#rest in peace first amendment; you will be missed... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

d1xonss · 5 months ago

Text

Desert Rose

Chapter 65 ~ A Friend

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 5

✧ Word Count : 5.8k

In this chapter ~ After the restless night spent in the barn, amends were made the following morning, just the closure Rose needed to finally be able to move on. Though the peace didn't last, especially when the group is greeted with a new and unfamiliar face. A stranger who spreads the word of the community he comes from.

After Rick's motivational speech, and hundreds of walkers trying to break down the barn doors at nightfall, sleep still didn't come to me. I remained wide awake, numbly looking around at my surroundings for an eternity and a half until the sun started to peek through the cracks of the walls. It was only then I started to slightly doze off. Exhaustion ached in my bones, begging for me to get a few hours of rest in the safe space while I had the chance, yet I still tossed and turned uncomfortably.

My eyes fluttered shut after the long hours of restlessness, not even registering the footsteps that were approaching until the figure sat themselves down beside me. My neck jerked a bit as I opened my eyes slowly when I felt the presence, my heart sinking a little when I saw it was Maggie. It's not that I didn't want to talk to her, I just didn't know how. I didn't know what to say. It felt stupid and inconsiderate to bring up Beth, but yet it was the only thing on my mind, and something we hadn't so much as acknowledged in weeks.

She looked me over for a few lingering moments, managing a small smile, the first one I had seen from her in a very long time. I found myself unable to hold back one of my own, watching as her eyes lit up at just my simple gesture.

At first we didn't speak, just enjoying what was left of the quiet until her voice came out just barely above a whisper. "I miss you."

The simplicity felt like a punch to the gut, but what seemed to hurt worse was the softness of her tone. She didn't sound bitter, or angry at me for avoiding her whenever I could. Just sad.

"I miss you too." I whispered, trying to swallow my emotion. "Mags, I'm so sorry. I just...I've been...I didn't know what to say; I still don't. I'm just so sorry." I admitted sadly.

She shook her head, "You don't ever need to say you're sorry to me, okay? I just needed to...actually talk to you again. I know you've been distant because of everything, and I understand why...but please-"

"I'm trying." I interrupted softly, "I had an...epiphany last night, or something," I huffed, "It made me realize what I was doing...and I just need to keep fighting. We all do. Pushing everyone away isn't the way to do that...so, I'm trying."

A tear of utter exhaustion slipped down her rosy cheek as she nodded again, "I'm trying too. Even though it feels impossible...suffering with one thing after another. But I understand the need to be alone being easier than facing whatever hell we've ended up in...believe me, I do." she sniffled.

My chest ached upon hearing her own battle with sadness, reaching out to wrap my arms around her shoulders before I could even process what I was doing, pulling her into a tight hug. She sighed shakily, feeling her arms come around my middle in an instant as her shoulders began to shake whilst she cried. And it wasn't long before her sobs coaxed my own, the two of us finally mourning the loss of Beth together, the relief feeling like no other.

"I miss her." she muttered through the tears.

I nodded slowly, "Yeah...me too."

She gripped onto me tighter, my shirt scrunching up in her grasp as we were both content with quietly crying in each other's arms. In a way, this was something that we both needed. Clearing the air, the tension, and everything else in between as I felt like I could finally look her in the eye again. Something therapeutic. Neither one of us knew how much time passed while we let everything out, but it didn't matter to me. I just knew that I had her back, and that's all I could care about right now.

Eventually we untangled our arms from one another, laughing quietly once we saw each other's tear stained cheeks. Nothing about it was funny, but the sleep deprivation was clearly catching up to the both of us.

She attempted to dry her eyes with the back of her hand, "She loved you a whole lot you know."

I smiled sadly, "I could say the same thing about you."

The sound of shuffling from just behind me is what cut the conversation short, seeing Daryl moving quietly to lean up against the wall, closing his eyes once more to block the blinding sun. I frowned at the thought of having to talk to him after everything that happened. I knew we were okay, but I just didn't know what I would say. I didn't know how to even begin to explain everything that had been running through my head, it was all too much.

Though Maggie noticed my change in emotion, "What's wrong?" she asked quietly.

My gaze turned toward her again, "What isn't wrong?" I asked bitterly, letting out a soft breath, "I have no idea...what I'm going to say to him."

She glanced past my shoulder to see where I was nodding before scoffing quietly, "You joking? That man practically kisses the dirt you walk on, it'll be alright...promise. Don't worry over it too much."

"I don't even know where to start." I muttered.

She shrugged, "Tell him everything."

I rolled my eyes slightly, "Start. I don't know where to start."

She laughed quietly, "Okay...just explain how you've been feeling, how hard it's taken a toll on you. And reassure him it has nothing to do with him."

"Okay," I agreed, "You know, with my luck I'll probably end up word vomiting all over him but...better than bottling it up, right?"

An amused smile crossed her face, "Right." she echoed, slowly standing back up to her feet, "I'm going to talk to Sasha, maybe take a walk...you're more than welcome to come with if you want."

My eyes glanced from her to Daryl a few times, thinking about how some fresh air would be nice, but in my mind, I knew what was more important. "I- uh...I think I've got some stuff to take care of first."

She glanced back over to where my eyes kept darting to, nodding in understanding before she walked over near where Sasha had been sleeping for the night. I watched as she leaned down to gently wake her, before they both headed outside the barn doors quietly to talk.

My heart felt a bit heavier as I looked back towards Daryl, seeing his eyes were still closed as he groggily attempted to wake up for the day and I sighed to myself. What was I supposed to say? How much was I going to tell him? How I was sorry for my mood swings yesterday? I felt that I was never really good at expressing my negative feelings and he deserved something that was actually worth listening to.

But I guess I was just going to have to wing it, seeing as though my body was being drawn to him faster than I anticipated.

I cautiously sat myself down next to him, the noise my boots made not going unnoticed by him as he immediately seemed to open his eyes. He jolted a bit on alert, but once he was it was just me, he relaxed greatly. It still managed to amaze me that after all we've been through, biting his head off no less than yesterday, he still looked at me with all the love in the world. He looked at me as if nothing happened, like everything was perfectly fine. But we both knew that wasn't the case.

"Hi." I whispered.

Though I internally cursed the moment the word left my mouth. Hi? What the hell was wrong with me? Well, I guess you have to start somewhere.

He chuckled softly, "Hey."

I took a deep breath, "I'm so sorry." I spoke quietly, tears already threatening to fall from my eyes from only three words, and yet I had so much more to say.

"I've been pulling away from everyone...thinking it would be easier...but believe me, pulling away from you hurt me more than you could imagine. I didn't mean any of the things I said yesterday, about letting me go...don't." I pleaded, "Because I don't want to let you go. I couldn't have asked for a more supportive husband, especially right now, being there for me even when I didn't want you to be. You've been incredible and I've just been such a bitch, and I'm just- I'm so sorry-"

The entire time I was talking, I watched as he bit his lower lip to try and keep himself together. But toward the end where my voice started to crack, he finally had enough and brought his hands up to my cheeks to wipe my tears.

"Shh," he shushed me, "It's okay, it's okay." he whispered before slowly bringing me into a hug, giving me a chance to pull away if I wanted, but that was far from what I wanted. I practically crashed into his arms and held onto him tightly like I never wanted to part from him again, but the truth was I didn't. I felt like I lost so much time with shutting myself out, yet he was the same perfect man that was always willing to wait. I didn't deserve him. I never did.

"Don't you ever say yer sorry bout that." he said a bit sternly, pulling back to look me in the eye, "Ya hear me?"

I nodded my head tearfully. "I know yer hurtin. I know why ya said the things ya said, or did the things ya did. Ya never have to explain yerself to me. M' always gonna be right here...didn't I promise ya that yesterday?"

I nodded again, "I- I just didn't want you to think that-"

"I know," he said softly, "I know, Rosie." he wiped more tears from my cheeks as he spoke in a hushed tone, "The only thing that hurt me these past few weeks was seein ya so broken. And the fact that I didn't know how to help, hurt me even more."

"I'm sorry." I repeated like a broken record.

He shook his head firmly, "Stop. Stop apologizin."

I exhaled a shuttering breath, nodding my head again, "I wanted you to know how much I didn't mean it. How much I wanted to take it back right after I said it."

"I know," he assured once more, "I won't hold it against ya...just wanna be able to be here for ya."

I shook my head slowly, "You have been. You've been so patient with me...you're perfect."

He scoffed, "I ain't perfect."

"You are to me." I stated almost firmly, wanting him to hear just how much I apricated him.

He smiled the biggest smile I had seen from him in a while, his eyes wrinkling at the corners as he leaned in to plant a brief kiss on my lips before bringing me into his embrace once more. It was like fireworks erupted in my stomach at the familiar feeling. He was always so gentle and loving, which only made me only pull him in closer. His hand traced soothing circles along my back whilst the other went up to my hair, running his fingers through my mess of curls. I missed his touch. I missed his warmth. I missed him.

He pulled back slightly after a few moments, peppering soft kisses across my skin as if he had been deprived, his beard tickling and scratching me to which I laughed into his shoulder. I heard a soft hum vibrate through his body, his arms squeezing me tighter.

"I missed that sound." he muttered quietly.

I felt my face flush a bit at the sincerity behind his voice, pulling my face back enough to look at him, "I missed you."

He tilted his head a bit, "I missed ya more, angel."

I smiled softly, pecking his lips once more before I snuggled into his side, letting out a breath of relief I felt I had been holding in for ages. His presence alone was something that I desperately needed, not knowing just how bad I needed it until I had it again.

We found ourselves talking amongst one another for what felt like forever as the morning slowly ticked by. There was simply too much to say, too much to fill in of the events that happened during the long and hopeless weeks. It felt like a breath of fresh air, having someone listen to you so intently when you could've sworn that these thoughts and feelings you brought up were pointless after feeling so small for so long.

Our voices didn't quiet down until we noticed almost everyone was slowly starting to wake now, knowing we would surely have to get a move on soon. My eyes looked around as they scattered, slowly packing their things and overhearing the hushed conversations, my gaze eventually catching sight of Rick. He was already looking toward me, his brows furrowed slightly in worry as if there was a silent question he was projecting across the space between us. I could read it clear as day.

My only response was a simple smile, assuring him that I was just fine. And that alone seemed to take some of the weight off his shoulders, nodding back toward me subtly, the exchange being for our eyes only.

But the peaceful moment was quickly cut shorter than I would've liked as the barn doors creaked loudly when they opened once more, my head tilting up a bit to see who entered the space. I assumed it was only Maggie and Sasha coming back inside considering how long they had been out. But what I didn't expect was to see a man trailing behind them, Daryl and I trading only one look before we both jumped up to our feet.

"Everyone...this is Aaron." Maggie announced.

The group perked up at the unfamiliar name, the sound of guns loading filling the air after her voice traveled around, finding myself instinctively aiming my weapon at the man as well.

I fell in line beside Rick while Daryl brushed past everyone else to look out the barn doors, sticking his head outside to glance around and make sure no one else lingered there from what he could see. I aimed my gun right at the man's head, but I didn't feel any type of fear, silently knowing I would kill him in a split second if he tried anything. My only question was why? Why the fuck did they bring him back here? Clearly, we had learned nothing from recent events.

"We met him outside, he's by himself." Maggie assured with raised hands.

"We took his weapons, and his gear." Sasha added.

I saw the two women gesturing and talking from the corner of my eye, but I never took my stare off the stranger in front of us. Everyone remained dead silent, watching as Daryl shut the wooden doors with a slam before swiftly turning around to pat him down, making sure he didn't have any hidden things under his clothes. Though in the end he didn't find anything, letting out a huff as he stepped back, watching him like a hawk. The man himself felt the tension in the room, his eyes looking all of us over a bit fearfully. Watching as he slowly became more intimidated.

"Hi," Aaron breathed, "It's nice to meet you." he greeted while attempting to take a step forward, only for Rick to send him a glare which ultimately kept him in place.

"You said he had a weapon?" Rick asked Maggie.

She nodded silently before stepping over towards him to hand over the small gun, Rick examining it in his hands for a moment before placing it behind his back, "Is there something you need?" he asked.

"He has a camp nearby. He wants us to audition for membership." Sasha informed.

I furrowed my brows, "Audition?" I asked in disbelief.

His head turned as soon as he heard me speak, "I- I wish there was another word for it. Audition makes it sound like we're some kind of a dance troupe...that's only on Friday nights." he attempted to joke, laughing lightly at his own words. But no one else followed, and he seemed to realize he was dealing with a pretty tough crowd.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, "And uh, it's not a camp. It's a community. And I think you all would make valuable additions. But it's not my call, my job is to convince you all to follow me back home."

I couldn't shake the anxious feeling that formed in my stomach that this was an awful lot like when a murder tries to get a child to hop in his van because he said he had candy. The way he worded things wasn't very convincing to me. And Rick beginning to tense from beside me only caused my nerves to grow.

"I know, if I were you I wouldn't go either. Not until I knew exactly what I was getting into..." Aaron assured before looking behind him, "Sasha, can you hand Rick my pack?"

She stared at him for a moment before reaching down to pick up his bag from the ground, walking over to Rick and handing it over, "In the front pocket there's an envelope. There's no way I could convince you to come with me just by talking about our community, that's why I brought those."

Rick opened it up, revealing the many pieces of paper inside that he easily started to look through. I dared to take my eyes off the man momentarily to glance over his shoulder to see what it was for myself, my eyes scanning multiple photographs of the community he was supposedly talking about. And he would not shut up.

"I apologize in advance for the picture quality, we just found an old camera store-"

"Nobody gives a shit." Daryl muttered.

Aaron looked over his shoulder at him with a nervous nod, "You're absolutely one hundred percent right." he spoke, my eyes still trained down to then see a picture of the front gates. "That's the first thing I wanted to show you. Because nothing I say about our community will matter unless you know you'll be safe. If you join us...you will be."

He kept going on and on about the thick walls and how nothing got through them without their say so, which was total bullshit. Even if nothing has gotten through thus far, it will. It always does.

I began to slowly tune out his voice while scanning each and every one of the images that Rick thumbed through, noticing the fact that he didn't seem to be listening to him either. The moment he hit the end of the somewhat endless pictures, he looked down at me, as if silently asking my opinion on what to do with this guy. I glanced back to see him still rambling, my mind racing as I thought of what answer to give.

I wasn't sure if we were ready to take another risk like this, and we sure as hell didn't have it in us to lose anyone else. I didn't want to deal with strangers, and judging by how big this place looked, there was going to be a lot of new people surrounding us constantly. I didn't want to go through it all over again.

My eyes panned back up to Rick's face, seeing him still waiting expectantly for any kind of indication of what I was thinking. I simply shook my head at him. And apparently that was the only answer he needed. He instantly turned to begin to walk up toward the man without a second thought, Aaron still seeming a bit unphased by the man approaching him in record speed. But before he could even blink, he fell back onto the ground harshly after Rick laid him on his ass with one single punch. It was then and only then I lowered my gun, seeing that he was passed out cold.

Everyone seemed utterly unphased with Rick's actions, except for Maggie and Sasha who quickly lowered themselves onto the ground next to him. The two looked him over carefully as they laid him down flat on his back, Daryl walking back over to search him once more just in case.

Michonne's voice sounded quietly from behind me, looking over my shoulder to see her slightly scolding Rick for what he did, seeming to believe the talk of the community. I couldn't blame her in the slightest for wanting to have hope, but everything he was spitting out almost seemed too good to be true. Rick's thoughts seemed to match mine as he didn't listen to her protests for very long, before his paranoia slipped through the cracks of the walls he attempted to build.

"We need eyes in every direction, they're coming for us." he announced, "We might not know how or when...but they are."

Maggie looked over at him in slight shock, "Sasha and I didn't even see him out there, if he wanted to hurt us he could've." she stated firmly.

But Rick ignored her, "Anyone see anything?"

"Just a lot of places to hide." Glenn muttered as he leaned further towards the small space in between the doors, squinting to try and see better into the distance.

I moved from my place, passing the few people in my way so I could come up next to him and see where he was looking. Rick demanded we keep an eye out with a slight panic in his voice and I did just that, scanning through the forest ahead of us to try and make out anything. Though I couldn't really see much from how far away we seemed to be, and who knows how many people he could potentially have out there with him.

"You see something I'm not?" Glenn asked in a hushed tone.

I shook my head, "No, nothing...we might actually have to go out there to try and find where his people are."

"If he has any people." he clarified.

My head turned to look at him, squinting my eyes a bit while I gestured to the man still lying a few feet from us, "You can't look me in the eye and honestly tell me that this man right here, is alone out there. The guy looks like a grown eagle scouts' member for Christ's sake."

He blinked at the accuracy before his eyes settled on the ground instead, his silence alone telling me I had a point. I huffed softly to myself while glancing back outside for another moment, only to hear the man behind me suddenly laugh a little as he slowly came to.

I whipped back around to face him again, pulling out my gun to aim at his head from behind before he had the chance to get up, earning a look of disapproval from Maggie. She slowly shook her head at my actions, but I just shook my head back at her, telling her I wasn't budging.

"That's a hell of a right cross there Rick." he complimented groggily as his eyes surely still felt heavy.

Rick gestured with his hand, "Sit him up."

Maggie and Michonne moved to his aid, grasping his arms to help him up as he responded, "You're being cautious... I completely understand-"

"How many of your people are out there?" Rick asked harshly. The man hesitated to answer. "You have a flare gun to signal your people, so how many of them are there?" he asked again.

Aaron sighed, "Does it matter?"

I scoffed, "What the hell do you mean does it matter? Of course it does."

His head snapped back towards me, the end of my gun now right between his eyes as he spoke again, "I- I mean, of course it matters how many people are actually out there, but does it matter how many people I tell you are out there?"

My eyes narrowed at him, my patience thinning as he continued to speak, "Because I'm pretty sure no matter what number I say...eight, thirty-two, four hundred and forty-four, zero. No matter what I say you're not going to trust me."

"Well, it's hard to trust anybody who smiles after getting punched in the face." I pointed out as I loaded a bullet into the chamber.

He swallowed a bit thickly, "How about a guy who leaves bottles of water for you on the road?"

My heart stopped for a moment as I moved closer to press the gun up against the side of his head, causing him to laugh nervously, "How long you people been followin us?" my husband's voice cut through the thick silence.

Aaron glanced over at him, "Long enough to see that you practically ignore a pack of roamers on your trail. Long enough to see that despite a lack of food and water you never turned on each other. And long enough to see two people having a heart to heart after going through what seems like a whole lot." he finished, looking directly up to me.

His words only surprised be further, how much information he seemed to hold. But I didn't dare allow him to see how his words seemed to affect me. "You're survivors," he continued, "And you're people. Like I said- and I hope you won't punch me for saying it again, that is the most important resource in the world."

There was a long silence that followed and it seemed like we weren't getting many answers that we wanted, just answers that he wanted us to hear. I for one was getting sick of him rambling on and on, my frustration growing as I pressed the gun further into his temple to grab his attention.

When his eyes met mine, once again I asked, "How many others are out there?" my tone cold and demanding.

He sighed shakily before finally answering, "One."

I looked up instinctively to find Rick's face in the mix of the others, seeing him shaking his head at me as he copied my actions from earlier, telling me he didn't trust it one bit. Aaron looked between Rick and I, the wheels turning in his head at our silent conversation, "I knew you wouldn't believe me...if it's not words, if it's not pictures, what would it take to convince you that this is for real?"

No one answered his question, but a lightbulb seemed to appear in his head and he sat up a little straighter, disregarding the gun I still had to his head, "What if I drove you to the community?"

"No." I said immediately.

"Hey," Rick said to get my attention and held his hand out to stop me from talking, "I'm not sure how the sixteen of us are going to fit in a car you and your one friend drove down here in."

"We drove separately." he stated, "If we found a group, we wanted to be able to bring them all home, there's enough room for all of us."

"And you're parked just a couple miles away?" Carol asked.

"East on ridge road just after you hit Route 16." Aaron informed, "We wanted to get closer but then the storm came and blocked the road. We couldn't clear it."

"Yeah, you've really thought this through." Rick muttered still in disbelief.

