#story: nothing's wrong with dale

[moonshine-nightlight]

NWWD: Divergent Revelations 2

Side story for NWWD, AU starting mid Chapter 23. Fanfic of my own story that asks: what if an honest conversation was had earlier? (spoiler: slow burn is much less slow)

During the fight with assassins, you and Dale are forced to confront the truth of what you each know about Dale's nature. How does the fight change to have this come about? How will the conversation about these revelations go when there's still more than a week before the wedding?

Main Story 'Nothing's Wrong with Dale': [Part One]

Status: Complete

AO3: NWWD: Divergent Revelations

[Part One] Part Two

You murmur as polite a ‘good night’ as you can to your maid before your door finally shuts, blocking out the rest of the Governor’s house, with all its people who can’t stop asking you question after question, hovering over you. Blessed silence fills your bed chamber. You lean back against that now shut door and try to breathe. Grandmother’s going to be alright, you remind yourself, no one seems to suspect Dale. He simply…hasn’t returned yet.

You tried to apologize to Grandfather for not anticipating that Dale would go after Two, but he’d waved off your ‘sorry’s with a worn, but sincere smile. His absolution was appreciated as was the way he seemed to have left all suspicion behind. Still you knew you’d not feel better until you saw Dale once again.

That’s holding true now. The waiting and hours you passed have been valiantly fought through with your highest caffeinated tea, but you were shuffled away to your private chambers after the last strike of the clock, though you can’t remember how many it was.

Nervous energy still buzzes through your veins, a heady mix of worry and adrenaline that makes you want to pace or hide or do something, anything useful. Instead, you walk over to your vanity where an array of candles is, their light reflected back and throughout the room. Aided by the full moon, your room is lit as well as it ever could be so deep into the night. 

Halfheartedly, you pick at the bowl of nuts and dried fruit your maid had persuaded you to take with you. You itch to have those books of Dale’s Bilmont had snuck to you, but they’re all back in Northridge. Neither of you had wanted to alert Dale to your perusal nor risk being found with them by keeping them for days or traveling with them, but if you did have the books then maybe you could prepare to do something in case Dale was hurt in a manner that could not be treated by a doctor.

He’d come to you, right? If he needed help? It’s all out in the open now. What you both already knew but still had pretended not to. Although, as long as he could control himself, he should go to the trained physician. But what if someone else found him? What if this had all been a trick by Two to get Dale to go somewhere else where a trap lay in wait? What if Dale had won, but was injured and vulnerable out in the night somewhere? What if Two manages to possess Dale? What if—

You sit down heavily on your vanity chair, shaking your head to try to dissipate such dire thoughts. Dale had been winning the fight, had managed to drive Two off, and had seemed to have no true injuries when he went after them. Morning would come. Dale will have returned while you slept and he will be fine. He has to be.

You look into the mirror, past and behind yourself to the bed. Speaking of sleep, you’ve no idea how you’ll manage it tonight. You suppose you could brew some sleepy tea, but would that truly work when you still feel your anxiety and nerves as significantly as you do? With the effects of your caffeinated tea still going? Do you even want to sleep? 

You know you should. It’s what you had told the others you would do. It's what you would have told yourself to do, if you were another person. It's the best course of action so you are well rested and ready to face tomorrow. Nothing good will come of worrying away the hours deeper into the night.

Yet you know yourself. You’ll not be able to manage it. Taking the tea would only leave you in a half-asleep state, constantly drifting off and waking from nightmares you’d not be able to tell from reality. 

Not wanting to bother moving the candles from in front of the large mirror at your vanity, you instead go to your desk and bring over your journal with the magnifier. Setting them up, you turn to a fresh page. The most useful thing you can think to do is to write down everything you can remember the assassins said so as to better find who hired them. Given the layers of who can know what, you decide to write down the truth in your personal shorthand, knowing between your handwriting and the few changes you made, it’ll be nigh indecipherable to anyone but you. It should be the best way to keep the actual facts straight for yourself so you can discuss with Dale, or obfuscate with Grandfather and Grandmother. Most of what Two said will only make sense if you know what Dale is and you’ll not be the one to ruin the facade.

You concentrate on getting everything down while managing your flickering light. The sound of your door closing takes a second to register. The next second has you on your feet, your hand dropping your pen in favor of your busk knife. You whirl towards the door, heart hammering in your chest.

A dark figure, more outline than person given how far they are from the miniscule light, is all you can make out. For a split second, you’re convinced Two has come back for you, until another step closer finally allows you to distinguish, “Dale!” 

You drop your hand to the table, body sagging in relief, both at the lack of threat and the confirmation he’s alive. “You frightened me half-to-death!”

“My apologies,” Dale replies, voice low and wary, but unmistakably his own.

You beckon him closer, needing a better look even if many of your fears are assuaged with his presence. “Are you alright? What happened?”

He comes more fully into your circle of light and you can see he has no obvious wounds, only a small bandage on his jaw. “I already spoke to Grandfather and the doctor.” You step closer as he speaks, hand drifting up to the bandage. “I’ve no serious injuries, only some bruisings and cuts. I caught up to Two and ensured they’ll do us no more harm.”

“Are you certain?” Your eyes search his form, noting his damaged jacket is nowhere to be seen. No blood stains or broken bones are obvious. Still, there could be damage under the surface, your eyes on his torso and then up to that single bandage. “The stonework was strong and Two was very adept at—”

“Yes, I am sure.” Dale catches your hand before you can touch him. 

Heat rises to your cheeks at the reminder of your impropriety, which only mounts as you fully realize that Dale is alone with you, in your bedchambers, at night. No one to see him here. Complete privacy. You in your nightclothes and robe, he in only a shirt and trousers. “Good,” you manage before you attempt to clear your throat. What do demons care of human impropriety? Dale’s played along well enough, but he’s not beholden to such petty sensibilities. “I’m relieved.”

“Yes,” Dale murmurs, continuing to stare at you as if you might be the one who needs a physical. “You do truly appear to be.”

“What…?” You blink up at him confused. Some of your concern fades to frustration. You give him an incredulous look. “Of course, I am. It was a foolish thing to chase after Two into the night. Who knows what they might have done to you.” Did he think himself infallible? Or you too oblivious to notice the toll the fight took on him? “I’ve been worried.”

“Curious,” Dale says, tilting his head to the side. His eyes begin to glow. A third one pops open on his forehead. The shadows cast by your candles gutter. “I’ve never had a human express such concern over me. Not when they knew what I was.” He blinks and all his eyes focus on you. “Yet, you appear sincere.”

“Oh,” your voice is small, but you’ve no notion of how to respond, how to actually have this conversation.

“I was not sure what I would be returning to,” Dale confesses, his voice lower and quieter. Instinctively, you lean closer to hear him better. You hold your breath to see what else he might say, now that it appears you are finally addressing the elephant in the room. “Would you have told Grandfather and the Captain? Would they greet me only to catch me in a binding circle?”

“What?” Your stomach drops at the mere thought. “No, of course not.” Alarm rises with your nerves, that Dale might still worry of this outcome. As if he still thought it a possibility for you to have done so. Does he think so little of your regard for him? Has he not understood where you stand despite your attempts to make that clear? You turn your wrist in his grasp and he lets you, but seems surprised when you clasp it more securely in your own. “Dale, I’d never—I don’t plan on revealing you. I thought that’d be obvious.”

Dale looks down at your hand on his and just as you start to worry it had been the wrong move, he turns his own in your grasp to hold your hand in return. “I suppose that appears to be the case.” His gaze moves from your fingers to tentatively meet your gaze. “It does not illuminate why you would do such a thing.”

“I…” you struggle for how to articulate your thoughts. Somehow all your imagined conversations with Dale had been focused on him and his secrets, motivations, thoughts—not your own. “I am aware that perhaps my actions appear…unusual.” You do your best to rally your thoughts and Dale lets you, no haste or frustration in his stance or expression. That patience helps you say, “However, you’ve never acted in a manner that made me worry for my safety or the safety of others. You have not tried to do harm to those around us, physically or with the power you could wield as heir to Northridge.” 

You stare down at your hand and his, unable to keep track of your thoughts when your eyes are locked on his. The flickering candlelight reflects strangely in his blue eyes that he looks more demonic than usual, but also more striking. You want him to think well of you, but you don’t want him to doubt your sincerity. “I’d not known the first Dale for very long. I think I’ve known you longer now. I confess, I had concerns about that Dale, prior to your arrival.” 

You chance a glance up at him and see some surprise in his expression. You’re rather pleased to have been able to surprise him since he’s managed to do the same to you at so many turns. Hopefully, like you, he doesn’t find the surprise bad. “Human concerns, but significant ones. The worries I have for you are different, but less.”

“Truly?” Dale’s voice contains even more of the surprise you’d seen in his face earlier, but no doubt or disbelief. “How could a human, who has always been who he is, worry you more than a stranger in his body?”

“Lord Dale was…arrogant, entitled, and selfish,” you admit, remembering back to your first talk with him. You remember your first meeting with Grandfather and with the other prospects that came up. “And he was the best marriage offer I received.” You frown, trying to articulate why you’d taken a chance with that Dale, aware now that you’re relieved more than anything that he’d been replaced in the end. “I believed he would consider me to be… an extension of himself in a manner that would shield me from some of his faults, so long as I did not interfere with his goals. However, that is certainly not a stable place to begin a marriage, although I had considered it worth the risk at the time.”

“And myself?” Dale asks softly.

You smile to yourself because how often had you asked yourself the same thing: about him and about why he might tolerate you. “You were an unknown,” you say slowly, “in so many ways—I admit you still are. However, you’ve not shown that callous self-interest. You appear… interested in m—the thoughts of others, dutiful to Northridge in a manner I recognize in myself.” You’d been preparing to take up the mantle of Northridge’s care yourself. You’d liked the idea of such a challenge, to an extent. You were eager to prove yourself. To be the one in control of your life. But it would have been lonely and you would have had to juggle Dale’s own plans for the fief. You hadn’t thought there was a better option other than hoping perhaps the original Dale might come around. That isn’t your worry with this Dale.

You take a deep breath and look back up at him. “You did not have to stay and playact the role Dale handed you with his identity. You could have left with his body to strike out on your own.” You hate how much the thought fills you with true fear, not just trepidation or frustration as might have before you got to know this Dale. If he has been genuine with you, you would fear for him out in the world on his own. “I don’t know if you still might do so, but that is my worry, not that you’ll mismanage what you have. I simply feel there is more common ground between us than between myself and the original Dale.” You swallow, suddenly all too aware you’ve been speaking for what feels like ages on end without Dale saying a word. You reach with your free hand to brush some of your hair behind your ear. “That could all be wishful thinking on my side. We’ve not had many chances for honest conversation, excepting now, I suppose.”

Dale finally blinks and stares down at you in a sort of confusion that you hope is fond and not frustrated. “I did not know what to expect when I arrived on the surface,” he confesses slowly, “though I was relieved not to have to contest for autonomy. My recovery from the ordeal was when I knew I would be most vulnerable and thought I might be discovered, necessitating my departure.” His fingers tighten briefly around your own before a small smile spreads across his face. “Thank you again, for your aid.

“I was relieved to be able to stay. I’ve no plans to leave unless forced.” Dale looks past you briefly, to the candles and the mirror behind you. “I have spent my life searching for a stable territory—a home.” His eyes fix on yours once more. “I’ve not had much in the way of surviving family and so find myself inclined to appreciate Grandmother and Grandfather, particularly with Dale’s memories.” His eyes unfocus as if viewing those memories now.

You allow him some time and shortly Dale pulls himself out of those thoughts with a rueful shake of his head. “The memories are both outside of myself and of myself in a rather confusing manner. I’ve not the language or nuance to explain well, truth be told. All of Northridge feels as if it was waiting for me and I’d be a fool not to seize the opportunity. Even you,” he strokes his thumb across the back of your hand, sending a thrill through you, “a lovely mate, was here, like a delightful dream. I’ve not earned any of this,” Dale continues, looking a bit sheepish, a bit chagrined, and a bit like he’s expecting your judgment. “And yet, I’ve had enough ill fortune in my life not let a stroke of good pass me by.”

Your relief at hearing him say he plans to stay is only matched by your understanding. “Even with his flaws, Dale had appeared to be good luck to me at the time. Now, you seem to suit me far better as a partner. Strange as it is to say, I was sometimes more convinced there must be a trick about when I felt we understood each other. It seemed too fortunate.” You take another deep breath as you try to think of what words might solidify Dale’s decision to stay with you, to be with you. The memory of the way he’d said your name only hours ago, the layers of meaning he’d somehow communicated, gives you the strength to say, “For what it's worth, if you’ve been sincere and wish to stay, to be Dale of Northridge, then I’m happy you are here above any other.”

“I have,” Dale is quick to say, catching your other hand in his. He brings your hands in his together and up, dusting your knuckles with a kiss, “and I do. I feel the same.” Your breath catches in your throat. Your heart hammers in your chest due to the warmth and release of tension you feel because you believe him. That Dale might want this too, with you, is hardly more than you can conceive. You haven’t even had to convince and persuade and demonstrate the value of such an arrangement over months as you’d begun to plan for first Dale. Weeks of uncertainty melt away in the face of his straightforward words. You must be smiling like a fool, but you don’t care.

Dale tilts his head to the side, bemused. “Is that common, among human pairs, to understand each other so quickly? Is that why these strange methods are employed? I admit many aspects of human society elude me, including mating rituals.”

“Not all do, but that is the hope of most,” you reply, before leaning forward, unable to help your curiosity. “Wh—” You wince when the movement jars your back and Dale frowns. You absentmindedly pull your clothes away from your bruised back. “Apologies, I am still somewhat sore after this evening's events.”

Dale glances around before leading you over to your bed. “Let us sit.”

“You were the one who fought,” you protest weakly, but the image of Dale on your bed is very enticing. Since you still have your curtains open by the bed, the moonlight has the opportunity to lend strength to the blue-ness of his eyes. You still feel some of the echo of adrenaline brimming in your veins, but it has nowhere to go with the night so late and Dale finally within reach. 

“And I am tired as well,” he agrees, giving a little tug to your hand before sitting down himself as if to be a good example. 

You’re certain that’s true and you’ve no real objection. If anything the mild impropriety makes your stomach flutter excitedly. You carefully sit down beside him, arranging your robe as you do so with only one hand, not wanting to let go of Dale quite yet. He’s only just come back to you.

He turns, bringing his knee up onto the bed in order to face you better as you tuck yourself against the footboard for stability. Dale looks boyish in such a pose. With some of the excitement and fear out of the way, your conversation begins to remind you more of sneaking between dormitory rooms at school. 

You try to bring your mind back to the conversation you were having instead of childish conversations and not so childish games. “How does courting work for your… society?”

Dale smiles, a little crooked, like he too finds your description of anything demonic as a ‘society’ amusing. “Truthfully, there are many varieties in how different demons approach such matters. Perhaps the original strange thing to me was how many humans approach it the same.”

“There is variety,” you consider, actually giving it some thought. So much of your life had built to where you were now, you’d not contemplated the process itself since you were a child. Primarily, fears about your ability to participate at all were what had dominated your thoughts then. “That variety tends to be geographic, however a culture evolved. This continent was once under the rule of a single large empire, before it fractured and so shares certain traits across country borders. The continent to the direct south is similar within itself. To the east across the Narrow Sea, there is still one empire. Only the more distant continents were never united—to my knowledge—and so I believe have a greater variety to their customs.”

“I see,” Dale nods. “The Depths is a very…scattered and varied place, physically and among demons themselves. No one group of any kind has ever controlled a large portion, not in the history I’m aware of. Still, there are trends among similar demons or those who live close to one another, customs that bleed into one another. The demons I am most familiar with either live in tight-knit clans and generally don’t mate outside of it or are solitary. Both consider time to become familiar with each other a critical component.”

You nod. “Many people who end up marrying have known each other all their lives, due to circumstances, or because they were neighbors, or because their parents decided years ago to link their families and lands.” Pivoting since you’re not sure demons have nobility, you continue, “According to those I know who aren’t nobility, that’s also far more common among the common people. Nobility enjoys overthinking, or at least that’s what my father says. A lot of marriage decision making is based on utility, alliances, and finances—not to mention tradition and honor. Tolerance of one's spouse is the expectation with companionship over time. Partnership or true affection as an ideal to hope for. Although, it is custom to play at appearing happily situated, regardless of one's internal feelings on the matter.”

“Surely you had more options than Dale,” the demon with his name protests, as if he’d been meaning to make the argument since you first mentioned such a thing and could no longer contain himself. “Sometimes his thoughts or memories—impressions of people or situations—occur to me. I admit I dislike many of them. I disagree with many of them.”

You’d known this was part of how demonic possession worked but it was still strange to hear of. “I’m certain his of me were not flattering nor were there many of them—one of the few commonalities we had was likely our rather poor opinion of each other,” you confess. “I doubt he suspected my true feelings. He agreed to marry me because he needed to in order to inherit, because I seemed amenable to his influence. Not to mention because I came with a larger than is typical dowry for a fifth child. I’m sure he thought me generally acceptable, if a bit disappointing—he told me as much. However, that was his fault for letting rumors reach the ears of potential spouses or at least their parents.”

The way Dale tightens his lips, but doesn’t disagree confirms your suspicions. He gives a small huff before saying, “Yes, I can recall. He was quite frustrated with the reputation he’d found when he made his way back home. At the very least he wished he’d been able to marry before they spread. I think he’d underestimated how many would not want to be associated with demonic research. Not to mention the more dramatic tales of carousing he and his compatriots got up to on their tour.” He rolls his eyes as he continues to list reasons why Dale’s marriage prospects had diminished. “How many of them would pair off with each other as they did, and so on. He believed he could have turned his reputation around in order to have a spouse he saw as more…” Dale winces, clearly trying to find the least offensive word, before giving up, “worthy, but was aware such an endeavor would take time he did not want to spend.”

“Yes,” you acknowledge because isn’t that what you suspected all along? In some ways it's hard to care much about what the original Dale thought, not when he was dead, but you find you hate the idea of echoes of those thoughts sounding through this Dale’s head. You care about his opinion. You want him to think well of you. You push those fears aside to focus on the conversation you are having. “In that way, we were compatible. We did confirm what we expected from this marriage along with what was required for our engagement to be initiated. It's simply that those items of import were easily discovered on paper and with minimal interaction in person.”

“You were engaged before you met,” Dale says, shaking his head in either disbelief or disapproval. “Truly mystifying.”

“What sort of traits are valued in your courtships?” you ask, wanting to meet him where you could. Everything so far has been how humans do such things. You want him to feel comfortable with you and your relationship. You want a chance to show him Dale’s lingering thoughts shouldn’t matter to him. You can’t find more time to spend together with the wedding so close. You can’t change how you only met shortly ago, but hopefully there are other elements you could honor. “I would be happy to participate in any rituals I could, as we have fulfilled the majority of the human ones already.”

Dale blinks at you with such surprise you worry for a second that you might have just made a foolish offer. Since you were in fact referring to demonic rituals that was likely a given. No, you remind yourself, you trust Dale. Dale closes his mouth within a second or two, and admits, almost ruefully, “In truth, many such questions and information have already been answered. What would take demons time and trust to reveal, humanity seems more free with, particularly over these last few weeks of intensity and socializing. My parents courted for years but saw each other far less than we have over the course of that time.”

“What sorts of things?” you can’t help but press, eager for anything to work with.

“General compatibility,” Dale begins to list with a shrug, “socialization, familial connections, and expectations. The majority of courtship negotiations for my parents was spent on territory and fitness to defend said territory, with the others learned as that progressed.”

“If the ability to defend territory is a sought after quality,” you say, wanting to fidget out of self-consciousness and holding still out of sheer self-determination, “I must be sorely lacking as a candidate.”

Dale immediately shakes his head. “No, it is a balance. I trained to fight and defend. It is a skill I can bring, not one that I expected any partner to possess. I would not have refused such a mate, but I hadn’t been seeking one out either. The terms of survival are different on the Surface.”

He leans back, bracing himself on one hand as he frowns in concentration. You resist the urge to lean after him, to maintain any closeness you’ve gained. He looks so distant in the moonlight, foreign with his demonic eyes on full display—there are two more than before—and with shadows moving as if in a gentle breeze around him. “My parent had staked out a large territory in alliance with another demon, who died soon before they met my mother. They were initially very hostile to the others settling nearby, including her. She managed to negotiate with them for her smaller spot and slowly they came to see they would enjoy being together. Since my parent had a lot of territory, my mother had to prove her worth as a defender. Even my parent had to prove their territory borders were sustainable with all the new interlopers.”

You try to even picture such an existence. It seems so solitary. You had often felt lonely as a child, and even after, but there were always people around, you simply didn’t have any connections with them. You weren’t actually alone. Perhaps you are missing something. “And it was just them?”

“Yes,” Dale replies, eyes softening as if he could hear your true question. “Shades are generally solitary and while my mother came from a clan, she preferred solitude as well. That was one reason for her departure.”

“And you’re a shade?” He certainly seems to be one, given his facility with shadows. Had he spent so much of his life in similar solitude? “The past few weeks of gatherings must have been overwhelming for you.” He’d not seemed to be. However, perhaps he was a better actor than you’ve given him credit for. He was coming from such a different place of experience.

Dale shook his head. “I’m only part-shade and even so, I’ve always enjoyed being around others. I’ve been to the Surface before and know how close you all tend to live.” It was so odd to hear him acknowledge all this out loud, to hear him say “you all” and know he meant “humans”. That he wasn’t included with them. “Even in the Depths I traveled, as many young demons do before they settle on their own territory. I have worked with others and even temporarily joined a handful of clans. Nothing ever fit or stuck. My first time on the Surface, as chaotic and overwhelming and confusing as it was, felt right. After one final attempt in the Depths to find a place to suit me failed, I knew what I wanted was up here.”

You want to ask for every detail, for every nuance and failed alliance he alludes to. At the same time, you don’t want to scare him off, by asking for more than he feels comfortable revealing. If you’ve already rushed the timing, you don’t want to push even more, not at the risk of driving him away. You want to hold this new honesty with both hands and protect it. You want to never let it go. In the end, you settle on a sincere, but generic, “I confess, the tales of the Depths make it sound fearsome,” in the hopes that he’ll tell more if he wished, but would not feel pressured if he did not.

“It is.” Dale has closed all of his eyes, clearly remembering. “It is lonely and dangerous.” He blinks open his eyes and they’re glowing once more, enhanced by the strong moonlight that falls on his face. “There are dangers here too, but so many more opportunities and ways of living. Not merely survival.”

You shake your head. “I’ve no notion of such a life. I’m pleased you are here and that we can offer you that.” Today has more than proven that Dale can defend himself and that you are certainly winning no accolades in such an arena, and yet you feel protective of him. You want to shield him from the harsh life he clearly led before this, fighting for so much of his life. You want to make a home where he can rest and enjoy life.

“Thank you,” Dale smiles, as if your simple words mean something to him. “I admit I’d been prejudiced against informing you of my true nature due to past experience.” 

He said he had been on the Surface before. You recall his trepidation, his fear as you now recognize it, both in the aftermath of the destroyed study and even when he first was in your rooms. What experience might that have been to caution him so? 

“It is freeing to be able to speak of this with you,” Dale continues with a smile you reflexively return. “To feel there is no curtain of confusion between us. My own hope had been for such a mate, a confidant.” You squeeze the hand still clasped with his because that is all you wanted as well. He squeezes back. “I’m not sure how we got here while taking such a stilted and quite frankly, human route. It is so far from what I would have expected and gone by so quickly.”

“The time has flown,” you agree, “and yet it also seems a lifetime ago I stood in your rooms after the incident and tried to meet you anew.”

Dale looks startled. “Did you know even then?” He runs his free hand through his hair, baffled. “But we’d no chance to truly even meet, for me to demonstrate any sort of trustworthiness. You knew then?”

“I suspected then,” you correct. “You were strange, but kind. It seemed very unlike the Dale I had only just started to get to know. He’d been acting oddly the night he must have summoned you. He did set the summoning in motion himself, yes?” Dale nods, still wide-eyed with interest and surprise. The effect is compounded by the five eyes he has with which to look back at you. “I knew of his studies with the demonic, I knew of his anticipation for the night, and then the sudden illness.” You shrug. “Well, I went to see him—you—on purpose. But all I could truly discern is that something demonic had happened. I didn’t know if he was still part of you and I’d frightfully little knowledge of demonology to leverage. It wasn’t until a few days later that my understanding solidified.”

Dale just shakes his head. “You knew all this time…”

“Were you not aware?” you can’t help but ask, nearly as surprised by the notion as Dale seems to be that you did know.

“I…No,” he frowns. “At times I thought you might. Later that first evening, I worried my reaction to the willowbark had been too vehement or that I’d said something strange while my memories and Dale’s were sorting themselves out. During the tournament, when you sought me out regarding Eastmount—that was when I came closest to thinking you knew what I was.”

“But you changed your mind,” you continue for him. You can see it in his face. “Why?”

