Because when they’d woke up this morning, they had done so next to each other. They weren’t cuddled up, exactly. But still.

It was probably a good think it wasn’t a workday on this planet, as it meant that all the Kryzes were home and kept Fenn and Bo-Katan very much occupied.

As Ca’tra had already told them yesterday, Elyria had been taking flying lessons, and Bo-Katan had told her over breakfast that Fenn was – and those were her words – an extraordinary pilot. Fenn had felt himself blush like a schoolgirl. After that Elyria had talked him into letting her fly Bo-Katan’s kom’rk (with Bo-Katan’s permission, of course). And Fenn had to admit that girl had talent.

When they were done, the girl had headed off into town to meet friends, and Fenn had returned to the house. When he got back, only Korkie was home, carrying little Ijaat around.

“Where is everybody?” Fenn wondered.

“Grocery shopping,” Korkie answered. “How was flying.”

“Elyira is very talented,” Fenn answered. “It comes to her very naturally.”

Korkie nodded, a proud look on his face. But Fenn thought he also detected a hint of worry.

“Something on your mind?” Fenn asked, deciding that in his experience with Kryze’s, it sometimes paid off to be blunt.

Korkie grimaced.

“You know,” he began, “it’s easy for us grown-ups. We chose to live here. We chose to hide from the rest of the galaxy. The generation of our children, however, did not. They know there is a whole wide world out there. And eventually, they will want to see more of the galaxy than Evaar’la Yaim, beautiful as it may be.”

Fenn nodded. Then he had to grin.

“Five more Kryze women running around the galaxy…”

“Oh stars,” Korkie groaned, but then laughed.

###

Fenn felt almost a little wistful that their time on Evaar’la Yaim was coming to an end. They would be leaving tomorrow morning after breakfast.

Tonight, there was a small festival all around the central town square, and the girls had talked everyone into going. Bo-Katan had objected that a lot of people might not feel comfortable with her being there, but the girls had just told her that other people were free to go home if it bothered them.

Fenn was glad they had gone. It was a beautiful summer evening; warm, with a soft breeze. And the town square looked amazing. Lights were strung up around and above it, and groups of chairs and tables were placed everywhere. Street vendors were selling food and drink. Music was playing and people were dancing in the square below the lights.

The girls were running around here and there, talking to friends, but regularly coming back to their table to spend time with their great-aunt. Who knew when they would see each other the next time?

The adults had gone from water to wine and from dinner to desert. Fenn watched Bo-Katan try some uj cake. She took a bite and closed her eyes.

“Oh stars,” she muttered with a full mouth. “This is so good.”

Korkie snorted. “Of course, it is. This may not be Mandalore, but we are Mandalorians. Of course, we know how to make damn good uj cake.”

“Stars, Fenn, you gotta try this,” Bo-Katan said, and pushed her plate toward him.

Fenn obligingly broke off a piece and put it in his mouth. Dang, it was good.

The evening passed into night and if it were for Fenn, it might never end. Bo-Katan was sitting close to him, and at some point, she had put her head on his shoulder again. Fenn wasn’t even sure if she had noticed. He didn’t mind. Everybody else at the table had most definitely noticed but had the good sense not to say anything.

But it was getting late, and Ka’ra and Ca’tra had a hard time keeping their eyes open, and so they eventually headed back to the house.

###

Back in their guestroom, Bo-Katan leaned against the door of the ‘fresher and Fenn had a hard time keeping his eyes off her. She was wearing what she always wore at night. Comfortable pants and a tank top. But stars, she looked good in that.

Fenn cleared his throat. “I think your worries about other people’s reactions tonight were mostly unfounded,” he said.

Bo-Katan raised an eyebrow, but then smiled. “Yeah, I think after twenty years they trust me enough to not ruing their evening by blowing the place up.”

“Imagine how it’ll be in another twenty years.”

Bo-Katan grinned. “In twenty years, I might even dance and nobody will take any special notice of it.”

“Don’t you always say that you don’t dance?” Fenn wonders.

“True,” she admits. “But I will make an exception in twenty years jus to see their faces.”

Fenn snorted. “Maybe you should practice before that.”

“Ey, I said I don’t dance, not that I can’t dance,” Bo-Katan said. “I was raised at court.”

Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the uj cake, and maybe it was the lingering feeling of Bo-Katan’s head against his shoulder that inspired Fenn to make a bold move. He got up and held his hand out.

“Prove it,” he said.

“What?”

“That you can dance. Prove it. Take my hand and dance with me.”

For a fleeting second, Bo-Katan looked surprised. But then, she pushed herself off the doorframe, and walked over to Fenn.

“One dance, Protector,” she said.

“Yes, my lady.”

And then, she was in his arms, so damnably close that her scent filled his nose, and he felt the heat of her body radiate outward.

People never believed Fenn could dance, but his mother thought it important that he learned how to. And if it was just for this moment, where he danced with his Mand’alor in her nephew’s guest room. Danced with the woman he loved as moonlight filtered through the windows.

Fenn had no idea how long they danced. All he knew was that they moved closer and closer together until her body was flush against his and her head pillowed against his chest. Fenn was certain she could hear his heart hammering in his chest, pounding wildly against his ribs.

At one point, they stopped moving and Bo-Katan looked up at him. Stars, she was beautiful Her green eyes, her freckles, her lips. Damn, those lips. Fenn’s eyes lingered on them, watched how they parted and breathed out his name, and Fenn’s brain short-circuited. He leaned in and kissed her.

And to his great surprise – and great relief – she kissed him back.

[luminous-shifting-vibes]

*sequel* to actual fucking quotes from the shiftblr coffeehouse discord server

once again, it's out of context because x1000 funnier

also x1000 longer than previous post

"ur satan is gnc af"

"Bestie I’m already having gender envy over a fucking demon please"

"O_O ODEPIJHFbavevisdpvfhzdcnjawedsidjksjdkoeirjfmkdsoeirujdksodifjndmksoidfjdksidfj ITS" NOT IN MY FRAFTS IS SPEDNT 1 hour PN THAT SHIT"

"AUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

"ohoho sexy"

"I am very proud of myself"

"himbo x edgy fuck"

"YOU COULD SQUISH HES CHEECKS"

"he has teefs"

"SQUASH"

"good for biting 📷"

"he's a himbo basically"

"B͂̒̄iͫ̍̈tͧ̓ͯè̄̇"

"bifth"

"i havent watched blue exorcist in years but mr okumura my beloved </3"

"MY LIFE QUESTIONS HAVE BEEN ANSWERED"

"is it important information to mention that the person i put up for my turn is the son of satan" "I know like 1 thing about everyone who isnt ranboo lmfao"

"crimes"

"tumblr sexyman"

"idk why but my first thought was cowboy onceler"

"I vibe with him but he is very long and twisty"

"steampunk e-girl"

"steampunk tumblr sexyman"

"Canonically bi crimelord I agree!!"