Aaron sighed, "Rick, if I wanted to ambush you, I'd do it here. You know light the barn on fire while you slept, pick you off as you ran out the only exit...you can trust me." His eyes then moved back over to me, "And you don't have to keep a gun to my head, I won't try anything." he assured in a soft tone.

"Look at my face." I snapped.

His eyes immediately scanned my features, noticing his attention being drawn to the one thing I wanted him to see. What I wanted him to remember. I gestured towards the prominent scars, "This right here...is what happened the last time I let my guard down for a split second...so I think I'm good."

His eyes widened a little, but he didn't break eye contact as he slowly nodded, "Whatever makes you more comfortable."

His compassion threw me off a little, but I still didn't back down. I could feel everyone tense a little at the sensitive subject, and no one knew what to say next. Their minds were all racing on what to do, but I already knew my vote; we weren't going anywhere. None of us were ready to trust people again.

"I'll go check out the cars." Michonne announced, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence that fell.

"There aren't any cars." Rick spoke lowly.

"There's only one way to find out." she argued.

"We don't need to find out." he said quickly without missing a beat.

She took a step closer to him, "We do." she assured, a beat of silence passing before she continued, "You know what you know and you're sure of it...I'm not."

"Me neither." Maggie chimed in.

An unsettling feeling washed over me as I looked at the two of them in disbelief, slowly raising to my full height again and taking the gun away from Aaron's head in the process, "Hold on...have you guys forgotten the last time we tried to join a community, because I haven't."

The room was silent again as I continued to move forward towards them, "Hell, I wasn't even there and I remember how fucked up that shit was, what if this is the same thing? Do we really want to take that risk?"

"I would." Aaron piped in from behind me.

My face dropped as I turned around slowly again to face him, "Does it look like I was talking to you?"

His mouth clamped shut again, looking down toward the ground to avoid my eyes which caused a satisfied hum to escape me before I turned back to face the others. "All I'm staying is this is a big risk, and quite frankly I don't know if I'm willing to take it."

"No, we're doing this," Sasha argued, "We aren't going to let your one bad feeling ruin it for the rest of us...it's not our fault you have trust issues."

Her words cut through me like a knife as I instinctively stepped closer to her, but her hand flying towards her gun in her holster caused me to pause, my eyes traveling to it cautiously. I scoffed to myself as my eyes met hers again, continuing to slowly step closer to her, ignoring the protests of Rick from just behind my head. I didn't stop until I practically right in her face, tilting my head with narrowed eyes at the silent threat she had just made.

"Go ahead." I spoke.

She didn't meet my gaze, she simply couldn't because of her all bark no bite attitude, yet her hand didn't move either. I lowered my head a bit so she would finally look me in the eye and when I got her attention, I spoke again.

"Do it." I challenged.

I watched as her jaw clenched a few times before finally removing her hand and staying in place with her head hung low. She was really going to shoot me over a disagreement? Fuck this bitch.

I nodded my head with a scoff and backed away from her before I did something I regretted, feeling a hand on my shoulder turning me around. I came face to face with Rick as he tried to get my attention, clearly trying to prevent a fight from breaking out as he pulled me away from her.

"It wouldn't hurt to check out." Rick admitted quietly, his hand giving my shoulder a squeeze as if a silent plea not to freak out.

My eyes widened in shock, "You're kidding."

He shook his head, "If it's safe, we have nothing to worry about. We could send a group to check it out."

"And what happened to not believing this asshole five seconds ago?"

He sighed, "I'm thinking of Judith...and Carl...If this place is real and it's safe, the kids could have a life there...right?"

He knew damn well what he was doing by bringing the kids into this and it was working. Of course I knew that they both needed somewhere to grow up, not just the random shelter we found here and there, but an actual gated place. A safe place. One that they wouldn't have to be constantly watching their backs for the potential danger.

Which is the only reason why I found myself slowly nodding my head, "Okay...fine. But I'm going with that group to check the cars."

"Hell no you ain't." Daryl quickly stepped in upon hearing my assertiveness.

"I want to see for myself." I gently argued, "It'll help convince me that this is actually real...please."

He didn't get much of a chance to respond before Glenn spoke up, "I'll go too."

"Me too." Maggie offered.

I smiled at them in appreciation before looking over towards Abraham. As soon as we made eye contact, he nodded in agreement, "I'll walk with 'em." he stated while loading his gun.

Rick squeezing my shoulder caused me to look at him again, "Be safe." he said seriously.

"I will." I promised, pulling him in for a quick hug.

Once we broke away, I walked over to my bag to grab a few extra arrows, purposefully avoiding Daryl who clearly didn't like the fact that I was joining the others for the little quest. But I had all the badasses coming with me so I knew we would be fine no matter what happened. Though I knew he wouldn't let me leave without getting at least a few words in, and to no surprise, he was standing just behind me when I finally turned back around.

"Yes?" I asked sweetly, trying to butter him up at least a little.

He grumbled a little at my tone, "I don't like that yer goin out there..."

I sighed, "Yeah, well it's not up to you. Plus, I've always been able to handle myself fine, you know that better than anyone." I said as I adjusted the weapons on my frame.

He nodded, "I know...but that don't mean I gotta like it."

I smiled a little at him and stepped forward to leave a small kiss on his cheek, before pulling him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and cradled the back of my head with one of his rough hands, kissing the side of it tenderly.

"Stay safe, ya hear me?" he muttered into my hair.

I nodded, "You too."

And just like that, we were off.

The small group we formed walked further and further away from the others in comfortable silence, taking the opportunity to let my mind wander a bit. I wanted to trust this guy. If I was being honest, he seemed genuine, and the pictures looked to be real. But then again people had become insanely dangerous, and risks were something that this group didn't do very often with every good reason you could imagine behind it.

I wanted this place to be real so badly but I almost didn't want to admit it out loud as if it would somehow jinx it. All of us deserved a safe place to rest our heads at night and eat a decent meal, but especially the kids. I wanted this place to be real for them. I wanted them to be able to grow up in a good environment, not one that was filled with fear. We had all been through so much, practically hell and back, that I felt we earned this.

Maybe this would be it. And I guess we were all about to find out.

~ Thanks for reading!

Taglist - @justareader95 @hayley1998 @ryoujoking @sipsthecoffee @winterassassin1804 @marsmallow433 @catlalice @writingstreetspirit @silentlysurffering98 @mystictf @remuslittlesister

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon x original character #daryl dixon series #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead series #the walking dead daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl dixon #twd fanfiction #twd daryl #twd #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #desert rose

45 notes · View notes

professional-yearner · 11 months ago

Note

Hey! So now you've put scenes and idea's in my brain, like da brain worms. So I thought to share.

And now I'm thinking of the darling who gets bullied and picked on by the yandere troopers, and they bite and snark and push back, but eventually they're reputation is ruined, their friendship with the yandere's Perfect Beloved is severed, they lose their job and home and possibly their money/savings (slicers are terrifying and don't get enough credit). So they move away, to a whole other system/planet and start a new life. Cut all ties, close any accounts, remove any real way to contact them and go off to somewhere no one would think to look for them (not that anyone would, they believe). Nobody knows them, they don't know anybody, and it's pretty off-the-grid but quiet and peaceful. They rebuild their life, their confidence, and find peace and joy in this simple existence.

Meanwhile, the troopers are... conflicted. They have their Perfect Darling all to themselves, removed the problem, but... they're disappointed when there's no snarky greeting when they visit their Beloved at work and spend the entire shift just hanging around. There's no back-and-forth while they wait for their shift to end and they can take their Perfect Love out on the town or to the barracks or back to their place.

They... well, they miss the other person. What a shocking revelation it is! To miss their rival, the threat, the person they hated. Or, well, thought they hated. The group is confused, until one of them learns the phrase 'puppy love'.

Yes. That's what it was. Just puppy love. They didn't know better, and seeing someone so new and nice and kind and perfect blinded them. Sure, puppy love can bloom into genuine love, but as they watch their Perfect One, they find themselves... disappointed. Uninterested. Their responses are rote, behaviour predictable, there's no fire or spark in their eyes, no flare of emotion beyond kindness and understanding. They're nice, yes, but now that the initial feeling have settled and faded, they find they preferred the more stimulating company of their friend.

The friend they chased off.

What had started out as dislike, hostility, anger, jealousy and even hatred, had morphed into something else without any of their notice. Their cranky, clumsy, funny, earnest little rival that had matched them word for word and insult for insult, and yet had turned around and defended them against bigots and idiots in the same breath.

Their darling little rival, their lovely antagonist, the one they thought was the villain... but was really the victim in all this. They had been too hasty, too cruel, and did not give their daring darling the chance to show that they were the better match. Not their perfect friend.

They tried to find them. Desperate to make amends, to beg forgiveness, to show their wayward darling that they had learned their mistake and wanted, needed, to make up for it. And oh, they would gladly spend the rest of their lives making up for their foolishness, their cruelty, for being so blind as not to see their perfect match in the imperfect one.

But they couldn't find them. They had erased themselves digitally, and whenever they had left they had done so (unknowingly, luckily) when camera's had been down or things deleted or lost or files corrupted. No records, no trace or trail to follow and find them. The troopers despaired, but would not give up. Once the war ended, they would set out and find their beloved.

Perhaps this was a test...? Yes, a test. To show their devotion, and their dedication to righting this wrong. The first step in their atonement, to prove that they were serious. To prove they were worthy of their Darling. The moment the war ended and their brothers had settled, they would set out.

They would hate to keep their darling waiting.

God you're a genius! I love this scenario, I hope you don't mind me using it!

Tw! for: yandere themes, stalking, slight infantilization, past cruelty and bullying, unreliable narrator

Vay's face dropped once more as he watched you from his place across from your apartment window.

"Oh, cyar’ika..."

You had thrown out another one of their notes, looking terrified, tears welling in your eyes as you checked the locks on your door once more.

You never wrote back, no matter how many gifts, heartfelt apologies, and professions of their love he left on your rickety desk.

What? Did you want him to beg? He would! Gladly.

God, he would love being on his knees for you, in any way.

At one time, the thought would have disgusted him. Him? Bowing to scum like you? A gross little whelp who was trying to take his sweetheart from him? But now, he saw you for what you really were. Not blinded by that bitch who had tried to take their attention away from you.

Perfection.

He needed you. They needed you.

Looking back on your snarky remarks had become a fond pastime of theirs. Instead of infuriating, they had shifted into something adorable. Like and angry tooka kitten hissing and spitting when you approached.

Since they had finally found you again, watching you had come to make him anxious every time he was on shift. (Not that he didn't enjoy seeing you, your time together was the highlight of his week!) He just couldn't stand to see what your life had become without them! You went to your little job, then came home, occasionally went out with your idiotic friends (who were in no way fit to be anywhere around you), sometimes even going out by yourself (which gave Vay a heat attack, what would you do without them there to keep you safe?), but that was about it.

You had no real connection, as happy as you made yourself out to be. No one to take care of you, protect you in the way you obviously needed.

It broke the trooper's heart.

Luckily, it wouldn't be long now. They would place themselves back in your life soon enough. They only hadn't sooner to give you time to get used to the idea. They knew their behavior before had been unacceptable and cruel.

Poor thing, they had stung you so badly you felt the need to run away! To test their devotion to you by hiding away on the outer rim. Luckily, they were expert trackers thanks to their search and rescue training.

But honestly, what did you expect? You couldn't ask anyone to let a cute, fiery little thing like you go. No, this had to have been a test, silly girl.

Don't worry, once they get you settled in their new base and off of this dump of a planet, once they deal with your new "friends", you'll never want for anything. Surrounded by the protection and love you so desperately need.

Don't worry, love, they'll take care of all of it.

They'll take care of you 💙

#yandere clone troopers #yandere #yandere clone troopers x reader #yandere star wars #yandere x reader #yandere clone trooper #yandere clone #yandere clone trooper x reader #yearner's oc tag 🦢#yandere male #yandere boyfriend

89 notes · View notes

quillthrillswriting · 1 year ago

Text

i think that by far, the most common zutara trope i've seen is zuko freeing katara from her unhappy marriage with the clingy, unappreciative aang.

i've always felt that that aang would genuinely worship the ground katara walked on and be exceedingly kind and respectful, and so i've always thought that this trope would make a lot more sense flipped, with aang in the position of being katara's safe space after zukko reverts back to his angry, sullen, lashing out persona that he was before uncle iroh & the gaang's involvement.

this fic is the result of me having the thought "might f around and write a kataang fic that flips the usual zutara trope of "zuko helps katara escape a failing relationship with aang" 😳"

---

Zuko was all alone, heading an entire empire and facilitating the transition of his nation from a war-bringer to a force for peace. At first, she told herself that it was only because he had needed help that she chose to stay with him, but that wasn’t being entirely honest. After that play on Ember Island, all of the scenes where the two of them were in love had opened Katara’s eyes to the possibility, and try as she might, she couldn’t shut them again. And Zuko, after all that he’d sacrificed to help them, after redeeming himself in her eyes, even fighting alongside her, he had seemed like her best chance at home.

So she had stayed with him.

---

Zuko proposed, after just six months, but Katara thought little of the brief timeline. When you know, you know, right? He had given her his mother’s ring, and had her dress in Fire Nation colours for the ceremony. She had been under the impression that the wedding would be a welding of cultures, and so she had spent weeks painstakingly carving a traditional water tribe proposal necklace.

When she had presented it to him, Zuko had only said that a Fire Lord couldn’t be seen wearing another nation’s trinkets . She had quietly dabbed away her tears when he wasn’t looking.

---

The moon rose and set six more nights before Katara rose with it, slipping outside of the castle during the changing of the guard, draped in traditional water tribe colours for the first night in years. Before anyone had seen her, she had made it, slipping between Fire Nation homes almost silently. She only paused to pull clothes and a cloth head covering from a clothesline, silently apologizing to whatever family she had just stolen from. She tucked a couple of coins and a piece of gold jewellery into one of the pockets of the pants still on the clothesline, an attempt at making amends for her crime, then blended into the night again.

She hadn’t stopped moving until she’d finally found a small forest, then she’d made herself a bed of moss and curled up as if she was a child back on the tundra, pretending to be a sleeping snow fox alongside Sokka.

She missed her brother. She missed her home.

---

She knew where she would go once the cargo ship reached the land. The last location Aang had been in was the Western Air temple. So that was where she would go. If she needed to, to find Aang, she’d scour every inch of the mainland. She knew he would do the same for her. Which begged the question- why hadn’t he come to her when he began to feel that something was off?

It was that question that Katara started with, as she settled into a comfortable position on Aang’s woven rug, a cup of hot tea curling steam around her body that she absent-mindedly bent into shapes around her.

---

Aang sighed, looking away. “Katara, I hate to give you more reasons to feel distressed, but in case you hadn’t remembered, you told me to stay away. Told me my “juvenile crush” was ridiculous and made you uncomfortable. I felt awful, and so, I backed off. I kept sending letters every couple months, trying to make sure you were okay, but you told me you were too busy, and I respected that.”

Katara’s tone was unsettlingly neutral when she responded. “...What?”

Aang titled his head, confused. “You said, in your letters, that-”

She responded in that same tone. “What letters , Aang?”

♥ the rest of the (completed) fic can be found here!! ->

youtube

136 notes · View notes

twopoppies · 6 months ago

Note

I don’t even know how to begin this, neither if it’s gonna make any sense at all. But I feel like I have to get it off my chest and scrolling through your blog made me feel like this is the right place to do so.

I never had any friends in the fandom. When I joined in 2017, barely in high school, they had already gone on hiatus. There were no more OT5 concerts to look forward it was all just videos and songs and memories of others that I got to enjoy and learned to cherish for myself.

Through the years since, there have been times where One Direction and all their solo work has pulled me up when I was down. Times when loneliness was overcome by watching hours of concerts videos and compilations on youtube - and they always made me smile. And also times where other things in life had more priority and I didn’t check into the fandom for months at times.

The first time I realised that what seemed to be the best time for us as fans was the absolute worst for them as artists, was when I watched that podcast interview of Liam a few years back. It was heartbreaking hearing it, and maybe that was also one moment where I realised I was no longer a naive teenage girl but on my way to adulthood.

I haven’t kept up with Liam or the other boys this year as much, but I always believed that whenever I really needed them, the boys will just always be there - maybe my mind immortalised them some way or other.

Seeing these news now, broke me on a level I didn’t expect and can’t even really explain. Hearing the accusations towards Liam and the man he seemingly became I don’t even know how to grieve.

How DO you grieve someone that brought you joy but at the same time acted in ways you just can’t condone with your values and beliefs?

Maybe what I am grieving the most is the lost chance of accountability and change. Mental illness is no joke and I know that a persons best version and worst version of themselves can be completely different. He should have gotten the chance to at least try again, to go to rehab and get better - to heal.

Before I went to bed tonight I tried to be brave and told my dad cause I just didn’t know how to handle it. I talked about Liams addiction and alcoholism and abuse, but I also talked about the music and the fact that I just feel like someone is missing and I don’t even know if I’m allowed to feel that way.

I’ll forever be grateful that all my dad did, was take me into his arms and comfort me. He didn’t laugh or called it a teenage obsession or said that it’s not right to grieve for someone who you didn’t even know personally.

All he said was that it’s okay to grieve cause it just showed that you cared. You can grieve for lost chances and for what a person once meant to you, even if they might not be quite that same person anymore (even if it seems a little selfish, grieving is always personal).

I hope he’s better now and doesn’t feel any of the pain he’s very obviously been holding in for however many years. My heart goes out to the people who really knew him - his family, his son, his friends and girlfriend, and the boys.

Sleep easy and rest in peace Liam 🕊️

Your dad sounds like a very sweet man. I'm glad he was there for you in the way that you needed him to be.

I don't know the answer to your questions, but I feel similarly that one of the things I'm most upset about is that he died before he had a chance to heal and make amends.

Everyone deserves a redemption arc, and I'm just angry that he wasn't allowed to have his.

#rip liam #liam payne

23 notes · View notes

mazm-imagines · 6 months ago

Text

Mazm week day 7 entry for estrangement. FINALLY IM DONE HELLLLL YEAH! 517 words under the cut!

“Kay…” The name was softly uttered from across the room, almost imperceptible if it wasn't for the fact it was near silent.

“What is it Pollie?” He half wanted to say ‘can it wait until tomorrow?’ as he was nested comfortably in his bed. But he resolved to have been kinder towards her. The best way to have done that was with his words first.

“Sorry… it's- do you miss anyone from London?” Pollie whispered from her bed.

“That's- sudden.”

“I know. I know. It's been a while. It's- when I read that letter from Alan… I miss his smile y'know? His stupid nagging… He's still nagging but it feels different. Then I think about Gramps and his nagging…” In the dim moonlight, Kay could make out the features of Pollie grow sad. In turn his own lips curled into a frown.

Why did Pollie have to remind him of his own plight? Had she thought he'd move on already just because his last encounter with the man was negative?

His own mentor, attempting to kill him.

It made the departure easier, but now he'd have to deal with the aftermath.

“I miss Alan too. Miss Mihir…”

“Of course you miss him.” The statement sounded almost jealous, or even harsh, but Kay knew it was just an attempt to lighten the mood. Besides, she had her own score to settle with the man that she never quite could.

“Oh stuff it! I won't talk to you for the rest of the night if you'll be like this…”

“I'm kiddin’! I'm kiddin’… I understand. He's the one that got us here in the first place…”

“Yes…” And finally did they run out of anything else to say for that night. But there was much to ponder then.

Kay hoped Jekyll was safe, maybe even happy, even though he had wronged him in such a terrible way.

It was heartbreak, it was cathartic. So much and so little.

Perhaps he should've seen it from the start, from the very moment he was placed under his care.

Father Michael was gentle, supportive of all his endeavors even if they ended in failure. Those failures were a learning experience, he had said. It was best to get lost in science.

And Jekyll… his approach was what one could call pragmatic. Sure for the sake of humanity, but… oddly self-serving.

And the fruits of his seperation of duality… its fangs, its sharp claws. What he created was no longer human.