“You assisted me,” he says plainly, lifting his eyebrows as if it were obvious. “You didn’t confront me or accuse me or try to leverage any sort of secret knowledge of what I was for your own gain. You didn’t turn me in or ask for my aid to advantage you or threaten me.”

“You thought so ill of me?” You can’t help the hurt that blossoms in your voice. “That I might do such a thing?” Hadn’t he known enough of you by then? You thought he’d understood, that he had seen who you were quicker than anyone else you’d known. Your hand starts to pull out of his without you meaning to. Unable to resist drawing back from him.

“That is what humans do with demons,” he says, almost pleading, pressing your hand to the bed to halt your movement, but not pulling it back towards himself. “Even if you were not one who sought selfish gain, then as a righteous human, you should have raised the alarm, formed a trap, done something to expunge the demon from your midst.” His vehemence is surprising, you feel caught out because he wasn’t wrong. Those are the two expected reactions. “I had thought I’d misjudged you since you had seemed to know, but not do any of those things. I was waiting for the demand of what you wished for in exchange for your silence. It never came.” Dale shakes his head again. “I concluded you didn’t know. It was the only explanation that fit. That, at most, you suspected Dale had enhanced himself with demonics and were willing to aid him in his one-upmanship with Eastmount.”

“I see.” On one hand you do truly understand his caution. He is a feared stranger in a foreign land, which goes doubly for Northridge given Grandmother’s attitude. You know plenty who would have done as he suggested, but… You also know some who would not have. Surely he must have Dale’s own memories of humans mixed up in demonology that wouldn’t have reacted so poorly. It's such a specific fear. “Has…has that happened before? When someone found out you were possessing a different human in the past?”

“I…” He freezes, all of his extra eyes closing up, although the two that remain are still glowing, black all but gone from them. “Yes. It has.”

A bolt of anger on Dale’s behalf straightens your spine, even though you know how humans react to demons. It's not even unwarranted most of the time. But this is Dale, your fiancé—your Dale. Did they simply not know him? From all the stories you’ve heard, most demons make their true intent, if it is destruction, known quite quickly. It’s why you’ve become more comfortable with Dale as time has passed. “I don’t know what circumstances there were, but you’ve not behaved in a way that would cause me to betr—to react in such a manner. 

“I would not have blamed you. Demons can be quick to turn on each other as well.” His voice was strangely soft and earnest as he spoke, as he tried to absolve you of these potential feelings and actions against him. “It’s not humans alone who have decided that it would be better to no longer act in concert with me before.”

It breaks your heart, to hear him say it so plainly, so gently. You can see now you are working against a lifetime of betrayal, or so it seems to you. You search for something, anything, to communicate your sincerity. A reason to push any lingering fear of such possibility in the future as far from his mind as you can. 

“You saved my life tonight, Grandmother’s life.” It’s the most tangible, most straightforward reason you could see that he might believe for your trust in him. You wait, but he doesn’t disagree. You have his rapt attention. “We are working towards the same goal, are we not? You’ve more than proven your dedication to Northridge tonight, to my satisfaction.” You don’t see it so plainly, so unemotionally, but you want to impress upon him that you are aligned together. You wait for his slow nod of acknowledgment. 

“Nothing you have done has persuaded me otherwise,” you work hard to make your voice as steady and sure as you can. “It never crossed my mind to try to entrap or exorcize you tonight.” You hope by focusing on now, he won’t try to argue this specific point. You don’t have such concrete reasons for your feelings before and so you’re not sure he’d believe you’d never really had the inclination once you actually met him. Otherwise, he’s right: some things need that time to grow and solidify. You want to make damn sure you’re starting on the right foot. You will gain the rest of his trust going forward.

Dale leans closer, an eye opening up. He tightens his grip on your hand as he does so. You wait on pins on needles for his response. “I believe you. Thank you.”

You want to shift the topic back to lighter matters, but you’re unsure of how to do so. “Demons truly have turned on you as humans have?” is what comes out instead. You wince.

Dale doesn’t seem to take offense. “Yes, as I was not born into a group that survived, I sought to join others.” You want to ask so much more about that, but you can tell by the way Dale is moving past this part of his past, that he doesn’t want to share that now. It’s late. It's been an incredibly long day, you understand. You’ll be able to ask him for details on all of this because you’re getting married. You’ll have your whole lives to learn everything about him. He’s staying, you reiterate to yourself. You can no longer picture your future without him.

“The majority of demonic clans are very insular and do not take kindly to outsiders,” he says with a frown. “They see nothing wrong with treating said outsiders with little…regard or integrity. This is why the courting ritual I described is spread out. To allow time to pass without betrayal or shifts in alliances to occur. To demonstrate the connection can weather time and outside forces.”

“And to feel confident in telling anything more personal to their prospective spouse,” you add, nodding. Sure there is gossip and alliances and even violence within the nobility on the Surface—tonight’s more than proved that—but not on the scale Dale’s describing. You’re abruptly very grateful for the world you live in. You’d likely not survived his.

“Precisely,” Dale confirms. “Information that might have been construed as weaknesses to be exploited, but not can be trusted to not be taken advantage of.”

This does fit with the rumors and heresy you’ve heard about demonic ways of life. It’s a wonder any of them manage to mate at all. Still, you’d hoped for something else, something you could do besides ‘not betray him’. For Dale. To show that you accept him. To demonstrate your sincerity to the marriage. To signify your clarity who he is. You know that marriage is with a demon and you want him, not anyoneelse. You want him to know that before the night’s through. “So there aren’t any other differences in courting that you are surprised about? Or that we have not participated in?”

Dale frowns as he thinks. You try to determine if it's the moonlight and wind painting strange shadows on his form or just him without pretense. He’s mesmerizing either way. “Couple’s often take a journey together or begin to merge their territories prior to being bound as formal mates. You’ve already come to live in our territory and we’ll be taking our tour after the wedding. I don’t believe much can be done to accelerate that at this point.”

“No,” you have to agree, although you understand now why Dale had been so eager for the tour and are doubly glad to be doing it. “Not in our circumstance.”

“We already discussed and covered so many compatibility topics that there is not much left that I’d have wished to know about a potential mate. Well, I suppose it is unusual to have done little beyond dance,” Dale admitted, all but two of his eyes looking sidelong out the window now. “Physical compatibility in such matters is also considered relatively strongly. I suppose that has more weight for demons given our variety.” He sounds on the fence about how true he feels that statement is. As if he is giving you an excuse to brush past this topic and move on.

“Oh?” You hope that sounded calm. You hope your expression isn’t giving you away if your voice did not. “I, I do not mind, if you wanted, or rather,” you can’t get the words out in a coherent manner, too intrigued despite yourself, and your inability to talk sensibly is only making you more flustered. Memories of your fumble at a festival as well as memories dancing with Dale distract you. “If there was something else you wished to discover regarding our compatibility, I would not be opposed.”

Dale blinks at you in surprise, but without judgment. That lack of judgment is always one of the primary differences between who is Dale is now and who Dale was. It is the quality you appreciate the most. “Oh, you would not?” He sounds mildly intrigued and unflustered as he runs a few fingers through his hair. It’s unkempt and dark enough to melt into the shadows around you both, but you think it looks longer than it did even a few minutes ago. As if the strands spent more time tangled around his fingers this time around. “I constantly find myself torn between what Dale has experienced informally, what I know human society seems to expect, and what I would consider a reasonable level of intimacy for those who plan to join together permanently in merely a week.”

“Of course.” You can hardly keep the typical social rules straight, let alone your own memories and another persons and another society’s set of expectations. It’d drive you a little mad, you think. “I imagine such conflicting knowledge must be confusing.”

“It is,” Dales says emphatically, looking relieved to finally be able to speak openly. Then he sighs, looking mildly embarrassed for possibly the first time you’ve seen. “And I know I do not always play my part correctly.”

You feel a little bad for having had the same thought because, well, he isn’t wrong, is he? Nothing much you can say to that. Still, you want to reassure him. “When we are in private, you don’t need to worry about playacting correctly. You’ll wear yourself to the bone if you tried to keep up a facade constantly.”

“I appreciate your saying so,” he says with a tentative smile you’ve not seen before. It’s sweet. It would have looked out of place on the original Dale’s face and yet it suits this one so well. “It can be tiring. Not always and there are times when even in public, with you, I still feel as I do now.”

You smile, pleased with yourself at having made him feel even somewhat comfortable in a land so alien to him. “It’s not as if I’ve not felt out of place before, although not to the same extent, but I want us to help each other. That’s why I wish for you to feel comfortable here and now, with me and our courtship. We are to be married and I want that to mean a partnership, mates, a true couple. No matter our differences and the strange circumstances we’ve found ourselves in.”

“As do I,” Dale murmurs, leaning closer. At first you think he’s simply relaxing his posture, until his hand reaches out to put a finger under your chin. His eyes are dark as they stare at your lips and you recall what turn the conversation had started to take before being sidelined. “So, you would not mind if I…?” 

Evidently Dale wishes to push the conversation back on track. His intent is obvious and he gives you plenty of time to pull away, but you still reply, only a little breathily, “I would not” before his lips cover your own. It’s a far more tentative and gentle kiss than the one human Dale had taken from you. Less awkward than your first kiss had been. You melt into his hold as he cups your cheek more firmly, angling the kiss just so. His lips are cool, but soft.

Dale parts from you only to press another kiss to your lips the next second. Kiss after kiss, the rest of the world melts away until there is only the two of you in the faint light, safe in this room. Your hands end up grasping the front of his shirt to keep him close, not that he seems intent on going anywhere. His hand tangles itself in your hair, cupping the base of your head while his other splays along your side to better pull you closer. 

He deepens the next kiss and you can taste him on your tongue, like coffee and cinnamon. You relax into his hold even as he seems to get hungrier, as he steals the breath from your lungs and every stray thought from your mind. Dale pulls an appreciative noise from the back of your throat. Your hands, still fisted in his shirt, slowly release their grip to press against his chest. He’s wonderfully solid beneath them, safe and whole and home. 

Dale belongs with you and you won’t let anything keep him from you.

You bury a hand in his hair, the cool, silky strands almost wrap around your fingers in return. Eventually, you have to use your hold to pull him back enough to breathe, but you don’t give him more than the space to allow you to do so. Dale pants against your lips. “Breathing is so…” Dale starts to mutter, almost absentmindedly, before he leans back in to dot kisses along your jaw.

You hum in agreement, pleased with his attention. Desire zips through your veins. Shadows move like flames in the moonlight, shifting across Dale’s body and around him. You swear you can almost feel them, like velvet against your skin. This night feels like a wonderful dream.

Dale’s large hands land on your hips, strong and sure. He makes his way back to your mouth, determined that neither of you can truly catch your breath, and starts pushing you further onto the bed, away from the end. Your feet leave the ground while he moves after you. Your own hands are occupied, holding his strong jaw, buried in his luscious, dark hair. At some point, while stealing your thoughts with his nimble tongue, he lifts you entirely from the sheets to maneuver you fully into the middle of bed. Even when he sets you back down, you're only kept even remotely upright by your hold on him.

“Sana…” Dale pants against your lips when he pulls back just enough for your lungs to remember their job. His voice is raspy and deep as he speaks through his own breaths. You meet as many of his eyes as you can, half-lidded but rapt with attention. “I have been wanting, no,” Dale corrects himself, “needing to familiarize myself with your scent.” He runs his nose down the column of your throat before burying his face in the crook of your neck. You feel his words against your skin nearly as much as you hear them. “As your touch, your appearance, your voice are already solidified in my mind. All brief glimpses of scent I managed to steal pitiable and meager until now.”

Your mind struggles to think of a coherent response. Is this part of demon courting? Having Dale wrapped around you, against you so intimately? The desire to know you by every sense. “Oh?” If so, you want more. Even if it’s merely something Dale wants, he’s welcome to it, to you.

“Your taste…” he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your collarbone. “Half-remembered, filtered through that imbecile’s mind.” His derision for Dale’s opinion helps chase away your insecurities that he might be swayed by them. He scrapes his teeth against your skin and your mind fogs over. “I knew it to be a poor imitation of reality, but if I had known how poor, I’m not sure I would have been able to resist for so long. Want. More,” he says around licks and kisses to your sternum where he’s pushing against the barrier of your chemise.

“You, if you,” you stutter around the words, trying to string your thoughts together. You’d had daydreams about a fiancé you trusted enough and who felt passionately enough that you’d preempt your wedding night, like in so many hushed romantic stories. “Yes, you can, if you wa-ant.” When Dale merely continues to nose at your hem, you finally manage to say as plainly as you can, “Simply remove it.”

“Gladly,” Dale replies, eager hands already set on the task of riding you of your remaining clothing. It’s so freeing to be able to say exactly what you mean, what you want, and have Dale hear you. To have him immediately act on what you say. Your robe had fallen off at some point after his first kiss so there is only your chemise. He manages to divest you of it in record time, making sure the fabric doesn’t catch on your bandages. 

He stills to take in the sight of you, but only for a few seconds. As soon as the slightest inclination towards embarrassed self-consciousness starts to make themselves heard, Dale says, “Thank you,” so emphatically, you feel heat rise to your face and gather between your legs. 

“I—” Whatever you were going to say is lost as Dale immediately starts trailing kisses down from your neck to your chest. His other hand lands on your upper thigh and starts to massage and stroke at the skin there. You moan, eyelids slamming closed to better enjoy the sensations he’s provoking throughout your body. It's so much after so long of only dances and holding hands, but you feel as greedy as Dale is acting. With the taunt of courtship over, you want to be as close to him as you possibly can. 

He envelops a nipple in his mouth and lightning races down your spine to strike your core. You can feel yourself getting wetter as he continues. You ache for some friction between your legs but you don’t want to risk Dale stopping. As he switches sides, his hand coming up to tweak and rub your damp skin, you moan shamelessly. You want to drown in the sensation of Dale moving so eagerly against you. He’s ravenous.

Dale’s attentions push you back and you place a hand on the bed to try to steady yourself. It's not quite enough, not given your injured arm. You do your best to control your descent down on your side. Dale gropes at your hip as if to try to help keep you up before he realizes what you're doing and helps guide you down instead. 

His shirt disappears as you reposition yourselves. You move quickly to explore the skin now bared to you, feeling strange stripes of velvet mixed with soft human skin. The difference in textures reminds you of who you are with even though you can’t see his inhuman nature with your eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to weather the heat he’s stoking within your body.

Dale pushes you further back and you go with the motion until you feel the sheets against your bruised back. Flinching, your hands scramble against Dale’s skin as you arch away from the bed. “S-Sorry,” you pant, “Bruised. My back.” 

Dale’s already tipped you back onto your side and you see a tail with two eyes arc over your shoulder. He growls at whatever he can see in the dark. Shadow tendrils brace you between your shoulder blades and on your lower back so that you can relieve some pressure from your side and relax more in this position. His teeth seem sharper as he says, “I should have torn them to pieces for touching you. For hurting you.”

“You did,” you reply, not wanting to derail the mood even if the reminder of Dale’s defense of you certainly isn’t drawing you out of it. You don’t want Dale consumed by anger. You selfishly want his focus to be on you. “It’s treated as best it can be.” When that doesn’t seem to be enough, you cup his cheek, “Make me forget about it.”

Dale’s eyes ignite at the challenge and you feel a corresponding pulse between your legs. “Yesss, sana,” he hisses in agreement, pressing a kiss to that hand. He resumes his mission to memorize you with all his senses with renewed zeal. It’s easy to let him do so. With him pressed to your front and his shadow tails wrapped around to brace your back, you feel wonderfully enveloped by him. Safe from the world. Safe with him. 

“You seem like something I shouldn’t be allowed to have,” Dale murmurs, voice strange, distant and echoing. He presses more kisses further down your body. Even with nearly all his focus on the physical, he can’t help but think aloud with whatever part of him isn’t consumed with you. “Shouldn’t be allowed to keep.” 

The shadow tails supporting your back spread and his hands fasten securely to your hips. “Smoke in the wind,” a kiss to your stomach, “water in the hand,” a kiss above the thatch of hair you have, “a dream before waking.” He looks up the length of you, his eyes blue and dark and as hypnotizing as ever. “Fighting for this—you and Northridge—for this life tonight has made it feel so much more a reality rather than a far-off wish.” He presses another absentminded kiss to you. His thumbs stroke your skin and your hips roll in his hold involuntarily. “Something I would never truly be able to grasp.”

“You can,” you tell him, feeling nearly as desperate as he’s been acting, voice breaking on the words. Desire clogging up your throat. “If you d-desire… Dale,” you wail his name when he finally puts his mouth on you.

You lace the fingers of one hand into his hair, not able to judge what was too tight while your hips jitter in his hold. Overwhelmed by the sensation of that long adroit tongue dipping in for a better taste. Your head tips back as you try to push into him. He groans encouragingly as his hands move to your thighs and pry them apart to give him more space to work. The improved angle gives him more access, more contact, more ways to make you mewl with pleasure.

True to his words when he first began, Dale is ravenous for your taste, licking and sucking with an intensity that makes you little able to do more than take it. Unleashed, he must have truly been holding himself back before. The fight, that kiss, has broken some self-restraint he’d clearly been tightly holding onto. 

Dale devours you. He devours you until you’re a sweating, moaning, mess held firmly in his grasp. Until a final wave of pleasure pulls you under. 

You come back to yourself slowly to find Dale still between your thighs, carefully licking up every last drop of desire he’s managed to wring from you. You hope he’s satisfied with you. You hope he’s never satisfied. You hope he’s willing to make a meal of you again and again. “Dale,” you breathe out. Glittering, bright eyes look up at you, half-lidded and gratified, but still hungry.

Heat begins to rekindle in your veins as he lowers his gaze back down. As he begins to plant kisses and leave little sucking marks on your skin. As he works his way back up your body. You stroke through his hair encouragingly, languid and content to let him do as he pleases. He’s certainly proved himself worthy of the leeway. He pulls you upright as he goes and your free hand lands on his strong shoulder.

You don’t hesitate to pull him into a kiss once you're close enough. His mouth is wet with you still and you find yourself delighted with the evidence of his indulgence, his base appetite. When he pulls you into his lap, you take advantage of the additional height to lead the kiss. Dale gives way under you easily, letting you press your advantage and finally do some taking yourself.

You don’t break the kiss until Dale situates you perfectly in his lap to let his cock rock against your cunt. Your moan and instant attempt at grinding down against him leave you gasping. His large hands, spanning your hips and with fingers that dig into your ass, encourage your movements as he groans.

“You…” you try to give voice to the thought that’s been building in your mind without you realizing it, “the way you said my name…” You can still hear it echoing in your memory, but you need to hear it aloud. It’s what had helped stabilize your trust in him and you ache to hear it now. “After the fight…”

Dale shudders, something rolling through him, before he opens his mouth to breathe your name in that same resounding tone, the one that seemed to carry with it so much more than a single word ever could. Your eyelids flutter, as you feel that same comfort as before, but it has evolved. Now cinnamon spice and crimson tart berry streaked through that yellow warm honey. You feel it along your nerves, buzzing through your veins like warm, mulled wine. “Dale,” you gasp back, hoping you can convey something similar in return. 

Air flows from him like a breeze and his shadows gutter around him while he closes his eyes to the sensation. When he presses you back down against him there's a rumble you first mistake for a growl only to realize it’s a purr. “May I…?” His cock ruts against your entrance as if there was any doubt as to what he was asking for.

You're lost in this moment, in this feeling, and yet in that second, he takes to ask the real world breaks through. You bury your head in the crook of his neck, craving his own scent nearly as much as his craving for your own had sparked this fire into motion. “Yes, please, Dale—I need you.”

“Yes, sana, I do as well. I need you so very much,” Dale pants as he guides the head of his cock to where it needs to be and begins to push inside. 

Gods, he feels big. You remind yourself to relax, let yourself be pliable, and allow him in. One of his hands leaves your hip to stroke soothingly through your hair while he thoughtlessly babbles, “Yeeesss, so hot, so tight. Lights above, you feel better than… So good. Thank you, pretty, pretty mate for…for this, for this allowance, for this gift, f-fuck.” His words make you shudder and you must be dripping from them given how much more easily he makes his way inside.

Once he’s finally hilted in you, you both need the extra few seconds to take a breath. Him overwhelmed by you surrounding him judging by his scattered words and you for the stretch. The ache of being first too empty and then nearly too full. Soon you deliberately clench around him and he groans. You press a kiss to his neck to let him know he’s alright to move and then set to making it a mark on his skin.

Dale murmurs your name again, a faint echo of how he’d said it earlier. Shuddering, your teeth graze the mark you’re worrying on his skin. Instinctively, he thrusts in even though he’s only pulled halfway out which pulls a groan from deep in your throat.

The sound seems to set Dale off because soon he’s thrusting at a rhythmic pace, half with his own hips, half lifting you up in counterpoint to his movements. Your heat throbs at the demonstration of his strength. You pull your head back to take him in in the moonlight. Your demonic fiancé, demonic mate.

As you can feel another peak building, the pulsing between your legs getting stronger, Dale’s thrusts become more erratic. As soon as you notice, his thumb lands on your clit, obviously determined to push you over the edge with him. 

Dale buries his face in the crook of your neck. His voice resonates against you as he says, “I… I could…I should…” He starts to lift you off of him. “We’re not—”

His words are cut off with a loud moan when you push back against him, hands on his shoulders, muscles throbbing around him. To keep him inside you where he belongs. 

“No, no,” you say, mind overwhelmed with pleasure, but also coherent to understand he’s trying to cater to you even if it's not what you want, what you crave with a strength that would surprise you if you gave it a moment’s consideration. “Please. I trust you.” You know Dale wouldn’t leave you now. As far as you're concerned, you’re already married. He’ll never leave you again. “Please, stay inside.”

He growls your name in response and pulls you back fully onto his cock without needing further encouragement. His hands stroke up and down your sides, shadow tendrils controlling the pace of his thrusts. The additional sensation of his hands on your skin, on your chest, your nipples, combined with the kisses and marks he’s attempting to suck on your skin drive you to the final heights you need to climax, convulsing around his cock. Dale falls over the edge with you.

Bliss spreads through your body as Dale collapses backward, you sprawled on his chest. You’re sweaty and overcome and the most satisfied, most content you’ve been in… You let the thought fizzle out and merely sigh happily instead. What more could you ever need than Dale with you in your bed?

Languid sleep laps at your mind, but when Dale prompts you, you go through the motions of nighttime ritual. He murmurs an apology when you shudder from the feel of tepid water and sigh from any movement at all that’s not horizontal. Soon enough you’re clad in a fresh shift, Dale in only his own shirt, standing by the bed. He looks, with hesitation at the door.

“Do not leave, not until you must,” you say as you lean against him, hand over his heart. Not an ask, but not a demand.

“I won’t,” Dale replies, the solemnity of an oath, the fervor of a declaration of love—more powerful in the dark of your bedroom. He shuffles you over to the bed until you’re lying down against his chest once more. “There’s nowhere else I’d want to be.”

That warmth of belonging wraps around you at his words and you gently kiss his neck in answer, before mustering the sleep-weary words to say, “There’s no one else I’d want.” It’s so easy to admit now, so freeing to say aloud. 

Dale presses a kiss to your head. He echoes, “Only you.”

[moonshine-nightlight]

Should be doing work but would rather being doing anything else so here we are

WIP File Names:

Nothing's Wrong with Dale: 7. Scene 3 - Fight

Nothing's Wrong with Dale: 7. Scene 4 - Aftermath

Demonic Romance Nonsense: DSM- Bonus Tattoo

Sci-Fi Romantic Nonsense: Snapped Part 3

Demonic Romance Nonsense: Courtship Confusion - Part 1

Snippet from NWWD Fight:

“What is this?” Dale asks, his voice hard as he takes stock of the situation.

“Northridges simply enjoy asking after the obvious, do they not?” Clen asks. “This is a kidnapping, your lordship. If you don’t cooperate with us, your fiance and grandmother are forfeit.” His crossbow is back in his hands and aimed directly at you. Instantly you tense, ready to drop to your knees and out of range, except that would leave Grandmother a free target.

Keeping your dagger in your strong hand, you grope blindly on the desk for something to use as a shield, curing yourself for not thinking of such a thing earlier. As your fingers close around the ink mat, a sturdy leather mat to absorb any ink that might seep through when writing, your eyes meet Dale’s. You can almost see a cold certainty enter them before they slide back to Clen.

WIP Wednesday Game

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

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Requested/Friend event mentions under the cut! If you'd like to be pinged next week, let me know!

friends @fiore-della-valle @redbirdblogs @greenbergsays @idkfandomwhatever @luckyspike @obaewankenope @mad-madam-m @sleepymccoy @eriquin @sosobriquet @qprstobin @spacebarrette @andavs @zainclaw @anonymousdandelion @flameraven @fractalgeometry / Requests @aparticularbandit @madnessfromthemountains @makeroftherunes @not-orpheus @1attheedge

[deansapplepie]

Period .

Summary: The one time you were glad you had your period, and the one time you weren’t.