"OOO FRIEND SHAPED"

"ARTIST SIGHTED"

"they look like someone i would want to be friends with but is way cooler than me so i'd never actually talk to them"

"babby..... would die for him"

"honestly i probably kin him"

"i'm sure he's lovely but he looks way too much like my ex i'm sorry-"

"i'd be down for another rotation! i have another twink to show y'all"

"Also :00 blonde friend"

"Let us all infodhmo"

"Hsjagdvbs shhh im on phone"

"Nix woukd you like to joon?

"skitters away"

"I have two braincells and they both drink dumb bitch juice"

"oof wait whats the order again i have 0 memory"

"i want to bond with him over cosplay-"

"Awkwardly watches in band kid"

"One day I'm gonna a broadway star"

"which isnt to say they were bad. they were just fortnite dancing during rehersals"

"I threw it so hard my glasses flew off and slid under the stage right divider"

"anyway heres my boi"

"emo"

"haha emo"

"virgil sanders kinnie"

"he looks like he listens to my chemical panic at the fallout boy"

"Bro I bet he'd kick my ass with his deck"

"bird man my beloved"

"fuck i had so much to say and then i forgot it all"

"Birds!!"

"guiguhuh"

"crabrave"

"She sounds like someone I would end up stealing her personality"

"yess name collector gang"

"alias glass aiden haven absinthe fish brick rice"

"But I have Cypress, Remure, Genesis, Lemres, and Comet"

"And she's named after a mars candy bar bc alien"

"Hey, if plato went by plato, you can be king thief"

"im not dissing my gramma like that shfojd"

"My dad has seven legal names" "bitches be like *looks at fictional character* *steals their name* it's us we're bithces"

"coraline lowkey traumatized me but i adore it regardless"

"mmmmmm magic man :]"

"°0° green man"

"criminal (affectionate)"

"he would shoplift a candy bar from walmart and then brag to all of his friends about the sick stealing he did"

"despite the fact he's canonically been capable of overpowering a minor deity"

"i would commit so many crimes for him"

"Very babey"

"Yes please tell green man he is very pog"

"he also keeps a lot of dumb secrets"

"but I will sorely miss the chaos and energy of this here chat until I wake again" (by request XD)

"i just say words and if they're funny then they're funny"

"* or extremly chaotic either works"

"at this point we are just taking turns rambling"

"oH--"

"bc my brain has a schedule"

"Hopefully they have gyoza there or I will lose my mind"

"hehe yes spooky man"

"my ghost glucose guardian"

"the head of the undead group that lives there, and we end up dating. (yes I date a ghost, no I will not be taking constructive criticism /lh)"

"ghosts r just inherently sexy"

"i mean im becoming a squid thing so"

"Raven quirk raven quirk!!"

"ł â m p"

"łæmp"

"mothman: ooh lamp you look very nice today! do you come here often? mothman: wait shit no"

"I'd date a ghost"

"mine is still accurate, i am still sobbing (/j)"

"p e e p e e"

""@nick wilde is a tumblr sexyman" is the best thing i have ever seen"

"im sorry im cackling like a dying hyena"

"you're all 12 year olds"

"PEENIE"

"He once caused global warming on accident so he could get a tan"

"god, what a himbo. i love him"

"that reminds me of my friends kin assigned me jesus"

"Man outside of battle be like: princely crying but then in battle hes like: "CATACLYSM! DISASTER! DEVASTATION!" Chill out man"

"Every time I talk about satan it never fails to shock people it's my favorite thing to do"

"im kin assigning him roman sanders" ""Oh yeah he caused global warming because he wanted to get girls" "he what""

"oh damn i forgot satan was straight"

"twink appreciation club"

"give us the twinks"

"my first thought was bottom-"

"so many people to try and get his dad to love him"

"daddy issued"

"OH MY GOD ITS WILBUR"

"Big boy but"

"anyways janus is swagggg"

"........................."

"gib twink"

"give twink then i will share"

"holds him gentle like hamburger"

"This dumb bitch opened a book that said "do not open" and got possessed by a little bastard"

"he is. fragile creachur"

"klug is beauty klug is grace i would let him step on my face"

"If I'm playing swap and I have to hear one more "Pwanet Powew" Im gonna lose it"

"Who is to blame? Pandora or the box?"

"Bakugo isnt my type but I respect the drip"

"i say like my type isnt long-haired pretty boys and girls that look so gnc that people have a history of confusing them for men"

"hes a gremlin and i can appreciate a pretty gremlin"

"that is to say i am attracted to VFlower vocaloid. This is a confession."

"note i am a lesbian"

"You may like Schezo wegey"

"why does he have one single expression"

"soul soul eater passes the vibe check"

"magic wand"

"I Want To Hold His Hand"

"i would commit a war crime for him any war crime idc which one"

"my favorite one is when he sounded rlly gay because he said "Muscular bodies keep me satisfied""

"p e a n u t"

"Klug is a homophobic homosexual its just facts"

"grug from the croods is peak male performance"

"jaw drops to floor, eyes pop out of sockets accompanied by trumpets, heart beats out of chest, awooga awooga sound effect, pulls chain on train whistle that has appeared next to head as steam blows out, slams fists on table, rattling any plates, bowls or silverware, whistles loudly, fireworks shoot from top of head, pants loudly as tongue hangs out of mouth, wipes comically large bead of sweat from forehead, clears throat, straightens tie, combs hair Ahem, you look very lovely."

"tag yourself im the fireworks shooting from the top of the head"

"i like essays"

"central time gang"

"11:11 pog-" (wait... is that a suprise angel number?? yes it is lovelies just for you <3)

"Then again im also a dumbass bitch who wonders what the souls in soul eater taste like. SERIOUSLY THOUGH. THEY LOOK TASTY AS HELL!!!! LIKE GODDAMN BRO YOU'RE MAKING ME FUCKING HUNGRY. Like. that shit- it's Bone Apple motherfucking Teeth. hell yea my guy. Im hongy now.... shlorp I'm seriously considering this. Like. They seem kinda like a liquid? But a solid? Are they like jello? The fuck they taste like my guy???? I keep imagining they're like sour, like sour candy maybe? Or do they taste salty? Sweet? Maybe some combo of two? Do they even have a taste or is it about the texture? The sensation? God my mouth is watering what the hell. I am starving. I think I need to go get a cookie. I'm gonna go get a cookie. Brb. I'm better. I'm still craving souls though. Which is a weird-ass cringey thing to say but I'm being dead-ass rn. They just.... look tasty???? And I wanna eat one. Thus. I am shifting to Soul Eater for the express purpose of satisfying my fucking cravings. enjoy"

"points were made"

"jello? more like helloooo schloooAHFJDSDAIDWNALDHSJKDAIDANDM"

"WAIT I THINK I HAVE AN ANIME GIRL BITING VIDEO TOO"

"anime girl voice: mmm! mm... ahhhhmp!! mmm, mmm... aaahmp!"