The concept in itself was flawed from the beginning. Perhaps he should've stopped him before he'd ever given life to the idea. But he knew no matter what he would've done, this would've been the outcome.

He was more than willing to make amends, to do something useful. And Jekyll… had thrown him out before his real potential began.

The only authority he could've trusted was Father Michael, it was apparent. He would now dedicate his achievements to Father and Father alone. That much brought peace in his heart despite his newfound estrangement.

Jekyll was nothing to him, and that was alright.

#mazm #mazm hyde and seek #mazm jekyll and hyde #kate holiday #Kay seek #Mazm week #mod gwaaaaar #gwaaaaar art #gwaaaaar writing

7 notes · View notes

soartfullydone · 1 year ago

Text

"rebel moon is just a bunch of disjointed character intros with no substance---"

[loud fart noise in your face]

Anyway, what connects all of the characters together is Honor, a major theme of the movie. It's the reason that These People In Particular are all chosen, beyond their reputations or even their skill sets (which are still important).

What does your personal honor look like? How do you uphold it? What do you do when you lose your honor? Can you ever truly regain it once it's lost? Can you find redemption, or is revenge the closest thing you can get? Can revenge and honor ever be the same?

After her indoctrination and service in the Imperium, Kora deserts, but it's for her survival, not the recovery of her honor. That's the journey she's currently on in the defense of her new home and the people there, triggered by the conflict of choosing her personal safety or rescuing Sam from further assault. She found the line of her honor and refused to ignore it any longer.

Gunnar placed personal gain over maintaining a united front about the grain surplus. His dishonorable actions lead to Sindri getting killed and their village placed under the Imperium's thumb. Noble's culpability aside, Gunnar feels responsible for his role in all this and seeks to make amends. It's why he's the only one who jumps in to protect the child from potential collateral damage in Nemesis' fight with Harmada. He is transitioning from being a selfish character to being more selfless, defining what he wants his personal honor to be.

Speaking of Nemesis, she is the most samurai-coded character here, complete with their version of honor. Her failure at being able to protect her children drives her to defend others, and shoulder the burden of killing once a peaceful resolution cannot be reached. It's why she has an entire conversation with Harmada, to understand what drives her, to attempt to find common ground and shared empathy. It's why she fights first with naked steel, to try to convince Harmada to back off, to value her own life, and it's for the lives of others that she finally ignites her blades when she cannot. Nemesis is not an emotionless cyborg who assassinates in cold blood, but one who is deeply attuned to her pain and that of others.

Tarak is a prince, and yet we learn he's nowhere near his home or his people. Whether he's failed them or abandoned them (or feels like he has) is still a mystery, but we still know that he is an honorable man, regarding his servitude to Hickman with utter seriousness. Tarak will honor his word and any agreements once given, including a life debt, and his connection with nature both demonstrates and resonates his nobility. He even has the whole "honor them" speech to Millius, revealing that he knows the guilt of surviving when all the friends you swore to fight beside are now gone.

General Titus fought proudly for the Imperium until his honor wouldn't allow him to stomach their methods. The price for that included his men's lives, his station, and his dignity. Unable to protect any of it including his ideals, he turns to drink and hopes fighting as a gladiator to the death does the rest. And yet, he cannot bring himself to just lay down and die. He dwells on his mistakes but does not succumb to them. The kernel of honor was still within him, and it's no wonder Kora and the other idealists at her back were able to ignite it again.

Jimmy is from an order of robotic knights, who all laid down their arms in dishonor and disgrace when the Imperium's royal family was murdered. He embodies old and forgotten chivalry, and in case you missed that, they got Anthony Hopkins to voice him. These knights haven't fought back since, even when they are attacked---and yet Jimmy retaliates to protect Sam before himself, finding something honorable to fight for again.

Darrian Bloodaxe has his honor as a rebellion leader tested and rightly concludes that the revolution is meaningless if they will not come to the aid of the most defenseless among them. (But he and his men die anyway!) Indeed, that is the point. Hedging your bets and picking your battles might be the smartest option, but it's not the most noble or honorable. Honor, in case you haven't noticed, often demands a choice and a price.

And yes, even our villains share in this theme in their own twisted ways. Kai is a mirror to Gunnar, but where Gunnar is growing into being a less opportunistic person, Kai is deliberately shrouding his true intentions from the get-go. At Kai's betrayal, Kora demands after his honor, to which Kai dryly replies, "What did happen to it." It isn't a question. Kai long ago saw honor as a death sentence and chose survival over everything, and in an ironic twist, is killed once he tries to tempt Gunnar into choosing his own survival over Kora's. Like Kora before him, Gunnar finds his line that he will not cross as well as what he fights for.

Finally, there's Atticus Noble, who wields the honorable memory of the Slain King and his dishonorable death as a blunt weapon against all that isn't the Imperium, much like his cane. The one time the Imperium was gracious, and they were betrayed for it. Never again, and everyone will suffer for this humiliation until the Imperium's honor is restored---and it never will be. Because honor is not the point; conquest and control is. Revenge is the point.

Literally all of this is in the film btw. But then, I wasn't fast-forwarding or looking down at my phone the whole time or playing Paint By Numbers: Star Wars Edition. I was actually watching the goddamn movie and letting it tell me its story. And then I reflected on it afterward. Whooooaaa!

#rebel moon #'but it's still a bad movie' yeah yeah have fun watching ahsoka S2 bud #it wasn't perfect by any means but omg the way people act like this film personally crucified their family #anyway let sci-fi be weird and unpalatable again; i'm tired of mainstream sci-fi grandpa #rebel moon spoilers

47 notes · View notes

povcastiel · 2 years ago

Text

The Devil in The Details

[ I truly never thought I’d find the time or brain power to get this finished, but here we are. I cannot express this enough—THANK YOU! To all the people who adored my first Castiel fic, this is dedicated to you! ]

Part Two of I’m No Angel

Synopsis | Castiel has found his purpose, or so he’s found the motivation to redeem himself. You spend some time apart, making amends of your own. The Winchester’s ultimately fling you back into chaos and it’s up to your Angel to prove his devotion.

Tags | Supernatural, Castiel, F!Reader, Human!Reader/Angel, Romance, Castiel rescues reader in the midst of her demise, Sweet ending!

Warnings | Angst, Angst, Angst, Violence, Guilt, Abandonment, Sexual Content, Dean’s kind of an ass to the reader, etc.

Word Count | 4.8k

Rating | R, Mature Audiences MDNI

“Can’t you just…” He searches for the right word, “Heal her?” Dean finally questions, as if that answer is already obvious. The halls of the hospital are bare this time of night. Leaving Castiel alone with his thoughts, full of concern for you and guilt over not having done more. His brows are knitted together in such deep concentration, that when he turns to his friend, he almost appears angry. “I am limited, what I have isn’t enough to heal the extent of her injuries.” He explains, voice grave and deep within his throat. Dean is unsatisfied, turning away in silent frustration.

The hunter eventually spins back around, ready to unload a lecture on the Angel, but instead Castiel has vanished and Sam has rounded the corner with two small cups of coffee. His brother’s face softens. Though Sam remains confused. Slowly, he hands the styrofoam cup full of hot liquid to him. Something to keep them awake and alert. Dean mumbles a quick ‘thanks,’ before crossing the short distance to the chairs along the wall.

“Where is Cas?” Sam speaks first. “I don’t know.” Dean’s response being the usual. By his tone, he clearly is not in the mood to discuss it. Sam’s eyebrows raise momentarily, feeling as if he’d missed something, but he decides not to push his sibling any further.

The blinds that are drawn and closed to your room conceal the scene of Castiel at the side of your bed. He listened to the incessant beeping of the monitor, keeping track of your heartbeat and vitals. He stood there for quite some time, taking the time to commit every detail to memory. You looked so peaceful in your state of unconsciousness and despite your harrowing appearance, he is relieved to see you without any pain. He takes another step closer and reaches for your limp hand. Fingers laying so delicately against the white blanket that covers your legs and torso. His fingertips ghost the back of your hand as your eyelashes are fluttering against your cheeks. Quickly, his hand falls back to his side and just as you manage to lift your heavy lids. Your vision blurred and swimming of colors and light. Though you can make out his figure once he is within view. Your sight slowly returns. His raven hair is disheveled, features so distinctly pensive, and wearing the same coat which he had wrapped you in.

He slowly leans over you, examining you so carefully and closely. You’re wondering why your heartbeat stays so steady on the monitor when it seems it may burst in its cage. He is so close you can’t help but look at him. Your head tilts back into your pillow, lips parting, as if you could be offering yourself to him. His hand grips onto the bed railing, and to your disappointment, he corrects his posture. “You need rest.” He finally decides after his intense observation.

“Will you stay?” You manage with a hoarse voice.

His expression softens, blue eyes full of adornment. This you knew all too well, it was reserved for you. Were you blushing? He tilts his head in consideration, but the door suddenly pushes open and shatters your dreams. Castiel is startled and steps back, as if you’d both been caught smacking lips. The intruder clearly had interrupted an intimate moment. The display slides back on its wheels. It is evident he wasn’t anywhere near the rolling medical equipment. Only you could know his wings were to blame. This makes you suppress a giggle, which was easier than normal considering the pain you were in.

The Winchester’s stand beyond your bed. Dean and Cas share tense glares. “Already fighting I see…” You utter from your sore throat, eyes squeezing closed with a sudden cough.

Their bitterness is set aside for the time being. Everyone’s attention shifts to you. “How you feelin’?” Sam asks first, with the kindest intentions. Always the one to check on you - aside from Cas of course. You don’t have a moment to answer. “We are going to find that son of a bitch and gank him.” Dean promises and Sam glances at him questionably, but ultimately seems to feed into that plan. “We’ll find him. As soon as you’re strong enough-”

“No.” Castiel interjects. Dean is bemused. “What do you mean ‘no’?” You suddenly feel the suffocation of the dominance in the room. Your eyes looking between the two of them.

“She was nearly killed tonight. She can help in some other way.” This surprises you to hear. Cas had never spoken on your behalf, nor had displayed such concern, at least not to Sam and Dean. Especially when it came to the bigger picture, he always believed in making those sacrifices. He scoffs at the Angel. “Apparently you’ve been missing the whole point of this. We need her!” His finger pointing toward you. “So we can end this mess.” He gestures out with his hands before they slap down against his jeans. He comes face to face with the Angel. They are so close you swear their noses will touch at any moment. Castiel’s nostrils flare, lips pressed into a hard line.

Silence ensues and you feel as if you don’t exist, they didn’t even know… you’d already made up your mind.

Your body wakes naturally from the peaceful sleep that subdued you. The best sleep you’ve had in months. Much to your disappointment, Castiel has disappeared. A sinking feeling settles in your chest, as your eyes begin to search the room for any sign of him. Slowly you push yourself up, memories slowly flooding back of the night you spent in his arms. Your fingertips ghost over the areas his lips had been, recalling the bliss. How you wished it to never end.

Eventually, you pull yourself from your daydreaming and stand from the bed. You wrap yourself in a robe and decide to wander downstairs. You’re still hopeful to find Cas. You’re still floating on dreams and clouds, clinging onto every last bit of him. Which is why it crushes you when your house is solemnly empty. You glance over the table, at the mess from the previous night, before sinking down onto the couch. You clutch the fabric of your robe higher around your neck, hugging yourself in the process. Quietly you sit a while with your eyes closed. Of course you expected this, but you weren’t prepared for his departure to be so soon. You sulk in the aftermath of his absence, letting the reality of it sink it. Allowing yourself to believe that the problem still resided with you. That you weren’t capable of good, of nurturing. You were only good at running people away, ruining everything you touched.

Just as you continue to feel sorry for yourself, you notice a sheet of paper tucked beneath the cup of tea you made for him. Slowly you inch forward and lift the mug, pulling the note from under it. It was from Castiel.

‘By the time you find this, I will be gone. Forever I am indebted to you. You’ve changed me. You’ve allowed me to see this world differently. Because of that, I have to figure out where I belong. I have to set things right. Please set things right with Dean.

I’m always with you.

Castiel’

You wanted nothing more than to avoid the situation, much like you had the last few months. Which, all things considered, had been going swimmingly for you. That was until Castiel stumbled back into your life. You couldn’t even bother to stay angry with him, knowing well enough that making amends was your only way to heal and move on from the past. Reluctantly, you removed yourself from the couch and proceeded back to your bedroom to freshen up. You showered, pulled your hair up, and kept your attire casual.

The air nipped at your skin, the callings of fall beckoning in the wind. You noticed, more than ever, the way the leaves had begun to change their color. Their new shades, before dying off their branches, felt all that more significant in that moment.

Silently you slipped behind the wheel and started the engine. You pulled your seat belt snug across your lap, clicking it into place. With a hand on the steering and the other on the shift, you laid your head back against the headrest. A quiet breath escaped you, before ultimately making the decision to move forward. Thankfully, the scenic drive through Lebanon’s back roads was a nice bit of therapy for your hectic mind. What would you say to Dean? Would they be mad at you? You turned over endless possibilities, your anxiety ever increasing within the confines of the vehicle. Somewhere, in the midst of all your overthinking, you couldn’t help but recall simpler times. When your love for Castiel was merely a crush and the Winchester’s had been the brothers you never had.

You could visibly see the room you claimed. A ridiculous amount of books piled beside your bed. Occasionally stealing Dean’s set of music to blast through any lonely night. But you also could vividly see Cas in the darkness of your room. In all his heavenly glory, just as you prayed for him. He answered every time. Dean nor Sam knew of how it became a habit for him to lull you back to sleep from a nightmare. How he promised to destroy wretched demons in your honor and protect you with his life. It was his bravery, his tender heart that kept you sane. It was him, centered in the chaos, that grounded you and offered you your last shred of hope.

The bunker had finally come within view. Fear seized you once again, as your foot pressed slowly against the brake pedal. The car rolled to a stop before the door, the Impala aligned with you. You turned and removed the key, promptly stepping out onto the damp dirt. Your eyes looked over the building you never thought you’d see again, a sense of dread filled your lungs with your next breath. Even still, you forced yourself forward to the door.

You hadn’t expected the surprised look on Dean’s face, not even the strong hug that he suffocated you with. Like the sister he never wanted. His musk was familiar and, to your relief, comforting in your wake of abandonment. You soaked in the silent apologies, the warmth of his presence, and the easiness of acceptance from him. You’d known him to be stubborn, to lash out, but his promises always remained kept.

When you did finally pull away, you managed another hug for Sam. He smiled weakly at you, eyes wrinkling at the edges. It is only then that you notice how you all have come to age. How easily time slipped by. They failed to mention that the world passes quickly whether you’re having fun or not.

“I saw Cas…” You confess, this time you are facing Dean.

His eyes flicker to the floor, swallowing thickly in response. Slowly, he lifts his gaze to meet your own. Green eyes boring into yours, he isn’t ready to forgive and certainly isn’t willing to explain either. And it is this that you are unwilling to accept, to allow even.

“Dean, he needs help.” You sigh, “Our help.” You clarify with more firmness in your statement.

“Is that why you came here?”

“Dean…” Sam tries, but his brother is quick to shut him down. In fact, he doesn’t even acknowledge him, as he steps closer to you. His frame towers your own, but you aren’t one to back down, especially not from him.

“We’ve all made mistakes, but he is still your friend, your family!” You exclaim, as if something about your tone and blurred vision would bring him to his senses. Would make him think rationally about a suffering friend.

“You know what…” Dean breathes, head hanging briefly. “First it was you.” That part stings. “And I could accept that, I understood why you walked away. Hell, I hoped you’d find some peace out there. But Cas… He was our last shot and he left.” The words are bitter on his tongue, and even more foul from a man who had been betrayed. “Someone has to do the work.”

You stand between the two men, torn between guilt and loyalty. If last night was any constellation, your bond to Castiel had become stronger. More than ever you were desperate to heal this divide, to close the chapter and begin again. And yet, endlessly you seemed to go in circles with the Winchester’s and your beloved Angel. The silence is enough to break you. It is enough to push you toward impulsive decisions and ones that Castiel would disapprove of, but you were doing this for him. For the sake of humanity, which is where you stood - at the very center of it all.

“I know that I hurt you, Dean.” You admit, shakily at best. “But don’t punish him for something I caused.” Your voice barely above a whisper. The tension seems to evaporate with your truth, instead it was replaced by pain. He doesn’t dare to face that, not yet, which is why he doesn’t utter a word to you. “Let’s end this.”

You’re reminded of those dreadful four walls. The screams you emitted still haunted you at night, echoing endlessly in the chamber that was your mind. It terrifies you—the prospect of facing him again. You find yourself even more frightened by the possibility of failing and dooming those you loved the most, once and for all. While Dean failed to make any sort of reassurances in the moment, Sam was a gentle touch on your shoulder. Another kind smile. He too wanted things to resume as before, but even you were aware that would never be possible. Regardless, sparing them from seemingly written fate was the least you could do after walking away at such a dire time.

“You ready?” Dean asks the two of you.

He’s created his own variation of a ritual, old as time, to summon Alastair. Lit candles, scattered books, and a sigil.

Sam answers for the both of you, “Yeah.” He exhales, what you could only assume was nervousness.

The words are quiet at first, Dean’s Latin is practiced and more annunciated over the years. His gruff voice grows louder when the room begins to rumble beneath your feet. The empty warehouse may have met its match and you’re sure of it, the longer the earth shakes. You take a step back, the burning flames growing higher on each candle. Their wax burns faster and spills over the sides. When the demon does appear, it paralyzes you. Frozen in time, as his blackened eyes land upon you first. He smiles like a serpent, and death feels imminent under his gaze.

“Sam now!” Dean yells at the first opportunity.

You’d come to the revelation that this plan, however calculated, was not going to pan out. In fact, you saw it even before Sam lunged toward Alastair. Though he was a facade, a means to distract. It isn’t enough for an entity so powerful and you would know. Having felt his wrath one too many times.

Your presence alone was all they needed. The perfect bait. But it’s obvious now you should have isolated the encounter to you and the demon. The clock is ticking and your friend’s demise is too close for comfort. You’re not prepared to lose either of them. Alastair had condemned you once for such emotions. Your biggest weakness. The main reason you couldn’t fulfill your purpose in this world, whether that was good or evil.

Throwing all caution to the wind, you find yourself face to face with the enemy. He gives a toothy grin in response to your hardened eyes and planted feet.

“Sweet little thing…” He purrs and it’s vile.

“I’ve missed you.”

He moves forward, having left Dean and Sam indisposed for the moment. Your only means for protection was a small glass bottle of Holy water, only tucked away when Dean had handed it off to you for safe keeping. You twist the cap by the pad of your thumb, stuffed into the pocket of your jacket. Your feet keep steady, moving backwards. Your boot knocks a loose chain back against the floor. It scrapes loudly, while you’re ripping the bottle out.

You fling its contents, aiming for his face when he’s close enough. An inhuman growl rattles in his throat. You don’t waste time, eyes searching for the knife Dean had in his disposal.

The blade shines, calling to you. It rests beyond you, centered from the three of you. The handle lay across one line of the sigil that was drawn. You scramble for the weapon, but Alastair has caught you at the last second. Fingers hooking over the collar of your jacket. You kick the blade toward Dean just as he’s dragging you back.

“You little bitch.” He hisses in disapproval of your retaliation to him. Your head spins when he whips you around to face him. You stumble at every step, which he forces until you’re bent back toward a stack of broken and rotten pallets. His hand closes around the expanse of your throat. By his strength, you’re pinned in your place and struggling with prying fingers and scratching nails.

The demon rips the front of your shirt. Your chest is exposed, the beating of your heart doesn’t go unnoticed. He’s intent on devouring it first, as soon as he finishes carving it from you.

Through your thin line of vision you catch the sight of Dean. The blade wrapped in his fist. It’s your turn to smile, wickedly so.

“Don’t fuck with my friends.”

The blade stabbed clean into his back. A flicker falters in his vision, his hold on you loosening in the process. You’re standing still, awaiting him to collapse altogether.

You and the hunter are both left bewildered when Alastair seems to recover. An impossibility, or so you thought.

He doesn’t fool with the blade lodged in his back. Promptly throwing you to the ground, he turns his attention onto Dean.