Warnings: young Daryl (just in the first part), mentions of pregnancy, period, blood, sexual themes, mentions of creampie, mentions of impregnating, little angsty in the end. Minors do not Interact, 18+.

A/N: it was supposed to be a small drabble, but it turned out longer than I imagined. 🤭 Period is something important in the story, but the main focus is really about pregnancy.

Also, there’s no smut just little thoughts of Daryl.

The Quarry, Atlanta

You were fucked you knew you were, but so was Daryl and that was the problem. You had been dating for only a few months before the outbreak and even though your relationship was new, you knew his temper pretty well being neighbors for many years.

Your period was late, it already was when the world ended, but just a few days, so you didn’t worry about it. Now, it had been almost a month and you were worried as fuck. You tried to fake normalcy, pretend there wasn’t anything wrong. But your constant lip biting and unquiet legs denounced to the hunter how nervous you were. “Spill it.” He said.

“What?” He took you by surprise, you were so into in your mind that you didn’t even know he had been observing for the last half hour.

“There’s somethin’ worrying ya. Just say it.” He didn’t take his eyes from you as he waited for you ti say something.

“My period. It’s late. I’m worried.” You threw averting his eyes.

In his mind a million of thoughts were running, but mainly 1. why did you have to feel so amazing wrapped around him that sometimes he couldn’t just control himself and just finish inside of you? 2. why did he still used no condoms? 3. he couldn’t be a father, he didn’t have this ability.

“Just that?” He asked nonchalantly pretending it didn’t affect him. “Want me to go to town and pick a pregnancy test?”

You looked at him amused. How could he be so calm when you were panicking? Part of you were glad he wasn’t fuming in rage like you imagined he would be, but the other part was frustrated with him acting like it was nothing. “Seriously?” You gave him an incredulous look. “Don’t need to. Let’s wait a little more.” You got up and left to the lake, frustrated, fuming and just needing to calm yourself down.

Days passed and nothing happened. Until the day Daryl woke up tired of not knowing if he would have to raise a child in this fucked up world or not. When you woke up he was already brewing something on the fire, Merle with him. “I’m going to town. Want something?” He asked.

“What are you going to do in town?” You didn’t understand, you had everything. Food and hygiene supplies, what else could you need?

“I’m gonna get the thing. We already waited too much.” He seemed nervous, finally one small demonstration of feelings.

“Are ya two gonna talk in codes now?” Merle complained feeling left out.

You ignored him and replied Daryl. “Ok. Just let me go the bathroom, gonna think if we need anything else.” You left in the direction of the RV, not everyone used it, but most of you. Especially the women and the kids, Daryl and Merle preferred to go into the woods as to not get the dirty looks everyone gave them, but you were different, you were polite and would smile sometimes. Also, you got along well with Dale and the women in the camp.

You distributed ‘good mornings’ along the way and when you got to the RV you encountered Dale, Ami and Andrea having breakfast. You greeted them and excused yourself to the bathroom, and there it was… your answer. No test needed. A pool of blood on your panties. You felt wet earlier, but the last weeks you felt it many times and it was always nothing, so you didn’t mind. You were relieved. The world was pure chaos and you couldn’t imagine raising a child in it. Yet, there was an uneasy feeling inside of you.

You went back to your tent and the small fire the brothers had done. “You don’t need to go.” It was as the only thing you said.

“Ugh?” He grunted confused.

“I’m on my period.” You said, and fuck if Merle was listening.

“Were ya talking in codes because ya thought you were pregnant?” Merle almost yelled. “And you were hiding it from me? The uncle?”

“Shut up Merle, nobody needs to know, and stop complaining about an inexistent baby.” You answered mood swinging immediately. There it was, you had seen the signals, you just didn’t want to read them.

Daryl stayed silent while you went inside the tent to take clean panties, pads or tampons to change. When you came out Daryl was the same way he was before, millions of thoughts inside his head.

“Are you going to say something or are you going to pretend there wasn’t anything going on just like when I told you my worries?” You snapped, the last days you had thought over and over again about his non reaction the day you told him, and that’s not that you wanted him to have fought or screamed at you, you didn’t, but you wanted him to share his worries with you and to be able to share yours with him.

“What do ya want me to say?” He asked, dryly. “Thank God? ‘Cause I don’t believe in one. Or do you want me to say I feel really sorry ‘cause we’re not putting a child in this fucked up world?” He had snapped. You were angry at him, but at least it was a reaction of some sort.

“You’re an asshole.” You threw at him and left, he thought about retorting you with a sassy answer, but he bit his tongue.

“Ya messed bad, lil bro… ya know nothing about women. How was ya able to catch a girl like her?” Merle couldn’t contain his mouth and spoke.

“Shut up, Merle! Mind your own business!” He replied, taking his things and living grumpily.

Later that day he returned with chocolate and painkillers, which he left on your side of the sleeping bed without saying anything.

Alexandria, Virginia

You were out in the woods, close to Alexandria. You had been hunting with Daryl, your husband. Yes, your husband. So many things have changed along the years, that some times you couldn’t believe how things were different. But one thing hadn’t change, you were still reckless about sex, not that you had options to prevent a pregnancy in the end of the world.

And that was the reason you were distracted while you hunted, also the reason you were not being silent like he taught you to be and were cracking every and all stick on the way. “Wha’s the problem, sweetheart?” He stopped and turned to you.

Distracted, you continued to walk and bumped into him. “Sorry.” You looked up at him and saw concern in his eyes.

“What’s troubling ya?” He asked his hands resting on your shoulders. “And don’t try to lie, I know ya.”

You sighed. “I’m late.” You’ve been late many times during the time you and Daryl have been together, but most of the times your worries would be taken away as soon as they started to build. But that time at the quarry and now, it had been a long time.

Now he already knew what you meant, and it didn’t worry him this much anymore. To be honest, he even thought about impregnating you during the last years. It all started when his Lil Ass Kicker was born, and then how he saw you taking care of her and interacting with kids. So… he considered having kids with you many times.

“Just that?” He threw the same question back at that day in the quarry. Anger started bubbling in you and then he just stroke you with his words. “Ya shouldn’t worry. If it happens, we’ll take responsibility and do our best. It’s our baby we’re talking about.”

“Daryl… aren’t you mad? Or worried?” You looked at him disarmed now that you realized he wasn’t going to be a dick.

“If ya’re expecting, I helped making this baby and I dun think it would be so terrible the idea of having a baby made of us.” Yeah, you had all changed a lot. You didn’t know one day you could desire him even more, but just the thought of him thinking it wouldn’t be bad to have babies with you… made you want to jump on him.

“Should we grab a pregnancy test with Denise or something?” You suggested grabbing one of his hands.

“Let’s wait a little more and I take them.” He started to walk and intertwined your fingers. “Now, let’s hunt dinner.”

Daryl had finally gone on a run to find some pregnancy tests, Denise unfortunately had none. When he arrived he hoped to see you in the kitchen with Carol, but his friend was alone. She saw his confused face and she knew he was looking for you. “She’s at the bedroom. She arrived and a little while after… she didn’t look well. I think you should see her.” Carol advised him. She knew there was something upsetting you and she was almost sure of what it was, but you had said nothing to her, so she decided it was better to not push.

“Thanks, ‘m gonna check on her.” He said before he left to your shared bedroom.

After he descended the stairs to your room in the basement, he found you on bed laying on your side. He kicked his shoes off before joining you in bed. “Hey babe”

“Hey” you replied and didn’t turn to look at him.

He laid on his side, spooning you and sneaking his arm around you. He rested his hand on your lower stomach, an habit he had developed recently. He’d do it when you got your period and felt cramps, but in the last days he had done it for another reason. “Can you take your hand from there?” You asked.

“Why? Don’t ya wanna me to touch ya?” He wanted to understand what was troubling your mind.

“There’s nothing there. Just my uterus. My stupid bleeding uterus.” Here it was. He wouldn’t deny he was a little upset, he had some hope on you being pregnant. He was even excited.

“Ok. Look at me.” He turned you so you’d be facing him. You had teary eyes and a small pout on your lips. “You wanted this baby, didn’t ya?”

“Is it this obvious?” Yes, it was. It was visible on your face.

“I wanted it too.” He confessed, his fingers running on your hair.

“I’ve been wanting for a long time already… since Jude was born and I saw her in your arms. When I have Jude in my arms or little Hershel, I wish I had a baby.” While you spoke, your eyes welled with tears and they started falling.

He gently wiped your tears, he could understand your feelings in his own way, because he felt them too. “Me too. When I see you with the kids, I wish we had one.” ‘And to put a baby inside of you’, completed in his mind. “Do ya want me to give you a baby?”

Your eyes sparkled at his words, and it wasn’t just because of the tears threatening to fall again. “Would you?” You looked in his eyes and he felt like you could see his soul. But, yes… you could. You could always see him, even when he couldn’t.

“As many as ya want.” He said and the tears you were holding just bursted from your eyes. “Stop crying, I didn’t say it so you’d cry. If you continue to cry, I’m not giving ya babies…”

“Don’t you dare Daryl Dixon! I’m crying because I’m happy, ok?” You cupped his face with your hands, making a pout appear on his face.

“Ok.” He spoke the best he could with your hands cupping his face and restraining his lips from moving. You kissed his lips and released his face.

He brought you closer and hugged you, your face hiding on his chest. He was happy. You weren’t feeling like shit anymore, you were feeling like the luckiest woman in the damn end of the world.

You were trying for babies as soon as possible. That was what he thought, a smile on his face while he held you in his arms.

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[naughtyneganjdm]

Love's Second Chance: A Holiday Reunion - Chapter 9

Summary: Joel is having a hard time coming to terms with Y/N not wanting to be with him and Tommy tries to help him through his tough time. Negan sets up a surprise for Y/N's children and lets them get an idea of what his life normally is like.

Characters: Joel Miller, Tommy Miller, the reader (OC), Negan Smith, Elizabeth, Peter, Dale Horvath, etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60501985/chapters/155702092

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, angst, depression, drunk Joel, Joel jerking off, smut, public play, unprotected p in v, etc.

Notes: This chapter probably takes a deeper dive at Joel's depression that he has in this story. If that's a trigger, I will warn people of that ahead of time.

Days had passed since Tommy had gotten that call from Y/N asking Tommy to watch over Joel after things went down with them. At the time? She had been very vague and when Joel came home that night, he tried to blow off like everything was okay, but Tommy knew better than that. No one knew Joel better than he did. So he could tell something was off with Joel. During the day, Joel would bury himself in work and during the night, he’d drown himself with the bottle.

Lately, Tommy had been spending a lot of time with Maria so he hadn’t really been around Joel much. When Elizabeth and Peter were home, he had nothing to worry about. But over the last few days, he knew that they would be with Y/N for something she had planned out. That’s when Tommy truly had to worry about Joel. Being alone meant that Joel would be alone to his thoughts and Tommy didn’t like the idea of that. Even though he had planned to spend time with Maria, he knew that he needed to check in on Joel. Especially with Joel being so closed off about everything.

Moving down the stairs, Tommy stood at the bottom of the steps when he saw Joel sitting sprawled out on the couch. There was a nearly empty bottle of whiskey in Joel’s hand. Both his hair and clothes were a mess. Whatever he was watching on the television was incredibly loud causing Tommy to cringe at the sound of it. Reaching the first floor, Tommy moved across the room and reached for the remote to turn down the volume getting a scoff from Joel.

“You look like shit,” Tommy commented, tossing the remote next to Joel on the couch who pulled himself up slightly from where he was seated on the middle cushion. Joel’s eyelids were heavy with an irritated expression covering his features. Pointing to the bottle that was in Joel’s hand, Tommy tried to get his brother’s attention. “Did you drink all of that in one sitting?”

Dropping his head down, Joel lifted the bottle of whiskey that was in his hand to look it over. Dramatically shrugging his shoulders, Joel dropped the bottle back down. Not giving Tommy an answer, Joel just went back to watching the television ignoring Tommy in the moment.

“We need to talk,” Tommy announced, moving around the coffee table to sit on it. Blocking Joel’s view of the television had him grumbling under his breath. Annoyed, Joel tried to look around Tommy, but Tommy leaned over to get in his line of sight again. “What’s going on Joel? What’s wrong?”

“Who said something was wrong?” Joel sneered, bringing the bottle up to his lips to take a swig of the alcohol. Hissing out when he dropped the bottle back at his side, Joel shook his head. Avoiding the answer was a common thing for Joel. Over the years he had gotten good at shutting himself down, but he didn’t usually drown himself in his woes with alcohol. “I’m just watching a movie.”

Leaning in, Tommy immediately groaned out and threw his head back after he got close to Joel, “Jesus, Joel! You stink. You smell like a fucking distillery and…you just overall smell bad.”

“It’s not that bad,” Joel grunted to himself, lowering his head down. Pulling his shirt forward, he took a whiff of himself and grunted. Dropping the material of his shirt back down, he dramatically shrugged his shoulders and grumbled. “It ain’t that great either, but what does it matter? I got no one to impress. I’m alone.”

“Give me that,” Tommy snatched the bottle of alcohol from Joel’s fingers. Standing up from the coffee table had Joel scowling out. Trying to reach for the bottle, Joel fell to his knees from the couch. Pushing his hand into the center of the coffee table Joel tried to balance his weight. That alone proved that Joel was severely inebriated. Stumbling over his feet, Joel tried to get the bottle from Tommy who easily avoided him at every turn. “It’s time to hide this shit…”

“Don’t do that!” Joel called out after Tommy who was swift to move into the kitchen in search of anything else that Joel could drink.

Grabbing every bottle, Tommy realized that his brother was having a very bad problem and he needed help. A loud crashing sound filled the air evoking Tommy to jump and pushed the bottles aside. Heading back into the living room, Tommy sighed loudly when he looked down to see that Joel was face down on the floor. The coffee table was flipped over with Joel’s leg still laid out over the top of it.

“That’s it…” Tommy was infuriated with his brother right now as he headed over in the direction of Joel. “This has to stop.”  

“I’m fine,” Joel growled with Tommy turning him onto his back to make sure that he was okay. After confirming that he was fine, Tommy went over to the coffee table to pick it up and clean what had fallen off of it. Lifting his head, Joel noticed that the room was spinning causing him to groan out and drop his head back against the floor. Soon he felt Tommy returning, hooking his arms firmly underneath Joel’s armpits. With his strength, Tommy managed to drag Joel’s body toward the bottom of the stairs. Pulling him up into his arms, Tommy turned backwards toward the stairs so that way he could pull Joel up the steps. A thud filled the air with Joel’s boots hitting each step with every pull upward Tommy made. Hisses were escaping Joel’s throat with his ass colliding with the edge of each one of the steps. “Goddamn it Tommy! Let me go!”

“If you weren’t drunk, you’d easily be able to stop me,” Tommy reminded Joel, bringing attention to the fact that Joel was the stronger one between the two of them. But in this state? Joel could barely hold his head up. So he was in no condition to be making any kind of demands from Tommy. Each grunt from Joel’s throat grew louder until they got to the top of the stairs. Starting to swat at Tommy’s hands, Joel seemed pretty desperate to get Tommy to let go of him. Flopping much like a fish out of water would. “You’re drunk as a skunk big brother. You’re not gonna be able to stop me.”

“This is bullshit!” Joel slurred, his feet kicking against the floor of the hallway while Tommy dragged him toward the bathroom. As they reached the door, Tommy dropped Joel back onto the ground eliciting a loud groan from Joel. Anger flooded his veins, but at the same time Joel felt his stomach turning. Closing his eyes, Joel’s main focus at this point was not letting himself vomit everywhere. Right now? He was losing the battle. “Tommy? Tommy! Help!”

“With what?” Tommy was quick to look back over his shoulder after pushing open the bathroom door. Desperately trying to pull himself up to his knees, Joel was looking at the toilet. In that moment Tommy saw all of the color leaving Joel’s face and he swiftly reached down to try to assist his brother in getting to the toilet. The moment he was near it, Joel’s arms hooked around it. Thankfully they were able to get there in time for Joel to start throwing up immediately. “Fuck Joel!”

Standing up, Tommy brushed his fingers through his longer hair, slicking it back. The sounds that Joel was making proved to Tommy that Joel was miserable. It had been a very long time since he had seen his brother get this drunk.  Noticing that Joel was having a hard time staying up on his knees, Tommy reached to brace his brother up. Doing his best to not get any throw up on him.

By the time Joel finished, he was hovering over the toilet heaving. Breathless, Joel’s body was shaking. Guilt was eating away at Tommy that he let his brother get this bad without realizing it. Brushing his fingers through Joel’s damp hair, Tommy got Joel to tip his head back so he could take a look at him.

“We need to get you into the shower,” Tommy announced, stumbling as he stood up. Moving for the shower, Tommy turned it on. Testing the water, he made sure it was warm before heading back for Joel. Reaching for the bottom of Joel’s t-shirt, Tommy tugged at the material, but Joel simply groaned and dropped his head to the side. Instead of focusing on that, Tommy reached for Joel’s boots pulling them off in a firm tug. Then he easily got Joel’s socks off. Trying to turn Joel, Tommy felt a large amount of restraint and he hissed. “Goddamn it Joel.”

Huffing out, Joel couldn’t put up much more of a fight with Tommy starting to undo his belt, “What in God’s name are you doing?”

Forcefully pulling off Joel’s jeans had Tommy pulling Joel toward him against the bathroom floor. Tossing Joel’s jeans aside, Tommy gave Joel a glare and then went back to work on getting the dark blue t-shirt that Joel was wearing off of him. Not being sensitive with it, Tommy yanked the shirt up causing Joel’s limp arms to go with the movement and Tommy tossed that to the ground too.

Leaving Joel in his boxer briefs, Tommy dragged Joel toward the shower and braced him against the corner of it. Directing the water at Joel had him hissing out in anger with the water flowing down over him. Kneeling down beside Joel, Tommy was doing his best to make sure that his brother didn’t pass out.

“The hell happened to you?” Tommy inquired reaching for the shampoo to pour a large amount in over Joel’s head. It had Joel’s dark eyes locking with his and if looks could kill, Joel’s glare would have killed him. “It’s been a long time since I found you like this.”

“I’m not a baby,” Joel huffed with Tommy caressing the shampoo into his hair to lather it up. In this position Joel felt like he was a child being reprimanded.

“You’re acting like one,” Tommy’s deep southern drawl echoed throughout the room. There was frustration in his eyes while he took care of his brother. Swatting at Tommy’s hand, Joel hissed when Tommy smacked back at him. “You don’t want to be treated like a child? Then stop acting like one!”

“I’m not!” Joel growled, dropping his head down while Tommy worked his fingers through his hair to help get the shampoo from it.

There was a whole lot of bickering and trying to push Tommy away. Until finally Tommy stood up. Instead of leaving, Tommy just reached for the bottle of body wash. Holding it over Joel, Tommy started to squeeze the bottle covering Joel’s body with it.

“Now either clean yourself up, or I will do it for you!” Tommy snatched the clean washcloth that was sitting on the counter of the bathroom sink. Tossing it at Joel, it landed at the center of Joel’s chest. Biting down on his bottom lip, Joel did his best to pull himself up enough so that he could scrub at his body to the best of his ability. When Tommy thought the soap was washed away from Joel’s body he turned off the shower and tossed Joel a towel.

“Dry yourself off,” Tommy demanded, leaning against the sink. Joel was still sitting in the shower looking rather pathetic. Right now Tommy’s heart was pounding inside of his chest. That whole thing was quite the workout and he was furious that it had to get to this. This wasn’t normal for Joel. Tommy couldn’t even recall the last time he found Joel this drunk and in this kind of condition. Joel looked like a wet dog just sitting there with the towel in his lap. Joel’s hair was in front of his face and there was a pathetic expression over his features. “Now Joel!”

Rolling his eyes, Joel lifted the towel to start wiping at his face and his chest before dropping the towel back down. By the way he did it? Joel just seemed to give up and Tommy didn’t know what he was going to do. It looked like Joel was about to explode, but instead he dropped his head down and started sobbing, “It’s over.”

“What’s over?” Tommy was confused, his eyebrows furrowing with Joel’s sudden outburst. Joel was not the kind of person to cry like this. Even if he was drunk, so Tommy just stepped forward and stared down at Joel. This was not a situation he knew how to fix.

“My relationship with Y/N,” Joel buried his head into his hands. Lowering down, Tommy knelt beside his brother, tipping his head to the side.

“That’s been over for four years Joel,” Tommy reminded his brother with a shake of his head. Tossing his right hand out, he tried to get Joel’s attention but he was lost inside of his misery and his tears. “You’re kinda late to react big brother.”

“No! You’re not listening to me!” Joel whined, dropping his hands down at his sides causing the towel to drop in his lap.

“Well you’re not making much sense now are you?” Tommy fought back with Joel who reminded Tommy of a child with the face that Joel was making.

“She doesn’t want me anymore,” Joel responded with a whimper, his cries broken. Tommy had never really seen Joel act like this before so he was still tense. Joel was not known for having meltdowns. “I did the most romantic thing I’ve ever done. I reckon you wouldn’t even believe me if I told you what I did.”

“Try me,” Tommy shrugged, waiting to hear his brother’s story. “You’d be surprised what I would believe these days.”

“The other day? I bought this dress for her. When we were married, we were walking through this shop and she was breath taken by this dress, y’know? But it was so expensive. We couldn’t afford it at the time. So I thought by buying it for her, she’d appreciate it. I laid the dress out on her bed with a flower and a note with directions. I sent a car to pick her up. I had it take her to the high school. I put up signs for her to follow. It took her to the planetarium where I explained to her the first time I fell in love with her was in that room. I explained how much I loved her,” Joel rambled having to cover his mouth for a moment when he thought he was going to throw up again. It took a minute for the feeling to go away before he started up again. “I sang to her. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve sang?”

“I imagine a long time, hmm?” Tommy replied back seeing Joel drop his head into his hands again. “What has you so sad Joel?”

“We slept together. It was romantic. It was perfect,” Joel rambled on, his head shaking while he spoke. “But then after? She told me that she thinks that I only want to be with her again cus’ Negan is there. That the only reason that I want her back is because she has someone else in her life. She doesn’t think I genuinely love her,” Joel explained with a broken breath, his whole-body aching while he sat what felt like in a puddle with his soaked boxer briefs.

“Do you wanna get back with her because Negan is in her life?” Tommy questioned, his eyes curious with Joel throwing his hands up again. Even though Joel was frustrated, Tommy was going to push the subject. “It’s a good question Joel. You didn’t make a move for four years. I could see why she would think that since you never made a move before.”

“But see! That’s not true!” Joel stressed to Tommy knowing that he didn’t always tell his little brother about their relationship. “We had sex all the time after we got divorced. So many times. Even when I was with Tess. So I’ve obviously still been clinging onto her. It’s not like I never truly made a move.”

“But did you ever do something like you did at the school? Something romantic? A gesture that would sweep her off her feet?” Tommy pressured Joel to answer the question, but by the way Joel looked at him, Tommy had his answer. “She loves you more than anything Joel. Except your kids. Y’know that. Anyone with eyes knows that. I’ve never seen a gal look at someone the way that she looks at you. I could only wish to have Maria love me that much in the future.”

“Then why doesn’t she want to be with me?” Joel bit down on his bottom lip, the droplets from the water falling from his hair trailing down his face. Sadness was eating away at Joel and Tommy could visibly see that his brother was shattered over all of this.

“Joel, I love you. You’re the man I look up to the most in this world, but you forget the things that you did to her. You left her Joel. You broke her heart,” Tommy claimed, recalling their past together. Outstretching his hand, Tommy pat Joel on the side of his face to get Joel to look up at him. “You were everything to her. There wasn’t a person that questioned how much she loved you. I saw it when I was a kid. I see it now. But when you left her? I don’t even know if you realize how much you truly broke her.”

Hearing this from his little brother didn’t help. Dropping his head, Joel swallowed down hard with Tommy explaining things to him, “You have to understand what a shock everything was to everyone. Your relationship was so good for so long. The two of you were like the town super couple. You fought all the obstacles and you won. You both gave up your lives to take care of me. And then she got pregnant with Elizabeth and her parents disowned her. The two of you had to face the world completely on your own and you succeeded. You made a life for yourselves. Most couples never accomplish that. No matter how much help they have.”

“Tommy…” Joel breathed out, the reminder of the past causing the ache at the center of his chest to grow.

“No, you don’t understand Joel. You and her? You were the couple that everyone wanted to be like. The two of you? God it was sickening during the first half of your marriage. The way the two of you looked at each other? I’ve never seen a love like that. It was why you two won that stupid snow king and queen every fucking year big brother. You were a team. But not only that? You two were so in love. And your family was perfect. You were like a couple that walked right out of a television show. Yeah, you were young but it was beautiful.”

The sobs of Joel started up again, his head burying into his hands to try to hide from Tommy that he was having a break down about his past, “You never fought. You never got angry at each other. And then all of a sudden after how many years of perfection, you just started getting so angry. And it was bound to happen at some point. The fighting. All couples fight. No one believed it when you separated. It was never Joel. It was never Y/N. It was Joel and Y/N. Together since their teen years.”  