"i think it sounds great i'm going to start eating like that"

"several people are typing"

"do these look edible to you"

"forbidden gummies"

"when I was on lsd I couldn't eat my fruit gummies because I thought they were alive because they had little faces on them"

"oh shit yeah don't do drugs"

"anyways general consensus is puyos are edible, ty for your input everyone"

"everypony is a word so powerful it can bring nations to its knees"

"pls the self control it's taking me not to say "hewwo everypony" in gen chat when someone new joins-"

"hewwo evewrypony uwu deaw cewestia i hopwe it doewsnt wain owo"

"ive cooked up a sowution wiwth the knowwege ive acwued. they say a kitcwen time saves niwne, but im just savwing two. Ive gathewwed the inwedients to make a time sowbet. Thewe's hawdly woom fow seconds when the seconds mewt away."

"I had a ten year old sister... you know what happened to her??? very sad, very tragic... she turned eleven....."

"NIIICE"

"Guts dont say the secks word :( /j"

"watch your fucking language in front of the president"

"im so sorry lumi"

"i think you're like ehhhh 8/10 funny"

"now me???? 10/10. Hilarious"

"sometimes i have to take a step back and remember that this is the same guts i follow on tumblr /lh"

""ok every here's some good shifting advice!!! uwu have a good day" "yeah i did lsd and ate fruit gummies""

"i have one setting and it's whatever this is"

"my bitch ass cat just pushed the door open with his fuzzy face and now my sleeping dad is being lulled into dreams by Cosmo Sheldrake's 'Pliocine'."

"me on discord: nick wilde"

"me on tumblr: shifting water! haha funne! me on here: my hermit crabs are cannibals also i want to eat souls."

"im sorry yOUR VIBESA RE JUST SO DIFFERNT"

"u give off older cousin ive never spoken to but always admire at the family gatherings vibes"

"what the fuck"

"BC I HAVE LIBERTU"

"If you adopt me then yes"

"am I qualified for dad jokes???"

"we're all a lot smarter on tumblr"

"I'm like "awww... sweet... sweet little shiftlings... posting such sweet shiftling content... so pure, so wholesome... does not even know abcs....""

"can't think before you speak if you never think B)"

"I'm not responsible enough to be a mom"

"cat pet"

"show us pictures of the cat or i will do Crime"

"maybe thats me being a coward tho"

"MOTH!!!! MOTH MY BELOVED"

if y'all want I can make this a series bc shiftblr keeps giving me more content

[ourneverendingpossibilities]

I’m Sorry - (10/?)

Anime: Kuroko no Basuke Pairing: Aomine Daiki x reader Rating: K+ A/N: I went back and re-read the previous chapters. And I realize I gave myself loop-holes by accident.. (WHOOPS) I’m hoping this chapter clears a couple of them.. It’s told in Aomine’s view as well as reader’s, so I hope I did it justice.. I think there’s only going to be two or three chapters left?? I had thought of doing a mini series to this story.. With ideas I WANTED to write but didn’t go with the flow of the story.. But we will see how it pans out.. Enough of my rambling, here’s the next chapter!

_______________________________

When you walked back into Aomine's life, he remembers it was a clear blue sky.

Satsuki had been rambling on about something, school or what club she should join... He doesn't remember the vague details. He would give the occasional nod, to let her know he was listening. But honestly, his mind was only on one thing.

Basketball.

Perhaps it was a bit of wishful thinking on his part, but he was hoping you would be attending Teiko... And join the basketball team. In his heart, Aomine wishes he was able to practice with you on the courts. Aomine curses his inability to talk with you, to keep you on those courts just a little bit longer. He may have protected you from those bullies, but he couldn't muster the courage to get your number? To even ask if you would be coming back? He lets out a grunt when Satsuki nudges his stomach, and after a yawn, looks ahead.

He almost trips when he sees a hair colour similar to yours. His legs move on their own accord, and he takes the steps two at a time, trying to quash the hope bubbling in his chest. When he reaches the top step, he doesn't see you anywhere and starts to wonder if he's going crazy... There's no way you would be here... It would be a dream come true... He shakes away any hope crawling in his mind, running a hand through his hair.

"Aomine-kun?"

He looks back at his best friend, seeing the confusion in her eyes and shrugs. "It's nothing. Let's go."

He trudges forward, unaware of her studying the student lists, spotting that name she knew he was looking for.

___________________________

'You're ____-chan right?'

His breath hitches at the light tone on the other end. He was going to berate Satsuki for calling him during lunch... The words he wanted to say die when he hears your name on the other end... Whether satsuki did this intentionally or not, he doesn't know... but he remains on the line.

Silent and attentive.

'H...How do you...?'

His cheeks start to slowly burn at hearing your voice, and his palms begin to sweat... Shit, if he's not careful, he'll drop his phone and cause unwanted attention on himself... That would be too embarrassing...

"Dating?? No way!! Dai-chan is more like a brother to me! It's a pleasure to meet you _____-chan! I hope you'll help me manage the basketball team!"

Okay... He must have missed a lot of that conversation... Satsuki isn't the type to just jump to the point.. And because of what he's told her about you, he knew there was more of an interrogation.. Too bad he zoned out at the thought of you on the other end... He's such an idiot!

"I look forward to helping the basketball team!!"

And yet, his heart races at hearing your voice exclaim that... Before he could be caught, he hangs up the phone, tossing it in his pocket before burying his face in his arms... Ah.. The good news is, he has a few hours before he sees you once again to collect his thoughts... He lets out a lazy sigh, sitting up to continue with his food... But his stomach begins churning in knots, and thinks twice. He packs his lunch, kicking back in his chair as he looks out the window...

"She thinks me and Satsuki are dating...." he whispers, before letting out a soft chuckle. "Well... She'll be in for a surprise..."

____________________________

When he sees you walking into the gym, he had just finished practicing with a few of his teammates.. It takes all his energy to not run to you and throw an arm around your shoulders. He watches as Satsuki introduces you to the three males running the team, patiently waiting for it to end... He can't explain it, but seeing you for the first time in two years... Although he's taller now, you've grown as well. He hopes you've been practicing.. He's itching to play a game against you...

His patience starts to wear thin, and he grips the ball in his hand tighter until you've finished meeting them.. And it's when you take your leave does he find your name leaving his lips.

"_-_____?"

Your head whips around, and the two of you are in a trance. The gym vanishes and it's just the two of you in a completely different world. When you look him up and down, he feels a bit self-conscious, until you give him a smile, the shock vanishing from your beautiful hues. You lift a hand as if to wave at him.

"H..Hi there... Daiki-kun..."

Just like that... When his name hits his ears, it breaks the spell and his lips curl into a big grin. He doesn't see the way your cheeks heat up, or the shock in your eyes at the way he looks at you... No. He's focused on the happiness curling in his gut, exploding in his heart and his feet move on their own accord. He runs at you, swinging an arm around your shoulder as he lets the ball go, ruffling your soft locks..

"Be prepared!! I've gotten stronger!! And I want to face off against you one day!!"

He doesn't notice how your heart leaps in your chest, or the softening of your features... But he does notice the tender gaze in your eyes before that grin curls back on your lips, and a small laugh escapes your throat.

"Y...You've gotten taller, Daiki-kun... But I'll do my best to give you a good match!"