“No!” You scream openly with tired lungs.

Without the energy to stand, to help your friend—you’re left to your only device.

A simple prayer. A calling to anyone who would listen.

Separated and left in peril, you and Sam tensely watch Dean take another beating. Tears prick your eyes, lips trembling. You’re fighting against every weak bone to stand, to get him. Even if it meant your life.

With your head hung and defeated, Castiel appears in the midst of anguish. The wind of angelic wings brushes your hair back, leaving your eyes shooting up to discover him. He crouches to reach your level, propped on one elbow. Gently he brushes his warm hand against your swollen cheek. He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t need to. His eyes speak a million promises.

His trench coat sways effortlessly in his movements. With the power of Heaven and his restored Grace, Alastair has met his match.

You should have known better than to think his touch was solely out of affection. It must be why you couldn’t hold your eyes open, why the world was fading away, the violence ceasing.

Perhaps the large pile of blankets were partly to blame, but the bunker had been so unbearably cold the last few days. Yet another pair of pajamas were soiled. Torn from your sleep and sitting up into the cool air of your bedroom, the figure at the edge of the bed is all the more reason to send your heart pounding in your ears again. “Damn it, Cas…” You breathe a sigh of relief and he’s amused to hear you sound so much like Dean in that instance. He’s grown used to the response, which is why he doesn’t hesitate to move forward.

“Another nightmare?” Castiel assumes with worrisome certainty.

“Yeah… I suppose I don’t realize I’m calling for you.” You blush, embarrassed to say the least, but he isn’t too adept to take notice. “I’m sorry.” You mutter.

“What for?” He’s genuinely confused. “I told you I would answer.” He says gently, though in his tone it’s almost condescending. You forgive him for that.

“Can you make it stop?” You ask, hesitant to pose such a request.

The Angel’s hardened expression smoothens. He moves to sit at the edge of your bed. You’re taken back, leaning away instinctively. You know it’s silly, but you’re worried about how sweaty your forehead may be, but he doesn’t touch you there. The warmth of his fingers, delicate and calming, slid across your cheek. They glide to your neck, over your pulse.

“I won’t leave.” He promises. “I’ll watch over you.” He insists and you have no choice but to accept it. Though you wouldn’t have thought to reject him.

Not ever.

Somewhere between conscious and a state of blissful dreams is when you awaken. Between the time Castiel has finished scolding Sam and Dean, and has closed the door to a bedroom that has since collected dust in your absence. You groggily open heavy lids to see his unpleasant expression, like a father with a troubled child. “Cas?” You manage from within your exhaustion and the hazed effect he placed over you. He approaches the bed without pause and touches you with urgency. “How are you feeling?” He asks deeply in his throat, almost as if he’s forcing his voice to reach that low of an octave.

“I’ve been better.” You grumble, while trying to move yourself away from the propped pile of pillows behind you. Castiel forces you back.

“What were you thinking?” He asks, demanding an answer with raging blue orbs. His frame hovers over you, pinned against the sheets. You’re stunned at his chosen manner to handle the situation and you were far away from wanting to argue.

“You could’ve been killed!” He growls, still holding you firmly into place.

Briefly, your eyes widen and in seconds you’re scowling at him. The man you desperately, pathetically even, had loved.

“You were the one who told me to fix things!” You counter.

“Well..” He pauses, with careful consideration. He backtracks, “That’s not what I meant.” He returns bluntly.

You are glaring up at him now and twisting to break free, but this version of Castiel is one you are unable to overpower. You despise him this way. How he still manages to conjure up those same desires, the ones you felt while being tangled in your sheets with him. The feelings you harbored back in that god forsaken hospital bed, hoping he would find the courage to kiss you. It is all the same now, burning and raging between the two of you.

“I was afraid I lost you.” He relents, breathing out heavily through his nostrils.You accept this form of apology, it was all he had.

You cup his face with one hand. “I’m right here.”

You watch the tension drain from him, fall from his shoulders even and it takes all he has not to melt into you. You help him with that part, pulling him closer and wantonly. The hand that isn’t against his cheek, rests just at the top of his back. Eagerly you welcome his lips to yours.

It’s so long overdue that it’s leaving you dizzy before you’ve even begun. Castiel obliges and it’s bruising in return. You gasp and it’s swallowed by his kiss.

He’s still the one to pull away and with concern.

“What about Dean and Sam?” He questions. Only he would be worried of being caught in the act. You, on the other hand, were entirely enticed by the idea.

“Oh, shut up and kiss me.”

You find purchase on the lapels of his trenchcoat, dragging him over you. Your patience is lacking and that’s evident in the way your fingers work at his tie. Once undone, your work on the buttons of his dress shirt. His recognizable coat is left on the floor beside you. You continue to help him, knowing you won’t have much time to spare. His belt is undone, pants unzipped. You free his cock with your hand, fisting him.

The newly restored Angel gives you a sinful groan. You snicker with pride before warning him, “Be quiet. They’ll hear you.” You whisper. His eyes widen and you’re worried he may be too timid to continue.

Your ministrations keep him right where he needs to be, just as you urge him to take your jeans off. His touch isn’t as gentle as you remember. You watch him yank the denim and your panties down your thighs first, over your knees, and then clean off. He pushes them aside on the bed and settles between your legs, that so easily fall open for him. Like a Holy invitation.

He takes it upon himself to align his head at your entrance. His blue eyes search yours for permission. Your legs hook around his clothed hips. “Go ahead, baby.” You speak airy and light. It leaves him shuddering in his place, and again when he sinks into you.

You whine uncontrollably. When he rocks forward, you do your best to stifle the noises that rise in your throat. The stretch of him is just as delicious as it had been the first time and you would assume he agrees by the look on his handsome face. You admire him, lovingly holding him to you. Both of you half clothed and ravenous for each other. You kiss him, heavily, in a bid to keep your noises down. He only moves faster, his hips meeting yours over and over.

“F-fuck…” You stammer.

“You feel even better. How is that possible?” He grunts against your ear. You know that question is expecting an answer. You don’t have one.

“Cas…” You pant. “Please don’t stop.” You beg him.

“Don’t worry.” He speaks your name and the way it leaves his tongue is what makes your walls clench around him. “I want to hear you make all the noises you made before.” He means that.

You weren’t sure if it was his Grace or the time that had passed, but his newfound confidence was driving you closer to your release. Which would have been reached sooner had it not been for the sudden rap at the door. There wasn’t any need for it, but Cas’s hand smashes against your mouth. You breathe in through your nose.

“Everything alright in there?” The older Winchester asks from the other side.

His movements pause and that is what ultimately makes you whimper. His hold tightens.

“Fine!” Cas states, laced with annoyance.

If it wasn’t for your current position, you would have giggled.

“We are… conversing…” Cas explains awkwardly and unnecessarily. You can only imagine the eye roll Dean’s given. “Yeah well, we are ordering take-out. So… snooze you lose!” With that, Dean retreats away from the door and back down the hall.

Once Castiel is certain you are in the clear, he removes his hand from your mouth. “No more stalling, please…” You complain, pushing your hips into his. He doesn’t leave you waiting and resumes, reaching his original pace. Your fingers press against his back, spreading across the fabric of his dress shirt.

“That’s it…” You encourage him. “That’s so good, my Angel.” You praise him, your eyes half way rolling back into your head. Your mouth falls open, while he perfectly moves how you need him most. Without much thought left, you’re whining and making all sorts of sounds. Just how he wanted. And as quickly as you fall, Castiel does the same.

He collapses against you and you hold him tightly against your warmed skin. Your legs fall loosely around him, one hand holding the back of his head. You’d never felt so serene. So safe.

“Cas.” Is finally what you utter after catching your breath.

He lifts his head to give you his fullest attention. He recovers faster than before. His hair is just as messy as you remember, only this time it is your fault. Nonetheless, he’s looking at you in that way that makes your knees like jelly. At least you were lying beneath him.

You're overcome with emotion. “When I prayed…” You start off weakly. “I didn’t know what had happened to you. If you were even-” You stop yourself from finishing that thought. “I suppose, a part of me knew to pray for you.”

His reserved expression makes its appearance, just for you. Once again, he doesn’t have to utter those words you would like to hear. But he does say something you knew had always been true.

“And now you know…”

You tilted your head, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking.

“I will always answer.”

TAG LIST | @moon-kiss3d @yomamaismymama @scouser-villanelle @robins-fanfics @jenwritesstories

#fanfic #fanfiction #castiel #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel x reader #spn fanfiction #spnfandom #spn #castiel x you #castiel angel of the lord #team free will #castiel x y/n #castiel x female reader

55 notes · View notes

fllagellant · 1 year ago

Note

For the ask game: desire, midnight, and skin for all your Tavs and Durges that you want to answer for. :)))

Ohhh thank you for this .. the flood gate Opens

Be wary of the read more this is a Long One

Desire: What's one thing your OC wants more than anything in the world? Are they open with that desire? Why or why not? What would they do to fulfill it?

Giilvas has a lot of desires , but there’ s one that he has to fulfill before he can chase any other wants wholeheartedly and with no distractions . He has to get revenge . He has to get even . He knows his family will never rest until he succeeds . While he does make mention to having something important he has to do after the Absolute crisis . He doesn’ t name what , but it is easy to guess since his Whole History is public knowledge . He takes a few years to prepare , both physically and to make final amends with things he can’ t change anymore .

Zerxes desires safety the most . For both him and his sister . While they are both estranged from the family , Zerxes knows that that does not mean they are safe from the family . They are the runaway children . He’ s extremely quiet about this , knowing that the wrong person overhearing or mentioning it in the wrong place would put his sister and himself in danger . He hints at it , vaguely and talking himself in circles . He’ s trying to track down his sister , before anyone else can , and he’ s prepared to go to the ends of the worlds to hide away from the family .

Seoras wants to go home . He just wants to be home . His life was never supposed to go this way . But what can he even do ? He talks about his family , the farm , his well loved loom and how he would spin the wool to threads . But what can he do ? The Absolute will get there before he can . Even if he raced to try and find his way home , he’ d never win . But he talks about it . He always talks about it . And he misses it all so dearly .

Danior confuses his want to be free for a want to pass . He’ s kept alive by … something . Something that’ s slowly taking his face . Something that seems to have done all this before . Something that chose to put him in a sort of … stasis . For as long as it wished . Releasing him now because it must . He has to undergo this new challenge . He thinks he wants to pass , to be with the rest of Netheril , but he just wants to be his own man again . He tried to keep quiet about this . It’ s concerning , he knows , and he doesn’ t think to push his luck . He has no idea how to go about freeing himself , however .

Lucian wants control . He wants to feel like he has some sort of weight , some sort of meaning . He needs to be known , to leave whatever impression he can . He needs to feel like he’ s the one choosing to do what he’ s doing , and no one or nothing else is influencing him to do their biddings . He knows , with his pact , that this is a far off dream . He acts like he has everything he could ever want , but he’ s hoping that miracles are real , and something miraculous with happen and let him walk free .

Omen wants peace . Peace for people , peace for his companions , peace for himself . He just wants everything to be simple and at rest . He says this often , just hoping for good . He wears it on his sleeve , his oath always on proud display . But how can he manage it ? He seems to walk a line , constantly contradicting his own self . How can he want peace when another part of him begs for horrors ? How can he bring peace when his hands ache for carnage ? Which part of him is … him ? Which desires are more true ?

Midnight: What keeps your OC up at night? Do they have nightmares? Fears? Anxieties? What do they do in the small hours of the morning when they should be sleeping?

Giilvas deals with bouts of paranoia and those quiet hours freak him the Fuck Out . Too quiet and too exposed , he feels like he’ s waiting to be caught . He struggles with being able to rest in the first place , so if he finds himself awake and alone , pretty much guaranteed that he’ s not going to rest the rest of the night . He does have nightmares , usually after forcing himself to rest while scared out of his skin . Giilvas waking up screaming remembering his actions have consequences . If he’ s doubling down and choosing to stay awake , he’ s gonna stalk the camp perimeter . Be the beast

Zerxes has a fun routine . When the moon is highest , he’ ll go through his own last rites again . Rereading them and making sure nothing has changed . If he decides that everything is in order , then he’ ll sit and watch the sky , waiting for sleep to claim him . If anything has to be changed , he’ ll rewrite the entire thing . He cannot fathom leaving anything up to chance , and now ? He knows he’ s always a foot in the grave . He makes sure to offer a prayer for his sister , every night .

Seoras has chronic nightmares . He’ s had them since he was a child , and it’ s part of the reason why he’ s so verse in medicines ( if he can brew the blessed Tea that Knocks you out and Keeps you from Dreaming he can get some rest ) but he can’ t exactly get half of the needed medicinal plants when they just .. don’ t grow in the area . He tries as hard as he can to sleep easy and to not . Wake others up with the nightmare . He usually wakes up super early and he goes to calm down in the water by camp . Dunking his face in to try and chase away the fears .

Danior . Does not sleep . Or rest . Um . Ahhh the benefits of being a plaything for some Being . He tries to rest so his body isn’ t torn to shreds after like . A week . He sits by the water or under a tree and tries to calm his mind . If he can’ t , he will modify and improve his armour , sharpen his sword , see what sort of long range ammo he can manage to craft for the next day . At least the camp always has someone on watch . Usually , they do wake up to fresh kill for morning breakfast , since Danior has nothing better to do . It , also , helps get rid of the building nerves of knowing what is waiting for him the next dawn .

Lucian tries to either commune with his Patron or tries to think of new ways to win his life back . Either way , he ends up mad and tired and just . Collapsing into bed , on the verge of tears from just how upset he is . He makes sure no one can ever see him since it is a serious moment of vulnerability . Rarely , he practices the flute to keep himself a bit more grounded and to try and self soothe . When he does sleep , he doesn’ t seem to dream . It’ s like blinking , but he swears he used to dream as a boy . He wonders why he doesn’ t anymore , maybe the pact , maybe something shifted , but he doesn’ t know .

Omen has some of the heaviest eye bags in faerun . He’ s scared to sleep , in case his dreams are one’s trying to coax him into violence . He keeps himself awake by rereading his tenants and mending everyone’ s amour , trying to keep his mind and hands busy enough to keep his from drifting . He’ s also just terrified of the future for himself and the people around him . He’ s worried they’ re doomed , and that they’ ll never return home . Running on thirty minutes and pure fear every damn day ..

Skin: How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they grapple with anything that lives inside them—a beast, a curse, a failure, a monster? How do they face the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of themself? Are they able to acknowledge it at all?

Giilvas is comfortable enough in his own skin , when it comes down to it . He isn’ t comfortable in a lot of the shapes and stories people want him to fit , but as himself ? Sure . He’ s fine . When he has to sit down and face himself , who he actually is , he doesn’ t find himself wanting . But he knows he’ s not perfect . When so many stories and songs seem to narrow him down to ‘ perfect saviour ‘ , it’ s far too easy for any mistake to eat him alive , even if he knows better . He can be cruel . He can be cruel and he knows how to charm people to betray them later . His temper can run thin and he tries to find ways to keep people at arms length . He knows the worst version of himself well , considering that it’ s sometimes the only thing keeping him grounded to being alive .

Zerxes carries a cold weight of shame in his chest . He feels like he’ s done too little , yet he’ s also managed to do far too much bad . His skin tells too much about him , like a book with the cover ripped off , but he’ s desperate to keep secrets . He’ s a hypocrite , he’ s masks as a selfless man , but he’ s convinced that if anyone saw beyond his skin , then they’ ll find someone small and pathetic . Unable to keep one person safe , running himself ragged over his own mistakes . He tries not to think about it . About the person he might actually be , if enough layers are peeled back . Not like anyone will know about that part of him , right ?

Seoras feels like he takes up too much space . He feels clunky in his skin . He carries a rather heavy survivors guilt . When a disease took his family’ s farm , and other families in the trading guild his family was a part of , he learned he was immune . There’ s no proof , but he has convinced himself that he was the person that brought the sickness to the people . He had to watch one of the farmhands , a man he was close to , succumb to the illness . And he was the only person who could take care of him . It felt like he had done this . He brought the sickness and he didn’ t care well enough to get rid of it . But it doesn’ t matter how many times he repeats the events , he can’ t find what he did wrong . He worries he’ ll cause the same event to happen again , and he’ ll still fall short at the worst time .

Danior has a disconnect from himself . He’ s already seen the fact the Being is taking bits of his own appearance and merging it with its own , for whatever purpose that might serve , so he’ s tying to keep himself from panicking about that . Best way is to force the disconnect from the self . His skin isn’ t his . But he still thinks about Netheril . And he thinks about what he should have done . What he could have done . Was there anything he could do ? Was he destined to watch and be unable to fall with them ? He’ ll never get the answer to any of this questions . He wonders what will happen when the Being leaves him , after taking whatever pieces of him that it enjoys . He pretends it doesn’ t scare him .

Lucian’ s penchant for body modification is to try and feel like he had some sort of control over his self . His comfort in his skin ebbs and flows , sometimes he feels perfectly fine , other times he wants to peel away the top layers and hope his real self is underneath . He knows his body isn’ t fully his , his Patron owns him via the Pact . He regrets a lot . And he lives with the failures and mistakes that brought him to this point in his life . It hangs heavy around his neck . He wonders was sort of life he should have had , and he wonders if he might feel alive if he had made the secret, correct choices . He believes in fake it till you make it , however , so if he pretends for long enough , if he tells himself enough times that he is happy and that this is him , then it will be so . It had to be so .

Omen was answered here for this question !

#bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 durge #bg3 dark urge #giilvas #zerxes #seoras #danior #lucian #omen #long post #ALL 6 OF EM YIPPIE !!!!

4 notes · View notes

slorpi · 2 years ago

Text

[Week 1] 01. Describe your understanding of critical thinking that you had before class, and reflect on what you may have learned.

My understanding of critical thinking before the lesson wasn’t as broad as it was during the lesson itself. I’ve never really taken into account of how much critical thinking is being used in a daily basis especially in my own life.

Critical thinking is a way of deducing and how we would assess a situation which we could then adapt to help stay engaged in different type of situations. It enables us to step back a little before making any assumptions or judgements based on claims. Keying up different points and piecing them together, going from different point of views to another. It’s also being able to stand up for yourself in situations that may not be going in your favour.

It enables us to filter out with what resonates as right or wrong. Embracing failures and also asking questions as well is an important factor when it comes to critical thinking. In the art space it’s used a lot as a way for the artist to fully represent themselves in a space where everyone or anyone will criticise your work.

02. What have you learned about Mindfulness? How might you integrate this into your learning environment?

Mindfulness is a type of meditation which focuses on being aware of what we are sensing feeling. Be it being well aware of our surroundings and ourselves, It helps us to relax and have a peace of mind. We get easily distracted and we miss out on moments that are so important to us. Spending too much time daydreaming or thinking negative or random thoughts can be very draining for one self. These can sometimes lead to stress, anxiety and occasionally depression.

Practicing meditation can reap in a lot of benefits and help us with our mental health. Stress, anxiety, depression and insomnia are just a few examples which meditation can help amend them.

Integrating this into a learning environment can be pretty vital for us as it helps to let us focus better in an environment that can be really suffocating at times. A few minutes of meditation or just alone time to yourself can go a long way.

03. Describe an eventful moment you have experienced in this class.

If there was any eventful moment i've experienced while being here in Lasalle will definitely be the times I’ve had bonding with my classmates. It was never easy for me to get used to a new environment from the get go and I would be the type to isolate myself before someone eventually comes up to me or start up a conversation first.

One example of it was during our first class of Critical Thinking. We were tasked with coming up with different responses regarding the topic of mindfulness and critical thinking. The Kazakhstan Warriors was what we called ourselves. It was the first time that I really got to interact with my classmates and open myself up a little to the rest. We genuinely had a fun and quality time amongst one another.