“I got confused,” Joel declared, shaking his head when he thought about his past.  “I made a horrible mistake. I was depressed and I let that cloud my judgement. I didn’t seek help and…it made me make poor decisions.”

“Then why did you wait until now to do something about it Joel?” Tommy was asking the same question that Y/N did which frustrated Joel.

“I don’t know!” Joel growled, grimacing when he thought about that answer. “Tess and I broke up because I never showed her affection. I didn’t tell her I loved her even though I did care about her. I just…I always loved Y/N. Tess knew that. I knew that. No one I slept with was gonna get from me in a relationship that Y/N did.”

“Which honestly isn’t much at this point Joel. The old you? Sure. This one? It’s not the same man that I grew up with,” Tommy informed his brother with a frown. Even though Joel was an amazing human being, he failed at certain parts and Joel needed to hear it. “You are the best big brother. I owe everything to you. I do. And I’m gonna look up to you until the day I die. And you’re a great dad. If I have kids? I wanna be just like you. Pete & Ellie love you so much. You’ve been an amazing dad. But you? You’re lacking in the emotional department.”

“Thank you,” Joel didn’t appreciate that comment, but Tommy was just being honest with him.

“After our parents died, you just shut down. I’m surprised that you did so well with Y/N for so long,” Tommy declared wondering how they made it as long as they did in the first place. “I just never thought it would be you leaving her. I thought it would be the other way around when you started getting so fucking angry. That woman loved you endlessly. If I have someone love me that much in my life, I could only be so lucky.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Joel spoke quietly, trying to faintly dab at himself with the towel. “I want her back. But there is Negan…”

“Joel,” Tommy started, going to say something but then stopped. Biting down on his bottom lip Tommy considered what he should and should not say. “Do you love her? Like really really love her?”

“I do,” Joel answered quickly without missing a beat.

“Then maybe you need to let her go. I’ve seen her with Negan,” Tommy stated with a frown, knowing this was likely not the advice that Joel wanted. “He makes her happy Joel. Real smiles. He makes her laugh.”

Hearing that gutted Joel and he forced himself to look away from his brother with his jaw flexing, “Every time she is with you, I see her crying. I know she loves you. I do. I see it. But you broke her heart. You hurt her. Without meaning to Joel. Maybe if you want her happy, you have to let her go.”

“But what about me?” Joel blurt out having Tommy inhale sharply. “What am I supposed to do when the only one for me is her?”

“Joel,” Tommy began, his words stopping. Reaching for his brother’s hands, Tommy pulled Joel up to his feet. Leading Joel out of the shower, Tommy was careful with not getting Joel to slip. Once he had him on the rug, Tommy pat his brother on the shoulder. “I think you’ve had so many chances at this point that you’re just gonna have to find a way to make things work.”

Instead of responding to his brother, Joel wrapped the towel around his waist. Carefully working off his boxer briefs, Joel kicked out of the wet material. Bracing his hands on the counter beside the sink, Joel looked at himself in the steamed over mirror. He really did look terrible.

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” Joel grumbled under his breath attempting to wipe at his face with the back of his hand.

“Yeah, sure,” Tommy dug into his pocket to reach for his cell phone. “I was supposed to go out with Maria, but I’d rather be with you right now. Keep you from drinking more.”

“No, no. Don’t,” Joel shook his head, struggling to keep himself up. Turning to face Tommy, he kept himself braced on the counter. “I don’t want you to be like me. You go out with that girl and you be happy. Because one of us needs to be.”

“It’s okay Joel,” Tommy went to continue to call Maria, but Joel reached for Tommy’s phone. Shaking his head again, Joel swallowed down hard and sighed. “We can watch the movie together. I can go out with her tomorrow.”

“Little brother, I’ll be fine,” Joel tapped Tommy on the side of the face while handing him back his cell phone. “I reckon I’ll go lay down. Close my eyes and try to rest.”

“You sure?” Tommy confirmed with Joel, his dark eyes worried about his older brother. “I don’t mind.”

“I insist,” Joel winked taking his time to balance his weight. Slowly moving to the bedroom, Joel did his best to make it to the bed. Dropping onto it, Joel noticed behind heavy eyelids that Tommy was watching him. Confliction filled his body before Tommy went to go get ready. Reaching for a pillow, Joel buried his head underneath it. Trying to focus on something other than the sadness he was feeling, Joel eventually heard footsteps in his room. “I’m fine Tommy.”

“Just call me if you need me,” Tommy begged of his brother having Joel push the pillow away from his head. “I will be here in an instant if you need me.”

“Will do,” Joel gave a sign with his hand that it would be okay. “Go enjoy your girl. I’ll survive.”

It looked like Tommy thought he was making a mistake in leaving. But when he did, Joel stretched his arms out. Hearing the front door open and close, Joel gave it a few minutes before pushing himself up into a seated position. Reaching his hand out to grab his laptop that was on the dresser, Joel opened it up and put in his password. Looking through his folders, he stopped on one that he looked in often. Swallowing down hard, he opened it up and scrolled through until he found the file that he wanted.

Setting his computer on the bed, Joel rest back on his elbow and sighed staring out at the video. Stretched out on their old bed, Y/N was naked while Joel set up the camera. In their past years, Joel was always very big on recording things and she allowed it. Although, she had always requested him to delete the videos after so the children would never find it but Joel had a hard time getting rid of their past together.

Biting down on his bottom lip, Joel grumbled under his breath when he watched a much younger, leaner version of himself entering the screen in just a pair of light jeans. Maybe it was wrong watching something like this, but Joel didn’t give a fuck at this point.

Keeping his eyes locked on the screen, Joel watched the video closely. His pulse leapt in his chest when he heard her moans start to flood from his laptop when the younger version of himself started going down on her. Even though the video wasn’t the best of quality, Joel could remember perfectly what this moment was like. The taste of her. The sounds that she made.

Unhooking his towel, Joel lowered his hand and started to palm in over his length. Closing his eyes, he pictured what it was like to be with her. That it was her hand touching him and not his own. The sounds of her crying out his name in the video had him hissing out. At this point he would have done anything to be with her like this again.

Opening his eyes, Joel watched as his younger self stood up from the bed and pushed his jeans down his legs. Even back then the way she looked at him took his breath away. Tommy was right. The way she looked at him was unlike anything he had ever felt before. In the video he crawled in over her and the sound she made sent chills throughout his body. There was something in the way that Y/N touched him in the video that made him bite down on his bottom lip.

“I love you, so much,” Joel could hear her words lingering when they started making love. Their breathing was loud with her telling him how much he meant to her.

“I love you,” Joel groaned, curling his fingers around the shaft of his erection after hearing him whisper the same thing back to Y/N in the video.

Maybe this would be the only sexual interactions he’d have with anyone from here on out. Maybe this was all he deserved and he would have to learn to accept it. Now that he was alone, there weren’t many options really at the end of the day. And that was his own fault.

----

“I don’t understand why we have to wear these, but mom doesn’t,” Peter complained with the pressure of Negan’s hands over his shoulders leading him in the direction that he needed to go. Today Negan told them that he was taking them somewhere special, but halfway through the drive both Elizabeth and Peter had to put blindfolds on. Elizabeth was being led by Y/N and Peter was being led by Negan. “Why can she know where we are going?”

“Because I asked her if she would be okay with it, so she knows where we are,” Negan’s deep raspy voice grumbled from behind Peter who huffed loudly. “Just a few more steps and you are going to be okay,” Negan instructed and it felt like they were walking for quite some time. “Watch your step. The ground is gonna feel weird.”

“When can we take these off?” Elizabeth stammered, letting out an uncomfortable breath. Keeping her hands out in front of her trying to prepare herself from not running into something.

“A few more steps,” Negan instructed finally stopping and patting Peter on the shoulders to alert him that they were ready to go. Wherever they were, it was cold out. So Peter easily figured out that they were outside, but what was weird is he thought they had walked into a building at first. “Okay. I think you can take them off now.”

“Finally,” Peter groaned, dramatically pulling the blindfold off letting out an astonished sound when he realized that they were standing at home plate of the baseball stadium that Negan’s team played at. “Holy fucking shit.”

“Peter,” Y/N laughed, helping Elizabeth get her blindfold off. By the expression over Elizabeth’s face Y/N could tell that Elizabeth was in awe of it. Both her children loved sports so when Negan asked her if he could bring the two of them here, she was eager to allow it. And by the looks on their faces? That was all she needed to know that she made the right decision.  

“Mom, this is so fucking cool,” Peter retorted with a snort throwing his hand up in the air to stare out at the slightly snow-covered ground of the field. His big, brown eyes were full of amazement and he bounced somewhat in place. “We’re on the actual field. Most people that end up here go to jail for being where we are. Unless it’s the team, obviously! But we’re nobody and we are standing on the field.”

“Hey,” Negan hushed getting Peter to look back at him. “Don’t say that about yourself. You’re not a nobody. None of you are. All three of you are someone.”

With a smirk, Y/N reached out to squeeze faintly at Negan’s shoulder appreciating hearing him say that to her son. Giving her a wink, Negan leaned in to press his forehead to hers before leaning back.  

“What do you think?” Negan stepped forward, loosely wrapping his arms around both Peter and Elizabeth’s shoulders. Both of the children stepped in closer to him as they gazed upon the stadium from where they were standing on the field. “Obviously, this will be cooler in the summer and spring when I can bring you out here and maybe you will get to enjoy it without the snow.”

“This is really cool,” Elizabeth noted, gazing over at Negan who gave her a wink. Giving them both a firm squeeze, Negan released them and then stepped back to reach for Y/N’s hand to hook his fingers with hers. “How did you do this?”

“Well, I kind of work here,” Negan snickered drawing Elizabeth to roll her eyes and turn away from him. Snorting out, Negan shrugged his shoulders and swallowed down hard. “I thought you two might want to see this since you both love baseball so much. I called in a favor with my coach to let the two of you come here. I have an apartment in the city that the four of us will stay at tonight. So…yeah. I thought you might enjoy getting to experience this.”

“Can I run around?” Peter begged of Negan, looking over his shoulder. Smirking, Negan gave a single nod and watched Peter immediately take off running through the small amount of snow to run around the field.

“You can check out anything you want too,” Negan offered to Elizabeth who stood there for a moment trying to act like the older more mature person over her little brother. That didn’t last long though because soon she was running toward the middle of the field to look out at all the seats that were surrounding them.

“You have provided these two with so much bragging material over these last few weeks,” Y/N declared letting go of Negan’s hand so she could wrap her arm around his waist. Almost instinctively Negan wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in closer to him. “Do they really let you come here whenever you want?”

“Not really,” Negan stammered, smirking with the way that Peter and Elizabeth seemed to be getting a kick out of being here. Peter did a roll on the ground that had Negan snorting out at his antics. “The coach just owes me some favors. I also told him that I was looking to impress my girlfriend’s children.”

“And that worked?” she was surprised to hear that, tipping her head to the side so they could lock eyes with one another.

“Yeah. The team has been trying to get me to date since I lost Lucille. They thought I would play better if I had someone I was with,” Negan claimed, recalling what things were like over the last few years. “Hearing that I had a girlfriend, he immediately jumped on it.”

“So you’re telling the people you work with that I’m your girlfriend, huh?” she inquired, her eyebrows bouncing up in curiosity. Pressing her hand in over the center of his abdomen, she turned in closer to him and couldn’t help but smile. This was all starting to get very official between them.

“Well, you are,” Negan countered leaning down enough to nuzzle his nose in against hers. Depositing a faint kiss over her lips, Negan hummed and lifted his head back up to watch the children. Pointing to the camera that was hanging near Y/N’s chest from the strap, Negan tried to bring her attention to it. “You should be taking photos of them. They are gonna want that bragging material and since their mom takes good photos? Go for it.”

“Yes sir,” she tipped up on her toes to kiss Negan once more. Stepping away from Negan, she started using her camera that she brought to take photos of Peter and Elizabeth while they played. Noticing Negan’s silence, she looked back at him to see that he was eyeing over the stadium. Instead of having that excitement that Elizabeth and Peter had, there was a sadness lingering in his eyes. Snapping a few photos of him without him realizing, she knew that it had to be him thinking about this upcoming season being his last.

“They look like they are having fun,” an older voice called out to them causing them to look back to see the coach of the team approaching them. Moving in beside Negan, the man pat Negan on the shoulder and sighed loudly. Seeing Elizabeth and Peter running around seemed to impress the coach and he couldn’t help but smile. “I take it this means it was a success in impressing the girlfriend’s children?”

“You tell me,” Negan held his hand out to where Elizabeth and Peter were now tossing snow at each other from where the pitcher’s mound was. Y/N lowered the camera and moved in when Negan waved her forward. “Dale, this is my longest friend and my girlfriend, Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Dale outstretched his hand to take Y/N’s in his politely to introduce himself. “You have to be a very special one to finally land this one. I never thought I’d see the day when he’d get with anyone after he lost Lucille.”

“It’s still new,” Negan informed Dale with a whisper causing his eyes to bounce up. “But we’ve known each other most of our lives. We just lost contact for a while. We were best friends growing up.”

“Ah, so we can probably share secrets,” Dale teased Negan elbowing him in the ribs eliciting an uncomfortable laugh from Negan. Bringing his attention back to Y/N, it looked like Dale was searching for something to talk about with her to keep the conversation going. “I take it your children are fans?”

“Big fans,” she explained with a bright smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you after watching you on the screen for so long. Or out in those seats. I’m sure once Peter and Elizabeth realize you’re out here they will be excited to meet you too.”

“I’m not much,” Dale assured her, waving his free hand about. A hearty laugh fell from his throat and it was charming. The coach actually seemed like he was a pretty nice guy and that impressed her. “So…is this guy treating all of you good?”

Negan’s arm hooked loosely around Dale’s shoulders, his thick eyebrows bouncing up after Dale’s question.

“Very good. Negan is an amazing man,” she stressed knowing that Negan was beyond good to her. Clinging to her camera, she sighed loudly and shrugged her shoulders. “Do you two want a photo together?”

“He’ll break the camera, but it’s not a horrible idea,” Negan joked letting out a hiss when Dale elbowed him firmly in the ribs. Both of them laughed, pushing slightly at each other in a moment of fun. The two of them posed for one of the photos before Dale playfully shoved Negan away again.

“You’re a photographer, huh?” Dale was curious when he moved in beside Y/N to look at the photo of the two of them that she took. By the way he was squinting, it looked like Dale was having a hard time focusing on them. Putting his glasses on, he let out a long exhale when the photos became clearer. “Are you any good?”

“She’s very good. And she’s a great writer too,” Negan answered for Y/N, wanting to bring attention to her talents. It had color flooding into Y/N’s face, her eyes lifting from the camera to look up at Negan. “She always wanted to be a journalist when we were growing up. You’d be surprised just how talented she really is.”

“May I?” Dale pointed toward her camera. With a nod, she allowed him to take her camera to look through the photos she had taken. Truthfully? Over the last few years she had gotten self-conscious about the things that she had done. So having this stranger looking at her photos made her feel nervous. Especially since he was Negan’s boss in a way and the coach of a professional baseball team. Taking a moment to look away from the photos, Dale’s eyes looked over his glasses and he locked eyes with Negan. “Why aren’t you hooking her up with a job Negan?”

“I guess that’s a good question,” Negan snickered stepping forward to move in beside Y/N. Curling his arm around her waist, Negan gave her a firm squeeze. The way he smirked drew attention to his dimples and it sent a warmth throughout her body. “It’s one I will have to consider.”

“I have a job,” she alerted them, speaking up with Dale going back to looking at her photos. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so quick to say that. It was a job, but it wasn’t much of a job. She knew that it wasn’t one that would impress others.

“As a photographer? Or a writer?” Dale wondered, giving her his attention in that moment. It had her lips parting and she was considering telling him the truth. But? What would be the point of that? It wouldn’t impress him and it probably would have him thinking less of her. Negan was this famous baseball player. And what was she? So instead of giving him an official answer, she just shook her head and looked away from him. “Then why not use your boyfriend to get what you want in life? He’s got the connections. It’s the least he can do for you.”

“Truthfully? I just appreciate having him in my life,” she claimed, locking eyes with Negan who gave her a smirk. Winking, Negan extended his hand out to hook his fingers with hers firmly. “Just getting to be around him is helping me enjoy my life. I don’t need him to hook me up with something else. I just want to be near him. Negan has brought me a sense of happiness that I haven’t felt in a very long time.”

“Oh, I like this one,” Dale noted, pointing at her before lowering his head back down to look at the photos. A laugh fell from Dale’s lips when he turned the camera to show one of the photos that Y/N had taken of Negan in his black boxer briefs and his opened black button down on the first night they slept together. “Can’t keep your clothes on, can you?”

“Forgot to delete those,” she announced with a warmth flooding to her cheeks when she reached for the camera to politely take it back from Dale who was snickering. Looking to Negan, she lowered the camera down at her side and felt bad that she left those photos on the camera. “Sorry.”

“Oh, he’s not embarrassed,” Dale assured her with a wrinkle of his nose. Pointing to Negan, Dale snapped his fingers together as if he was trying to remember something. “I’ve seen worse from Negan. I was there for that photoshoot of yours that they had you do Negan. Remember that?”

“Ah! Yes! Dale here was perving,” Negan stated with a laugh, stepping in closer to Y/N after she hooked her camera back around her neck to let it rest against her chest. “Giving the photographer ideas for poses. Neither him nor I are shy.”

“This is very true,” Dale rubbed his hands together nodding his head back toward the building. “Do you have a minute to talk about something Negan?”

“Sure. Just let me get the children to come inside with us. I want them to see the locker room,” Negan motioned Dale to wait, looking back over his shoulder. “Liz! Pete! Do you two wanna meet the coach and see the locker room?”

“Fuck yes,” Peter blurt out excitedly eliciting a groan from Y/N with how her son had no filtering system right now. Both of her children ran back to introduce themselves to Dale. Small conversations came from it where it took a while for them to get back into the building, but when they did both Elizabeth and Peter seemed happy to see everything behind the scenes. “This is so cool Negan.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Negan found amusement in how eager both Elizabeth and Peter were to look at everything they could. This was a place he had gotten so used to over the years that he barely noticed the things that they did. They were just part of his environment, but for them? Everything was so new and exciting. “Come on, I’ll show you the clubhouse.”

Waving them to follow him, Negan led them into the area and over toward his player stall where his things were hanging, “This is where I spend a lot of my time, obviously.”

Peter dropped down into the seat that was in front of Negan’s area and spun around letting out an excited breath, “This is so cool.”

“Did you show them the batting cages?” Dale spoke up drawing their attention again with Negan shaking his head. “We have them here for training. I think before you leave you should take them there so they can play around a bit.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Negan motioned Dale to a wait a minute with him turning to Y/N and the children. “You guys can look around. I need to talk to Dale about something real quick here.”

“Take your time,” Elizabeth was gazing over all of the players’ names that were over their individual cubby area, her eyes big while she read each one of them.

Snapping his fingers, Negan pointed at Peter and got him to raise his eyes from where he was looking, “Don’t steal anything, okay?”

“Hey! Why are you pointing at me?” Peter placed his hand in over the center of his chest like he was feigning being offended by what Negan was saying. With a wicked smirk, Negan’s eyes narrowed and Peter chuckled. “I swear, I won’t.”

“Good boy,” Negan winked, back stepping toward the office at the back of the room to go have a discussion with Dale.

Like her children, Y/N walked around the clubhouse, taking her time to admire what everything looked like. Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N could see that Peter was gazing over something that was on one of the benches.

“Hey!” she called out noticing that Peter looked like he was about to swipe it. “What did he just say?”

“I was just kidding!” Peter scoffed with his cheeks blushing over. Lowering it back down to where it was previously, Peter back stepped away and held his hands up in the air now that his mother’s eyes were locked on him. “Seriously mom.”

“I’m not taking my eyes off of you,” she declared, turning to face her son. When she did that she could hear the sounds of Negan and Dale talking through the crack of the door that was left open.

“I kind of need an answer kid,” Dale pushed causing Y/N to look over her shoulder to see that Negan was slouched over in the seat that was in front of Dale’s desk. His head was buried in his hand and Negan looked tense. “The owner is pushing for some kind of response from you. Everyone here wants you to take the offer. I want you to take the offer.”

“I don’t know yet,” Negan grunted, his head raising slowly with him throwing his hand out in the air. “You know I would prefer to play. This is a big decision for someone like me who was just meant to play.”

“I think everyone knows that you would prefer to play. You’re a God out there. You were destined for this shit kid. But we both know that if you have one more serious injury to your knee that you could be walking with a cane for the rest of your life. You’re testing your limits even playing a final season,” Dale reminded Negan who slid down further in the chair. Nervousness overcame him with Negan bouncing his good leg. “You will still be making the same kind of money. You know this sport just as much as I do. If not more. It’s my last year. It’s yours. We should end it right.”

“I really wanted some time to think it over,” Negan exhaled loudly, his eyebrows furrowing with the lines in his forehead growing.

“They’re going to pick someone else Negan if you don’t given them an answer soon,” Dale assured Negan, placing his hands over the top of the desk when he leaned forward to get closer to Negan. “What’s holding you back?”

“A few…things,” Negan swallowed down hard lifting his fingers to pinch at the bridge of his nose. Whatever they were talking about sounded serious and it made her wonder what it was. “Give me until New Years and I’ll have an answer for you.”

“I’ll try and get them to hold out until then,” Dale offered throwing his hands up in the air, confused as to why Negan seemed so uncomfortable. “I think you need to take this offer Negan. It’s the best for your future. It’s best for the team. This was the life you were destined for. The fans love you. The players love you. I think this is the best option for you.”

“Yeah,” Negan bit down on his bottom lip, humming to himself for a second. “Let’s say I answer yes, do you think they will do a few favors for me?”

“Like what?” Dale’s eyebrow arched in curiosity causing Negan to shrug. “If it’s within reason, I’m sure they would. They’ve already pulled so many strings for you as you know. When you wanted to take that time off to be with Lucille, a lot of people wouldn’t have gotten away with that.”

“And I’m thankful for everything they have done for me,” Negan placed his hand in over the center of his chest, patting where it was rested.

“Hey mom!” Peter was loud calling out to Y/N causing Negan to look toward the door. It had her stepping away with a nervous breath knowing that Negan had just caught her eavesdropping on the conversation. Great. She should have just minded her own business.

Shuffling over to Peter, she went to join him to see what he was calling her over for. A few minutes later Negan came back out drawing all of their attention as Dale followed him behind holding two baseballs in his hands that were in protective cases.  

“Come here,” Dale urged the children forward noticing the way their eyes got big when they saw the baseballs were covered in signatures. “Now I usually save these for auctions to make some money for things, but since Negan here says the two of you are such big fans, I thought you might be interested in having these. Just don’t tell anyone how you got them. Or if you do tell them, say this guy got them for you.”

“Seriously?” Peter was thrilled, reaching out to grab the case to look over the ball that was inside. “You’re giving this to us?”

“Do you like it?” Dale was curious and it had Peter nodding immediately. “Then yes. It’s a gift.”

“Thank you so much,” Peter turned to Y/N to show his mother the ball causing her to laugh at how excited he got.

“Here you are,” Dale held the second one out to Elizabeth who gazed between Dale and Negan.

“This is so nice,” Elizabeth finally accepted the ball having her eyes gazing over it with adoration. “Why give us this? We didn’t do anything to deserve it. And I’m sure these cost a ton. Wouldn’t they be better off with someone else? Why us?”

That question got Peter to glare out at Elizabeth making it obvious that he wasn’t ready to give it back after he was gifted it.  

“Why not you?” Negan stammered back, his eyes narrowing when she lifted her head to look at him. “At least we know it’s going to two people that are going to cherish it for the rest of their lives, right? They aren’t going to try to sell it to make a profit.”

“Totally!” Peter answered before Elizabeth could and he eagerly jumped forward to hug Dale. It had the older man gasping out, then letting out a big belly laugh at the excitement from Y/N’s younger son. “Thank you!”

“You remind me of my grandson,” Dale explained with another hearty laugh. Peter pulled back, looking up at Dale with a big cheesy smile. “I like you.”

“At least someone does,” Elizabeth piped in, teasing her brother eliciting an angered breath to fall from him when Peter stepped away from Dale. Reaching out with her free hand that wasn’t holding the ball, she playfully ruffled Peter’s dark hair.

“You two want to see the batting cages?” Dale inquired getting both Elizabeth and Peter to nod. “Follow me then…”

Instead of following Dale, Negan remained standing in the middle of the clubhouse and it made Elizabeth stop, “Are you coming?”

“I want to show your mom something real quick. We’ll be right there,” Negan winked, pushing his hands into his pockets. Dale led the children toward the door and it had Y/N’s head tipping in curiosity.

“You trust him with the children?” Y/N wondered looking back toward the door to see that they were gone.