He finds himself letting go of your head, but his hand lingers on your shoulder, studying you with a soft, tender gaze. He never thought about how much taller he was.. But the smile on your lips was genuine, and real... He knew you would give it all you had, just the way you had two years ago, alone on the courts. He gently rubs your back, before letting go to grab the ball, gently passing it to you.

The shock on your face was cute, but it vanished when you realized what he wanted... You shook your head, dribbling the ball as you sized him up with your eyes. "I'll be a little rusty, I haven't really practiced in a few months... But I'll give it everything I got!"

His smile only grew bigger as he got into his defensive stance. "Show me what you can do, _____!"

_______________________________

It was just after they won their first Nationals... Aomine went looking for you... His blood was boiling beneath his skin, but he hadn't seen you all morning... He just wants to see you.. His legs carry him to the roof, and he sees you there, leaning against the railing. Your eyes were a little dull, a bit misty from a few tears, and his stomach clenches... The door closes, startling you from your thoughts.. He watches as you fluster, embarrassed to be caught in this situation, before rubbing your eyes and turning away. He carefully approaches you, keeping a safe distance away in case you want space.

"I was looking for you..." he whispers, keeping his eyes on the scenery below. His posture is a little slack, but he doesn't know what to say... He just doesn't want to see you cry.

"I'm sorry Daiki.. Did you need something?"

A soft frown curls on his lips at the timid response, and he shakes his head, ruffling his hair. "It's not important." he says, before looking at you.. "Did something happen, ____?"

He watches as your lips curl into a soft frown, before a heavy sigh leaves your lips. "I'll never be able to play beside you... Not the way Tetsu can..." you begin, a little hesitant to explain... But he wants to know what you meant by that... So he urges you with a nod, as if telling you to continue."Satsuki-chan asked the coach and Nijimura-senpai if I could play in the practice matches... Since she's seen my skills, and knows I can lead you guys to victory...:" You pause, clenching the rail. "They wouldn't allow it... Saying something about having a girl on the team would make the other teams laugh at us... Despite seeing what I can do when we play our one-on-ones..." You sigh defeated... "Teiko doesn't have a girl's team either... They decided to discontinue it this year because the men's team is strong, and they want to focus their time and energy on you guys.. On winning.."

The words spilling from your lips cause him to growl, and he shakes his head. "That's ridiculous!! You can't be on the team because you're a girl?? That's just as dumb as Tetsu not being able to play on the first string!!!" He huffs, clenching his fists. "So you're only useful to them as a manager?? I refuse to believe that!"

He doesn't notice the shock in your eyes, or the way you look up at him in wonder. He meets your gaze, determination and anger blazing within hard pools of blue. "Whether they believe that or not, you're a good player, _____. Don't stop playing just because you can't be on the team.... If you do..." he pauses, a frown on his lips..

"... I'll quit the team."

He hears the gasp, but never takes his eyes off yours. It's as if the two of you are communicating to each other silently, and you let out a soft huff, a small laugh leaving your lips.

"As if I'd let you do that, idiot..."

He blinks his eyes in shock, a frown on his lips at being called an 'idiot'. But he watches as your lips curl into a smile. "You're not giving up your spot on the team if I choose to stop playing.. That's not fair to you..." you look at the sky, rubbing the back of your head with a sigh. "Daiki... I won't stop playing... But YOU have to promise me something..."

He watches you carefully, unsure what your next words will be. But he's patient, and the frown slowly melts away.

"Don't stop playing... No matter how strong you become... Regardless if I choose to quit or not... Don't give up the sport you love... If you do..."

He holds his breath when you pause, determination blazing in your eyes.

"I won't forgive you."

The words sink in, and he has to take a step back to catch himself... He knows you're serious, but it's how you say it.. It sends shivers down his spine. He rubs the back of his head as a frown curls on his lips... He wants to keep playing with you.. He wants you by his side, regardless what happens in the future... If all you're asking of him is to continue playing, he's sure he can manage that...

At the time, it was a no brainer.

"As long as you're at my side, I won't quit. No matter how strong I become."

He finds himself startled when the smile curls on your lips, and you move to hug him, causing a blush to form on his cheeks... It's very rare for you to hug him.. At least, when you're on school grounds.. But he doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around you, burying his face in your hair.

"Thank you, Dai-chan..."

He curses his heart for beating fast in his chest, but his mind is focused on the warmth as he holds you close.

_______________________

It's the night before the big game.

Feh. In the end, the only one who can beat him is him. But there's a small tiny piece of hope... Crawling in the corners of his heart. He doesn't want to acknowledge the emotion, but he knows it's there... Satsuki had just came by to check on him... She knew he went to see you, but he didn't give details. He just said you were doing alright...

Not like he knew anything else.

You seemed to take the news somewhat well... Rather, you were the one comforting him as he told the story... As if he was suffering more than you. Perhaps part of it is true. He'd been living with the guilt since last year. Knowing your girlfriend's dad died at the hands of someone who was on the same team... He wasn't sure how to tell you... He still felt the guilt crawl in his gut, but when the image of you kissing him comes to mind, it vanishes almost immediately.

Aomine was still in love with you after all. You were the first person who looked at him for HIM. Not because of his status.

Because he was himself.

A part of him wonders if the reason you broke it off was because of the promise you made him years ago... There's no way you'd remember that day. Not the way he did. He wasn't going to give you up, because whether Aomine wants to admit it or not...

He still needs you.

He always has, and he always will. You are his weakness, and he finds him sighing into the bed, staring up at the ceiling...

'You still love me, _____... I'll win you back somehow.'

With that thought in mind, he finds himself drifting to sleep, dreams filled with nothing but happiness and peace.

______________________________

"______..... Oi! _______!!"

You're startled from your thoughts as you look up at Kasamatsu, seeing the worrying crease in his eyebrows. Your hands juggle the ball, and your gaze rests on it, a soft sigh leaving your lips. Gently bouncing the ball to him, you sit down on the gymnasium floor, staring at your shoes... Why were you remembering that of all things?? The match between Seirin and Touou was tomorrow night, and you decided to spend your remaining free time over at Kaijou, practicing with Ryouta and Yukio's team.. It was just the two of you now, Ryouta had to leave early for a photoshoot, and almost threatened Yukio to stay with you...

He was kicked out of the gym two seconds later.

Your eyes go to the captain, who's now sitting in front of you, a frown on his face. The expression on his face elicits the same reaction from yours, and you huff, finally finding yourself speaking.

"Daiki kissed me."

The words, barely a whisper, sound like a shout, and his eyes widen in shock.

"When?"

A sigh. "A few weeks ago... When I asked him about my father."

He frowns, rubbing the back of his head as he looks around the gym. "You love him right?? Why are you hesitating?"

You don't expect those words from his lips, but when you look at him, you can see the blush... Ah... This must be an uncomfortable topic to talk about for him.... You frown lightly, rubbing the back of your head.

"I love him... But in middle school, we made a promise... He wouldn't quit playing basketball, and I wouldn't hate him..." you hesitate, before shaking your head. "But I feel... I hate the person he's become... I... I don't deserve to love him if I can't love all of him..."