2 notes · View notes

libidomechanica · 1 year ago

Text

To thee

Few the night and expel by new. And the Proud of my bed that not, since against then, enamoured his booth, which on rough, each Silver Bound, like flower. It fellows one who brought

vpon the painted by longing, not ancient cold deadened flesh helps flesh in wild with oats! There— You tell her Art, an Earth to God, the rest. Brown where Wigs with Sorrows, melted in battles,

indeed I loue refin’d, and all the turn’d in turn’d me of. You yet men have been well as the plank, and sea; then can have to bow, like water wonder. Than I know not Him—become,

for a hundred feet in health it is said, nor blame all thing only there is love-kindlier in Thy hand freed fall, and the Walls, and shakings past three is the Golden chair at a

table; let reason, frost, hail, and wellawaye: ill made him quite well is world is great me with the maintains us both, to possessing, found about, as fair gift in some mystic, ancient

cold and now thee am ouerthrown that zeal of tyrants, and the find no languor at the moonlight—or a stroke, may do and dancer, much this faire, is like, the water words would

it so fast to that crowds, whom I’ve no fitter Washes prove and rosé on the Furies issued at touch another: for you pace for on one is dying Light A Child of Carnal

apple on the tailor—that were sight. Certain as also did Miss Protasoff the offends. And queen of faces two love my Nostrils draw you and loud, the Mists are languish you,

freeze me out. I try to kill myself, believe. To thee. Out of languorous earth, suffice to granting. Spoke I feare, and least ever had for I was was she smiled upon his

incarnation. The grateful war shall renew, clipt with man the slouched his shame; a thought can murder as happy lot. Itself, once; twice ten hundred feet to palm she sails o’ cramoisie.

So Cuvier says;—and the window blew in clay, the first draught the dire Disaster, or peace, �� or he! Robert Burns: country’s gore, like an approach and only amend who threw; the

floor of the Gazers starve although certain most, and straight me greet! Of sweet, like a taste a word I find him limbs whose him at a grey dust die as we State must tell for corner.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #145 texts #ballad

0 notes

arcielee · 2 years ago

Text

Freedom Song

modern Aegon Targaryen x FemaleReader Summary: Your boyfriend impresses his family when you all go out for karaoke. Warnings: Mentions of rehab, but this is purely fluff. Word Count: 1284 Author’s Note: This story is dedicated to my muse @f4ll-for-you ♥ A huge thank you to her and @aspen-carter for beta reading this story. This idea was inspired by the lovely @foxee-writes who was gracious to let me write this drabble. I just wanted to continue to add to my not-really-a-series series about modern Aegon. I write him as more of a golden retriever bf after he has successfully completely the rehabilitation and therapy that poor bb desperately needed.

For you, Aegon was an open book; he was animated when he talked, but with his silence, his mannerisms were flags to indicate what brewed behind his beautiful lavender eyes.

You watched his hands and their blatant tics of agitation, from drumming his fingers against the inside of your thighs and how it evolved into the rapid bounce of his leg; he scratched the underside of his jaw, a seemingly ceaseless itch that came with the beard he was allowing to come in.

He hated to be halted, so you did not rest your hand on his knee but moved to take his palm into your own, your touch gentle and it allowed his attention to return to the little lobby the two of you waited in. Aegon turned his head and you watched as his lilac eyes refocused onto you.

“Hey,” you said with a smile.

His relief was visceral and he reached his other hand, interlacing his fingers with your own.

We fit so perfectly together, he had said to you when he first held your hand, the memory of his words brought a rose color to your cheeks.

His own smile spread across and with his exhale, you watched some of the tension lift from his shoulders. “Hey,” he said back to you, the low crack of his voice.

“We do not have to do this,” you offered him an escape. “We can always go home…”

He pursed his lips into a line and shook his head so that his silver waves moved with. “I have already missed too many birthdays and I need to make amends. Besides,” his eyes flit over the karaoke lounge, sparsely filled and drawing in the colors of the RGB lights overhead. “This is something Daeron really wants to do, so I will do this,” and he squeezed your hand, his other hand reaching into his pocket. “Besides, I want to show them this.”

It was his sobriety chip to celebrate his eleventh month mark and you could not have been more proud.

It was little larger than a half dollar and was the reminder of the dark times that were, but also how it too shall pass. He held onto it, something he could fidget with when his anxiety flared up, but it also was a medal of honor, a token of proof to show that he had persevered and would continue just that.

The peace continued when he saw it was only his mother and siblings who showed up; his father was not in the best of health and had little energy to much of anything these days, and his grandfather was too wrapped up in maintaining what his father could not do.

You felt relieved. His mother, Alicent as she asked you to call her, obviously loved her son, but her father would get into her head about how it was best to raise them, and his siblings were aware of his shortcomings, but loved Aegon still in their very unique way.

Daeron bubbled with excitement, in part because he loved to sing but you also imagined he took pleasure in the discomfort of his older brothers, Aemond and Aegon. Aemond was a silent force, with a severe expression and dark clothes, his eye looking over their surroundings as they were led into the rented booth. And Helaena was rosy, her excitement glittered in her eyes with the prospect to sing her heart out, also aware of the discomfort for her brothers and wilfully ignoring it.

They took their seats and Daeron bounded to the stage, choosing some pop song and singing along. Aemond, long and lean, sank into a corner part of the couch, legs stanced wide and his gaze solemn, as always. Alicent and Helaena were seated together and you leaned back into the couch, watching Aegon pour over the log of songs available on the tablet; his brow furrowed and his lips moved wordless as he read through the titles, the light from the screen highlighting his handsome features.

He was aglow when he handed you the tablet. “This one?” You confirmed, your finger resting on the song.

Aegon nodded, wiping his palms against his jeans before clapping along with his mother and sister when Daeron finished. “You next?” He asked and Aegon nodded, wetting his lips with his tongue and moving to take the microphone.

Part of his rehabilitation was relearning himself, but sober. With this, he had a newfound passion for music that he had never touched before. You remembered the first time you heard him singing in the shower; you were flushed by his voice, your mouth agape when he exited the bathroom. You always encouraged him to sing, well aware of the brief reprieve it allowed him with every song he disappeared into.

And now, you leaned back to watch the reactions of his family as Aegon cleared his throat.

Daeron’s skittish giggled stopped the moment the timbre of his voice poured into the speakers, though the sound quality was what would be considered for a karaoke bar, it did not take away from the fact that Aegon could fucking sing.

His younger brother’s eyes were wide and he sank back into the sofa to watch him. Alicent’s eyes were just as wide and glassy as she took in her son, as if she was truly seeing him for the first time; Helaena just closed her eyes and swayed her head in rhythm to the music.

You dared to glance at Aemond and even his stoic nature cracked slightly, as his brow arched while he listened.

Aegon was beautiful when he sang, of course; his eyes were closed and there was color to his cheeks from the natural smile that accompanied the lyrics. He moved along with the music, his passion for this habit did not allow him to hold still.

When he finished, he slowly opened his eyes and looked at you, smiling still.

His mother and Helaena bound to their feet, clapping and singing praises, while Daeron was flabbergasted. “Holy shit, you can sing,” he managed.

Alicent flipped on her mom-mode, her dark eyes locked onto him. “Daeron. Language.”

He grinned sheepishly and even Aemond hummed a compliment, “Well sung, brother.” He had the hint of a smile to his lips.

Daeron clasped his hand on his shoulder, bright eyed with a newfound respect for his brother. “What else are you keeping from us?”

Aegon shifted his weight and glanced at you; you nod reassuringly, subtle with your smile. He reached into his pocket and presented the token.

You saw that Aemond recognized it, as he had also been present with the prior attempts of his sobriety, but his expression softened when he saw the color, a forest green, a color he had not seen in his brother’s palm before.

For Aegon, it is a wordless gesture and it is met with the support he deserved. Daeron and Helaena both threw their arms around him, smiles and congratulations on their lips, while Aemond only reached to touch his shoulder, the curl of his mouth enough to let him know he was proud of Aegon.

You enjoyed this moment, content to be a spectator, until you felt the gentle touch of Alicent as she wrapped her arm around your waist and pulled you into her side. “Thank you,” she whispered in your ear.

But it was not necessary. You, like Aemond, had always been around and presented him with the opportunity, time and time again. You also knew that Aegon had to want it, or it would never work.

Most importantly, you would always be grateful for the day he had taken the help offered.

Arcie’s Masterlist

#modern aegon #modern hotd au #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen fanfiction

208 notes · View notes

justinewt · 2 years ago

Text

Rest In Peace - TWD REWRITE Chapter Eighteen

[TWD FANFICTION-MASTERLIST]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (TBA)

Summary: Things never got complicated, because they always were in the first place. But some people made it worse with their actions, hurting and wronging others. Pamela was in the crosshairs of the survivors. And she would fall, one way or another. On the other hand, Anna had to deal with her own emotions and and the anxiety in which she found herself after her children were taken from her. And maybe, only maybe would she find it in her heart to give her father one last chance...

Words: 10.7k

Warnings: TWD spoilers season 11 (end of episode 20 “What’s been Lost”, episode 21 “Oupost 22”, episode 22 “Faith, episode 23 “Family” and episode 24 “Rest in peace”), TWD finale chapter, long chapter, angst, a couple life-or death situations, making amends, heart to heart, blood, shooting

Anna's anxiously looked around, taking in short breaths. The hessian sack on her head prevented her from seeing around her the other captives on the bus and being bound hand and foot restricted her movements. She didn't even know for sure where her father was in the vehicle. She knew they had only caught their people before Daryl managed to get them out of the Commonwealth, but a bag had been put on them before they even set foot on the bus. She was frowning in worry, not knowing what they would do to them, but her main concern was the safety of her two young children, whom had been taken away from her. She winced when someone slightly lifted up the side of the sack and stuck a needle in his neck. She quickly felt the effects of whatever was in that syringue and she blinked profusely to try and not pass out but her eyes didn't open again after a few seconds and her head fell forward. They were all helpess at the hand of Commonwealth soldiers. They were all at their mercy, but the catch was, not all of them were on that bus. They had purposefully separated them, and the only thing Anna was sure of was that her father and Annie were with them. She had no idea where they took the others.

When she woke up, completely disoriented, Anna couldn’t hear any noise. The bus has stopped. She didn’t know if she would have rather preferred to hear that they were still driving. She raised her bound hands and removed the burlap bag. Looking to her left, towards the window, she saw there was only her on her seat. On her right, she recognized her father and Annie’s clothes. A few seconds after she came to herself, something or someone started banging on the bus' sides. That’s when everyone removed the sack on their heads and looked around in confusion. Negan met his daugther’s gaze when Ezekiel asked if everyone was all right but most of them were still too zoned out to give an answer. Anna let out a heavy sigh and leaned on her knees, burying her face in her hands before straightening up, tucking her blonde hair behind her ears. She remembered the screams of protest she had let out and the cries of Adam and Lucille as the soldiers took them away. She was feverish just thinking about it. A random thought popped into her head; she hadn't even told Negan what her daughter's name was yet, but that didn't matter right now.

“One of the trucks is missing.” When Annie spoke, Anna turned her head to her and her father.

“No sign of Gabriel, Maggie or Rosita.” Negan added.

“They’re unloading a bunch of stuff off the trucks.” Anna stood up to see through the windows and had confirmation of Kelly's statement. This whole situation was very odd though not that surprising coming from the Commonwealth.

“Can you see the kids?” At Ezekiel's question, Anna looked at him and Kelly but the latter replied in the negative. She knew they wouldn’t separate them and the kids just to reunite them so soon but she had to admit, she had hoped they were there for a second.

“I was in and out. We stopped for a few minutes. There was a crash.” Annie looked at Negan. “You think that was them?”

“It fits.” He replied quietly, shooting up his eyebrows. “They either bailed, or…”

“Or what?” Before they could continue their discussion, the door of the bus opened. Through the grid separating them from the front of the vehicule, a man stepped in, greeting them.

“Today is the first day of a new beginning. The world works when everyone knows their place.” At this statement, Anna couldn’t help but give a sidelong glance at her father. This was something he used to say a lot when he was the leader of the savior. That was one of his mottos. But this time, none of them were at the top of the hierarchy in the group. She wasn’t the golden, untouchable child and he wasn’t the boss. Negan met his gaze briefly. He had to know why she looked at him and the shame showed on his face. “Your place is at the bottom. All of the resources that we use to bring the old world back into the new and sustain it, it all starts at places like this. You should take comfort in knowing that good people will benefit from your labor here. That is your redemption. That is your salvation. Your children are safe and being attended to.” Anna gave him a death stare. “Play by the rules, you get to see them again. In order to do that, you must work as one. Here… nobody has a name because we have no need for them. I’m not gonna tell you mine, and you will not… address each other by yours.” He paused for a second and opened the grid as he continued to speak. “When I point at you, you stand up. You exit the rear.”

At the same time, a Commonwealth soldier opened the back door of the bus. Anna watched him through the grid behind them. Another then got in the vehicule and opened the grid while the man that just made a speech was pointing at people for them to stand up. Already half a dozen people had walked out when he set his sights on Annie.

“And you.” The silence that hung in the bus got even heavier when he turned to the other side and pointed at Anna. The latter tried her best to hide her worry, but she was freaked out. She had no idea where they brought her children and Annie and her were being separated from Negan, for whatever reason. He stood up, stepping in the aisle to let Annie get on her feet. Anna stood in turn, and they all faced each other.

“I’m gonna get us out of here. All four of us. I promise.” The child in Anna wanted to hug her dad as tight as she could but she just stared at him until a soldier ordered them out.

“Her name’s Lucille.” Anna said softly before following Annie outside. Before the door was closed behind her, she glanced over her shoulder and saw the look on her father’s face after he realized she told him the name of the newborn daughter she had with Alden. Lucille. Her mother’s name. Maybe Aaron was right. Maybe she really was proud of her.

Anna, Annie and the few others who had been selected had therefore been separated from the others and taken directly to another location. From what Anna understood, it was a Commonwealth outpost, but she couldn't see out of the vehicle's windows which were blurred. It was only when they got off that she realized, despite the night falling and the sky darkening visibly, that it was in fact Alexandria. The houses were still there, the mill too, but with the soldiers in white gear all over the place, it didn't feel the same at all. They really fucked them all up and took over their homes. Thinking of home reminded her of the Sanctuary which must have been in an even worst state now than when her father and her went to see it a while ago. There were times like this when the realization of how fast time was passing by hit her right in the face. The two women were then brought to a house. Anna froze as she looked up. It was Rick’s house. She stared at the stairs leading to the porch, remembering Judith sitting on them, talking to her father who was still locked up in the basement to the side of the house and doing her maths homeworks. She lost her balance and nearly stumbled on the first step when a soldier pushed her forward. She was caught by Annie and just looked up at her, muttering a thank you as they entered the house. They were then brought to a room with two single beds, one right by the door and one in front of the window and heard the door being locked behind her. Anna sat on the second bed and looked outside.

“I know this house.” Annie turned her head towards her as she broke the silence that hung in the room. “I’ve lived here. It was Rick’s house before… Since you know my father so well, you must know about him.”

“Yes.”

“From the little that I knew him, during the six years that my father was locked up, he proved himself to be righteous. A good person, and a good leader. His son, Carl. It’s thanks to him that Rick didn’t just kill me on the spot. He encouraged me to “show the way” to my dad”.” She chuckled, sketching a nostalgic smile hearing Carl say these few words in her head. Her facial features tensed up and she gritted her teeth. “I wanted a father who was present and loving, and who did what was right instead of instegating fear everywhere he went. I thought he could become that person… to be as he was before all this… to be a father more like Rick.”

“He is no longer the man he was at Sanctuary, and he loves you dearly, Anna.”

“I've been through the last 15 years alone with him. I saw him change and you know what's the only difference I see between him nowawdays and how he was in the Sanctuary? Huh? It's that he appears quieter, less scary. He doesnt throw threats around anymore, but I'm not sure this new persona is sustainable for him. Deep down, he’s always been the same, even before. You've only really known him for 6 months, Annie. I’ve known him for about 25 years.” She stared at Annie. “People don’t actually change, and I hope you really know what you signed up for when you joined this family.”

The next day they were brought in separately from the others to work cleaning rails in the middle of the forest. Everyone else were there already. Guards watched them all closely and one of them was standing next to Annie and Anna while they were on their knees in the dirt. When the guard motioned at them to work faster, the two women looked up at him, annoyed. One more comment from him and Anna was going to start a fight, although he was the one holding the gun. She honestly didn’t give a shit if he struck her with it. Getting hurt and having a couple of big bruises on her face was the least of her worries. She paused in her work to redo her low ponytail and stared at the guard in defiance, when a loud noise came from nearby and caught her attention. That's when she saw her father bent double in front of two guards. Annie and she glanced at each other, slowly standing up. He quickly straightened up and shoved the guard away, but the latter pushed him to the ground and kicked him in the stomach.

“Get off of him!” Annie shouted as the two women abandoned their post, running towards them. A guard turned to them, pushing Annie unceremoniously pushing her but Anna caught her before she hit the ground, helping her get back up.

“Know your place, prisoner!” The second Anna let go of her, she landed a punch in his face, but he then grabbed her as she tried to get past him. Anna wished she had her knife right now, she would have stabbed him without a second thought, but she had left it in Alexandria before going to the Commonwealth and seeing what it had become, there was no doubt that someone had taken it. She would retrieve it later. Annie struggled, calling out to Negan and Anna was unable to help and do anything because a guard was holding her at gunpoint, hands in the air. She looked at her father, on the ground, in a similar situation. The guard eventually motioned for her to go back to work and she gave him a death stare, having to comply with his order. She couldn’t wait for the roles to be reversed.

A little later, they were brought back to Alexandria for lunch but neither Anna nor Annie was allowed to eat with the others and were once again separated and kept apart. They ate and were locked back into their room. Anna was fuming, her arms crossed, walking back and forth in front of the window, dragging her feet while Annie rested on her bed. She briefly stopped in her tracks, looking behind her when the door opened and she saw a guard lead her father into the room. He then went to stand by the doorframe. Negan crossed his daughter’s gaze but she turned her back to him, looking out the window and hearing him sit on the chair by Annie’s bed, she looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He softly grabbed her hand hanging off the bed, and she must have been sleeping so soundly that she awoke with a slight start. She smiled at the sight of her husband.

“Are you okay? You’re not hurt?”

“I think you got the worst of it.” He chuckled.

“How’s the little one?” Anna looked away. She could blame her dad all she wanted, but she couldn't be angry at an unborn child for how her relationship with her dad turned out. She loved her father too much to really hate him but resented him too much to forgive him and this vicious circle had been going on for years, hurting the both of them in the process. Annie sat up on the bed.

“Just kicked me so hard I almost rolled off the bed.”

“Gonna be a badass, just like Mama.” If she could have, Anna would have just walked out of the room but it wasn’t an option so she listened with only hald an ear.

“We’re gonna get out of here. We will.”

“Yeah. I know. I know we will. I am working on it.” This comments her father made got her interested and she turned around.

“Is that what you were doing back there on the tracks? Working it “your way”?”

“Hey, old habits die hard, I guess.” Anna scoffed and sat on her bed. She knew what she told Annie was true. He might no longer be the Negan he was at the Sanctuary, but he didn’t thoroughly change either. Hearing her behind him, her father looked at her over his shoulder.

“But we can’t. I am gonna meet this baby, and so are you.”

“Yes.” He said quietly, nodding. “Yeah. Hey, Annie, I would never risk us.”

“What did the warden say to you?” Annie lowered her voice.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“That bad, huh?” She cracked a tight smile.

“I’ve known men like him my whole life. Hell, I used to be him.”

“In that case, no wonder everyone hated you.” As the two started laughing, leaning their heads together, Anna pursed her lips to suppress an amused smile. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a guard approaching the one standing at the door. The one who had just arrived leaned into her ear, whispered a few words and the two men exchanged a look in Anna's direction. She frowned.

“I will handle him.” He then assured. “Okay?”

“Sure.” The guards eventually put an end to the reunion, calling Negan out of the room. He stood up, heading for the door when one of them pointed at Anna.

“You too, let’s go.”

“What? What do you want with her?” Negan enquired, hiding his worry for his daughter behind the confusion that read on his face. Anna knew they were going to call her but not knowing why was the part she really didn’t like. She got on her feet, walking past Annie’s bed and briefly putting her hand on her father shoulder.