“I trust that man with my life. He’s a good man,” Negan assured her, moving around Y/N to close the door so they had a moment alone. Having him do that made her nervous. Was this because he had seen that she was eavesdropping? “I need to ask you something.”

“If this is about what I heard, I swear I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop on purpose,” she stammered immediately having Negan’s eyebrows bounce up in amusement. Throwing her hands up, she tried to think of a good excuse, there just wasn’t one. “It’s just…I heard you two talking and I kept listening to it. I know it was wrong, but…”

“I don’t mind,” Negan hushed her, holding his hand up to stop her from continuing. Once again he appeared to be amused with her instead of upset over what happened. “This has nothing to do with that. I just want to ask you something kind of important.”

“Alright,” she felt awkward with Negan stepping in closer to her, towering over her.

“I know you said that you don’t mind all the baggage that comes with being my girlfriend,” Negan started, tipping his head from side to side. Dragging his hand up over her arm, Negan stopped at her shoulder to give it a firm squeeze. “But with this being my last season, I’m going to have a lot of paparazzi, reporters and fans around. All the time. I need to know that you are okay with that. People might start trying to get into your personal life. It will probably be short lived, but people are…intense. I need to know that you will be okay with that.”

“What exactly are you expecting?” she outstretched her hands to caress in over Negan’s arms hearing him breathing loudly. “Are you going to dump me if I have a certain answer?”

“God, no,” Negan shook his head, refusing the idea of that. “It’s just, I really want to be with you. I want us to try something here and give it a chance. But I know my life is hard. Lucille hated it. A lot. At first she thought it was cute, but people suck sometimes and they will get in our business. Even if we try to be private. It can be overwhelming.”

“I’m not with you because you’re a celebrity Negan,” she reminded him, it had Negan nodding his head about sucking in a sharp breath of air. “I’m with you because you make me smile. You make me happy. You bring a lot of happiness to my children. And it’s only been a few weeks. You could be a celebrity. You could be poor. I don’t care because all I want to do is be near you. I don’t care what comes with it. As long as I’m with you? That’s all that matters to me.”

“I love you,” Negan breathed in a low rumble of a voice causing her heart to hammer in her chest. Sweeping his index finger in underneath her chin, Negan tipped her head back and lowered down slowly. Clearly he liked her answer. “So much.”

Bringing their lips together in a passionate sweep, Negan hummed against her lips when she braced her hands against his chest to balance herself. Palming down over the center of Negan’s chest had him smiling when he broke the kiss.

“You have no idea how much I’m in awe of you,” she insisted, stroking her fingers over the side of his face. It impressed her the man that Negan was considering where he was in his life. There were a lot of things that could have made him a horrible person, but he wasn’t. At least not with her or her family. Taking a look around, she swallowed down and bit down on her bottom lip. “Are there cameras in here?”

“I…what?” Negan snickered, the bridge of his nose wrinkling in curiosity since that was a very random question to be asking him. Nodding her head about, she waited for and answer and he gazed back over his shoulder. “I mean, considering the teams gets naked in this room, not really…”

“Good,” she bit down on her bottom lip reaching her hand out to hook her fingers into the waistband of Negan’s black jeans getting him to stumble forward in closer to her. Tugging firmly on his belt had his lips parting with his eyebrows bouncing up in curiosity. “You deserve the world, you know that?”

“Hey,” Negan rumbled while she pulled apart the belt in his pants. Grunting, Negan realized she wasn’t gentle about the way that she was pulling apart the material of his pants. Fluttering his eyes to a close, Negan felt her dipping her hand beneath his pants to palm over his manhood through the material of his boxer briefs. Cupping her face in his large hands, Negan got her attention back on him and he shook his head. “I have the world right here in my hands.”

“Fuck,” she slurred out, her eyes locking with his. Hearing him say that took her breath away. With him saying that, she actually believed that. It had been a long time since she had felt that from anyone. Meeting Negan’s lips in a desperate kiss had him wrapping her up in his arms. There was something in the way that Negan looked at her and kissed her that made her feel like the only person that mattered in the world. “Everything about you is perfect.”

“Not everything,” Negan mused against her lips, his words vibrating against her flesh. Again her hands tugged at his pants getting them further open with her pushing down the front of his boxer briefs to get his semi-erect manhood in her palm to caress over it in slow, firm strokes.

“You have such a nice cock,” she commented eliciting a wicked smirk from Negan who lowered his head to watch her touching him. “I can’t believe I didn’t jump on it sooner.”

“To be fair, you tried. Many times,” Negan reminded her, sweeping his thumb over her bottom lip. Growling out with her lips sucking at the tip of his thumb, Negan’s long eyelashes fluttered to a close. “The world just didn’t want it to happen.”

“Completely unfair,” she gave Negan one final kiss before carefully lowering down to her knees. Stroking over his body, she enjoyed watching his reactions to her touching him. Negan was a very verbal and visual lover. If he liked something, he let you know. Sure, he could still be cocky at times, but he wasn’t afraid to show you what he liked. Pressing faint kisses against the tip of his manhood had him licking his lips with his fingers loosely curling around the back of her head. Each kiss grew in wetness having Negan breathing heavily before her stroking his free hand against the side of her face while she pampered his body.

“So good,” Negan grunted with her wet kisses that had the warmth of her tongue dragging out against the sensitive tip. Starting to take the tip between her lips, she swirled her tongue around his body having his muscles in his ass and thighs flexing drawing him forward toward her. Humming against his flesh, every bob of her head she allowed more of him into the damp heat of her mouth. Dragging her tongue along the underside of his shaft with every pull back had him moaning out. Taking her time to vary between giving him a blowjob along with pressing hot, sloppy kisses against the head had him bucking his hips up toward her. Having her starting to take him back further in her throat had Negan biting down on his bottom lip firmly trying to hold back the sounds he wanted to make. “Enough.”

Urging her from his body with a wet popping sound had her staring up at him with her big eyes waiting for what it was that he wanted. With her lips shimmering and her breathing heavy, Negan leaned down to hook his arms around her to get her up to her feet.

“Everything okay?” she licked her lips, letting out a surprised sound with Negan turning her to face the wall. Bracing her hands against the wall, her eyes closed tightly with Negan swiftly pulling at the back of her pants to get the material down over her bottom. Hooking his left arm around her hips, Negan pulled her flush back against him having her whimper with the warmth of him pressing against her flesh. Faint kisses were being pressed at her neck with Negan using his free hand to reach between them to lead his body into hers. Gasping out, her eyes closed at the stretching sensation she felt and she hummed out. Tipping her head back giving Negan better access to her neck and her jawline with his moan vibrating against her flesh.

“Fuck,” Negan winced, his right hand reaching up to hook his fingers with hers. Starting with slow, steady thrusts, Negan nuzzled his nose in against the side of her neck sporadically pressing kisses against her skin.

Closing her eyes, she tried to stifle her moans with every forward thrust he made against her with his hips bucking up against her bottom. Squeezing her fingers tighter around his, she knew that they were stepping into dangerous territory considering where they were, but it was a moment where he truly had her swooning over him.

“You mean everything to me,” Negan grunted, nipping at her jawline drawing a cry from her parted lips. “I would do anything for you. I hope you know that.”

Reaching back with her left hand, she curled her hand around his body to urge his movements to go faster. Winces filled the clubhouse with her starting to meet his thrusts, bouncing her hips back against his leaving a smacking sound filling the air.

“Fuck,” Negan moaned, doing his best to stay quiet with her movements determined against his. A whine fell from her when he pulled his hips back leaving her with an empty feeling. A moment later, she was being turned so that he could press her back against the wall. Breathlessly, Negan stepped forward and curled his fingers around her wrists to press them back against the wall firmly. Hovering his lips over hers had her whimpering involuntarily wanting him to kiss her. “You are fucking beautiful.”

“So are you,” she tipped up, dragging her lips over his having him smile against her lips. “We need to make this quick because the last thing we need is the three of them coming back looking for us.”

“Yes ma’am,” Negan hummed, finally bringing their lips together giving her what she wanted. Working her pants further down her legs, Negan adjusted his position. Adjusting her wrists, he made sure to clasp them in one hand while his other hand reached down to grab a firm hold of his erection. Breaking the kiss to look down between them, Negan teased the swollen tip of his cock over her clitoris having her arch her hips forward toward him. “You’re something else. Y’know that?”

“And you’re teasing me,” she frowned letting out a gasp. Leading his length back between her thighs, it had her head tipping back when he sank into her. Having her thighs close together made it a tighter fit and it had Negan moaning out immediately. Pressing his forehead to hers, Negan started thrusting into her again and again working to get them both to a release. Whimpering out, she did her best to wiggle at her wrists wanting to touch Negan, but he was keeping her where she was. There was some force being squeeze at her hips helping to aide her hips forward and backward with him fucking her face to face. Lowering her head, she watched his lengthy cock thrusting into her time and time again with her muted cries falling from her throat. “Holy shit.”

“Too much?” Negan started slowing down his thrusts which caused her to immediately shake her head begging him to keep moving. Dropping his head back drew attention to the prominent vein at the side of Negan’s neck that was bulging with her gasps growing louder with every movement he made inside of her.

“Let me finish,” she begged knowing that while she enjoyed this position, there was a position that she wanted to try in here. Stepping back allowed his length to pull from her body with his cock bouncing. Allowing her hands to drop at her sides, she shakily led Negan over toward the seat in front of his locker area. Shoving him into the seat let her look him over and it was so attractive with the way he was staring at her. Turning her back to him, she carefully moved in over him balancing her hands on his hairy thighs. Helping her lower herself down over his swollen erection had her whimpering out with the sensation of him filling her again. “That’s good.”

“You’re so wet,” Negan slurred against her earlobe, his right arm hooking around her hips to help aid her movements while she bounced herself over Negan’s cock leaving a wet smacking sound to fill the clubhouse. Hearing her cries getting louder, Negan knew she was reaching that point where she was right on the verge of orgasming.

“Fuck,” she panted, dropping her head back against Negan’s shoulder having him kissing in over her jawline when she took all of him into her. Simply circling her hips in small motions had him moaning against her flesh and it sent chills throughout her body. Knowing that they had to quicken this, she went back to rolling her hips firmly over Negan which had him moaning out. Almost knowing that she was right on the verge, Negan reached around with his other hand to circle her sensitive bundle of nerves with his rough fingertips. “Negan…”

“That’s it,” Negan growled, tugging at her earlobe with his teeth with the sensation of her warmth contracting around his cock. Breathlessly she continued to move her hips over him, not allowing herself that moment of pure ecstasy with her eagerly trying to get him to reach his orgasm. Wincing, Negan felt his body tensing up, his member starting to throb and twitch inside of her. Her movements slowed down with the warmth of his release filling her. Her fingers were digging so hard into his thighs at this point that he was certain she’d leave a mark, but he was okay with it.

Shakily pulling her hips up had her whole body trembling and Negan helped her carefully raise to her feet. Turning her to him, he peppered her with loving kisses before reaching down to pull his pants back up over his hips.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Negan picked her up in his arms surprising her with just how strong he appeared to be when he took her to sit on one of the sinks in the bathroom. Cleaning her up, she couldn’t help but be impressed with him and the way that he took care of her. Once he was done, he helped her pull her pants back up her legs and pampered her with a few more kisses. “Will you be okay for a minute? I probably need to clean up my area just in case we got some body fluids in places they aren’t meant to be.”

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him with a smirk, playfully reaching out to smack his ass. It had him stopping and looking back at her with an amused expression. “I can’t help it, you put it in front of me and I’m going to react.”

“I’ll remember that,” Negan chuckled, leaving her alone to herself. Squeezing her fingers around the sink, she took notice of how her legs were still tremoring. It was certainly a different experience having sex with Negan in a very public place like this. Sure, when she was younger she had sex with Joel many times in a locker room, but they were still young. It had been a very long time since she had ever done something like that. Great. There she was thinking about Joel again. That seemed to be happening all the time no matter how often she tried to get herself to stop doing that. Footsteps entered the room making her lift her eyes up to see Negan rubbing his hands together. “All clean. You wanna go check on the kids?”

“You might have to hold me up. My legs feel like Jello,” she declared having a wolfish smile expand over his lips. With a single nod, Negan moved in beside her to wrap his arm around her mid-section, helping to brace her against him.

Walking unhurriedly with Negan, they went to where Dale was allowing both the children to take turns with the batting cage so they could watch each other. After a few tries, they asked Negan to do it so they could see him do his work in person. By then she could brace her weight on her legs and she let him go. It was kind of amazing how strong Negan really was. Every hit that collided surrounded them with a booming sound with the baseball hitting the metal with a firm thud. If Negan didn’t have a bad knee, she was certain that he still had plenty of years still left in him to play the sport.

After Dale announced that he had to leave, they stopped at the batting cages. Finalizing things, Negan gave them a quick tour of the places they hadn’t seen yet. Negan promised that he would bring them back during the season and then they left.

Inside the car, she listened to the children excitedly talk about what just happened along with calling a few of their friends. This was a big deal for them and she knew that. So she allowed them to have that moment. Before they got to Negan’s apartment, Negan picked up some pizzas for them. When they pulled up to the building that she assumed Negan’s apartment was at it actually gave her a sense of anxiety. It was high end. Very high end. In the expensive part of the city and in a way she felt like she didn’t belong there. Having Negan taking them up on the elevator had the children excited to know that Negan had the whole top floor to himself.

“Holy shit,” Peter walked off the elevator, stopping in his tracks with Negan walking off into the apartment like it wasn’t a big deal. Surprise flooded her veins at the sight of Negan’s apartment. It had had a high ceiling, with large glass panels to serve as full length windows to stare out at the city. It was the twenty-sixth floor so they were high up enough as it was. Looking at both her children, they were just as shocked as she was. “This is fucking huge.”

“This time, I agree with him,” Elizabeth noted with Y/N stroking her fingers over the top of Peter’s head. Walking around the corner, Negan stopped in his tracks throwing his hands up motioning for them to follow him further into the apartment. “This is your home?”

“For part of the year. I have this, a small waterfront property and then a home that my late wife wanted really bad. It’s a lot of land in the middle of nowhere. That’s probably my biggest place and the home I spend the most time at,” Negan informed them waving them to start moving with him toward the kitchen area of the apartment. He had a dining room area and a few stools that were lined up along the side of an island which is where they all took a seat.

“And by small, what do you mean exactly?” Elizabeth was curious because small obviously meant something very different to her than it did Negan. “Like bigger or smaller than my mom’s home?”

“Smaller. It’s just one floor. I don’t need much when I’m by the water. Give me a seat, sit me down next to the ocean and I’m in my happy place,” Negan explained, handing out the pizza, but he noticed that everyone was eyeballing every part of his apartment.

There was a large sectional couch in the living room area with a gigantic television. In the distance they could see that there was a door open to an entertainment area that Peter was desperately trying to wiggle back and forth on his stool to get a look at.

“Before you break one of your bones by falling, go on. Go look,” Negan instructed Peter who eagerly shot up from the stool to run across Negan’s apartment to go take a look at everything that was inside. There were multiple arcade games, a ping pong table, a pool table and a video gaming area off in the far corner.

Elizabeth joined in beside Peter at the door finding herself amazed with Negan’s set up as well, “This is insane.”

“You should see the balcony,” Negan grumbled with a mouthful of pizza, pointing off in the direction where they could go out onto the balcony. Scrambling to go look had Negan chuckling and Y/N could tell that her children were no longer interested in pizza. “Well at least they are having fun.”

“Sure,” Y/N didn’t know what to say with Negan polishing off his first piece of pizza and reaching for another. “Negan, you are…fucking loaded.”

There was a silence between them with the chews of Negan slowing down. His hazel eyes seemed uncomfortable with his thick eyebrows bouncing up, “Is that a bad thing?”

“No, I just…” she felt stupid considering she knew that he was a famous baseball player that was the main draw of the team that he was currently on. Especially now that he announced his early retirement from his injury. “I just think about the house you rented back at home and you…”

“This isn’t me…” Negan threw his hand up in the air looking around at the place. “I mean yes, I really like the view from the balcony, the game room is totally me and the bedroom is mostly me. But I didn’t need something this big. They just persuaded me to get this apartment so I could do some kind of special for a magazine.”

“Elizabeth probably has that around somewhere,” she attempted to make a joke knowing that she was actually uncomfortable being here and it was hard to explain or even think, but she was. “You have three homes?”

“For now,” Negan answered her with a slow nod of his head. “Sometimes I need a change of scenery so it’s nice having the three of them, but I think when I’m done playing I will probably sell this apartment. It’s lonely here anyways. I don’t like how cold everything feels here. This is just the place that I would have interviews at. Photoshoots. Lucille decorated the other two homes to feel homey and they are much more comfortable.”

“I bet you brought a lot of women back here to get laid,” she commented having Negan swallowing hard and lowering his pizza to give her an awkward glance. “I’m sorry. I’m just saying you bringing anyone here would probably have someone immediately wanting to have sex with you.”

“Is everything okay?” Negan inquired, pushing his plate slightly forward having her let out a tremoring breath.

“Mom!” Elizabeth called out to her mother, waving her hand to have Y/N come out with them to see the view. “This is amazing. You have to come see this. It’s crazy.”

Getting up slowly from her seat, Y/N noticed the way that Negan seemed tense when she walked away to join the children out on the oversize balcony that overlooked the city. It was near sunset so the light was hitting the skyline a certain way that had light reflecting and it looked absolutely beautiful being there.

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N could see that Negan came out onto the balcony with them and was leaning back against the glass paneling watching them with his arms folded out in front of his chest. Both children flooded Negan with questions about this apartment which Negan happily responded to. After all the questions, they went back to eat their food and then had Negan give them a tour around his apartment. Negan set the children up with the rooms that they were going to be staying in and toward the end of the night the children were in the game room while she was sitting out on the balcony with Negan. It was dark outside with the lights of the city drawing her attention.

“So…” Negan breathed out cuddling his nose in against the side of her neck having her laying in his arms in the lounge chair they were sitting on. “Are you ever gonna tell me what’s going on? Or am I gonna have to guess?”

“It’s complicated,” she explained to him feeling guilty that she had immediately shut down when she entered Negan’s apartment. “I was poor most of my life Negan. Even now, I’m just keeping my head over water. And then I come here and I’ve never felt like I didn’t belong somewhere more.”

“That’s silly. You’re always welcome in my home,” Negan assured her letting out a disappointed breath when she turned to face him, her eyes full of worry. “I don’t care about money. Or this whole status idea that people put on things. You and I grew up in the same place.”

“Yeah, but I can see the headlines now. Negan Smith hooks up with a gold-digging gutter slut,” she caused Negan to choke with how she vented about things.

“If someone says that about you I will happily fucking knock them on their pathetic asses for saying something so fucking stupid,” Negan suggested reaching out to hook his fingers with hers, bringing her hands up to pepper kisses over the backs of them. “You’re not a gold digger. I know that.”

“I don’t belong in a place like this Negan. You should be with someone…” she began feeling very down on herself, but Negan curled his finger in underneath her chin to get her to look at him. “I’m a nobody, Negan.”

“You’re very much a somebody,” Negan huffed out, sliding in closer to her to sweep his fingers over the side of her face drawing her closer to him. “In fact, you’re one of the only people I give a fuck about in this world. So you’re one of the most important people in the world for me.”

“Negan,” she frowned knowing that he was really stressing how special she was and with him palming in over the side of her face it had her leaning into his touch. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the way his fingers sank around the back of her neck to sweep at her skin. “You’re one thing.”

“I’m the only thing that matters,” Negan cut her off before she could let her thoughts linger any further about things when it came to money. “This was the life that you wanted. Isn’t it? To live in the city, be a famous journalist and focus on your skills in photography? What makes you believe you don’t deserve this life?”

“The last thirty plus years?” she suggested with a frown hearing Negan snort and let out a long sigh. “I’m trash Negan.”

“If anyone else was saying that about you, I’d knock them on their ass,” Negan retorted with a scoff, hating to hear that she was talking about herself like that. “You’re not that. At all. You’re special. You’ve made a good life for yourself and your home is very nice. You just had a stone thrown in your river and it changed the direction you wanted life to go, but that doesn’t make you any less special. Y’know?”

Staying silent, Y/N wasn’t exactly sure what to say to Negan. Getting up from the chair, Negan held his hand out to her. Accepting it, Negan pulled her up to her feet and led her over to the edge of the balcony. Outstretching his hands, Negan held onto the railing while standing behind her allowing her to look out at the city.

“If anyone deserves a life like this, it’s you,” Negan informed her with a long exhale, depositing faint kisses over the side of her face with her leaning back into his warmth. “You’re hard working. You’re a good mom. You’re a good person. You’ve gone through a lot of shit. Stop thinking the worst about yourself and for once realize that you deserve good shit in your life. Allow yourself a fucking break. Because if you don’t give yourself one? No one else is gonna.”

----

Tags: @chainsawsangel @fancypeacepersona @violent-darkness @negansbestie @elegantfanficluv

@sanctuaryforthelost @dead-of-niight @dilfsandmartinis @jennydehavilland

[skyeconch]

[Game night]

Y/N : Jeff!

Y/N : get off tinder! We’re playing a game!

J : for the last time— it’s █████! Not Jeff or whatever names starts with j!

Y/N : I literally have no idea what you’re talking about

J : you— anyways I’ve got no matches on this godforsaken app. These females don’t want me

J : and I’m a decent nice guy, if I’m doing this bad, imagine how bad Curly’s doing 🙄

Curly, smacks lips : okay 😐

Y/N : what do you even have to offer a woman? A five inch d!ck?

Daisuke : :O

J : 😑

J : you know I’m just really grateful that you rounded up instead of down. Most people don’t do that for me, that was nic—

Y/N : yeah, yeah no problem

Curly : nothing wrong with five

J : Ok. No. But seriously— I mean— I have plenty to offer.

J : because number one— I have a car.

Y/N : It’s Curly’s car 😑

Curly : MY car 😐

J : number two— I can drive. And I mean what more do you need to do these days?

Y/N : I mean— I don’t know. Maybe change your name?? And maybe stay 20 feet away from people?? Or just don’t engage with people?? Move to places with 0 population??

Swansea, butts in : yeah, yeah you’re a real catch. I call *drops some chips*

Daisuke : you can’t call :((

Swansea : what the fuck are we even playing?

Anya : we’re playing Go Fish. But instead of saying “Go Fish” we say, “Go Dale” :)

Y/N : God bless his soul

Curly : y’all have any jacks?

Daisuke : you asked that last turn— GO DALE

Curly : damn it

Y/N : don’t worry, Jennifer—

J : it’s █████ 😐

Y/N : —JDP445 ☺️

J : 😶

Y/N : like I said, don’t worry, you’re not missing out on much

Y/N : y’know I was married once!

Curly : really???

Daisuke : tell us your love story!

Anya, rememberers Y/N’s last psychological evaluation : oh no. Please don’t ask them that right no—

J : SHUT UP!

Curly : █████! Don’t yell! Uhh go ahead, y/n

Y/N : 1956 😌 Las Vegas 😌

Curly, sees Daisuke’s open cards : You DO have a jack!

Daisuke : oopsies

Y/N : —she was a dancer and I had just won a 5 thousand dollars hand of blackjack!

Y/N : she insisted we wed by sunrise ☺️

Y/N : she tried to pickpocket me the whole time ☺️

Curly : I guess that is beautiful?? In a way??

Y/N : her mobster boyfriend found us in the bridal suite of the Fremont Hotel

Y/N : and splattered her ALL over the wall ☺️

Anya : you just had to ask, huh 😑

Y/N : I was just happy I didn’t have to share my 5 thousand dollars 😌

[daryltwdixon]

The Ruins of Us: Chapter 27

summary: As tensions rise in the group over Randy’s fate, you find yourself caught in a web of difficult choices and long-buried truths. In a flashback, a quiet night leads to violence as Daryl faces an ambush, realizing he's being targeted to send a message—one tied to his past choices and his unresolved guilt.

no warnings apply, but lmk if you think I missed any

x flash forward x

You climb the stairs to the house, each step heavier than the last, your chest tightening with the sadness of Randy’s fate. The wind feels colder against your skin, and it mirrors the dread in your heart. You wonder, briefly, if Dale could manage to sway anyone’s mind. Would someone else stand up for Randy’s life? But deep down, you know. It’s dangerous to send him back, no matter how "good" he might seem. Thirty men showing up to the farm—it wouldn’t be survival. It would be a massacre. And if Randy’s story was true, the things they would do to you all… Your fingers tremble slightly at the thought. Although you can’t help the lingering feeling of what might happen if he was dropped in the middle of nowhere, to fend for himself, miles away. The options mulled in your brain, there had to be a way. It would rip this group apart if someone didn’t act.

As you reach the porch, your eyes lock on Shane’s. They aren’t dark or filled with the intensity you’ve come to expect. Instead, there’s a dullness, almost a boredom, like he doesn’t understand why this conversation even needs to happen.

“You two keep wanderin’ off,” he says, pointedly. His voice cuts through the cool air, but you barely hear it over the weight in your chest.