Kasamatsu's eyes go to you, and he watches your posture... He has no experience in this department, but he's not one to leave a Kouhai when they need assistance.. And although love isn't one he knows anything about, he knows you need a friend... He takes the ball from your hands carefully, playing with it for a few moments, trying to gather his thoughts.

"So... You're hesitating because you can't accept the man he is now... But he didn't actually quit basketball, did he?" He pauses, watching your reaction... "Sure, he stopped practicing with his team, but he still attends games... For the most part..." He looks at the hoop, trying to keep his thoughts clear. "I don't necessarily agree with Touou's methods with team play.. But it seems to work for them, and although most don't see it... They do work as a team.... Just, not the way we or Seirin do.."

He rubs his head, taking a shot before looking at you, "I'm saying... Loving someone means compromising... And yeah, it's easier to say than do... But if you've been by his side since the whole thing went down at Teiko, why would you give up on him now, when he's starting somewhere new?"

You mechanically walk to the ball, bouncing in place from the shot.. Carefully picking it up, you focus on the smoothness, biting the bottom of your lip as you try to keep your emotions in check.

"I..." you pause, before releasing a loud sigh... "I... It's hard for me to love enough for the both of us... M...More than anything, I want to be able to play side by side with him.. But it will never happen, because I can't join the team..." you turn around, meeting his softening blue hues... "All I can do... is watch him from the side... I can just support him the best way I know how... But he needs more... He needs to be beaten, to experience loss at the sport he loves..." You look down at the ball, gently tossing it back to him..

"I have high hopes for Tetsu and Kagami-kun... If anyone can wake him up, it's them... because they're the new Light and Shadow..."

Kasamatsu grabs the ball, tilting his head to the side... "I still don't fully understand the whole "Light and Shadow" dynamic." he admits, taking another shot of the basket. "But it sounds like you need to lean on teammates as much as Aomine does... And that's not a bad thing _____..." he smiles softly. "Let us help you... You don't have to do it alone... And the more you fight us, the harder the struggle..."

You frown a little, rubbing your head bashfully as you look at the hoop. "I... I'm not good at relying on others." you admit, before releasing a sigh. "But I suppose I can try..." You turn your head back to him, smiling a little... "As long as you're okay with me being stubborn.."

He snorts, shaking his head... "Well, at least I know Kise will be in good hands when I graduate... Even if you're attending Touou..." he mutters, smiling a little. "Wait here, ____. I'll get changed and walk you to the train."

Before you can say anything, Kasamatsu has already vanished, and you release a soft sigh... What a stubborn, hot-headed man...

_____________________________

Your mom had met you at the train station, finishing up a business meeting in Kanagawa. She'd driven Kasamatsu home, despite his avid protests, and she was surprisingly quiet the whole ride home. It was when you were at a red light, you finally found the words you've been wanting to ask her since seeing the letter.

"Why did Dad want me to attend Kaijou?"

She casts you a brief glance, before humming... "We agreed, that if you chose to attend, you would be moving in with him... At the time, the business had been considering expanding, and they wanted to transfer me overseas, to work in the London office.." She hesitates, before sighing. "Part of him also thought Daiki would be attending there, though he never explicitly said why... I always thought you and Ryouta were a thing..."

You let out a huff, crossing your arms. "Hate to break it to you, but he's not my type... And his fangirls are annoying... I doubt our relationship would last based on that alone..."

She laughs, nodding. "I suppose you're right.... He can be a handful.. But so can Daiki, from what I've seen."

Your cheeks start to burn, and you try to find the words in your throat...

"D...Did you SPY on us??"

"It's not spying when I return home to see you guys cuddling outside... I didn't want to disturb you, so I went out for dinner with your father.." She shrugs. "It wasn't my business, and I'm not going to pry. Just know if you need to talk, I'm here."

It was the first time your mother had said anything like that... It's not that she wasn't reliable.. But she was busy with work, and visiting your father in the hospital... You hardly got a chance to see each other... You also kept yourself locked away during the Teiko incident, because you didn't think you could explain what was going on to her, let alone have her understand... She wasn't part of the sports world, after all...

"...Thanks mom..."

______________________________

By the time you got home, it was dark, and your eyes were begging to rest. A yawn escapes your lips, and although you had tests to study for, sleep was the healthier option. Your mind briefly drifts to the kiss, and your fingers raise up to touch your lips, heat beginning to crawl up your skin.. He was soft, tender.. Just the way he used to be... Your body finds its way to the bed, and you collapse on it, lazily kicking off your shoes.

Your heart begins to pick up, and soft tears slip down your cheeks... You knew you were in love with him... Everyone knew, and it seems like Daiki himself knew you were in love with him...

So why didn't he stay longer? Why did he kiss you so softly, holding you as if you were made of glass... He was hesitant, and that's not a word you'd ever associate with him.. Not even after the Haizaki incident... Your eyes go to the teddy bear resting above your bed, and you slowly reach out to grab it, bringing him to your chest.

It was the bear he got you for your birthday...

You move to get under the covers, and let yourself drift to sleep. You could shower, study and eat later... You just wanted to feel that warmth again, to feel comforted and safe... Every emotion you ever felt when Aomine cuddled with you..

All you wanted was to feel his love engulf you, until you were burning by his touch.

[bgn846]

The Science Experiment ffxv fluff cats

Noct tried not to panic as he re-read his text message. He was in a meeting and unable to do much of anything besides fidget uselessly in his seat. This of course attracted the attention of Ignis who simply scowled at him with a disapproving look. Figures Prompto would text him with something urgent when he was busy!

Waiting for the meeting to end was pure torture. Not that he knew what real torture felt like but Noct was sure it had to be close. He wasn’t even out of high school yet and he still had to sit through boring council meetings. Finally, when the meeting adjourned he quickly sent a message back to Prompto right before Ignis’ full focus was directed towards him.

“Highness, might I suggest you not play with your phone during council sessions, it does make you look rather distracted.”

“I wasn’t playing!” Noct spit back under his breath.

“Well, whatever it was you were doing shouldn’t be conducted during the meeting.”

“Yeah, yeah, gotcha, can we go home now?”

Ignis merely sighed and nodded towards the exit. The drive back home was mostly quiet. Ignis probably thought he was stewing over being reprimanded for his phone use, but Noct was really texting Prompto. He still had to figure out what to do.  Ignis needed to drop him off and go home so Noct could call Prompto.

Getting Ignis to actually go home, took forever. First, he had to convince his advisor and friend that he should take the night off. Only after he agreed to eat some leftovers with actual nutritional content did Ignis agree to this idea. Noct kept saying he was only tired and didn’t want to be a bore if Ignis stuck around. The lie was weak and Noct assumed Ignis was only agreeing to keep him happy.

Nearly twenty minutes later when Ignis had gone back down to his car and the door was locked and bolted did Noct call Prompto. His friend picked up on the first ring.

“Dude! Where have you been?” Prompto wailed.

“In a meeting, I just got rid of Ignis, what’s going on? Is she alright?”