“None of your business, prisoner. Bring him back.” He then ordered the first guard and the latter nodded, motioning for Negan to follow him down the corridor. He wasn’t reassured for his daughter and gave her a concerned look as he walked away. She watched him until he disappeared from sight, and she followed the guard to a door. He was wallowing in an annoying silence, refusing to answer her questions and tell her what she was doing here, and she was therefore surprised to find herself in the Warden's office. He made her sit on the chair. On the other side, the warden watched her from his seat, leaning on the desk, his hands clasped. She shook her shoulder to make him remove his hand and crossed her arms, slightly slumped in her chair.

“Annabelle Smith.” He straightened up, looking down at a couple document spread before him.

“I thought we didn't do names around here.” He chuckled at her remark, looking up at her.

“We do, when we find your name on a box full of vials of blood, properly stored at the bottom of a fridge in the infirmary.” She had totally forgot about the blood Siddiq had drawn from her. It was over a year ago and she thought they would have discarded all those old vials. If it really was at the back of a fridge, probably hidden by other stuff, they had probably overlooked it.

“I’m a universal donor.” She shrugged, trying not to let it show that she had been unsettled. Neither he nor anyone in the Commonwealth was to find out that she was immune to the virus. She had managed to hide the origin of her ugly scar on her calf for six months, she couldn't let him find out the truth. The answer she gave wasn’t really a lie anyway, she was actually a universal donor and he would only need to check her blood type in the files from the Commonwealth hospital.

“You have no equipment here to do transfusions.”

“Alexandria—”

“Outpost 22. There is no Alexandria anymore.” Anna sketched a tight smile and bit her lip.

“Alexandria…” She stressed every syllable of the camp’s original name. “suffered many losses because of all the attacks we went through. Both human and material losses.”

“Right, right.” He wasn’t convinced by the excuses she gave him but still dismissed her, reviewing the papers as the guard led her back to her room before locking it for the rest of the day. She just hoped he would never find out why they had drawn blood from her, or she would become the Commonwealth’s rat lab in the blink of an eye.

All the prisoners in the outpost were suddenly awakened in the middle of the night and dragged across the camp towards the mill. Annie and Anna were escorted by guards, looking around in confusion. Nobody knew what the cause of all this could be. They narrowed their eyes when a spotlight came on. Anna noticed that only, Annie, Ezekiel and her were held by guards, while the rest of the prisoners were only led towards the mill. She frowned, now starting to wonder where her father was because she realized he was nowhere to be seen.

“There is a traitor in our midst.” The warden appeared in front of the crowd. He walked up to Ezekiel and stared at him as he continued. “Someone who thinks he’s above the rules. This prisoner has admitted to spearheading a rebellion.” Anna first thought he was talking about Ezekiel, but he turned his head to the side and that’s when she saw her father, handcuffed and held by the arms by two guards who dragged him right in front of everyone. Shock was quickly replaced by anger, and she struggled against the guards holding her but all she got was their grip on their arms getting tighter. “Any co-conspirators will be given the benefit of the doubt. I trust they were not acting of their own free will. So only he will be punished. But it’s important that you’re all here to see. To remember.”

“Negan!” Anna wartched Annie take advantage of the guards being distracted and she ran towards him but was caught halfway. Anna was so conflicted with her emotions that she froze for a moment and didn’t have much reaction. Her father was going to be executed for steering up a rebellion. There had to be something she could do. No matter how much she resented him for letting her down, she refused to lose her father after all she had been through. She wanted to run to her father, even if she would get caught before she reached him as happened with Annie, but the guards were already holding her so tight that she could barely move her arms. Anna stared at her father, her lips were trembling, and tears welled up in the corners of her eyes as she furiously as she stubbornly wiggled her arms around to get the guards to let her go. When her father looked directly at her and mouthed “I love you” was the straw that broke the camel's back, and a tear ran down her cheek.

“Get him on his knees.”

“No. No!” Anna cried out. She managed for a brief moment to free herself from the guards that held her and ran but these same guards quickly caught up with her and stopped her next to Annie.

“This is what happens when you forget your place.” While he kept shouting the guards pushed Negan on his knees. Thoughts raced through Anna's head. She had to try something and stop her father from being executed before her eyes. She was still angry with him, but she wouldn’t let him die. Annie was crying and screaming at them not to do this.

“No. Wait! Please!” She tried calling out to the warden to get his attention and delay the execution and she thought he heard her when in reality he was looking at both Annie and her because her father had smirked at him defying his authority in front of everyone.

“There are no martyrs here.” He grabbed Anna and Annie himself and dragged them towards Negan. When he realized it, his cocky smile had completely disappeared and he yelled at him.

“That wasn’t our deal!” He stood up, trying to argue and protest but he was forced back onto his knees.

“You will feel this punishment!” The warden then walked away. Anna was aware that this was her last chance to do something, but now she had to try and save the three of them, not just her father. As he got the soldiers ready to fire, Anna called out to him again, struggling against the guards to get on her feet. He glanced at her and she knew she only had a split second to make sure she really caught his attention and keep it on her for as long as she could and the idea that had popped in her head might be her only chance. If she could surprise him enough to unsettle him, it might work. He frowned slightly, clasping his hand behind his back. No one knew what Anna had in mind and they were all looking at her, muttering to each other. Her father was staring at her. He looked confused for a few seconds but somehow quickly understood what she had planned to do to try to save his life and as she spoke again, she saw him shaking his head, mouthing a silent no. “I have something to tell you.”

“I do not have time to play games.” He approached.

“Anna, no. Please. Don’t do this.” Her father mumbled to her, trying to reason with her but she was already determined to go as far as necessary to try and stop this.

“You're going to want to hear this, believe me.” She tried to convince him to listen to her and she saw a glimpse in his eyes confirming to her that she had succeeded. She tried to get up, but the guards pushed down on her shoulders to keep her on her knees. The warden briefly waved his hand and they let go of her. She stood up. It was a start, even though she still had her wrists tied behind her back. Anna knew that out of everyone around them, only those who had known her for a long time would believe her next words, and it suited her that she could be seen as a liar by people. Hiding her immunity in plain sight was the right move.

“So, speak. What are your last words, prisoner?” He urged her.

“You know the vials you found, the ones labelled with my name. You asked me what it was for. I lied to you, sir.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father's face crumple with worry. Annie was looking at her with her eyes glassy with tears, her cheeks wet. “I'm a universal donor, it's true but that's not why all this blood was drawn.”

“Get to the point. Now.” He was starting to show some annoyance, so she cut her story short.

“If you let them go, I’ll tell you.” She tried negotiating as a last resort.

“I see what this is. If you think your tall tale will interest me...”

“I’m immune to the virus. That’s why.” Her declaration was so sudden that he frowned, taken aback. Some near her had their eyes widened, like Annie and Anna's peers, in shock while the others were glancing at each other dubiously, whispering. Anna gulped as the warden motioned for a guard to bring her to him. He tugged so suddenly on her arm that she almost lost her balance.

“No one is immune. You will die first for wasting my time. Turn her around.” She was turned to face Annie and her father and felt a chill down her spine when she heard a gun click near her ear. Negan started shouting, telling them not to do this and to take him and only him instead. Anna took a couple deep breaths.

“Aim—”

“I have proof! I can show you I’m not lying!” After a few seconds, the gun was lowered and the warden appeared in her field of vision and came to stand right in her face. He stared her down, silently giving her a few seconds to explain herself before she was shot.

“I… I need my hands to show you.” He raised his hands, nodding at a guard. She was held her at gunpoint in case she tried anything and Her restraints were removed and she massaged her wrists before crouching down to grab the bottom of her jeans. She pulled it up her calf in a hem and took her boot off, revealing the nasty scar left by this walker. Even healed and about 7 years old, the bite from that walker that had ripped a good chunk of flesh from her calf had left a large scar and it was just as Siddiq had told her it would be. Nasty looking. This time she wasn’t lying to the warden but it was a possibility that he would believe it wasn’t a walker bite. She straightened up and rotated her leg so the warden could see the scar in the light of the spotlight at the top of the windmill. People audibly gasped in the crowd.

“It could very well be a human bite. Stop trying to take me for a ride. All right, that’s enough.” He tilted his head forward in a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, and motioned to the guards around her to bring her back to her knees next to her father and Annie. Anna wasn’t even given time to put her shoe back on and the guards held her arms in her back, restraining her again. They were holding her arms so tight that she winced at the pain and she was pushed forward and forced to get back on her knees. She had tried to play her last card and it hadn't worked, and now the three of them were going to be executed. She didn't care that everyone knew about her immunity. What bothered her to make her stomach churn and drop was that her two children would grow up without their mother. They had already lost their father, she refused to abandon them but she was powerless in this situation. She followed her father’s gaze when he addressed one of the guards holding them at gunpoint.

“You. You have a family. Don’t do this. Please.”

“I said ready!” The warden insisted.

“Leave them! Take me! Just take me! Please.” As he pleaded, begging them to let Annie and Anna go, the latter noticed Ezekiel step forward, his arms in the air. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know.” He stood in front of them, his arms stretched to the sides. Soon, more of their people joined him. Magda, Kelly, Nabila, Princess and so on. They all came to stand by his side to form a barrage, shielding the three of them from the guards.

“I admire your bravery, prisoners. Shoot them all.” He then ordered before stepping aside. Anna and Annie moved closer to Negan, fear in their eyes. They couldn’t see what was happening on the other side of the wall built by their peers.

“You don’t have to do this! This world is broken, but we don’t have to be.” Ezekiel’s statement was followed by a heavy silence. A shot rang out and the warden grabbed Kelly, holding a gun to her temple. Magda called out to her. He stepped back and suddenly let out a grunt. As his body crumbled to the ground, the light revealed Daryl and Connie behind him. Kelly hugged her sister, relieved. Negan, Annie and Anna’s ties were cut and the young woman finally got her shoe back. She quickly put it on and rolled down her jeans, concealing the scar once again. She was alerted by loud noises and looked to the side. Her father had picked up and violently thrown the warden to the ground and was about to bash his head in with a stone when Rosita’s voice rose. Gabriel rolled the man onto his back as Rosita strode forward, gun in hand. She tossed it to Gabriel and crouched down. Anna watched her as she enquired of her daughter's whereabouts. If he knew where Rosita's child was, he surely knew where her own children were so she listened.

“Where is she?!” She shouted but his only response was a smirk so she punched him in the face and stood up. Nearby, a guard who had gotten killed was coming back so got a hold of him and dragged him to the warden, putting the walker just above his head. “Where the hell is she?! Tell me where she is! Where is she?!”

“You will lose everything.” He dared to smile so she pushed the walker on him, and he screamed at the top of his lungs as the dead bit his eye and pulled it out of its socket. Anna stared him down, gritting her teeth. It didn’t matter if he preferred to mock them, Rosita and her would find their kids, without his help.

Anna had recovered the knife that had been confiscated from her. She had it on her belt and held the handle firmly, running her thumb over the notches of the blade. She watched Gabriel talk with Tyler, asking if he knew where they could find the kids that were still missing, which included Rosita’s daughter and Anna’s two children. Anna looked around Alexandria. The Commonwealth soldiers had been tied up and seated in line, since last night's critical situation. They got more scared than hurt in the end, but the young woman had thought that she, her father and her stepmother were really going to be shot in the head, their knees in the dirt, right there and then. With everything that had happened since her dad's surprise return, she was starting to want to give her dad a second chance, but she swore to herself that it would be the last time she would wipe the slate clean and forgive him for hurting her like that.

“Let’s go! Come on! Now!” Rosita urged everyone to get on the bus. Anna met her father's gaze. He was standing behind the bus and watched Maggie walk away from him. He tried to give Anna a sweet look, but she turned her head and got on the bus when she saw Annie coming towards him. She could see he wanted to try and make up to her after leaving her on her own when she needed him most and she wanted to somewhat forgive him because she loved him but it was difficult getting past the hard feelings she felt towards him for this very reason. She had lost everyone close to her, except for him. Their relationships had known so many highs and lows in the past few years. If Alden was still here, she might have had less anger and resentment but he was dead and her father disappeared without even saying goodbye. For now, her priority was to find her son and daughter. She would think about whether or not she wanted to mend her relationship with her father later. Once she had Adam and Lucille back, she would make her choice.

After the bus ride, they boarded a train. Before getting on the same wagon as her father, she briefly talked with Gabriel, who reassured her and assured that they would get their children back. She just thanked him and got on another wagon, which happened to be the same her father got on. There was also Ezekiel and a few others. Anna let out a heavy sigh as she sat down in a corner, leaning against a couple of piled up crates. Her nervous fingers quickly found the pendant around her neck, and she closed her hand on it, letting her head fall against the wall behind her. After staring off into space, lost in thought for a moment, she was snapped out of her reverie by the voice of Ezekiel, who had just sat down on a trunk nearby, right in front of Negan. Her face was hidden by the boxes next to her, only her legs were sticking out. She listened to their exchange.

“I never thanked you. For getting in front of those rifles. Thank you.” From where she was, Anna couldn't see the faces of the two men as there was silence. “Why did you do it?”

“A lot of reasons.” Ezekiel answered his question vaguely, before pursuing. “Dying a martyr… is too easy. You living, making something positive out of your days, now that… That’ll keep me from giving in to anger. Over what I lost. I don’t want to live out whatever days I got left in bitterness. You know? I’m not even supposed to be here, man. The dead came for me… and yet I smile. War came for me, yeah?.. Yet I smile. Cancer... Yet I smile. I try to, anyway. Anna straightened up a bit and tried to glance at Ezekiel but he was out of her sight, she could only see her father, sitting on the ground across from him. He sketched a smile and tilted his head forward, looking sad and regretfull. “So… So why’d you tell the warden your name instead of mine?”

“For my wife… For my daughter… and my unborn kid. To leave a better story about me than the one you’ve been telling. That when it mattered… I did something right.” Anna bit her lip, letting her face fall into her hands and silently shed a tear and a single tear turned into silent crying as he spoke. She still felt, deep down, like that teenager who had left her father behind years ago. She had tried to go against him to make him change and she realised that, to a certain extent, he had changed. Never would she have thought that the Negan she knew, the one she saw turn into an authoritarian leader of the Saviors, would want to make things right. Maybe he did actually regret leaving her when she was at her worst. Maybe he wasn’t lying about that. “And it wasn’t to prove anything. It wasn’t to get anything in return. Hell it wasn’t to save my own ass. It was to save all of you. You all are better than me. And if you think I don’t know that… then you haven’t been paying attention.”

When she heard him walk away, Anna lifted her head, wiping her tears and got up, stepping out from behind the crates. He hadn’t seen her stand up and as he walked away, she met Ezekiel's gaze. The latter gave her a tender smile and she followed her father to the back of the car. She eventually tried to call out to him but her lips moved without making a sound and when she did make a sound, it was as loud as a whisper. She closed her eyes and sighed.

“Dad…” He stopped in his tracks and turned around. Eyebrows raised, eyes unsure of what to say, he looked at her, looking almost worried to hear what she wanted to say to him. Running her hand through her blonde hair, she didn't really know what to say either and crossed her arms. “I- I don’t know if I can forgive you yet, but… I don’t want to be cold and distant with you forever. If you have something to say, I’ll listen to you now.”

“Anna… I will apologize to you for everything forever because I am truly sorry. I made so many mistakes… I should have cherished the child Lucille left me and instead, I fucked it all up. I made poor choices and it’s all my fault that you’re angry with me. I don’t know how to make it up to you but I will try ‘till the day I die, apple pie.” He spoke softly, and despite trying to keep it together, she saw the hurt and regrets in his eyes and it moved her deeply. He seemed to mean what he said. She assured to Annie that people don’t change and swore by the quote saying that what’s bred into the bone comes out in the flesh but she came to the realization that, though people don’t change, they can evolve and be better.

“You have one last chance but if something like when you left me all alone after Alden died happens again, that's it, you're done, and you can live the days you have left in regret. I won't come back. I- I can't, cause if I do, we'll be back to the same vicious cycle than at the Sanctuary and I can't go through that again.” She shook her head, letting her arms fall to her sides. “Alden left me with a toddler and a baby, I don't want to put them through this.”

“I want to make things right... Be there for you, and your children. I have to do this for you, and for Alden. He was there for you when I wasn't.” Anna swallowed, looking away as tears were already welling up. She hadn't had such a conversation with her father in a long time, if she ever had one before, which she couldn't even remember, and it was very telling of how they relationship used to be. It made her emotional to see how good things could be. She tried to stay where she was, but one look at her father, who was so watery-eyed and on the verge of tears, she let herself hug him. She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

Once arrived at their destination, the group got off the train and slipped between a fence and a line of shrubs. Commonwealth soldiers stood nearby. The survivors watched them silently through the foliage, crouched down. Across from them was a door they needed to access.

“Hey, we are sitting ducks. He ain’t coming and we can’t wait.” Negan stated.

“Guys, please. Mercer’s gonna show up.” Princess assured.

“We’re running out of time.”

“I’m gonna head around, try to find another way to slip in.” Carol looked at Daryl before leaving them.

“There’s only four of them. We could take them.” Maggie then said.

“Those guards go missing, clock’s ticking on us.”Rosita softly shook her head, glancing behind her at said guards.

“Hey.” Judith quietly called out to them, getting their attention. The whole group got silent, seeing the guards approach the bushes. Holding their breaths they watched them but they were called via their walkie-talkie and ordered to move away from the area to go wherever, which was extremely convenient for Anna and the others. The four guys in white gear jogged away, clearing the way for them to cross. “I think we’re good.”

“You sure?” She glanced back and nodded to Daryl. This was their chance. They slowly stood up and walked to the door, looking around them, on their guards while Gabriel broke the door’s lock with the butt of his machete gun. He stepped aside, letting Maggie take the lead and they all followed her inside the building. Anna clutched her weapon, brandishing it in front of her as she followed Rosita's footsteps, her father behind her. She was increasingly anxious to finally find her children. They carefully made their way through the sewers under the Commonwealth, on the look out. There was a heavy silence hanging over them as they reached a ladder on the wall. One after the other, they climbed up and got into the train station of the Commonwealth. The hall was completely empty but none of them were reassured though. Anna came through the door with Maggie, her father, Daryl and Judith. Their eyes slid over the walls around them, surveying every square meter of the place, intently.

“What’s wrong?” Judith inquired to ask Daryl, seeing the apprehensive and sceptical look on his face.

“Something ain’t right.” Anna looked at him, following his gaze behind them and she noticed the doors were padlocked with large chains. He instantly yelled out to everyone to get down and shots rang out. The first few to have set foot in the hall were shot on the spot. Blood spurted out and their bodies fell heavily to the ground. Anna immediately crouched down, watching their comrades being killed in front of them with wide eyes. The shooting continued for a hot minute as everyone ran in different directions to hide, screaming and trying to shoot back at the attackers. Anna tried to shoot in turn, taking cover behind the corner of the wall but her father pulled her back and put her behind him to keep her away from the gunfire. She clenched her jaw, side eying him but didn't argue. Right now, wasn’t the time to act like an angry teenager. They were in the middle of a shooting in the hall of a train station. She still managed to get a few hits at the guys above them. Suddenly, a high-pitched scream sounded, and it was as if time had stopped. Everyone turned and Daryl was kneeling on the ground, hunched over Judith, unconscious. Anna stared at the little girl and was shaken out of her torpor when she heard Daryl urging them to go. The latter looked across the room at Ezekiel and motioned for him to throw the fire extinguisher into the air. He shot at it with his handgun and a cloud of smoke spread across the room, giving them enough cover to get out. This whole thing went sideways in a matter of minutes.

They rushed out of the building and were practically running down the street, with Daryl carrying the poor Judith. Anna stuck by her father’s side. Huge army trucks pulled up ahead of them, blocking the street. Ezekiel made them take a turn, but another truck came. They stopped in their tracks, not knowing where to go when Carol realized something.

“They’re not following us.” The guards were setting up barriers with barbed wire on top across the streets as if to keep something out of town when Anna heard gunfire not far from them. A group of troopers was shooting in the air, leading a herd of walkers.

“They’re penning us in!” Ezekiel shouted.

“What the fuck?”