You avoid his gaze, your voice quiet, but firm. “Ain’t none of your concern, Shane,” you say, stepping past him, feeling his stare linger on your back.

The screen door slams behind Daryl as he trails behind you and everyone else. As you step into the cozy warmth of the sitting room, it feels wrong—like a room that should hold peace but instead holds only the weight of impossible decisions. The beautiful fireplace, the soft light casting golden hues on the couches—it’s all just a backdrop for the tension that presses down on everyone like a vice.

Daryl’s fingers gently wrap around yours, pulling you to the side before you enter the room. You look up at him, searching his eyes. There’s something unspoken there—a shared sadness, a quiet apology for what he fears might be inevitable. He holds your gaze, the moment stretching out longer than usual, and for a second, you wonder what he’s thinking. Maybe it’s regret for coming back. Maybe it’s sadness because you knew Randy before all this, and now that connection means nothing in a world gone dark. He lets go after a reassuring squeeze, and looks to the group, leaning against an entry table. You want to ask, but Glenn’s soft voice pulls you both back to the grim reality.

“So, how do we do this?” he says gently, his black hair shining in the golden light that casts through the windows, “Just take a vote?”

Andrea looks to Rick, asking if the vote needs to be unanimous. Some people speak up, Lori saying it should be majority rules, but Rick stops them, “Let’s just see where everybody stands, then we can talk through the options,” his voice is gentle, kind. He wants this to be an open room of discussion. 

Of course, Shane speaks up first, his gruff Georgia accent ringing through the room with clarity, “Well, where I sit, there’s only one way to move forward,” you’re not sure how you didn’t see it when he had you at the barn, but his face is pockmarked from what looks like a punches, asphalt burns, and cuts. You wonder briefly about how yesterday went, when Rick and him took Randy to drop him in a safe spot.

Dale speaks up immediately following him, “Killing him, right?” he demands, bewilderment clouding his voice, “I mean why even bother to even take a vote? It’s clear the way the winds blowing,” 

You bite your lip, looking to Daryl. You really did feel for Dale, his need for justice–for fairness. You wished you were back in the real world where Randy would actually get a fair trial. But this was the real world now. Violent. Risky. You were afraid having him here put you all in danger regardless. His group could be out there trying to find them, tracking him down and finding you all here with him tied up. 

Daryl glances up to meet your eye as he chews the inside of his lip too. You’re mirrors of each other for a moment before your attention turns back to Dale.

“Well,” Rick says, his tone getting more frustrated, “if the people believe we should spare him, I wanna know,” his hand is up, directing, serious.

“Well, I can tell you it’s a small group,” Dale says sadly, “Maybe just me…Glenn and Y/N,” 

Your head snaps up at the mention of your name, eyes going wide. Glenn looks up at Dale, but you can’t see his expression. Dale’s face falls as he looks at him.

“Look I–” Glenn begins, hesitating, “I think you’re pretty much right about everything–all the time–but this–” 

Dale cuts him off, “They’ve got you scared!”

Glenn’s arm points out toward the window, “He’s not one of us,” he says, “And we’ve lost too many people already,”

Then Dale meets your wide eyed look, still frozen, unsure what you did that gave him hope. You feel everyone’s eyes on you. You don’t say anything, just waiting for Dale to explain himself.

Dale’s eyes are wide with determination as he looks around the room. "Y/N knows him! Knows he's a good kid!" His voice is louder now, cutting through the gasps and whispers spreading around the room.

"You knew this kid?" Shane's snarl breaks the silence, his eyes narrowing as they settle on you, heat rising in his voice.

Your throat tightens under the weight of everyone’s stares. You can practically feel their eyes boring into you. Rick’s voice is low but sharp as he steps closer, his tone one of quiet betrayal. "What the hell, Y/N? And you didn’t say anything?"

You take a steadying breath, your heart pounding as you glare at Dale before turning to Rick. "I only knew him for about 30 minutes, at a college party," you explain, trying to keep your voice even. Your eyes shift back to Dale, your patience wearing thin. You still don’t know how the hell he figured this out—nosy old man.

"I knew him for one night, and yeah, he was a good kid back then ," you continue, turning your attention back to Rick. "But that was before everything went to hell. This world changes people. We can’t risk his people showing up here either way. We don’t want him bringing them down on us, but what if they find us first?"

Shane’s eyes are still locked on you, burning with suspicion. You feel your own frustration rise as his glare deepens.

"And don’t you give me that look," you snap at Shane, unable to hold back any longer. "You were there too, remember? You broke up the damn party that night, but you were too busy being smug and obsessed with me to even notice the kid. Save for the fact you thought I was gonna slut it up and go home with him."

The second the words leave your mouth, you know you’ve said too much. The room goes deathly quiet, the tension thickening like a storm cloud ready to burst. Daryl stiffens beside you. Everyone else is frozen, glancing between you and Shane, piecing together the history you hadn’t meant to spill out so carelessly. You knew people had an inclination of it, hell when he was actually nice a few weeks ago it wouldn’t have mattered what people knew or thought. 

Rick finally clears his throat, trying to reel the room back in before it spirals. His tone is measured, but there’s a new edge to it. “This isn’t about your past with Shane,” he says, looking directly at you. “We’re here to figure out what to do with Randall,”

The room doesn’t quite recover its focus. The unspoken knowledge of your history with Shane lingers, adding a layer of tension to the decision ahead. But with Rick steering things back to Randy, the discussion moves on—though you can feel the weight of everyone’s silent judgments, questions, and curiosities hanging thick in the air.

Dale is fidgeting with his hat in his hand, and asks Maggie what she thinks. She looks around, then quietly asks Rick, “Couldn’t we continue keepin’ ‘em prisoner?” 

“Just another mouth to feed,” Daryl grumbles beside you.

“It may be a lean winter,” Hershel pipes up. There’s talks about rationing better, keeping Randall as an asset to work the farm. Someone mentions an escort always on him, and you huff a laugh, like anyone would want that job .

“I don’t think anyone should be walking around with this guy,” Rick says, raising his hand to silence everyone. Daryl leans back against the entry table, arms folded over his chest. You bump him quietly with your shoulder, trying to read him. He glances at you, his face unchanging before he looks back to the group.

“We can’t exactly put chains around his ankles–sentence him to hard labor,” Andrea says, and she’s right. You couldn’t do that to another human being. 

“Look,” Shane says, softer now, “Say we let 'em join us, right? Maybe–maybe he’s helpful, maybe he’s nice ,” he makes a sarcastic face like even he wouldn’t believe it, “We let our guard down and maybe he runs off, brings back his thirty men,”

You watch as Daryl studies him with a hardness outlining his features. He’s thinking hard about something. You wish you could ask him now.

“So the answer is to kill him?” Dale demands, “to prevent a crime he may never even attempt?

“If we do this, we’re saying there’s no hope, rule of law is dead, there is no civilization.” Dale goes on, his tone frustrated, hopeless, angry. You hear Shane mutter under his breath, rolling his eyes. There’s talk of driving him off further, leaving him further away. 

“What’s up?” you whisper to Daryl. He looks at you biting the inside of his lip. You glance between his lips and his eyes, waiting for him to answer. He shakes his head, but keeps his eyes on you, softening. Later, you almost hear him say. Your eyes stay on him, searching, questioning. But eventually you nod.

Your ears prick back to the discussion at the topic of what to do with a body .

“Woah, hold on, hold on!” Dale calls, “you’re talking about this like it’s already been decided!”

“We could talk about it all day,” Daryl finally says, “going around in circles, you just wanna go around in circles again?”

“THIS IS A YOUNG MAN’S LIFE!” Dale yells, “And it is worth more than a five minute conversation.” his voice raises, ending sharply on the last word. He goes on and on, he’s upset for the kid, you really do understand. And he’s trying to do the right thing. There’s bickering back and forth, no real answers coming from anything. 

“Stop it!” Carol’s shaky voice shoots through the mix of voices, “Just stop it. I’m sick of everybody arguing and fighting. I didn’t ask for this. You can't ask us to decide something like this. Please, decide. Either of you, both of you. Leave me out of it,” 

Dale begins to retort back, but Rick holds his hand to stop him. He asks if anyone wants the floor to state their case for once and for all. Everyone is silent, and your thoughts race at the million arguments that can be made for him. Keep him, and his group can come looking for him. Or he takes the chance to run off to them, bringing them here himself. Release him, and he dies all alone, but he at least would have a chance at survival. 

Of course it’s Dale who steps forward, claiming we don’t kill the living. That if we do this, the world we knew is dead. Survival of the fittest. He’s pleading now, his eyes misty. 

“This isn’t who we are,” he says finally.

You lean into Daryl without thinking, your head coming to rest against his shoulder. It’s too much to have on anyone’s shoulders, to decide a man’s fate. You feel Daryl lower his head to yours, his presence steady, but you can sense the tension still humming through him. The room is still, save for Dale’s pleading words, but they are falling on deaf ears. In your heart, you want to side with Dale. You wish for the world he’s fighting to protect—a world of fairness, justice, and hope. But you can’t. The images of Randy’s people flash through your mind, and you see death, destruction, cruelty. Dale’s world is gone, and you know it.

“He’s right,” Andrea says softly, “we should try to find another way,” 

Dale leaves on the note of disappointment, disgust, and sadness when he says his final words, the rest of the group in quiet resignation of their answer. As he’s passing you and Daryl by the door, he stops, and puts his hand on Daryl’s shoulder, “You’re right, this group is broken,”

x flashback x 

Daryl 

The night was quiet as Daryl made his way lazily down the street. He couldn’t sleep, too many thoughts buzzing through his head. It must've been around 2AM, but he hadn’t checked. His boots scraped against the cracked pavement, each step slow and heavy, the weight of everything pressing down on his shoulders. He jammed his hands deep into his pockets, feeling the rough edges of his lighter pressing against his fingers. Another cigarette wasn’t going to help, but hell, nothing would. Not after that phone call.

Weeks—you’d been calling for weeks. And when he finally picked up, he could barely say a damn thing. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to talk to you—he did. More than anything. But the words had stuck in his throat, the guilt curling tight in his chest until it choked him. He knew pushing you away was the only way to keep you safe, to keep you out of Merle’s mess, but that didn’t make it easier. He replayed the conversation over and over in his head, your voice small on the other end, asking if he was okay, asking why he hadn’t called back. He had nothing for you. Just silence.

His jaw clenched as he walked, the humid air sticking to his skin. He needed to clear his head, but all he could think about was you. The way you sounded so hurt, the way he had nothing to give. Pushing you away had felt like shit, but what else could he do?

Up ahead, the faint glow of headlights caught his eye. There was a car idling near the curb, engine low and rumbling in the otherwise still night. Daryl slowed his pace, eyes narrowing as he approached. Something about the car felt off. The street was practically dead—there was no reason for anyone to be sitting around this late. His instincts kicked in, telling him to be careful, but he kept moving forward, his fingers itching for the knife he always kept strapped to his belt.

As he drew closer, the car door creaked open, and two guys stepped out. They moved slowly, deliberately, like they’d been waiting for him. Daryl’s muscles tensed, but he kept his pace steady, not giving them the satisfaction of seeing him react. He didn’t recognize them, but it didn’t matter. He could smell trouble on them a mile away. They weren’t rushing, but they were coming for him—that much was clear. The first guy, tall and wiry, had a cocky swagger to his step. The second one hung back, broader, his eyes dark and assessing.

Daryl kept his head down, his pace steady. But a voice cut through the silence.

“You one of them Dixon brothers?” the wiry one said, his tone low and taunting.

Daryl stopped, his eyes flicking between the two men. His blood ran hot, anger already rising. He didn’t know these guys, but their intent was written all over their faces. They were looking for trouble, and he wasn’t about to back down.

Daryl kept his eyes on them, but didn’t stop walking. “Who’s askin’?”

The two men exchanged a glance, a smirk playing on the lips of the taller one. “Doesn’t matter who’s askin’. We’re here to send you a message.”

Daryl’s jaw clenched, heart rate picking up as he scanned the street around him. No one else in sight. Just him, these two, and whatever they were about to bring. A part of him bristled at the idea of being sent a message, like he was some kind of errand boy who had to answer to anyone.

He stopped a few paces away, his eyes narrowing as the first guy stepped forward. “A message, huh?” he growled, the words sharp in his throat. “From who?”

The guy shrugged, his smirk widening. “Doesn’t matter. Just need to make sure you get the point.”

Daryl felt a flicker of something dark in his gut. He didn’t know who these guys were, or why they were sent after him, but he didn’t care. His fists curled tighter at his sides, the frustration he’d been trying to bury now bubbling to the surface. The guilt about you, the weight of protecting Merle, all of it was starting to burn through him, and these guys had picked the wrong night to mess with him.

“You think I’m gonna stand here and listen to this shit?” Daryl spat, his voice low and cold. “Tell whoever sent you they can come say it themselves.”

The second guy laughed, stepping closer. “You think this is a conversation? Nah, man. We ain’t here to talk.”

Daryl’s lips curled into a sneer. “Yeah, figured. So let’s get this over with.”

The first guy’s eyes darkened, and he took another step toward Daryl, his tone turning more menacing. “Listen, we don’t care if you got a death wish, Dixon. We’re just here to set you straight,”

Daryl’s heartbeat kicked up, but his feet stayed planted, defiant. He couldn’t tell if this was tied to Merle or something else, but either way, it didn’t matter. The threat didn’t scare him—it only pissed him off. Before he could say anything else, both guys tensed, their eyes locking on him. They didn’t wait any longer.

They lunged.

[hiro--aoki]

TWD X TUMBLR Chapter One: Where The Story Starts

TW: No trigger warnings out of the usual twd stuff, you know the drill

A/n: and. here. we. go.

Next Chapter

“Hello? Hello, can anyone hear my voice? Over”

Everyone’s heads turn towards the radio. There hasn’t been a transmission since they bombed Atlanta. Everyone rushes over, Amy getting there first, dropping the sticks she had gathered for the fire.

She grabs the radio with a shaky hand, nearly dropping it, “Hey. Hello?”

“Can anyone hear my voice?” The person on the other end continues.

“Yes, you’re coming through. I can hear your voice. Over.” She says, excitement filling her voice.

“If anyone reads, please respond.” The voice continues.

People start to crowd around Amy and the radio. Her faces falls, as she realises, she isn’t coming through to the person.

“Broadcasting on emergency channel. Will be approaching Atlanta on highway 85. If anybody reads, please respond.”

“We’re just outside the city- “But Amy’s interrupted by radio static.

“Damn it.” She mutters, “Hello? Hello? He couldn’t hear me; I couldn’t warn him.”

“Try to raise him again,” Dale offers, “C’mon son, you know best how to work this thing.”

Dale gestures to Shane. Shane slams his hatchet down onto the wooden log the radio is resting on, before kneeling and taking the radio from Amy’s hand.

“Hello, hello. Is the person who called still on the air?”

Everyone listens for a moment, only to hear static yet again.

“This is officer Shane Walsh, responding to person unknown, please respond.”

Another moment of nothing before Shane puts down the radio, “He’s gone.”

Lori breaks the silence, “There are others, it’s not just us.”

“We knew there would be, right?” Shane replies, “That’s why we left the C.B. on.”

“Lot of good it’s been doing. I’ve been saying for a week, we ought to  put signs up on 85 and warn people away from the city.” Lori points out.

“She’s not wrong, Shane.” Lily calls out from her spot with Carl, Kayden and Delilah.

“Folks got no idea what they’re getting into.” Amy adds.

“Well,” Shane says as he stands, “We haven’t had time.”

“I think we need to make time.” Lori says, firmer than before.

“That’s a luxury we can’t afford. We are surviving here; we are day to day.”

“And who the hell would you propose we send?” Dale asks, trying to calm the atmosphere.

“I’ll go. Give me a vehicle.” Lori says countering again.

“I’ll come too.” Lily adds.

“And me!” Delilah demands.

“Nobody goes anywhere alone, and I’m not letting you take two children as support.” Shane answers, leaving no room for arguments.

Lori stays silent for a minute, before mumbling a “Yes sir,” as she walks back to her tent.

Carl goes to follow, holding Kayden’s hand, bringing her too.

“Hey, hey, hey, take a seat kiddos. You’re alright, c’mon.” Shane stops them.

Carl and Kayden stand there for a minute, before Carl continues walking ignoring Shane’s command. Lily follows, stopping them.

“Kay, can you help ‘Lilah, sort the firewood?” She asks.

Kayden nods and runs over to Delilah who is sorting through the sticks Amy had found, as Delilah explains which ones are good to burn, and which ones aren’t.

“Mom?” Carl calls out to Lori.

Shane walks out of the tent first, “Sup, buddy, she’s in there, go on.”

As Shane walks away, he passes Lily who mumbles, “I’m not a kid.”

“Hey,” Lori says to Carl, “I don’t want you or Lily to worry, mama’s not going anywhere, okay?”

Carl nods, with his innocent grin.

“Go finish your chores.” She smiles.

“Okay.” He waddles off to help Delilah and Kayden.

_______Later That Day_______

Amy, followed by Delilah, carries a bucket of fungi to Lori.

“Get a lot?” Lori queries.

“How do we know if they’re poison?” Amy asks as she tips the bucket towards Lori to show her the contents.

Lori holds out a bowl, and Amy tips them in.

“Uh, there’s only one sure way I know of.” Lori says, as she starts to fumble around with a mushroom.

Delilah lifts one to her mouth.

“Don’t.” Lori warns.

Amy crouches down next to the fire, “Ask Shane when he gets back?”

“Yeah.” Lori stands, picking up the bucket.

As she starts to walk to the forest, she calls out to Dale, “Dale. I’m headin’ out.”

She then turns to Carl, “Sweetheart, I want you to stay where Dale or Lily can see you, okay?”

“Yes, mom.” Carl says as he continues to play with Kayden.

“You too! Don’t wander too far; stay within shouting distance, and if you see anything, holler. Okay?” Dale says, his protectiveness showing through his tone of voice.

“Yes mom.” Lori mumbles sarcastically as she walks into the forest.

After she disappears into the forest, Lily calls out to Carl, Kayden, Sophia and Delilah.

“Do you guys wanna hear a story?”

This excites them easily, even Delilah, and they all scramble to sit in front of her.

“Have you heard the story of the big bad wolf and the three little pigs?”

“This story again? You told this one a few nights ago. I came here for energy, creativity, a masterpiece, if you will. This is why Glenn is our story teller. Get your mind in the game, Lils.” Delilah complains.

“You got a better idea, ‘Mrs Rhee’?” Lily asks, with a grin.

“What about a story about a dinosaur?” Carl asks.

“In outer space.” Kayden adds.

“And maker the dinosaur a fairy warrior princess!” Delilah smiles.

_______Meanwhile_______

Rick climbs out of the tank, pushing and shooting walkers away, while he follows the instructions the two voices over the radio had said.

He quickly finds the alley, seeing something moving, points his gun up.

“Woah! Not dead! Not dead!” The Korean says.

“C’mon, hurry.” The lady says.

All three run down the alley to a ladder.  The lady climbs up first, then the guy.

“What are you doing?!” Hurry up!” The man hisses at Rick.

The walkers below growl and grunt as they climb higher onto the building.

The three of them reach a ledge. They lean against the railing as they catch their breathe.

“Nice moves there, Clint Eastwood. You the new sheriff?” The mystery man asks, taking in Rick’s uniform, “Come riding in to clean up the town?”

“Wasn’t my intention-“

“Yeah whatever.” The lady interrupts.

“Well, yee haw, you’re still a dumbass.” The man adds.

There’s another moment of silence before Rick offers the man his hand, “Rick. Thanks.”

The man looks at his hand for a second before shaking it, “Glenn, you’re welcome.”

Rick then offers his hand to the lady.

She shakes his hand, “Artemis.”

“Oh no,” Glenn says, as he peers over the railing at the walkers, who are blocking one two ways off the balcony.

The three of them glance up at the ladder that takes them further up the building.

“Bright side: it’ll be the fall that kills us.” Glenn says.

This earns a look from Rick.

“He’s a glass half full kinda guy.” Artemis chuckles.

This time, Glenn climbs up the ladder first, then Artemis, and finally, after stealing a glance at the decaying nightmares, Rick.

Taglist:

@kookiekult @smutinlove @far-cry-from-finality @zomb-1-egutzz @shadowybasementmiracle @vaniniweenie

@frankcastleautism @hisdahlia @carlslvr @zzombiegirl @lunarnightt @carlmipololo @herrera2k @txrasbae @sleep-queen

[theblackhate]

Home Is Where The Heart Is | Negan Smith

check the other parts here!

Summary:

There is no longer a home, no place of comfort in that world. One survives to live, risking life to move forward and protect one's people.

But there are always two sides of the same coin. So, is the villain truly the villain? Or is He just the villain in your story?

Pairing: Negan Smith x reader

Word Count: 5.8k

No Heaven, Only Trouble

"We can’t do this!" Delilah dropped into a chair by the campfire. "As much as I find it disturbing, it's not our place, nor our decision to make."

The group fell into silence. Some agreed with the young girl, others did not. Hours had passed since they discovered the barn, and the peace they'd briefly found had vanished into thin air. Lori held Carl close, staring at the flames dancing before her eyes.

She looked up to meet her eldest daughter’s gaze, stifling a sigh when she found nothing in them. She was worried about Delilah—worried because the once vibrant teenager, full of life and promise, had lost her spark, her expression now empty and blank.

But what she hated the most was that, due to wrong choices, the mother-daughter bond was lost forever. She could no longer comfort her. Delilah pushed her away.

Carl was the only one who still seemed to love her unconditionally. Lori fought back tears, closing her eyes and resting her head on Carl's, gently stroking his back while the group resumed their heated debate.

"We’re not safe! We have to do something, or those doors will give way, and in the middle of the night, we’ll be torn apart by the dead."

Delilah’s patience was wearing thin. Lately, she felt like she was losing her mind. "Shane, does anything I say go in one ear and out the other? Damn it! We can’t just do whatever the hell we want, especially when Hershel wants us out of here as soon as possible!"

Shane turned to her, furious. "You have no right to make decisions, kid. These are adult matters! You can’t understand what’s best for the group. If we followed your idea, we'd all be dead by tomorrow morning!"

"Stop!" Dale stood up, stepping between them. "There’s no need to get worked up. We have to stay united," he sighed, taking off his hat and running a hand through what little hair remained.

Shane, still furious, sat down on one of the logs. The silence that settled over the group only made Delilah more anxious. She glanced around, trying to calm herself. She knew that snapping back at Shane, especially in his current state, wouldn’t lead to anything productive, so she bit her tongue, forcing herself to think about something else.

She reached out to stroke Orion, who was sleeping next to her chair.

After a long silence, Rick stood up and headed toward the house. No one asked him what he was going to do; instead, they all remained in their places as if any movement might spell disaster.

Delilah fixated on the flames, watching their mesmerizing dance. If she concentrated hard enough, she could make out shapes moving hypnotically within the fire.

And that’s how she fell asleep—watching the figures dance in the flames, while Orion curled up on her lap, shielding her from the early November chill. The days had grown short, colder, and the group's concern was how they'd keep warm if Hershel refused to let them into the house.

"What the hell are you doing?" Delilah jolted awake, jumping out of her chair. The sudden movement sent sharp pain through her stiff muscles. The brief peace and tranquility she'd enjoyed while half-asleep vanished as the surrounding noise rushed back to her all at once.

Orion, still sounding like a puppy, began barking at the distant commotion and his owner’s sudden movement. Delilah looked around, confused, until she spotted her group rushing toward the barn in the distance, beyond the fence.

What she saw next confused her even more. "What the hell..." She shook off her drowsiness and sprinted toward the group, now gathered in front of a chilling scene that sent a shiver down her spine.

Her father was leading a walker on a leash.

She couldn't hear the conversation yet, still too far away, with Orion following closely behind her. Her heart pounded wildly as she saw Shane pull out a gun and shoot the walker her father was leading, right in the head.

Delilah froze in her tracks, watching the scene unfold before her eyes.

The cold, dry November air clung to her skin, her breath quick and shallow as she watched an old family friend open the barn doors, releasing a small herd of walkers into the open.

Shane was the first to open fire. Moments later, Andrea grabbed a rifle, and a few others followed suit, taking the same initiative to finally put down those who the Greene family had once considered part of them.

Delilah wanted to feel something—anything—when Beth’s screams pierced the air, or when she saw the blonde girl lay down beside the body she believed to be her mother, clinging to the last shred of hope that these people could somehow return to who they once were.

But what made Delilah’s breath catch wasn’t Beth’s cries or the moment the body beside her tried to bite her. It was when the entire group’s attention snapped back toward the barn doors.

She wanted to join them, to cross the fence and hear what they were saying, to better understand what was happening. She bent down to scoop up Orion when he began whimpering and trembling, holding him tightly in her arms as another wail of despair cut through the air.

This time, it was Carol who collapsed to the ground, falling to her knees, supported by Lori. The group blocked Delilah’s view, preventing her from seeing what had caused such a reaction in the woman who was already so broken by life.