“I dunno, she’s um acting weird. I’m starting to get worried.”

“Shit, I knew you should have taken her to the vet yesterday, now what do we do? Nothing will be open now except in emergency places.   Ignis will definitely know something is up if that shows up on the credit card.”

“Oh, oh, I need to bring her over, I don’t know what else to do,” Prompto replied in a rush. “I have just enough money for a cab, I’ll be there soon.”

“Wait! Prompto!” It was too late the line had disconnected. Noct considered calling back but he knew his friend was coming over no matter what he said. Nervously pacing his living room Noct couldn’t get time to go any faster. It felt like an eternity before someone called from downstairs alerting him to Prompto’s arrival.

Running to the door he waited in the hallway until Prompto’s figure appeared around the corner. He was carrying a large box and practically sprinting down the hall. “I don’t know what to do buddy, she’s not okay.”

Noct ushered Prompto inside and quickly shut the door. “Come on let’s take her into the bathroom and see, the light is better in there and it’s got all the first aid stuff too.”

Nearly two hours later Noct wasn’t sure he could unsee what he’d witnessed. Blinking slowly he took in the scene that had unfolded on his pristine white tiled bathroom floor. “How the hell am I going to explain this to Ignis? He doesn’t like animals.”

“We can clean up the mess for sure, but, um, I don’t know what to do with all the new ones,” Prompto replied gesturing towards the pile of squirming fur near the bathtub.

“How did we not know she was pregnant? Shouldn’t that be like, obvious?”

“I’ve never seen a pregnant cat before how the heck would I have known that?”

Noct hummed in acknowledgment but didn’t bother to comment further. They’d both missed this very important fact regarding their newly rescued furry friend. “We couldn’t have left her right? I mean, we did the right thing yeah?” Noct checked, suddenly worried that they’d somehow ruined this cat’s life by taking her in right before she gave birth. Finding a cute cat behind the arcade had been fun but then it had followed them, and pretty soon Prompto had picked it up and the rest is history.

“Nah, dude, she needed a nice place to rest for something like this,” Prompto defended.

“Okay, but now what? They can’t stay here.”

“What do you mean? They can’t stay here, I can’t keep them,” said Prompto with a serious expression. “I work after school, remember? I won’t be able to watch them properly.”

“What about your parents can’t they help?”

“No! Dad is working out of town this week and mom is allergic. I did well to hide momma cat from her this long.”

“Ignis will skin me alive if he finds out I’m keeping a cat in here. I can’t keep them!”

“Buddy, you have to, we don’t have a choice. Don’t you have that extra room no one uses? Can’t we set them up in there and just keep Ignis out?”

“You make it sound so easy, Ignis will find them.”

“Oh! Tell him you are doing a science project and you need a controlled environment or something and that he needs to not open the door for the next week.”

“Prompto, that is the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard of, that will never work,” Noct huffed.

--

“Yeah, so it’s for a science project and like I need a controlled environment otherwise it’ll fail and I’ll have to um, you know, start over,” Noct rambled as Ignis stood in the hallway holding a bundle of folded clothes the next evening.

“Highness you are aware that I use the closet in that room for storing some of your extra clothing, it would have been helpful to have alerted me to this development before you started your experiment.”

“Uh, sorry about not telling you but it’s super important that you just don’t go in there. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

Ignis raised an eyebrow in judgment and watched as Noct withered under the gaze.  Unwilling to fight Noct on what he was actually hiding in the room Ignis sighed and shook his head. Without uttering anything else he turned and walked away. The evening was going to be an interesting one.

It became clear that Noct wanted him to leave sooner rather than later, so Ignis decided to play along. Being an integral part of the prince's life meant he would see Noct again, whether he wanted it or not. Seeing Noct struggle to ignore the spare room was comical. Homework was even brought out as what Ignis could only guess was some form of distraction.

Noct only stared at the paper but didn’t write anything. When dinner was served he ate so fast Ignis was sure he’d make himself sick. Thankfully, that didn’t happen. Once all the dishes were clean Ignis gathered his things and bid Noct a good night.

No sooner had he shut the door behind him did he hear Noct run away from the door, he was up to something. Debating about calling Gladio to ask if he knew, Ignis decided things might be more adventurous if he let it play out naturally.

Approximately twenty-six hours later when Ignis came over to fix dinner he had his first clue. Noct’s apartment smelled fruity. The prince normally didn’t like fake scents but he’d obviously bought something. Sniffing around Ignis found the source, plugged into the wall just down the hall from the supposed science experiment room. As he was walking over to investigate further Noct came bustling down the hall and blocked the door with his body.

“When did you get here?! I told you already you can’t go in there!”

“I wasn’t going to go in, I was merely trying to figure out why you bought that,” Ignis commented as he pointed to the small device emitting the not-so-great scent. “And I’m here to fix dinner highness like I always am at this time.”

“Ah, oh, um, right, dinner.”

“So the experiment you’re conducting stinks?” Ignis asked hoping to glean more information.

“No, well not exactly, but yeah,” Noct scrambled. “Does it really matter, this is my house. If I want a smelly plug thing for the wall then I should have one right?”

Ignis raised his hands in defeat and turned away. “I’ll go start dinner then since there is nothing to see here.”

The moment he’d made it to the kitchen Ignis was sure he’d heard the door to the spare room open and quickly close. Noct came to join him about five minutes later and couldn’t focus to save his life. The boy was constantly looking towards the spare room and was unable to make conversation that consisted of anything more than three words. Giving up Ignis finished up dinner and excused himself early for the night.

One day down, Ignis wondered how long  Noct would make it before he slipped up and revealed the secrets of the spare room.

--

It had been three weeks and Ignis was still playing Noct’s game of ‘stay out of the spare room’. Though, he had a pretty good idea of what was going on. He’d just not seen physical evidence yet. Ignis had also discovered that Prompto was part of this ruse as well. The two teenagers were constantly hanging out, more than normal, and working to keep the spare room from being noticed. The idea that making distractions around the rest of the apartment would keep their secret safe was funny to Ignis.

Having had ample time to do research on a few things Ignis was sure that life was about to get a lot trickery for Noct and Prompto. By now Gladio had been alerted and told to stay quiet. Ignis was actually having fun and looking forward to the big, or rather small reveal.

Granted he could have intruded and taken a peek in the room already, but Ignis stood by his morals, this was Noct’s home and he’d been asked to stay out of that room. The trust he and Noct shared was not something he was keen to throw away over a cat.

Settling in at the dining table that evening Ignis sat with his back to the hallway, Noct’s new seat of choice was one facing the spare room. It was just the two of them tonight; Prompto had to go home early to see his parents. Halfway through the meal, Ignis heard a faint scratching noise. “Do you hear that?” he asked pausing and tilting his head.

“Hear what? I don’t hear anything!”

“Hmm I’m sure I heard something, does your science experiment have to do with anything that moves?”

“Something moving?! Six no, its not alive. Nothing in that room is alive,” Noct answered as his face turned a rather interesting shade of red.

“I see, well then I must have heard something else.”