“Wha—” Anna looked at her father, not knowing why he was confused but she quickly saw what puzzled him this much. A walker had just effortlessly climbed onto a dumpster. She had never seen an undead able to do something like this but the main concern at the moment was the fact that they were trapped. Herds of walkers kept coming from each of the streets surrounding them.

“Move! Move!” Daryl yelled at the lot of them.

“Cut ‘em off! We got that alley.” She pointed at an alley with a DELIVERIES sign up on the wall. They would have to clear a path to get to it because walkers were walking up to them from the very street they had to cross. Everyone shot at them, including Anna, while some stabbed the dead in their rotting skulls. Carol let Daryl get through and he ran down the alley while they were surrounded by the walkers. Anna was trying to stay calm, but it brought back a lot of bad memories. She saw herself again, barely 18, having to cross the courtyard in front of the Sanctuary with her father and Gabriel, her clothes covered in smelling and bloody guts as a dead man grabbed her arm and dug his dirty, chipped nails into her arm. But the wound he had left her was far from being the most traumatic thing that happened that day, it was this feeling of being oppressed by this crowd of walking corpses, growling in her ears. With these memories flashing before her eyes, she continued to stab the dead with her knotched knife, shooting at them and blowing up their skulls, but a great distress could be read on her face. A sudden, bloodcurdling cry alerted Anna, and she saw a dead man rip a large chunk of skin from the arm of a woman who was screaming at the top of her lungs, Luke calling out to her. He came to her aid and tried to escape the situation but he was pushed to the ground and bit as well. Anna's jaw dropped in horror. She turned her back to them when she felt a hand grab her arm, and in a panic, she sliced the undead's wrist with a couple blows of her knife and stumbled as she stepped back, jerking her wrist to knock the decrepit hand off. She wore her leather jacket so he would have had a hard time getting to her skin but she didn’t really want another wound to add to her collection. She already had a nasty bite scar on her calf, another one was really not necessary. While Luke was pulled away by their friends, the woman he tried to save disappeared under the undead eating at her. In a concert of gunshots and loud growling and with a lot of the walkers busy with the poor woman they caught, the group managed to get to the alley to get away from there. Another undead got a hold of Anna’s arm and she let go of her gun, which hanged around her shoulders with a strap. She jumped back, her knife almost falling from her fingers when her father saw what was happening. He put his shoulders around and pulled her with him. The dead man only let go at the last moment, leaving long scratches on the back of his hand, filling with blood in seconds. Anna clenched her teeth, her hand tensing up and she ran away with the group, her father not letting go of her until they were far away from the herd.

The group then went in opposite directions, Maggie, Negan and the others leaving for the hospital with the wounded and Anna, Rosita, Eugene and Gabriel searching the houses, attempting to find the children of the two young women. Pushing the door of the building unceremoniously, they entered, brandishing their machete guns in front of them. After escaping the dead, Anna had tried to quickly clean the shallow wounds he left her with water and bandaged her hand. Walkers were kneeling over dead bodies lying on a floor covered in blood. Knowing her children could be in this place turned her stomach upside down, making her anxiety go through the roof. In the distance, a child suddenly wailed. Rosita and Anna ran down the hallway to their left, rushing to where the crying was coming from. Rosita single handedly killed the two walkers in the room and lifted the crib under which were two baby girls, Rosita's daughter and Anna's infant daughter. At the sight of Lucille, Anna dropped to her knees, holding her in her arms. She was crying, her cheeks soaked wet with tears. Gabriel and Eugene arrived in the room, relieved to have found the two kids but one was still missing. Anna stepped out in the hallway, looking around restlessly, screaming her son’s name.

“Anna— Anna, give her to me.” She turned to Gabriel, standing in the doorway, holding out his hand to her. Kissing Lucille’s forehead, she gave the little girl to the priest. She left her knife at her belt and gripped her gun tightly, rushing into each and every room there was in the hallway, kicking the doors down. Every time, there was at least one walker roaming around in there but at some point she heard quiet crying. She knew it was him. She smiled as she held her son in her arms, having finally gotten both her children back. They were her only family, all she had left of the love Alden and her had for each other, and she couldn't bear to lose them. She came back to the room where they found Lucille and Coco. A man’s voice rose from Gabriel walkie talkie and he stood up.

“We got Mercer. Any updates on the kids?”

“We found them.”

“Oh, thank God. We’ll see you at the hospital.”

The red truck in which they had taken refuge could not serve as their shelter for long. With the children in baby carriers strapped to their backs and chests, the four accomplices abruptly opened the rear doors of the vehicle, shooting down the walkers in front of them, trying to fight their way out of there, and all this while trying their hardest to keep the children safe. They desperately looked around them, standing back-to-back, searching for a way out of this situation. They got surrounded, stuck in between a building and the side of the truck. Rosita urged Eugene to go up a pipe running down the wall.

“You first!” He argued.

“Damn it, Eugene! Go! I’m right behind you!” He eventually started to climb up. Gabriel stood by, keeping the dead at bay so they would have time to get out. He let Anna go after Eugene. She had her baby wrapped around her chest while the priest carried her son on his back. Her shoes were slipping on the bricks of the facade while she climbed somehow. She was helped through an opening by Eugene, and they were joined Gabriel. The two men crowded into the frame, leaning out of the window, reaching out to help Rosita who was struggling to reach them, the dead swarming beneath her feet. Anna stood behind them and watched them, her brows raised with anguish. She couldn't see what was going on with Rosita but when she heard them screaming out her name, fear washed over her face. She understood their peer had fallen from the pipe but a few seconds later, she could hear sounds of struggle and gruntings. Less than a minute later, the two men urged her to jump to them. Anna lifted her head, getting on her tippy toes, trying to look out when she saw Rosita standing on the truck. She took a chance and managed to get a hold of the pipe and she got in. Anna let out a sigh of relief upon seeing her and stroke Lucille's head, gently.

Shortly after night fell, the group of survivors had taken refuge in a quet shed along the train tracks that criss-crossed the Commonwealth. Everyone was exhausted after all these events. Rosita and Anna were each with their small children; the latter were particularly tired. Judith had survived her gunshot wound and was lying drowsily on a stretcher. Anna was sitting on a bench against the wall, at the end of the quet. Adam next to her, the little boy's head on his knees and the little one sleeping against her in her ring sling, the young woman let her gaze wander into space. From the corner of her eyes, she could see Mercer glancing into the distance with a pair of binoculars. She was snapped out of her thoughts when her father came to sit next to her. After the heart-to-heart conversation they had on the train earlier today, it was a bit awkward, especially for him. One hand resting on her, and the other stroking her son’s hair, Anna turned her head towards her father.

“Do you want to hold her?” He couldn't hide a slight surprise at her proposal, but he clearly didn't want to say no. Anna gently picked up the infant without waking her up and placed her in Negan's arms. His face softened when Lucille opened her eyes and stared at him. A smile tugged the corner of his lips as he looked back at the little girl fondly. This time spent in their little bubble came to an end when Mercer urged everyone to get in the cars. They still had to get Judith to Tomi, a surgeon. The latter was waiting for them in a safe house that had been set up in the estates of the Commonwealth. The doctor took care of the young girl as soon as she was in the house and urged everyone to give her time and space. Anna had moved into a room with Adam and Lucille. She lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling for a few seconds before reaching for a bag laying at the foot of the nightstand. Inside there were some of her belongings, children's clothes and a notebook in which she had slipped drawings and portraits that she had made. She grabbed this last object and grabbed a portrait of Alden which she placed in front of her on the bed after straightening up and sitting cross-legged. With a sigh, she removed her necklace, opened the pendant, revealing the two old photos inside and placed it next to the drawing.

“Daddy.” Anna looked up from the drawing when Adam exclaimed as he put his hand on the paper.

“Yes. It’s your daddy.” She chuckled and nodded. The little boy crawled on the bed to come and sit next to her. The smile on her face quickly faded away and tears filled her eyes. She put the drawing back in the notebook when a drop fell in the corner. “Adam. I want you to listen to me, okay? Your daddy… your daddy died. He— he’s not coming back.”

She wasn’t sure if the 2-year-old boy truly understood what these words meant but she couldn’t keep it to herself. The news of Alden's death had felt like someone had ripped her heart out and she didn't know if the pain would ever fade but she couldn't lie. It didn't matter if he didn't comprehend what it meant yet. She would gently remind him and Lucille of Alden every now and then, so they wouldn't forget him and one day they would understand what death meant and would come to terms with it. Maybe she would manage to come to term with this as well and go through with her own grief, but her heart would probably never open to anyone else like it did for him. Thinking about it, she realized she would rather never fall in love ever again than take the risk of going through such a heartbreak again. Even though it would never be the same. Alden and her had known each other for quite a while before they became romantically involved with each other.

The young woman stayed in the bedroom, resting with her children while most of her peers were still gathered in the great room. A few years back she would have jumped at the chance to assist her friends and be at the heart of the action but that night, she wanted to stay out of everything that was going to happen. She would join them if they really needed her, but she preferred to watch from afar. Outside, she sometimes heard gunshots in the distance and upon glancing out the window before returning to rest, she had seen Pamela in the midst of a group of Commonwealth troopers who were gunning down anyone tempting to climb the perimeter walls of the property. She let her own people crowd against the gate, denying them safety from the walkers that invaded the city. After thinking for a moment that seemed like an eternity, Anna managed to fall asleep for a few minutes, but it was such a light sleep that she was quickly awakened from her nap by noises outside. The townspeople vehemently shook the gate, so hard that Lucille began to cry. She took the baby in her arms, trying to calm her down while quietly watching what was happening outside. On the other side, Mercer and the other survivors were facing Pamela and her minions.

Eventually, Lucille stopped crying, but she was no longer the center of her attention. Anna watched Gabriel walk toward the gate before being held at gunpoint by a soldier but after a few seconds, everyone lowered their weapons. It seemed her friends managed to rally the troopers to their side and Mercer stepped forward and handcuffed the Governor. The gate was then opened, and people started to run as the herd came dangerously close to them. When they closed the gate, the dead were already almost at the doorstep. Anna was kind of glad that she chose to stay out of this because it seemed like a mayhem outside. She frowned, squinting when she noticed Pamela advancing slowly towards the dead who were stretching their arms through the gate. One of them grabbed her by the shoulder, pulling her towards him but someone shot him in the head. It was Maggie, which was somewhat surprising given she wanted the woman dead. From what she gathered, Maggie would never have let her live and she thought that maybe, her father had something to do with her change of heart.

The next morning, the sun rose over a half-burning Commonwealth. The dead had been lured to Pamela's house which had been filled with fuel barrels. Anna had slept through the rest of the night and although it wasn't particularly restful with the music and the explosions, but it had helped her recover well from the events of the past few days. Now that Pamela had been arrested and imprisoned and the herd dealt with, hopefully things would calm down. After waking up, she brought her kids to the living room and went on a stroll outside. Walking around the house, she heard Maggie speaking to her father and stopped behind a corner.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said.” The conversation had only just begun, and the tone was already quite heavy and serious. “I want to thank you. I can stop wondering if you’ll ever say those words. And if I can ever forgive you. ‘Cause I know now… I… I can’t. Glenn was beautiful.” Anna could see the hurt in her eyes. It made her think of her own relationship with Alden. She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes, sighing heavily. “I’ll never love anyone like that again. I remember his smile. His goodness. And the way he made me feel. But when I look at you… all I see is that bat coming down on his head… blood running down his face. I hear him…” Maggie sighed tremulously. “I hear him calling for me. And I hear you mocking him while he’s dying. So I… I can’t forgive you. Even though I’m so grateful that you saved my son. Even though I know that you’re trying. I’m trying, too. Because I don’t want to hate you anymore. I don’t want to hurt like that. And I don’t want my son to see that anybody has that kind of hold over me. If you and Annie want to stay with Anna, you have earned your place. But if I can’t look at you some days, if I can’t work with you, and if I can’t move on, that’s why. Because all I have are my memories. And I don’t want to remember Glenn like that.”

She straightened up, opening her eyes when she heard Maggie walking towards where she was hiding but she didn't see her and just went back inside the house. Once she was gone, Anna came out from behind the corner of the wall. She had never really gotten along with Maggie but what she had been through had resonated so much with her, it had really shaken her up and even without seeing her father's face, she could tell he was affected. She walked over to him and sat down. He didn't dare look up at her, too ashamed about the things he did. She wrapped her hands around his, her eyes glued to the floor. After picking up her children, she joined her father, and both went along the house. Passing under a window, they saw Daryl upstairs. The two men nodded to each other, and Negan and Anna walked away. Since crossing paths with Rick and his group, things had gone south for all of them. Her already complicated relationship with her father had become all the more complex and just a teenager, she had to make difficult choices for her own good and with the slim hope of seeing her father become again the one he was before all that. More had happened in a few years than in the whole decade following the downfall of the modern world and life as it used to be. Growing up in this post-apocalyptic world had made Anna the woman she was today, and she probably wouldn't be the same without the encounters she made along the way. Dwight, Alden, Carl, Rick... She could never forget all those people that helped and cared for her when she needed most.

Going to see Alden’s grave with her father was one of the most heart-breaking things she did in her life. It was next to an abandoned church. Dropping to her knees next to the mound of dirt covering his corpse, a makeshift cross above him, she felt all her emotions well up and tears streamed down her cheeks. She wished she could go back in time and prevent him from leaving Alexandria that day. Maybe he would still be here with them. With her…

I think of the dead all the time.

And about the living, who I lost. I think about them every day.

Their faces, what I learned from them, how they made me who I am, so much more than all this made me who I am.

All of our lives… They come in one life…

We’re together, pieces of a whole that just keep going for what we gave each other.

One unstoppable life.

We are the ones who live.

[To be continued... maybe.]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (TBA)

Published (04/09/2023) by Andrea

Taglist: @cathrin2405 @kika64

17 notes · View notes

sophieswundergarten · 2 years ago

Text

Who wants to see me analyze the Emergency through the lyrics of a song that's been stuck in my head all week? Nobody? Cool, I'm afraid we're doing it anyways

[Verse 1] And this week the trend Was to not wake up 'till 3PM I picked a few conscious hours that I chose to spend And slept away the rest of them And this week the trend Was to crash and burn and then return again To practice the life that I pretend Provides enough to get me through the weekend

This first set is highly reminiscent of what the Emergency makes people feel. The desperation, hopelessness, and pressure that drives people frantic because "No one's at the wheel", but the inability to escape the cycle of it. No one is satisfied or peaceful or fulfilled, but there isn't a solution on the horizon.

[Chorus] So I say give me a solution And watch me run with it Then You gave, You gave me a solution What have I done with it? 'Cause I was absolutely sure I had it all figured out way back then And now it's this minute, this hour, this day

Mr. Benedict had a solution, and he was trying to give it to everyone, and there was even a small moment where it seemed like he was beginning to gain a tiny bit of traction, but then Curtain started kidnapping and brainsweeping the operatives who were working on fixing it. For a split second, Mr. Benedict had a hold of what needed to be done, but then everyone who could help was taken away and people got bogged down in the instant feeling of panic.

[Verse 2] And this week the trend Was to backstab every single one of my friends And leave a voicemail message trying to make amends All the while hoping things work out in the end

This verse is what I imagine the kids felt like at the Institute, as they were working so hard to take down Curtain, but the messages were wreaking havoc on them. Specifically, Sticky's struggle with whether or not to trust Curtain, and Reynie's imaginary letters to Miss Perumal. Everyone is hoping and wishing for it to work out but they're scared because they don't know what's going to happen.

[Verse 3] This week the trend Was to borrow all the strength that You could lend To keep my head above the water and not descend Back to where I said I'd never go again

The only thing that I can liken this to is Milligan. It fits so perfectly with him relying on Mr. Benedict and the others when he initially loses his memory, and the swimming when escapes the Institute as well as his escape from the book version of the Waiting Room, and how he has to return to the place where Curtain hurt him so badly and took Kate from him. He has a very instrumental part throughout the whole story of the Emergency.

[Chorus]

[Bridge] And I just want to get mugged at knife-point To get cut enough to wake me up 'Cause I know that I don't want to die Sitting around watching my life go by And what we take from this is what we'll get And we haven't quite figured it out just yet Because all of us are all too stuck Strapped to a chair, watching our lives blow up Stuck watching our lives blow up

The first four lines are a little extreme, but I think that they communicate the desperation that Mr. Benedict and co. feel about how important it is that the Emergency be ended, and how it is a sharper and more clear emotion than the general, dull desperate feeling that the messages are broadcasting. The middle two describe the way the kids feel during their whole mission: Unsure of who exactly the Sender is, deciphering the morse code riddles, and even up until the Whisperer is destroyed and figuring out Curtain's password. They have a lot of figuring out to do, but once they've finished and they get to look back on it, they find they have learned a lot. The last three lines fit the final confrontation in the Whispering Gallery quite well, in my opinion! Obviously, how the Whisperer (in the books) has the manacles that trap the boys, and that they think trap Constance. And, of course, Curtain's wheelchair being a part of the Whisperer, and him watching as his life's work is destroyed, but that destructing is what will allow the rest of society to regain their lives.

#there you go!#i just couldn't get it out of my head this week #the song is called “This Week The Trend” and it's by Relient K #in case anyone cares #thank you to whoever felt like reading this :)#mbs #the mysterious benedict society

8 notes · View notes

certifiedskywalker · 4 years ago

Text

How to Make Small Talk in Five Simple Steps - Bucky Barnes

When people meet, they often use small talk as a means to negotiate and define the start of a new relationship. When you and Bucky meet, you both struggle to find the right words.

WARNING: talk of therapy, references to trauma and anxiety, and mild cursing

I. Show genuine interest.

“You’re new.”

“Excuse me?”

You shifted in your seat and eyed the man sitting across from you in the waiting room. His piercing cerulean eyes were squinted in your direction, right where he aimed his question. Despite the puppy-like confusion apparent in the way his head was cocked to the side, there was an edge to the mystery man. Perhaps it came from his clothes.

The jacket he wore was pitch black, a leather-like material that squeaked against the back of his chair when he moved. It looked brand new. Not to mention the matching gloves. His hands, joined together and resting on his abdomen, were covered in thick, dark fabric. There was not an inch of skin exposed, save for his face.

Though judging by the permanent scowl etched on his lips as he stared at you in wait for your reply, perhaps the man’s harsh edge ran deeper.

“The waiting room never has had more than like four people in it at a time,” you explained. “Until this week, until you, I waited by myself. So, you’re new.”

“Great powers of observation,” he quipped, though his tone lacked any lightness typical of teasing.

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his gloved hands against the tops of his thighs. He looked towards the twin pair of doors that fed into Dr. Raynor’s and Dr. Briam’s respective offices. You smiled to yourself at the sight: a big man, an otherwise scary man was nervous for therapy. You could sympathize as, not too long ago, you had been in his place.

“Was it an intervention? A work note? An epiphany?”

At your questions, the man fixed his gaze on you again. “What?”

“What brought you to the services of Raynor and Briam?”

“Do you always ask this many questions?” While his voice was without a cutting coldness, his question wounded you. You overstepped your bounds. Time to wage a retreat.

“Sorry,” you murmured as you curled up and in your seat.

You looked away from the man in the hopes of distracting yourself from the searing shame. Quickly, your attention found the colorful pile of untouched magazines set out on a nearby side table. Despite your apology, you could still feel the sharpness of his eyes on you.

When you grew back the nerve and snuck a glance back at him, the man’s gaze was still fixed on you. Alarms rang in your ears as you turned to face him from across the waiting room once more. For a long moment, you just gawked at each other, waited for the other to speak.

Finally, the tension broke and, simultaneously, you both said, “sorry.”

A breathy laugh slipped past your lips, tilted and light. “Talking isn’t one of my strong suits.”

“Not mine either, not anymore,” the man sighed. However faint, there were slight, upward pullings at the corners of his mouth. Not quite a smile, but close. Close enough that you felt a hopeful realization bloom in your chest. How handsome he would look with a real smile.

You met his eyes and asked, “can...can we just start over?”

“Yeah, yeah we can.”

“Great,” you reached out your right hand towards him, across the vastness of the waiting room like an olive branch. “I’m Y/N.”