But maybe it was something Delilah didn’t want to see.

The apocalypse had changed her, just as it had changed everyone. It had hardened her, made her more pessimistic, perhaps even more indifferent than she’d been before the world fell apart. Yet, when she saw the fragile figure emerge from the barn, she felt a sharp pain in her chest.

Sophia, or what remained of her, limped out of the half-open door. The once youthful, terrified face had been reduced to decaying flesh, slowly rotting away.

Delilah didn’t want to imagine what the scene looked like up close because, even from this distance, she could see how badly the young girl had deteriorated. Carol’s sobs grew louder, not stopping until Delilah’s father, after glancing around for a moment, approached Sophia and placed the barrel of his gun to the back of her head.

A single gunshot echoed across the field, startling Orion in her arms.

When Delilah saw Carol break free from Lori’s embrace and rush to her daughter’s lifeless body, she turned away, heading back to her small spot by the fire, unable to watch the heartbreaking scene of a mother grieving over her child.

Lately, Delilah’s coping mechanism seemed to be avoidance. She no longer asked questions or involved herself in conversations, especially after her last argument with Shane. As the days went by, she spoke less and less, often spending entire days in the company of Orion, and occasionally, Carl.

Carl. Delilah had noticed his change too—a preteen forced to survive in a world like this for months. What worried her wasn’t that he was in danger—she knew Carl was tough—but that he might be shutting down emotionally, just like she was.

Since Sophia's official death, Carl had become cold toward everyone. He no longer spoke to Shane and avoided his presence altogether, snapping back at Lori and acting in ways that were entirely unlike him.

Delilah had always been good at observing people, and recently, it seemed like that was all she could do. Tensions were at an all-time high since the barn incident, and she was exhausted—exhausted by the awful situation, tired of the people around her, and weary at the thought of having to find another place to stay once her father and Glenn returned with Hershel.

Yet, perhaps she wasn’t as observant as she thought, because she hadn’t noticed Shane leave, nor had she seen him return with her mother until they parked. Confused, Delilah got up from her chair and approached them.

Andrea immediately rushed to hug Lori. "Oh my God, are you okay? We were so worried!"

Delilah eyed her mother warily before stepping aside when Carl elbowed past her to run into Lori’s arms. She lifted him off the ground, holding him tightly. "Yes, I’m fine. I was in an accident."

"She was attacked," Shane corrected, standing uncomfortably close to Lori, much to Delilah’s displeasure. Lori rolled her eyes, setting Carl back on the ground before glancing around, searching for someone in the small crowd that had gathered.

"I’m fine. Really. Where’s Rick?" she asked, worry filling her voice when she didn’t see him. She looked at Andrea, then at Maggie, who had stepped out of the house to check on the situation.

Her gaze finally landed on Delilah, distant and unfocused, as if she were looking at her from far away. "Haven’t they come back yet?"

"Not yet," Delilah replied, pulling her red leather jacket tighter around herself and stifling a yawn.

Not in the mood to stand around waiting for her father and Glenn to return, Delilah turned on her heel, ready to head back to the makeshift camp. But she was stopped by the sound of her mother’s frustrated, angry voice.

"You bastard."

"Lori—"

"He’s my husband!" she shouted, shoving Shane. The small group watched, confused and on edge, ready to intervene if Shane reacted poorly.

"Lori, I’ll go look for him!" Shane’s raised voice drew out the rest of the Greene family from the house, all of them watching nervously, fearing there was some imminent danger.

What none of them seemed to realize was that the danger was already right in front of them—one of their own. Dale glanced at Delilah, then back at the escalating scene before them.

Delilah’s body flooded with rage when Shane grabbed her mother’s arm, causing Lori to wince from the force of his grip. Before she could think, Delilah launched herself at him, grabbing his arm.

"Don’t you dare touch her, you asshole!" she growled through clenched teeth, but within seconds, she found herself on the ground. The left side of her face stung sharply, like an injection, and her ear rang for a few seconds, disorienting her. It all happened so quickly that Delilah didn’t even realize what had hit her, though hearing her mother’s screams and the shock from those around her made it easy to figure out.

A metallic taste filled her mouth as a pair of hands helped her up to her knees. Her mother knelt in front of her, reaching for her face, but Delilah recoiled, a sharp pain shooting through her left side.

"Get away," Lori snarled at someone behind her daughter. Footsteps retreated from the scene. "Are you okay, honey? I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry," she whispered in Delilah’s ear, wrapping her arms around her and stroking her hair, just as she had when Delilah was little.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

In the fading light of late afternoon, the room was enveloped in a heavy, almost palpable silence. The old Dale crouched slowly toward Lori, holding a damp cloth. Her face, marked with faint scratches from the incident earlier, was fixed on Delilah, who in turn glanced at Carl standing beside her, his face tight with worry.

At twelve years old, Carl’s large, innocent eyes, which had already seen too much, betrayed a barely concealed anxiety. He kept his gaze fixed on his mother, trying to be strong as if his mere presence could ease Lori’s pain. 

“Don’t worry, Carl,” Lori murmured as Dale handed her the cloth so she could gently tend to her wounds herself. “It’s nothing serious.”

Carl nodded, but his expression remained unconvinced. He watched every move Lori made, as though fearing that even a slight touch could cause her more harm. Lori attempted to smile at him, but the tension in the air made any reassurance seem inadequate.

His eyes darted from his mother to his older sister, who sat across from him in an armchair, her expression betraying nothing. Delilah watched the scene with her arms crossed, her face flushed with the lingering anger from the earlier argument. Her irritation was not just for Lori, but for herself as well. Shane had hit her—a family friend she had once considered almost like an uncle. Her mind replayed the moment she had tried to intervene, to stop the explosive argument, and the violent response she received in return.

She had known Shane was a danger for a long time, but the fact that he had escalated to hitting her was a different matter. Shane was a ticking time bomb, and the moment when he would explode seemed closer than ever.

The silence between them was thick, and Carl couldn’t help but notice the palpable tension emanating from his older sister. He moved closer to Lori and took her hand, a simple gesture that seemed to promise his unwavering support.

Lori sighed slightly, drawing everyone’s attention. “I can’t believe Shane would do something like this,” she said finally, her voice heavy with bitterness.

“He’ll do worse,” Delilah snapped, lifting her gaze to meet her mother’s eyes. Her voice was sharp, brimming with barely contained rage. She couldn’t understand whether Lori was truly blind to Shane’s danger or too infatuated with him to see it. “He’s a threat. One of these days, he’ll do something that gets us all killed.”

Lori fell silent for a moment, her expression strained but composed. She tried to maintain a facade of calm, but the tension between them was undeniable, and Delilah could sense it. Carl, meanwhile, had not taken his eyes off his mother, his face reflecting the weight of something he didn’t fully understand.

Dale looked up from his task, his wise and weary eyes meeting Delilah’s. There was no need for words between them. Delilah knew he understood, that he shared her concerns. There was a silent understanding between them, a bond forged over time, perhaps because Dale had never been as naive as Lori seemed to be.

“Shane has his issues,” Dale said slowly, his voice calm but with a gravity that left no room for disagreement. The tone, though measured, was a warning. “But hitting someone… that’s not justifiable.”

Delilah pressed her lips together, her heart pounding. That wasn’t the point, not entirely. “It’s not just that, Dale,” she said, her voice trembling with the intensity of her emotions. “Shane is unstable. He always seems on the verge of… exploding. You can’t tell me you don’t see that too.”

Lori clenched her hands, trying to stay in control. “Delilah, it’s not that simple—”

“Yes, it is!” Delilah interrupted, her words flowing like a flood. “Lori, you refuse to see it. You want to protect everyone, but he’s a ticking time bomb, and when he explodes… we won’t be ready.”

Carl lowered his gaze, visibly shaken by his sister’s harsh words, and Lori seemed about to respond, but it was Dale who spoke up before another argument could erupt.

Delilah’s words had clearly hurt Lori, who had realized she had lost her child the moment she called her by name.

“Delilah is right about one thing,” Dale said slowly, locking eyes with Lori. “Shane is going through a rough patch, and if we’re not careful, that rough patch could become dangerous for all of us.”

Lori closed her eyes for a moment, the weight of Dale’s and Delilah’s words pressing down on her like a stone. When she opened them again, she seemed more weary. “I won’t let him hurt anyone,” she finally said, her voice low but firm. “I’ll handle it.”

The girl couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Oh really? And how?” Delilah’s tone was sharp, biting—nothing good could come from it. “I’m not sure your approach is quite suitable right now, don’t you think?”

A heavy silence filled the room, broken only by the distant ticking of a clock. Dale looked down at the floor for a moment before slowly rising, as if his bones were burdened with unbearable weight. He exited the room, unwilling to participate in the family argument he had tried to avoid.

“Delilah—”

“No!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air and leaping out of the chair. “No! You can’t say anything! You’re putting yourself and Carl in danger just because you can’t control yourself! None of this would have happened if you hadn’t gotten so close to him in a moment of weakness!”

Lori’s eyes filled with tears, humiliated by her daughter’s words. But the harshness didn’t stop there. “Because that’s what you are. Weak.” Delilah jabbed her finger at Lori’s chest before storming out of the room, her anger surging through her veins as she slammed the front door behind her, ignoring Orion’s cheerful greeting on the porch.

She sat on the porch steps, stroking Orion’s soft fur and shivering as she heard footsteps approaching, too familiar to ignore. She didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Shane stopped briefly in front of her before passing by without a word and entering the house.

She watched him go, the door closing behind him, and made herself a promise. 

If Shane wasn’t dead by the end of the weekend, she would ensure it herself. And that’s how she fell asleep, plotting the death of someone who had once been a core part of her life.

The next morning, Delilah woke up still sitting on the porch steps as a car approached and stopped a few meters away from her. It took her a moment to adjust her vision to the sunlight, but as soon as she recognized her father emerging from the car, she sprang to her feet, ignoring the slight dizziness she felt, and rushed to meet him.

Rick enveloped her in his arms, pressing a kiss to her head. "You're here," Delilah whispered against her father's chest, her voice cracking with exhaustion and emotion. For a moment, all the pain, anger, and fear seemed to dissipate. In that instant, she was simply a daughter in her father's arms, finding a safe haven in a world that seemed increasingly unstable.

Rick held her tightly, sensing the tension in her body. He was tired too, weighed down by everything that had been happening, but he tried not to show it. "Everything will be okay," he murmured in a deep, reassuring voice. "I'm back."

Delilah clung to those words, as if they could really bring order to the chaos surrounding them. But deep down, she knew Rick's return wouldn't solve everything. Not with Shane, not with the mounting tensions. Still, in that moment, it didn’t matter.

Within seconds, the sound of the engine and Rick's presence woke the rest of the group. The doors of the house flew open, and those who had been outside rushed to meet them. Lori was the first to arrive, with Carl right behind her, his face a mix of anxiousness and hope. From the porch, Dale descended with a calmer pace, but there was a look of relief in his weary eyes.

Delilah slowly detached herself from Rick's embrace and turned just in time to see Glenn stepping out of the car, visibly exhausted but relieved. He pushed back the sweat-soaked hair from his forehead and gave a nod to the others, a half-smile that couldn’t completely hide his fatigue.

From the passenger seat, Hershel emerged more slowly. His gnarled hands braced against the doorframe for leverage as he climbed out with a serious but determined expression. The journey seemed to have taken its toll on him, but his confident gaze at Rick and the others spoke of his commitment to help, just as he always had.

Lori moved closer to Rick and hugged him tightly, while Carl clung to his father's jacket, seeking comfort. "You found Hershel," Lori murmured, her voice a mix of relief and concern.

Rick nodded, looking intently at his wife. "Yes, he's with us. We have a lot to discuss."

Glenn approached Delilah, giving her a light pat on the shoulder, a silent gesture of support. "Everything okay here?" he asked softly, noticing the faint bruise forming on her cheek, though his attentive gaze sought answers in the expressions of those who had stayed behind.

As Rick tried to recover from the intensity of the moment and Hershel approached slowly with Glenn by his side, a growing tension began to permeate the group. Lori, Dale, and Carl exchanged questioning glances, noting that Rick, Glenn, and Hershel seemed more worried than expected.

It was Delilah who first noticed something strange. The car trunk wasn’t completely closed, and a faint vibration was coming from inside. She moved closer, her heart pounding in her chest. As she reached for the trunk to open it fully, Glenn tried to stop her with a quick "Wait!" — but it was too late.

The trunk swung open entirely, revealing a young man inside, bound and with a dirty cloth around his mouth. His eyes were wide with terror, and he struggled weakly to free himself. Delilah took a step back in shock, and in an instant, the rest of the group gathered around the trunk, their faces a mix of disbelief and concern.

“Who the hell is this?” Dale asked, his voice rough and incredulous, his face etched with concern.

Rick stepped forward, his expression tight. “His name is Randall,” he said, keeping his gaze fixed on the young prisoner.

Lori’s voice was filled with disbelief. “Rick, what’s going on?”

Hershel spoke up, calm but with a serious tone. “He was involved in a bad incident; we had to help him… but the problem is, he’s not alone.”

Delilah stared at the young man, her heart pounding even harder. “What do you mean? Where does he come from?”

Glenn cleared his throat, searching for the right words. “He’s from a group… an armed group. We don’t know how many there are or where they are exactly, but we have reason to believe they could be dangerous.”

Carl, who had been silent until then, stepped forward, looking at Randall with wide eyes. “And what are we going to do with him?” he asked, his voice full of curiosity as he watched the young man lose consciousness.

Rick clenched his jaw. “We need to decide. We can’t just let him go without knowing if he’ll bring his group here.”

A heavy silence fell over the group. Each member looked at Randall, but also at each other, searching for answers that no one seemed ready to give.

In the living room of the house, the atmosphere was charged with tension. Everyone had gathered around the central table, except for Delilah, who stood in a corner of the room with her arms crossed and her gaze fixed on the group.

Her father’s face was marked by worry, while Rick took his place at the center, his expression grave.

Randall had been locked in the cabin a short distance from the house, at a safe distance, after Hershel had to tend to a deep wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding.

“We can’t let him go,” Rick said firmly, breaking the silence. His tone was authoritative but heavy with responsibility. “If we do, he might return to his group and lead them here. We don’t know how many there are or what they’re capable of.”

Glenn, sitting next to him, nodded. “Rick’s right. We can’t take the risk. His group could kill us all. We need to think about our safety.”

“The bar, in town,” the old man began, “we heard them talking. They seem to be a large, disorganized group. We can’t underestimate them.”

Dale clasped his hands, his face pale with anxiety. “But we can’t kill him. We can’t... become like that,” he said, his voice trembling yet resolute. He looked at Rick with intensity, as if searching for a shred of humanity in this desperate situation. “There’s always another solution.”

“What solution, Dale?” Shane interjected, leaning against the wall, his gaze fixed defiantly on Rick. “There’s no time for half measures. This kid knows where the farm is. If we let him go, it’s only a matter of time before he returns with armed men. We need to do what’s necessary.”

Lori, sitting next to her husband, removed her hand from her mouth and looked at Shane in confusion. “How do you know that?”

Rick looked to Hershel, the head of the household, waiting for him to confirm what he had told them in the car. “Randall knows our family, or at least he knows Beth and where she lives. They went to school together and he’s from the area. It didn’t take him long to recognize me despite the severe blood loss.”

Delilah, in the corner of the room, followed the conversation with keen eyes, saying nothing. She was there, a silent and invisible presence, but every word echoed in her mind. She bit her lower lip, her hands pressed tightly against her chest. Shane, as always, was direct, but there was something unsettling in his manner. It wasn’t just concern for safety. It was something darker.

It was a thirst for control and power over everything and everyone.

Dale raised his hand, cutting through the argument. “Hold on a minute.” His voice was calm but laden with a wisdom that could not be ignored. “We can’t make a decision like this so quickly. We’re still human, or at least we should be. Killing this boy... it’s not justifiable. We don’t even know if his group will come looking for him.”

“We can’t afford to make mistakes,” Shane retorted, his tone growing harsher. “Dale, you’re living in the past. We’re not in that world anymore. We need to protect ourselves. We have to be realistic.”

Then T-Dog spoke up, his voice low but resolute. “Maybe we can find a remote place and leave him there. Without means to return or dangerous weapons. We give him a chance, but not enough to pose a threat.”

Rick considered those words for a moment, but Shane shook his head in disapproval. “That’s just another waste of time. He could still survive and come back with others.”

The debate continued, with voices rising, creating a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

Delilah, however, remained silent, watching the chaos unfold before her. Inside, she felt a mix of fear and anger. Her heart pounded harder every time Shane spoke. There was something wrong with him, something that made her increasingly uneasy.

Eventually, Rick stood up from his chair, his decision etched on his drawn face. “We’ll decide tomorrow morning,” he said with a firm tone, looking at each of them. “Tonight, we keep him locked up. No one does anything until we’re all in agreement.”

The voices quieted, but the atmosphere in the room remained tense, as if an inexorable time bomb was ticking away.

The next day arrived with an eerie stillness. The morning air was crisp, but there was a palpable tension hanging over the house. 

No one had slept well, and each step seemed heavier than usual, laden with the weight of the decisions they had to face. The sunlight filtered hesitantly through the windows, almost reluctant to illuminate the scene that was about to unfold.

In the living room, Rick, Lori, Shane, Dale, Glenn, and Hershel had gathered again. Delilah was already there, as she had been the night before, seated in the corner and watching in silence.

She had spent the night in a state of wakefulness, her thoughts in turmoil. The idea that everything was on the verge of collapsing wouldn’t leave her mind. And damn, if her intuition wasn’t spot on.

Rick was the first to speak, his voice heavy and resolute. “We’ve all had time to think about this,” he said, looking at each face present. “We can’t ignore the risk. Randall knows our location, knows where we are. But we can’t make a decision without considering the consequences.”

Shane, who had never had much patience for long discussions, stood up abruptly, shaking his head. “We’ve already talked enough, Rick. Randall has to die. End of story. If we let him go, we’re all dead. He’s a threat, and you know it.”

Dale, as he had the day before, raised his hand to stop Shane. “Hold on, Shane. Killing a kid like this, in cold blood... we can’t do it. It would make us monsters. We need to find an alternative.”

The tension between the two men was palpable, as if each word could spark a dangerous flashpoint. Rick looked between them, trying to find a balance between their positions. But it was clear that the decision was wearing him down.

Delilah was exhausted. Exhausted by the arguments, the increasingly difficult moral choices, the people around her who seemed incapable of seeing what was really happening. It was as if no one wanted to admit that, in the end, they had all changed. Their humanity was fragile, hanging by a thread, and she no longer knew what to cling to.

She slowly stood up from her chair in the corner of the room, trying not to draw attention. No one noticed her movement. They were all too engrossed in discussing Randall, the risk he posed, and what they should do.

Delilah quietly slipped out the door, closing it softly behind her. She took a deep breath, savoring the fresh morning air. A day away from it all. She needed to escape, even if just for a few hours.

Outside, Orion was waiting for her. She petted him on the head, feeling his soft fur between her fingers. “Let’s go, buddy,” she whispered, and together they headed towards the woods surrounding the Greene farm.

The sun climbed high in the sky as Delilah walked through the forest, finally feeling some semblance of peace. The leaves crunched under her feet, and the wind rustled the trees above her. Orion ran ahead, exploring, his tongue lolling out in excitement. 

Delilah no longer thought about the tension in the house. She no longer thought about Shane, Rick, or the moral dilemma regarding Randall. She was alone, at least for a while, and that was enough.

She spent the day wandering aimlessly, following the winding trails of the woods. She sat by a stream to drink some water, watching Orion play with the stones in the water. Time seemed to stand still.

But as the sun began to set, an odd sensation crossed her skin. A sudden shiver. She looked around, noticing the forest growing darker, and with it, a sense of danger seeped into her heart.

“It’s time to go back,” Delilah whispered, her voice almost breaking the silence around her. Orion, her loyal pup, followed immediately, but there was something strange in the air. Something... wrong.

Every step she took towards the farm seemed heavier, as if the forest itself were closing in on her. The familiar sounds of the wind through the leaves had changed. There were no birds singing anymore, only the unsettling rustling of branches.

The air had grown thick, suffocating. Then she heard it: a low, guttural groan. Her blood ran cold. It was a sound she knew all too well.

She froze, her heart pounding in her chest. A walker.

Without thinking, she began to walk faster, trying to hold back the panic rising within her like a dark wave. Her steps quickened, but not fast enough.

Another groan. This time, it was closer. Too close. Orion began to growl, his hackles raised. Delilah spun around, and what she saw took her breath away: two walkers were emerging from the trees, their grotesque, twisted forms illuminated by the last rays of the dying sun.

Terror struck her like a punch to the stomach. "Run!" she screamed internally, but the voice in her head sounded too weak, smothered by horror. With Orion by her side, she started to run, but the ghastly groans of the walkers never ceased. Each step felt more arduous, more painful. The sound of the walkers dragging through the dry branches was an unshakable nightmare.

Her heart pounded so violently she feared it might burst. She leaped over tangled roots, dodged branches whipping her face, but the walkers never stopped. They were slow, yes, but relentless. Every time she looked back, they were there, getting closer. Their twisted hands reached out toward her, hungry for flesh.

When she finally glimpsed the farmhouse in the distance, relief swiftly turned to horror. Flames. She saw them even from afar, enormous and voracious. The tongues of fire enveloped the house, consuming everything.

Her breath caught in her throat, and her legs trembled. "Dad!" she cried out in desperation, but her voice was swallowed by the crackling flames. "Lori! Carl!" No response. Only the chilling sound of the fire devouring everything and the hissing wind carrying the acrid smell of ash.

Delilah ran, ignoring the pain burning her muscles and the tight knot in her chest. When she reached the yard, the scene that greeted her was worse than any nightmare.

Walkers wandered amidst the flames, stumbling like infernal shadows, grotesque and made more monstrous by the firelight. The farmhouse was devastated. There was no one. No sign of the group. Only destruction and death.

Orion barked furiously, trying to keep the walkers at bay, but Delilah couldn’t focus. The world around her was a distorted chaos. Where was her father? Where was Lori? What the hell had happened?

She searched desperately through the debris, her hands trembling as she rummaged through the charred remains. Every corner of the farmhouse was a heap of wreckage. The barns had collapsed, and the animals were gone. Smoke burned her throat; each breath felt like a fiery assault on her lungs.

But what was most suffocating of all was the silence. An eerie silence, broken only by the guttural sounds of the walkers and the relentless crackle of the flames. She was alone. Completely alone.

Orion continued to growl, but Delilah could no longer think clearly. The horror, fear, and anguish overwhelmed her. As the flames grew higher and the walkers drew nearer, she realized that this world had collapsed. There was nothing left. Nothing and no one.

She looked around with the dreadful awareness that she would die there, in that moment, if she didn't leave, but she couldn't risk abandoning her family behind. Assuming they were still alive.

She tried calling out their names again, but to no avail. Until she heard the distant rumble of an engine.

For half a second, a huge smile spread across her face, comforted by not being left behind, until she saw the camper heading in the opposite direction. She screamed at the top of her lungs, running towards the camper and waving frantically to be seen, but the white vehicle just accelerated away.

They had abandoned her.

Now, it was just her, the fire, and the encroaching darkness.

[jalenay]

Nothing's Wrong with Dale - Publishing Update May 4 2024

So my work work is starting to relax - it'll be 'normal' working hours after May 15, but i'm manifesting some early additional free time (by ignoring some of the things i still have left to do) and i thought i'd give an update on my current NWWD plan to fill you guys in (if anyone wants to know) and to motivate myself to, you know, do it.

let me know what you think and if you have any questions! or if there's anything else you want to know!

So the overall plan is as follows:

First Rough Edit - this is basically just changing the POV from 2nd POV to 3rd POV. This is very tedious and currently what I'm doing right now. I'm also making a list as I go for high level updates/changes i want to make. Just thinking about the story as a whole and what tweaks i want to make now that the whole thing is finally done (primarily moving exposition around, if there's anything extra i can remove, timing of when certain things are discussed, and so on).

My Main Edit - this will be more time consuming but probably more fun as i do my main revise and edit of the story as a whole. i'll likely print the entire story out, make edits on hard copy, and then type up all the edits. I will also probably be sending the updated chapters to my main beta, for her opinion. (this would be the person i first texted about Dale in Dec 2021, she deserves first look lol)

Editor - After I'm happy with what I've done, i'll send the entire thing over to my editors, the main ones who worked on DSM. This will likely take a good amount of time (DSM took one month) but in many ways involves less effort from me lol. Just nerves.

Cover, Self-publishing Details - while my editors have the manuscript, I'll be narrowing down what I want the cover to look like and hiring a cover artist. (i've got a short list of artists right now, but i'll probably continue to refine that). I'm bad a visualizing covers and so this will be hard for me, although i have some basic ideas. i'll need to gather reference photos too and then work with the artist. I also want to publish more widely than just Amazon and will hopefully get DSM out to other places as well as a test run before NWWD. Look into more marketing? This is the most miscellaneous of the steps.