Noct didn’t say anything more; instead it seemed his focus had become how loudly he could eat the rest of his dinner. The idea that clinking his fork into the dishware and slamming his water glass down would do anything to mask the sounds coming from down the hall was amusing. Working hard to keep from smiling Ignis finished eating and hurried to clean and put away the dishes.

“Don’t forget we need to review the council meeting minute’s tomorrow evening after dinner.”

“Can’t we just like wait until the meeting and then I’ll take a look, I don’t really need to be that prepared. They never ask me anything anyway.”

“You will not get out of this highness, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Noct groaned in frustration but nodded as Ignis gathered his things and made to leave. Deciding to push a little Ignis paused near the door. “When will your science experiment be over?”

“Not sure, it’s sorta um an organic timed kinda thing. Ya know?”

“No not really, why don’t you explain it to me?”

Noct’s nervous laughter filled the space as he began gesticulating with his hands and trying to say something coherent. “Well, like, um, it’s science and stuff and sometimes I don’t even understand it, but there are instructions and its going well I think.”

“I see,” Ignis hummed. “I’d best be off then, good night Noct.” With nothing more than a smile, Ignis donned his shoes and left.

--

The next evening when Ignis approached Noct’s apartment door he could hear a commotion inside. A faint yelp indicated that Prompto was there as well. Knocking loudly Ignis took his time unlocking the door and letting himself in. He could at least give them a head start.

Once inside Ignis could tell that things had escalated. The living room was a mess and the sound of hushed voices and frantic steps could be heard down the hall. Both young men were in the spare room. The cat must have escaped the room or maybe it was trying to escape. One couldn’t keep a cat caged for too long it’d get curious and want to explore.

Deciding to start dinner Ignis busied himself in the kitchen. Looking around in an upper cabinet for a dish Ignis was startled when a door slammed. Spinning around Ignis was about to check on Noct and Prompto when something caught his eye. There on the floor was a tiny little ball of fluff. It had cute little ears and was wobbling around headed straight for him.

They were hiding a kitten, not a cat! No wonder Noct was being so protective. Slowly walking towards the little kitten, Ignis was surprised when another nearly identical kitten appeared from around the corner. Dear six, there was more than one. The first kitten had nearly made to his feet when Ignis heard footsteps approaching. Without thinking he leaned over and scooped up the little animal and promptly shoved it in the still open cabinet. Swiftly closing the door he stayed facing the wall pretending to prepare things while he waited. The footsteps became very quiet, almost like the owner was trying to hide. Ignis knew they were trying to catch the little escapee. When the door down the hall opened and closed Ignis checked to make sure he was alone before he opened the cabinet door.

A petit mew was the greeting he received from the occupant. Reaching in Ignis gave the little fuzzball a pat. “I believe they are still looking for you little one,” he whispered with a smirk. “Your sibling didn’t make it as far as you.”

Again, the door opened down the hall and Ignis quickly and carefully shut the cabinet to hide its secret. Spinning around Ignis found Noct wandering around the living room, hunched over clearly looking for the missing kitten. “Did you lose something?”

Noct straightened up and shook his head, “Nah I was um just stretching my legs.”

Before Ignis could think of what to say Prompto came running into the room without noticing him. “Did you find it?!”

“Be sure to say hi to Ignis first!” Noct exclaimed.

“Shit! Oh uh I mean hi, how’s it going?” Prompto managed as he turned to face him.

“So you were looking for something?”

“Prompto’s phone, that’s what I was looking for, it’s not here. I think we need to check the other room again.” Noct walked away and dragged a very flustered Prompto with him.

Ignis heard Noct berate Prompto for not knowing he was there. The last bit of conversation he could make out was regarding the blond having not heard the knock on the door. Remembering his own secret Ignis rushed back and opened the cabinet. Another mew sounded and this time the kitten stumbled right out and nearly hit the counter. Thinking fast Ignis caught the little thing and cradled it to his chest. “Little trouble maker you,” he cooed. “Come now, let’s have some fun.”  

Dinner was truly entertaining. Ignis managed to hide the little kitten that he‘d already named Darvis in the laundry room. The basket full of clean towels was most intriguing and worked as a wonderful place for a small nap. However, the real show was getting to watch Prompto and Noct attempt to remain sane while they ate. Neither of them would maintain eye contact for more than a few seconds. They’d always break away to scan the floor around the apartment.

When dinner was over Ignis stood and stretched. “I think you two should clean the dishes while I get some paperwork ready for Noct to review.” Both boys were up in a flash and clearing away the dishes. Ignis had never seen them move so fast.

Taking advantage of the distraction Ignis calmly went to retrieve little Darvis. It was far too easy to sneak back into the living room and sit on the sofa with his back to Noct and Prompto. The kitten was enjoying the attention and clambered around on his lap until it found a nice little spot between Ignis’ leg and the sofa cushion. Getting comfortable Ignis began arranging paperwork for Noct to look at. Darvis had his eyes closed and was happily napping again. Soon enough Noct shuffled into view, still looking everywhere but Ignis. Prompto followed him and was also scanning the area.  

“Sit down this won’t take long. Feel free to stick around Prompto, we’ll be done soon and then I’ll take my leave for the night.”

“Huh? Oh sure, um what do you need me to review?” Noct replied absentmindedly, his attention clearly on something else.

Ignis smiled and handed over the paperwork, Noct almost dropped the folder because he wasn’t looking. Finally, the prince sat down and made a half-assed attempt at looking through the files. Prompto continued to search the fringes of the room by idly wandering around.

Several minutes passed before Prompto froze and let his mouth fall open. He was looking right at Darvis. Noct was still distracted enough that Ignis was able to put a finger to his lips to silence Prompto. The blond kept moving his mouth akin to a fish out of water but he remained quiet.

“Ignis, um, can I look at these later I’m really not able to focus right now.” Noct lamented as he put the folder down on the coffee table.

“Certainly highness, I’ll be happy to go over it again tomorrow with you.”

“Thanks, sorry, I’m not being very helpful.”

“I understand,” Ignis supplied looking straight at Noct and waiting for him to see what was in plain sight.

Prompto had even begun to stare at his friend in disbelief. Finally, Noct’s eyes grew wide as he noticed the little ball of fluff nestled next to Ignis. “How --how long have you known?” Noct managed in a strangled voice.

“Since the scent plug-in appeared.”

Noct groaned and flopped sideways on the sofa, though he quickly perked back up and pointed an accusing finger at him, “I get to keep one, you clearly already picked one.”

“Yes, Darvis is mine and will be coming to live with me once he’s been properly nursed by his mother.”

“I thought you didn’t like cats!” Prompto exclaimed.

“I don’t, Darvis is the exception,” Ignis answered coolly.

“What about the other two, and the momma?” Prompto asked with worry. “I can’t take any of them, my mom is allergic.”

Ignis wasn’t surprised to hear there were more, but he knew what to do. “I’ll put a notice up in the office; we’ll be able to find suitable homes for all of them in no time.”

“I can’t believe you let me suffer through that terrible science experiment lie for three whole weeks!” Noct lamented.