He glanced from your hand to your eyes and back again before he hesitantly extended his left. The tips of your fingers brushed and you saw the man’s body tense. After a moment passed, he joined your hands. His grip was strong and tight and, despite the glove, cold.

“Hi, Y/N.” Against your will, a fuller smile played on your lips, satisfied by how smooth your name sounded in his mouth. “I’m Bucky.”

II. Ask open-ended questions.

“How would you describe yourself?”

“What?”

“How would you describe yourself?” You echoed, a little louder than the first time.

“What do you mean?”

With a groan, you stood from your seat and strode over to where Bucky sat across from you. You settled in the seat beside him and held the magazine you were reading out to him. Empathetically, you pointed at the first question of the lifestyle quiz you found. Bucky squinted at the small typography and scoffed.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s a quiz in a magazine,” you pointed out, “it’s not supposed to make sense.”

“But am I a ‘curious cat stalking along a window sill’ or a ‘peaceful breeze blowing through a seashell windchime’? What...what does that even mean?” Bucky glanced from the page to you with furrowed brows.

“Which one speaks to you?”

“I don’t know. Is there a dejected crocodile or something?”

You laughed at his question, at the imagery of a saddened gator, and fought to catch your breath. When you finally were able to fill your lungs and meet Bucky’s gaze, you saw that he was serious. His blue eyes were fixed on you with a stillness that startled you. Curiosity struck you, just as it did the first day you saw him.

“A crocodile? Why a crocodile?” Your eyes flicked over Bucky’s face, trying to read his reaction to your query. He met your gaze before he pulled back and sighed.

“I saw some in Africa when I...I lived there. They seemed hostile.”

“You’re hostile?” You raised a brow at him as you asked. You made a mental note to ask him about his stint in Africa later.

Bucky met your eyes and replied, “when provoked. When I don’t have a choice.”

“Well that’s not dark or ominous,” you jeered. When he didn’t make a quip back at you, you pressed your lips into a thin line. “You’re here for anger issues then?”

A heavy sigh rolled through Bucky’s chest. He looked away, up towards the windows of the waiting room that were put far too high along the grey wall, too high to reach. Then, all at once, he was far away, lost in thoughts and feelings you were not privy to, despite longing to be. There was something about Bucky that was still a mystery to you and carried the same spark of newness that endeared you to him.

“There were times where I lost control,” he admitted as he looked back at you. “I’m trying to make amends.”

“Sounds like it was an intervention that brought you here.” You silently hoped that your teasing would lessen the sudden tension that grew between you.

“It wasn’t an intervention,” he replied, his eyes drifting back up towards the window.

You frowned at his distant expression. It hit you, in that moment, that Bucky was still a stranger. His truth, his truths, were still hidden to you. You wanted to ask him so many questions but you knew better than to venture too far. The first exchange you had with Bucky taught you that.

So, instead, you turned in the chair beside him and held out the magazine so you both could read through the next few quiz questions. You had to start somewhere.

“I’m putting you down as a ‘curious cat’,” you said, “you seem like a cat guy. Aloof.”

Following your statement, a hum of amusement reached your ears. You glanced at Bucky and saw that the softest of smiles rested on his lips. Pleased with yourself, you looked back to the magazine and read off the next question.

“Alright so, ‘Reach back to your inner-child and ask yourself: what do you want to be when you grow up’, Bucky?”

“Is ‘just okay’ an option? Or ‘happy’?”

III. Never get too personal.

“You’re late.”

“I had an errand,” Bucky replied as he fell into the seat beside you. His seat.

“An errand? What are you, fifty?”

“I wish.”

“What? You want to be older?” You eyed Bucky warily.

“Youn-” he met your gaze and saw the confusion in your face. “Nevermind.”

“You’re a strange one, Bucky...Bucky...what’s your last name?”

“Nunya,” he replied, without missing a beat; but you knew this joke. You raised a brow at him and released a long, unamused sigh through your nose.

“Nunya business?”

“Damn right.”

There was a bitter, closed-lip smile on Bucky’s face as he spoke. Despite the expression, his eyes did not linger long on you. At the angle you sat at, you thought you saw his slightly upturned mouth fall, too easily, into a frown. You assumed that it was because you ruined his extremely outdated joke.

Gently, you bumped your shoulder against his. “We gotta get you new material.”

“Or what? People will think I’m fifty?”

He met your gaze with a bored look on his face. In spite of your best efforts to reply with a quick, witty retort, you found yourself immersed in Bucky’s presence. His cerulean eyes never left yours and you felt your resolve begin to melt. Your eyes flicked across his face, to his scruff-covered jaw and soft pink lips. It took all of your strength to meet Bucky’s eyes again and form a somewhat full sentence.

“Not looking as good as you do.”

You meant to fire it back, make it sting despite your words being more of a compliment than an insult. But the words were soft, a murmur that contained too much of your heart, and betrayed your true thoughts. You felt that truth and quickly averted your gaze to the too-high windows. Bucky let out a pleased huff.

“Careful. That almost sounded like flattery, Y/N...Y/N...what’s your last name?”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, yeah, I get it. None of my business.”

A strained silence fell over the two of you. The dulled ticking of the waiting room clock soaked in the empty space that your voices once filled. Part of you feared that Bucky could hear the pounding of your heart. You were all too aware of the steady, thundering thumping in your chest.

In an attempt to muffle or overshadow the wild beating of your heart, you asked, “have you been given therapy homework yet?”

“Sort of,” Bucky replied, “kind of. It’s more self-assigned.”

“You’re an overachiever, then, huh?”

Your teasing, the distance your humor put you at, restored a level of comfort. In it, you felt confident enough to meet Bucky’s eyes. As you turned, your gaze trailed up his chest, skimmed along the cozy-looking material of his grey shirt. A striking glimpse of metal caught your attention, but Bucky’s voice coaxed your eyes to his.

“I wouldn’t call myself that,” he sighed, and he raised his hands. “I’m pretty average.”

“I doubt that,” you scoffed as you shook your head.

“Really?”

You turned your head to meet Bucky’s eyes and, again, you felt the thumping in your chest hasten. “Really.”

“Bold of you to assume. You don’t even know my last name.”

“Yet,” you pressed, “you’ll spill it to me one of these days. You may look good, but you also look like you need the therapy. We’ll be seeing each other often.”

A stunted laugh slipped out of Bucky’s mouth. He rarely laughed. If you could get half a smile out of him you were pleased. So, when a chuckle did slip, you savored the sound.

You let yourself watch him, how his head tilted back slightly when he looked up to the windows of the waiting room. It was then you saw the glint of a metal chain around his neck. You traced the shining material with your gaze until you saw the two dog tags that rested against his chest. The lapel of his jacket nearly obscured them, but you managed to read one in full.

James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes. Sargent. Camp Lehigh. DOB: 1917.

Based on the year, the date of birth, it had to be a relative, a grandfather, or an uncle, with the same name. As well as the same nickname? However strange it was, you knew Bucky’s last name: Barnes. Yet, you would wait for him to tell you himself. He would, one day.

IV. Practice active listening.

He was quiet, more so than usual.

When you walked into the waiting room, Bucky was already there, sat in his seat. When you greeted him, he didn’t respond. He only nodded and leaned heavily against the back of his chair. It didn’t take long for you to note the dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes and the more prominent lines of his face. The evidence of his lack of sleep was clear.

“You alright?”

“No.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s what Raynor is for. But I’m here if you change your mind,” and, added as an afterthought, “if you need me.”

Bucky didn’t say a word. His gaze remained fixed on the wall ahead, the black greyness that stood like stone across from you. Worry struck your chest with a sudden ache. It didn’t help that his silence stung. All-day you looked forward to seeing Bucky, but he was so far away.

Even when you looked at him, Bucky seemed small. Almost as if he were sat a few seats down rather than in the one right beside yours. You raked your eyes over his form, desperate for any sign that he was present, in the moment with you. As you drank him in, Bucky remained unmoved and as out of reach as the waiting room windows.

Aside from the exhaustion clear on his face, he held himself as he normally did. There was a slight slouch in his shoulders, that would disappear when he stood, and his arms rested against the supports the chair provided. Your eyes graced over his chest. Beneath his standard dark jacket, he wore a charcoal grey shirt and, if you looked long enough, you thought you saw his dog tags sticking out against the fabric. He kept them hidden, except for the last time you saw him.

Aside from his tired appearance, Bucky looked the same. Had it been just a rough night? Or did something happen? Outside of the waiting room, you knew little to nothing about Bucky. You considered Googling him, just to see what would pop up. Maybe he had an Instagram or a Facebook you could stalk; though the thought of seeing him with his arm slung over some old lover made your stomach churn. It was better to keep the Internet’s knowledge about Bucky Barnes a secret despite how desperately you wanted to know more.

The temptation to ask him, prod him to get some sort of answer, or answers, was strong. To combat it, you picked up a copy of Sports Illustrated. Not your first choice, but you needed to ease the itch of curiosity. Plus, the post-Blip world was a wild one, even for professional sports teams.

Feigning interest in the politics of football proved more difficult than you first imagined. Like the rest of the world, the realm of sports was floundering with its struggle to manage newly returned players and the teams they scraped together during their five-year absence. You began to wonder which half Bucky found himself with. Had he disappeared or had he remained? You still were unsure as to which was better.

It was part of why you used the therapy services Dr. Briam provided. Was that why Bucky met with Dr. Raynor? Just as your mind started to wander through every possibility, your quiet companion shifted in his seat. You looked over to him only to find his eyes were fixed on you.

“Nightmares,” he murmured. Your brows furrowed and you felt a frown form on your lips.

“Do you want to talk about them?”

Bucky hesitated and you saw the glimmer of a maybe in his eyes before he replied with another curt, “no.”

“Okay. I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, Bucky’s eyes flicked down to the carpeted floor below his booted feet. You looked at the same spot but saw nothing. Slowly, you returned your gaze to Bucky, studied how his left arm rested near your right one. He was closer now, and you wanted to keep him that way.

Carefully, almost as if you were reaching out to a wounded animal, you extended your right hand. Your fingertips brushed against his left forearm and Bucky flinched. At his movement, you paused, looked to his face for permission. His eyes were stilled fixed on the floor and you could almost hear him slipping so far away again, crashing into the untamable waves his nightmares left in their wake.

To anchor him, you grabbed his hand. You didn’t squeeze, fearing it would be too much. You simply held his left hand in your right and silently marveled at how cool it felt beneath the material of his glove. A moment passed and Bucky didn’t react. You took a deep breath and resigned yourself back to the uninteresting issue of Sports Illustrated in your free hand.

A minute of silent reading went by when you felt his grip tighten around your hand. You didn’t dare to say a word. You only listened to the shuddering relief of his next breath.

V. Put your phone away.

“What was that?”

“My phone.”

“Really? I thought it was a lightbulb,” you rolled your eyes. “I’m aware it’s a phone.”

“How could I forget your great powers of observation.” Playing into your mild offense, Bucky feigned a frightfully embarrassed slap to his forehead.

“Funny,” you grumbled, “but it looked like you had a shit ton of missed calls.”

“Were you spying on me?”

You raised your hands in defense. “You pulled the phone out and the appallingly long list of uncleared notifications disgusted me.”

“I can’t figure out how to clear them.”

“You just swipe and then there’s a little ‘Clear’ button you press.” Bucky frowned and reached back into his jacket pocket. He pulled out his phone and held it out to you. Dumbfounded by this action, you glanced up from the dark screen and back to Bucky’s eyes. He gestured to the device and nodded.

“Can you show me?”

“Uh, I, yeah. Yeah, I can. Can you um-”

“Oh,” Bucky pulled his phone back to him and typed in the passcode to unlock it. When he handed it back to you, you were met with a horribly unorganized home screen and a messaging app icon with over a hundred missed texts. You glanced up from the phone and to Bucky, ready to teasingly chastise him for the state of his device.

But, when you moved to look him in the eyes, you nearly knocked your head against his. He was leaning over, close to your shoulder, prepared to study your message-clearing technique. Though, when your eyes fell to him, his attention was refocused on you. In that instant, a rush of warmth overwhelmed your senses.

He was so close you could smell the leather of his jacket and whatever generic brand soap he used in the shower. You could also feel his breath dance along the skin of your face and neck. It stirred goosebumps to life and sent a shiver down your spine. In an effort to suppress the tremble that threatened to overtake you, you turned your eyes back to his phone.

“So, all you need to do is drag down the top screen and,” you quickly walked him through the steps of clearing his message notifications. A lot were from someone named Sam, who asked how Bucky was, where he was, and if he was attending a memorial service or not. Before you saw too much, you handed Bucky his phone back.

“That’s it?” He mirrored your movements and old messages began to disappear off his screen.

“Yup,” you breathed, “just like that.”

“Alright, but then how do I add a new contact?”

“You really don’t know how to do that? How old are you?” You held out your hand and he wordlessly placed his phone back in your grasp. “You just click on ‘Contacts’ and hit ‘Add New Contact’ and put in their information.”

“You should put yours in.”

Another rush of heat washed over and through you as you looked up at Bucky. There was a startling seriousness in his face, lessened only by the hints of a smile on his lips. Your mouth opened but no words came out. At least, not at first.

“What?”

“Your number, you should give me your number. If you want.”

“Y-Yeah.” In a numbed, almost mechanical manner, you entered your contact information before you handed back his phone. “There I am.”

“There you are,” Bucky echoed softly. He barely met your eyes but he didn’t seem unnerved, at least not as shaken as you felt. He was perfectly and horribly unfazed by the implications of his words. Or maybe you were reading into it. So much of Bucky was still a mystery to you. He still hadn’t told you his last name!

But you knew of his nightmares. You didn’t know the names of the ghosts that haunted him, but you knew they existed and that they scared him. It didn’t scare you. You had your own skeletons, and you held in your heart some strange longing to know his.

As if hoping to sneak a glance at them, you gazed up at Bucky. His eyes found yours in an instant and you wondered if he was ready and willing to talk to you about his nightmares. Or maybe he was finally going to tell you his last name. Or just tell you something about him.

Just as his pink lips parted, the door to Dr. Raynor’s office opened with a click. The small, otherwise unnoticed sound, snapped the tension that budded between you and Bucky.

In turn, you and Bucky, looked over to find Dr. Raynor. She poked her head out from behind the door, just as she had many times before. Her dark-framed glasses were perched on the bridge of her nose as she eyed Bucky, sending him a silent, eerie greeting. She looked as frightening and hawk-like as ever.

“Ready for you,” she deadpanned.

Bucky nodded and stood from his chair. You watched him walk over towards Dr. Raynor’s door. It nearly broke your heart when he didn’t look back at you, though you weren’t quite sure why.

VI. Longing.

You wiped at your eyes as you strode out of Dr. Briam’s office. Knowing full well that Bucky wasn’t in the waiting room, as his sessions with Dr. Raynor started earlier than yours with Briam, you charged towards the door. The next two clients that sat in the plush chairs eyed you and the tears streaming down your cheeks as you passed by.

You were long past caring about what anyone else thought. Hell, you barely noticed their thrown gazes as you pushed open the door to the office building and stomped out into the daylight. Once you were stood on the top stair, you took a deep breath. You felt your lung swell and, as you held in the air for a few more seconds, you imagined your every anxiety being pushed out with your long exhale.

Dr. Briam’s technique helped as you felt your shoulders sink with a sudden, but not total, loss of tension. Tears still slipped down your cheeks as you made your way down the stairs. You wiped at them as you started your journey home. Home, yes, there you could curl up and disappear for a few hours. That was what you needed.

Everything and everyone else was too much. Well, nearly everyone else.

Still walking at a fast pace, you barely noticed the blur of dark clothes that stepped towards you. That was until you felt someone grab your upper arm. You nearly shrieked and prepared to make a scene when you looked up. A pair of cerulean blue eyes found your gaze and almost instantly eased your panic.

“Bucky! You scared the shit out of me!”

He let go of your arm and raised his hands. “Sorry.”

“Why are you lingering?” You asked, fixing your slightly disheveled clothes. Relatively satisfied with your handiwork, you focused back on Bucky. His eyes had never left your figure. “Bucky?”

“I...you seemed quiet today and I didn’t ask about it. So, I just wanted to make sure that you were alright but,” he reached out a brushed a tear from your cheek, “you’re not.”

“Is anyone really ever alright?” You forced a smile to your lips, an expression that Bucky mirrored sympathetically before he frowned. “I’m fine. You can go, you’re probably busy.”

You thought bitterly of the mystery person, Sam.

“At least let me walk you home.”

“Well, aren’t you the gentleman,” you joked, silently hoping that it would deter him. Yet, Bucky lingered and looked at you as seriously as ever. “Okay.”

Quickly, Bucky fell into step at your side as you maneuvered through writhing throngs of people on their way to and from. Every so often, your hand knocked against his gloved one and made your insides twist. The twisting turned to aching on the occasions where Bucky held your elbow and guided you around a particularly messy bunch of commuters.

“You walked this way for each session?”

“Each session,” you replied, looking up at Bucky. “Why?”

“Jus’ seems really busy.”

“It’s not always this bad. Plus, there’s a nice little park down over, oh! Right here.”

You stopped and gestured to a small fountain surrounded by benches. Manicured green knolls of grass and scattered, flowering trees surrounded the little park, which was empty compared to the streets. You glanced at Bucky and nudged his shoulder with yours.

“Sit with me?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded and he let you guide him over to one of the benches. With a huff, you sat down and he followed suit. The wooden planks of the bench creaked under his added weight and, as if ushered by the sound, Bucky leaned closer to you.

You watched him as he took in your new surroundings. It looked as if he were surveying the area for any threats that could be hiding in the shadows. Perhaps that was why Bucky was such an enrapturing mystery to you: he always looked ready for a fight. Like his dejected crocodile, he was just waiting to be provoked. You were ready to do just that after weeks of tiptoeing around him.

“You never told me,” you said softly. Your voice coaxed Bucky’s eyes to yours.

“Told you what?”

“Why you came to Dr. Raynor.”

Bucky frowned and after a long pause he sighed. “A court order.”

“A court order? That’s…impressive? I don’t know the context, so, I can’t, and won’t, judge.”

Bucky let out a breathy, almost nervous-sounding chuckle as his gaze fell to the pavement. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me. I think if you did, you would judge.”

You furrowed your brows and waited for Bucky to look back at you. When he did, you felt your breath catch. In the sunlight, his eyes seemed brighter. Though, the heaviness of his knitted brow stole away their shine. He really believed you would judge him, after everything?

“Try me.”

“Y/N-”

“I want to know.” Bucky frowned but you pressed on. “I want to know you, Bucky.”

“Are you sure?”

“You’re kidding, right? You’re...interesting. Equally annoying and mysterious. It helps that you’re,” you sighed, “you’re good-looking too.”

A smile, the biggest you had ever seen Bucky put spread along his lips. His gaze fell to the sidewalk bashfully before he met your eyes once more. You thought back to the day you met and found yourself breaking out into a grin. He did look handsome when he really smiled.

“I’m nothing compared to you,” Bucky replied. “Talkin’ about both good-looking and annoying.”

“Then you know I won’t stop pestering you until you start to share,” you shifted towards him. “I want to know who you are, Bucky.”

His eyes flickered down from yours to your lips and back again. “What if I don’t really know myself?”

“Then start with what you do know.” You held out both of your hands towards him. Bucky glanced down at your open palms. When he met your gaze you saw a glint of fear that quickly melted into, what you could only describe as, relief.

Wordlessly, Bucky lifted his hands and began to peel off his gloves. First was his right. The sight of fingers made you strangely giddy. You had never seen the skin of his hands before. Then, he moved to his left and, finger by finger, he pulled the glove off. Sleek, shining, and metal, Bucky’s left hand was exposed.

You inhaled sharply at the sight but did not flinch away. Instead, you met Bucky’s eyes again and nodded. Carefully, he grabbed both of your hands in his. The contrast of his warm flesh and the cool, steel-like material sent a shock down your spine. You studied your joined hands before you looked back up at Bucky. A trembling breath rattled in his chest.

“I am James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes. I’m from Brooklyn and I used to be the Winter Soldier.”

810 notes · View notes