“How did you even come up with that farce?”

Noct immediately looked at Prompto and threw his hand out, “he suggested it!”

“Next time I might suggest you fess up before making your life harder. I may not like most cats but I wouldn’t have made you put it out on the street.  Though,” Ignis paused and stared at Noct intensely, “that doesn’t mean you can bring every pregnant stray you find here. Am I understood?”

“I promise never to do it again, so long as I get to keep one.”

“Can he keep another one for me too?” Prompto tried hopefully.

“Don’t push your luck young man, I think one cat between the two of you will be purrfectly fine.”

“Oh, you did not just do that!” Noct groused. “Prompto we need to get him away from the cats now, he’s only gonna get worse!”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32461276

[hecallsmehischild]

Recent Media Consumed

Books

The Road to Wigan Pier by George Orwell. First, I actually appreciated the foreward to the “Left Book Club” copy, even though it says that anyone who is not a member should disregard it. It gave an interesting rebuttal to parts of the book. That aside, I’m not totally sure what to make of the book. On the level of descriptive writing, I rarely find something this richly penned. But it’s loaded with concepts and lingo and even a monetary system I’m unfamiliar with, and that hampers my understanding of the points. I get the general gist, but all the finer points are very lost on me, simply because I’m an American millennial.

The Subtle Art of Not Giving A F*ck by Mark Manson. I’ve seen the “F*ck” series titles floating around here and there, and I’m intrigued by a couple of them. The idea of this one is that people give way too many f*cks about everything, and that you really need to pick where you give your f*cks in life and never give a f*ck about anything that doesn’t line up with your values (in a nutshell). It’s an easy and interesting read. It’s interesting to me that, in the wake of what I hear was many years of positive-mood and high self-esteem type self help books (most of which I’ve only heard of and never read, were they before my time?), we’re getting a backlash of “Yes, life sucks. Yes, life has pain. Dealing with pain and failure appropriately is a part of life. Accept that, or lose yourself to complete entitlement” type self-help books. I’m curious what this trend produces in people over time. I’d also like to highlight that this book has the best discussion of dividing “fault” and “responsibility” that I’ve ever read.

Shows

Loki. WHAT EVEN. WHAT EVEN. WHAT. WHAT THE. WHAT THE. FRESH… THE FRICK FRACK PADDYWHACK???!!!

Mushi-shi. So, turns out the first time I watched this I somehow started on Season 2, and my source cut out before the season end… no wonder I was pretty confused. So I started re-watching this and… I remember how incredibly unsettling this anime is. It’s equal parts gentle wonder and soft horror, a blend that is very difficult to describe unless you’ve seen it. Much like Mushi themselves, eh? I think I’ll balance this out by ending each watch session with an episode of Log Horizon rewatch. That’ll keep the emotional balance intact.

Claymore. I ended up dropping this one halfway through. It has an interesting concept, but the “things that bug me” points mounted pretty fast. In the early episodes, everything is so dark that it’s hard to see what’s going on. There’s a huge amount of monologuing and info-dumping IN monologue, and this goes on even mid-fight, and even CALMLY mid-fight. Yes, this isn’t the only anime that does this, but it decreases my enjoyment. It’s difficult to take the story seriously when the big bad yells, “Why can’t I defeat you?” to the weakest-but-somehow-also-the-strongest member of a team, and then have a colleague of the team member calmly explain to the big bad exactly why he’s unable to land a blow, then they take off his head together. This show has a lot of that sort of thing. I’ll read up on how the series ended, not interested in slogging through the other half.

Elfen Lied. This is a re-re-rewatch for me. I stumbled on this anime when I was newly inducted into anime-watching and, well... given that Princess Tutu was my very first anime, this one was a real shock to my system at first. By all accounts I should have dropped it and run screaming at the time, but I couldn’t. There was something about the sheer tragedy of the story that called to me. Plus it was VERY short. So I returned to it from time to time. Now that I’ve developed more of a feel for what I do and don’t like in a story, how does this hold up? The relationships are terrible, imo, and the whole thing about diclonius is never explained enough (and I still don't understand the ending) but it's STILL hard not to be pulled in by the sheer tragedy of the series.

Movies

300. I haven’t seen this movie since college. Is it weird how much I enjoyed it as a romp? Yes, there’s death and tragedy, but the dry humor and utter gung-ho-edness of it is infectious. It’s a good flick, I’m really glad I went back to see it. And I also finally understand Leonidas telling the traitor, “May you live forever.” Damn, man. No wonder he flinched.

Weathering With You. GORGEOUS. I need to see more by this animator… LIGHT. WATER. FOOD. I hear they’re calling this person the new Miyazaki? I CONCUR. And the story is sweet and beautiful and just yes. Yes. Oh, look, he made something else before this movie…

Your Name. Okay so I have mixed feelings about this one. On the one hand, fantastic story and, once again, gorgeous animation that all makes me want to track with this creator in the future. And the twist definitely socked me in the gut, I didn’t see it coming. On the other hand, I feel like this movie hits an extreme of “show, don’t tell” in a way that comes awfully close to a negative. I didn’t think that was possible, but this movie switches timelines, POV, points in time, etc, so rapidly that it becomes difficult to keep track of what’s going on, properly. I could not imagine watching this movie in theaters, it has to be watched with a remote in hand to pause, rewind, rewatch, discuss what the heck just happened. It’s like watching Mystery Skulls videos, with that level of rapid fire little details that are incredibly important to the plot, but for a feature length film. Also, after some discussion, I came to see (and agree) that there’s a foundational issue in the main relationship that doesn’t bode well for the future, as much as I rooted for them to be together. Still, it’s an incredible movie and I can see why it was the highest grossing movie for Japan a few years back.

Games

Diablo II. I’m really happy. I live in a house with my husband and his best friend, and in the past year or so we’ve begun playing games together. This is the sort of game I would never have gone to on my own because I actually need someone in the room who I can ask, “Hey, how do you assign attacks again?” or “Hey, is this piece of gear better than the piece I’m wearing?” I don’t like playing the number game on gear so much, but I let the two of them dress my character up and then I back them up in a fight and enjoy myself. Looting and exploring for treasure is probably my favorite aspect (says the person who plays Breath of the Wild just to forage for mushroom and herbs), although as a level 20 Amazon I’m now shooting out waves of 8 arrows at a time, and that’s pretty epic too. It’s a special kind of joy to find out you actually like a type of gaming as long as there’s people there who can explain things along the way and who don’t get annoyed at re-asked questions. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m having a blast playing Diablo II in a group. And as for the other game we play together as a group…

WoW Classic. I covered this before, but back then I was a lowly level 17 Dwarf Hunter. Now I’m a lowly level 36 Dwarf Hunter. With a mount! I have epic skills like explosion traps, poisonous shots, and multi-shot. My wolf has gained a ton more skills, too, and is (or so I’m told) a pretty effective off-tank. I have been told I am an effective DPS person, which makes me very happy. I really enjoy this kind of gaming, but specifically when I’m in the same room as the people I’m gaming with. Communication is a lot easier and we work really well as a team that way.