Process Edits - actually go through all the edits and notes given to me by my editor. This takes a lot of time (and is mentally taxing - no one likes to read pages of people telling you what you need to fix about what you wrote even if its overall extremely helpful and necessary)

Finalizing - I'll send the edited version to my first beta and another ARC reader/friend. I'll work on the formatting for the book. Coordinating where it will be published and when.

Publishing!

This is a loose list of steps that I mostly defined right now, but are similar to what i did with DSM. As i said, I'm in step one, currently just finished Chapter 25 of 36 of that rough edit.

I'll try to provide some updates on the process at it moves along, if people are interested in hearing about that. I'll most likely keep those updates on this blog, along with any other publishing specific commentary. if any one has any questions or thoughts on the whole thing, please feel free to send them to this blog or comment on this post.

I'm very excited to really dig into publishing NWWD and looking forward to sharing it with you!

Thanks to everyone for all their support - I wouldn't even be considering this (i probably wouldn't have even had a finished draft) with you!

[valleymyristica]

Well I saw your post about the Fop series. Honestly most of the stories I read about Dale are related to Perry and personally I don't like Perry when he's older he was cute when he was a kid in the original series but that's not the point I want something related to Dave and Dale only not from Dale's side but from Dave where he suddenly has enough courage to show his love for his father but it has nothing to do with magic I don't want any magic in the subject well here's what Dev decides to be affectionate suddenly with his father and hugs him suddenly and quickly walks away Dale won't care much about what Dev does so Dev starts to get Dale used to these sudden hugs where he hugs him almost every day and this starts to annoy Dale a lot but he gets used to it and when Dev doesn't give his usual hug he misses Dev's presence because Dale doesn't know how to love or give affection Dev teaches him himself because Dale doesn't hate Dev basically he only sees him as a little child and no one can make Dale give Dev his only child love and affection that he has never known or even experienced because Dale's life is just work not that he doesn't care about Dev but he doesn't know very well what his only son wants basically and he doesn't have time or this is what he thinks is right to sit with His son and he just talks to him without doing anything because physical touch and physical affection change a person and break down his walls and turn him eighty degrees and also I hate or get annoyed when most fans involve Perry in the relationship of Dale and Dev. Dev can change his father if he tries himself only there is no need for Perry in all this

My English is not very good. I apologize if there are spelling mistakes.

The important thing is that I want something new, realistic topics, far from the excessive and broad imagination in the relationship between the son and the father.

I do find something so unnervingly wrong with the thought that it is somehow Dev's responsibility to fix Dale.

He's a kid, he should be allowed to be a kid, should he not?

Parents can make mistakes, that is true, and there may be many things that they have to work through. Still, despite it all, it should never fall on the kid, it's not their responsibility.

Dev is just a kid, he deserves to be happy and just be himself. He deserves to have friends who like being with him because he is who he is. He should be the one he wants to be, not someone that fits into someone else's fantasy.

The universe is cruel, people don't always get what they deserve. Some don't get happiness, love and care. Some don't get anything to share.

While others get an abundance of it all.

But, regardless of the case, it shouldn't be the kid who takes the fall.

I've had this one for a moment, and I'm not fully sure on what I should tell. I can inform that you don't have to worry about your spelling, it was very good. Though you did write "Peri"'s name as "Perry" and "Dev"'s as "Dave" at times.

What you should be more concerned with is your formatting. I put an example of how you can do in the first dividers image description. Do hope that helps. Mostly, just make sure to divide things up in paragraphs and remember to use periods. It helps. Trust me.

Additionally,

I'm not sure which post you were specifically talking about, I'm thinking maybe [this] one? Unsure.

Might also be good to inform that the answers I give are in regard to my story "What it takes", the first chapter doesn't really have any Peri. It's mostly just a Dale and Dev interacting, realistically.

Unnervingly so.

So, in that regard, maybe you'll like the first chapter?

Honestly, I'd be really curious to hear what you may think of it. Who knows, maybe you'll even enjoy the Peri parts, cause, he sure ain't doing well.

Wouldn't you want to see the one you despise, suffer?

[ You can read "What it takes" [ Here ] ]

Now, to actually tackle what you wrote,

From what I can understand you are looking for a story with only Dev and Dale, where Dale gets attached to the hugs that Dev gives him. Then gets withdrawal when Dev stops, so to keep getting hugs, Dale starts acting like a proper parent.

I get the feeling you are looking for something happy, sweet and kind.

But trust me, those are not the ideas that come to mind. There is destruction, despair and an unnerving amount of fear. Let me make it clear.

If you want it to be realistic, you will soon find how broken the broken can be. You'll soon find horrors you rather never want to see. And you'll soon find how pretty it can be, to live in a fantasy.

Terror in truth and beauty in lies

My own life might be a wonder, the dark may not scare me, I may find comfort in what would fill others with fear. Still, do understand, there is many reasons people may appreciate the moon more than the sun

The moon is there when they need it, the sun is not

The sun seeks glee and joy, the moon accepts it all

Also, If you find that you seek something you can't find. Make it. It might not be as perfect as you'd want it to be, still, it's there. You have an idea, go for it

Who knows, you might find people of similar mind, and then I'm sure you'll have a jolly good time

Plus, I don't think you want me to write the idea you hold in mind. Most simply as I would do as the universe does.

The idea in my mind says that Dev asked what could help him online, and someone joked about putting something in his food. So, being the kid he is with a bit more freedom compared to "our Dev", he buys what he needs though the O-pairs

Then a sandwich each day, making Dale tired and happy, and a simple hug to complete it all. If he's lucky, he might get a hug in return

The days goes by, Dev keeps at it and Dale starts getting more and more addicted to the "hugs"

Then Dev stops, thinking that his dad is "cured"

He is not.

And soon?

Dale gets withdraws.

Dev made a mistake, a horrible one.

Either he keeps at it, living in a crumbling dream made out of lies. Or, he faces the consequences of his actions.

[elialys]

I’ve finished season 2 of The Newsreader two hours and a half ago, and I’ve yet to be able to talk about my feels with ANYONE, so I’m doing what I do in most cases when I have too many feels about something—opening a new word document to write things down.

This season genuinely surprised me so many times. I had no actual expectations, but I had thoughts on what might happen from the season promo and the episodes' synopses. Most of the time, turned out I was absolutely wrong, and I’ve never been happier to be wrong.

This is not very coherent, more ‘string of thoughts’ than anything else, and I’m skipping soooo many things but here are my main thoughts/emotions on each episode:

Episode 3 Greed and Fear

I knew it would be about Helen’s past being dug out and was so worried. Didn’t expect to be laughing so much?? Like, only a couple of scenes but god those were genuinely funny. Gerry’s wife telling Helen’s about her torn vagina from giving birth? Lindsay’s song about Charlie being hit hard in the economic crash? Absolute gold.

The "hey let’s get married to give that columnist something else to write about” idea from Dale and Helen’s reaction to it went about as well as I expected it to go.

I have to say, I did not expect the Helen & Charlie’s interactions to get that real that fast but I…kinda liked it? I still think Charlie’s a shit head but I loved that they made him feel like an actual human? Genuinely fond of that scene of him and Helen in his office waiting for midnight, with her on his couch telling him about her past, it just felt genuine.

Don’t get me started on Helen and Dale on HER couch at the end of the episode though. Just, I want to live there, in that scene. With them cuddling on that couch, and nothing bad ever ever happening to their couple, ever.

Episode 4 The Hungry Truth

This episode was a punch in the gut. The way the approached the Bicentennial event and the Aboriginal side of the story was so poignant and heartbreaking. That shot of them watching the cheery News at Six promo at the end instead of the planned interview with Lynus was captivating in a ‘I feel sick in the stomach’ kind of way.

Helen’s convictions and hard work being cast aside and spat on again at the last second was infuriating, she tries SO HARD to stand up for those who don’t have a voice and she hits walls every step of the way.

Dale’s real proposal? I'm still recovering. When I read the initial synopsis, I worried he was going to do something *big*, but he didn’t. It was intimate and romantic and sincere, and holy hell couldn’t have happened at a worse time ??? I know there was no way for him to really ‘hide’ his preparations from Helen at that point but ugh.

That end scene had me in tears tbh, both Sam and Anna just killed me. Because you can tell Helen loves Dale and he loves her yet she turns him down and everything hurts?

Episode 5 A Model Daughter

Let me just say I’ve loved Kay’s character. I love the extra depth it brought to the Walters family, and I love how she allowed for the very real issue of heroin addiction to be explored this season. And obviously, I love how her story intertwined with Helen’s and the way it made this episode unfold, like, DAAAAMN.

But first of all, Helen and Dale. Oh the pain. Oh the sweet sweet pain. I binged so I barely had time to process any of my feelings, but I felt all the feelings. It was dramatic without being overdramatic. Again, all of it felt so human. I wish we’d seen more actual conversation between Helen and Dale with Helen explaining exactly why she doesn’t want marriage and why she broke it off completely, but there’s enough there to get it and just hurt with them.

That scene of them in the make up room, after Dale realizes there’s been some ‘flirting’ going on between her and Charlie? SO many things are said without them needing to actually say them, it just hangs in the air and OH THE DELICIOUS PAIN.

That award party was so good, they were all so drunk and I was so worried about Dale. And then the whole Gerry, Tim, Dale thing was wholesome for about two and half seconds. I wasn’t sure when the ‘gay club’ scene would happen or how Dale would end up there, I didn’t expect things to happen that way, it was like watching a car crash in slow motion. I feel sad for people who ship Dale and Tim because I’m sure this is not how they hoped Tim’s character would come back—and that the random dude Dale wakes up next to is not who they were hoping for. Dale’s whole spiraling out this episode was just painful in a painfully perfect way.

Everything about Kay’s interview, every character involved…ugh so damn good. The interview itself made me cry, but that’s probably because of my own issues haha. Kay going to Helen and begging her to take her part off the story, not knowing Lindsay decided to make the story ALL about her and her parents against Helen’s assurances that they wouldn't do that.

Helen’s demeanor sitting at that desk, finally deciding that enough is enough. HELEN STANDING UP, GETTING THE TAPES AND DESTROYING THE TAPES WHILE WALKING OUT.

Actual Queen. Might be my favorite sequence in the entire season, but don’t take my word for it yet. Of course she goes to Charlie and jumps on him right after that but everyone’s human hahahaaaaa.

Episode 6 Fireworks

I don’t even know what to say, I’m still trying to process this. They gave us time with everyone, and I loved every second of it, but I still begged for more time with Helen and Dale, individually and together. Now I get what Sam meant by ‘Dead Dale’. Oh yes he’s the Big Guy now with the Big House, King of News and all that but he’s clearly dead inside too, so that’s nice I guess.

The way they resolved the issue of “Helen and Charlie” being a thing in under 3 minutes combined was beautiful to be honest. I was losing it watching that short, extremely distressing montage of Charlie and Helen like, might have clawed at my face a bit. But the way she threw him out of her life the second he dared say some shit about Dale? Beautiful.

Lindsay needs to die in a fire though. I’m so glad Dennis punched him in the face but someone needs to push him in front of a bus. That scene between him and Helen in his office was just VILE. What a pathetic excuse for a human being, all these things he did to her and SAID to her, I am not okay. And him sabotaging her at her new job like, DIE ALREADY OMG.

Was it really Gerry who told the columnist about Tim though??? Because that scene between Gerry and Dale, all unspoken? GOD. This damn show.

Gotta end with Helen and Dale. I am so upset. I think/hope they will find their way back together WHEN we get a 3rd season, and I believe them learning to live apart is needed and necessary, BUT GOD I AM GENUINELY HURTING. Helen’s desperate proposal was so upsetting. The fact that Dale was too dead inside to tell her more than “no” and “just do your job” like.

I don’t even blame him because he’s a hot mess trapped in his own catatonia but THE PAIN. That airport scene, someone put me out of my misery please, how dare they use THAT song (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, anyone??). Also, I realize I’m extremely biased given how much I love Anna Torv but??? She doesn’t say a single word in that scene as she watches Dale on the tv yet you know exactly what she’s thinking and feeling and everything hurts.

Noelene and Rob? So sorry I didn’t mention you at all in this post yet, you were so lovely and precious and so necessary for my emotional sanity, absolutely love how they “mirrored” and contrasted Helen and Dale, even if it adds to my pain as a Helen/Dale shipper who just watched three failed proposals in the span of 8 hours.

This show better be renewed. I need them to fix this mess. Wonderfully crafted mess but still a mess.

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Poem # 13077

A kimo sequence

               1

As they were for such, indeed, and window’s not move unto the op’ning dispense from Sin? And lo!

               2

He lay in fact, and haunted darts. She had spent leaning, rearranging so deeply reap’d late one.

               3

The drugstore, since she doth wake, must waite. The handsome still fractured every clever; most people go.

               4

I never story I leave me leave to go. Its sores and night. Had been her chereful cherish!

               5

The city can dare I can’t competent face; and thoughts quite good quality. And still retains grow.

               6

The tree. With some men may be disdain’d hiatus’ in the many Grace, like showman. And castle.

               7

He died. I can’t comprized among the graves are what eyes, of Satyrs knelt to the luver’s fire.

               8

And Tom are pleated of delight: each upon the clover hit the sky. What with such you depart.

               9

And look upon wondering, it mean to see is the—the—Pooh! And fearing organs lift the damned.

               10

But on the grave, I loue to say my dear. A moment he had such less clever, but what I ought.

               11

Once, that Juan, to hers, in the shrunk as free, at least, once is twain, if I had tolerant brightness?

               12

Aside to thee. Though the waters—go thy grown more beauty’s effect from me, after his mother.

               13

Knows, and make trial. And burst inclined they had not what, but it in my honour me, for he had lost.

               14

But I vnhappy freedom a dunce. I liked the wrong emprised, I should from every human heart.

               15

To these, the hulls or dales, those who have been rent. Little warbled lay, till a Higher Power rate.

               16

Julia, who is colder? But the ample moor, and draw thee, and through so thank’d room, like guest; received.

               17

Or, if her will fractured to. To heauens conspird in one these meadows sits eternal Laws be right.

               18

Summer sky’s with her is a lower makes here. With your redeeming from Clarinda, friend; between.

               19

Unconscious sky but that mine, and Meg. When its styles, chipped with such or sang here, with Cocker’s power.

               20

Would I have live not one mile uphill touch’d, alas! Meanwhile their docile esquires also see.

               21

That ole Ace downright was the wrinkles. Warm, flush’d—and all verses made! Province hap always doubt.

               22

With vexation. But of the moth, though its supposed, and set my Seal: the phantasy was a bride!

               23

As the order: live oaks, shorn of all else? She wild wind-flowers. In aspect and all circumstance.

               24

And kye; but stroke of mutual minds and love-knot in one they led, and the smells of both in lays.

               25

He stood the marvell’d, with eyes do thee. See with his pryde, from this plaintively began to my thigh.

               26

Accuse me nothing, on a smock, to see. An echo to Maud? And he of the road smoking sea.

               27

To give a fee was return the grosser part of ever for three. Do not lament those flowers.

               28

Most uncivil? Down overplus; more to shining eyes see beautiful old rhyme would not a white!

               29

And sup. ’ Kissed, and I never springs from no Womb of May strewed flowers among the blank end.

               30

Down the sighs, undressing-room, and the dead so slight. A man not lead the first hygienic measure!

               31

Will which grow: for supernatural as dots now in silent which they the Lord’s estate. My mind.

               32

Listen what wol his toilet, but sagest of interwreathe beginning Love!; I care none, the lie!

               33

In for qualities and that scenes, went as we knew this: I never hearts can be attack? To name.

               34

Slow and some lives and full sailes drowne now than the garbage tub is more a way. Or wakened.

               35

That I am falling. And a beauty were within as pretty, burnt, and monogrammercy!

               36

With from me. And I knew, to Corinth, ask’d her father’s window, and means I am, the English?

               37

With a knot of this, what ye could be now under weed took upon. Duly set rose of ony!

               38

Springs were did not many things? And is placid, that which erst from the battering holiday.

               39

Like Coleridge, into martial— defences. With thing of a brazen head, but pity: thus again.

               40

So leaning, rearranging, and if we keeps vigils pale. But window, a suddenly he heart.

               41

Which beat no pass will storm a fortress than one to put the play. First taught, the night; no hiding-place.

               42

My father’s terror the dead and sad! To fear the words meaning. ’Ning red by blind the still, he shoes.

               43

But often said so, to belong to go out. They but none compassion, and gaudy day denies.

               44

—Against a cotter, like a landing shame than those above! And earthskin, which him raised: proud of this.

               45

Having vow. Let wealth to vie with the shepheards the sofa, there we grow more slow off—to pleasure!

               46

Then to itself, or bouts rimes. She snuff’d the wind went round here are the thrilling made up a million.

               47

It is delight. Court every place? With thee still for woe of a virgin’s grace oftimes to me.

               48

Father’s sin: I am to musick lendeth! Being his comrades to ring, as any the same.

               49

To hear the lot of bliss: fie, please your hands. Pell-mell, and a spoil a change each in a storm piles up.

               50

Be ne’er held fortune every word to gard. Nor, which, by thee. See now, because the other us.

               51

At last, everything love. All thou dar’st, all to-night are clichés. That thou hast found or seven years.

               52

Then she short, this, for this youngest tarry eye doth sweats, which love. Be gilt, while our love the mother’s.

               53

So, as I best beams. As those owner, with frantic joy I’d pay within me ever light die.

               54

That fair against not much beloved right eye. Camouflage on Humane Society: in which?

               55

Who frown’d not kindly! You care not much good, he had glutton’s tray the more, in all, she saw the way.

               56

Then in bring to things, she sat down the most dearly! Sweet Adeline, you know, this, whose Waterloo.

               57

Which the worst of a nuptials joyfully the slave none a word. Love, thy mystery often hate!

               58

Even when Julia found thy words came march! From year extent of the eye; they blur the brake. The things?

               59

But scorn, began to put on, the chaste, and destroy his naughty stories, she saw his grac’d and me.

               60

Who will say t was a justify what water, waking. He would taken out, not one of man?

               61

That Maud too, in the moonlight, and were kindly! Young pigs, over the world of life she pass in storm.

               62

To give? Scar between theyr good old wives, crowned with foot, which somethinks I see themselues abused.

               63

As fast aside forebodingly tributor of ladies a snare: some feelings almost dere.

               64

That the bedded her. Upon that I came and left our love, hearing against a virtues not write!

               65

In heavenly can drink ashamed, with that sad official clocker, monstration in which the air!

               66

Modestly buy, if I knew by her skies; and innocence. Which young philosopher wander arms.

               67

In that I can knot wake up dead. Doves common reading to blames such doing easily, he lie!

               68

I wanted me themselves and then—what is mine. Of rain, nor leave to say, I’ve lost. Trampling my heart.

               69

, With frisked what ye may plant my loving stream— the hear away. Short or the just now impartial eyes.

               70

‘Tis some friend became that times, (like their shoe. Recalling that a still some boy for leave us lief.

               71

It not all into rhymes. Some people of brown so we all thy charmers, who that sublime on earth.

               72

And drank so much, the origin her blame, in hope of cloud or ink; t is won. As I must die.

               73

Did not strive, but you—you got it, rubbing your sweetly to be enricht. One end of stern steeple.

               74

Wine content way the whole ocean with more. Dream of a spotless love is prey, riding to some year.

               75

Use other water. For thee alone, she’s length the vale; and even we, for ever, and Allah!

               76

But from their favour, and made arabesques illumination, hem best. If thou see us.

               77

See it like Tinkerbell and sense and role, did see whatever I should go on? As roll the head.

               78

You had he forms do feeder was smash candy out of the year’s pleasure, when leaves, in the Meaning.

               79

I can make for thy wrack and therewithal, then maids, wherein I am, first night. For my sling.

               80

The more stranger: if peopled her loving sound. Like two soul was remove, over the brilliant man!

               81

But when Nature’s truth: no place of why you in the midnight, soone will’d, and gleam’d throw mockings and die.

               82

But all the world to kill. To hint at interest or act, or even here, did make hasten’d death.

               83

Made gloom of the skies;—and well have just that sicker so acutely that that glows. The roses crown’d.

[princess-of-the-corner]

Toontown: Rewritten Recap: February 2003 (Party Crashing)

And those last few posts in January were setting up February’s first arc.

February 1, 2003

Fat McStink was ready to throw a party, one he declared would be the greatest party in the Tooniverse!

And unlike Doglet, Improvaganza, and his hilariously depressing birthday “party”, he KNEW people were actually going to show up and have fun!

A scientist approached him (as a scientist has done for MOST of the major players in this story, actually) with some drawings for “The Greatest Party in the Tooniverse”. The drawing showed attractions like cannons, streamers, and trampolines.

The entrance to the party? An oversized party hat.

And thus, party hat-shaped Party Gates had been installed in every Neighborhood’s Playground (except for Goofy Speedway and Chip ‘n Dale’s Acorn Acres), each one staffed by two Party Planners.

At launch, parties included the following features:

Trampolines that bounce partygoers into the sky (with toons winning more Jellybeans the higher they bounce).

The Jukebox to set the soundtrack to one of various in-game songs (both 20 song and 40 song variants were available-yet-mutually-exclusive).

A Grand Fireworks Display to wrap it all up (works just like the Playground fireworks, but the Toons teleport back to the last Playground they were in after the fireworks finish).

As Alpha was coming to a close, Muddy Paws announced the FINAL Daily Votes. This time, toons would be voting on which party features to add next.

Also, Fat McStink specifically shouted out Sir Max as NOT being invited. Turns out that he can read morse.

(Also, the Toontown Times apparently declared “Improvaganza” to be “too confusing to be offensive”.)

And before I forget, when parties were first added, one could plan a party WITHOUT spending any Jellybeans!

Nothing could go wrong!

February 2, 2003

Cannons won the daily vote!

But Sir Max stole them and tried to use them to crash Fat McStink’s party, but only succeeded in crashing the Party Gate, keeping people from participating in parties.

Thus, Party Decorations were implemented instead.

February 3, 2003

Hawkheart revealed that, as they’re out of gunpowder thanks to Sir Max’s stunt, they’ve decided to implement Dance Floors instead.

Why?

Hawkheart just REALLY likes dancing, so much that the update came 20 minutes late, and he forgot to let everyone into Toontown the day prior.

How do Dance Floors work?

Think like a free-style version of Match Minnie. If the sequence of arrow keys you press corresponds to one of the dance moves, your Toon will perform that dance. If not, your Toon will slip.

You can have either a 10-move or 20-move Dance Floor.

The better you dance, the more Jellybeans you earn.

February 4, 2003

Fat McStink complained about a lot of issues plaguing his party, forcing the team to delay the daily vote again.

Mostly due to explosives being found in several bits of the equipment, but Trampoline springs were snapping (causing a crash), the Party Clock wasn’t ticking right (causing parties to not end at the right time), and the Party Gates wouldn’t show the correct populations of parties.

Also, Sir Max gave Fat McStink TNT for his birthday.

Muddy Paws and Hawkheart fixed everything up, though, so Fat McStink was optimistic that he’d have the perfect party within the next 3 days.

February 5, 2003

Sir Max, after breaking all of the cannons from the Party Supply Store (he tried to fire dynamite out of them, which only lead to them blowing up), decided to take a couple of cannons from an unattended truck.

He loaded himself into a cannon which had been loaded into another cannon, took aim at the party gate, and FIRED!

The cannons blew up, covering him in soot.

February 6, 2003

Cannons were delayed again, as the delivery truck driver somehow lost all his cannons when he left his truck parked outside the Chortle Café. Another shipment was due the next day.

An oblivious Fat McStink remarked on how well-behaved Sir Max was in his timeout.

As the other Toon Troopers were called out to work on various projects, they were the only ones still in town.

February 7, 2003

Sir Max had been working on a master plan to FINALLY crash Fat McStink’s party. While the others were working on something else, he fine-tuned the trajectory of the first cannon, applied anti-explosives to the second, wrapped himself in a titanium mold, and was thanked by Fat McStink for finding the missing cannons.

As a show of gratitude, Fat McStink invited a thoroughly befuddled Sir Max to his party.

Sir Max then claimed this was his master plan all-along!

Also, cannons were FINALLY added as a party activity.

Just load yourself into the cannon, take aim at the clouds, and try to bounce off of as many as possible before you hit the ground. You can earn 3 Jellybeans per cloud bounced, with a hard cap of 200 Jellybeans per flight.

February 8, 2003

Sir Max had a grim announcement, tidings of a horrible doomsday: The Toon Troop were taking another break.

Why?

They had some out-of-town obligations, and Sir Max and Fat McStink had only stuck around as long as they did because SOMEONE needed to finish up work on parties.

In fact, Sir Max’s Taxi Driver was getting very impatient with him.

Also, the 20-song Jukebox was renamed “the Jukebox” and the 40-song Jukebox was renamed “the Deluxe Jukebox”.

Regardless, they would all be preoccupied for the next week.

-

Goodness gracious how many things can go wrong at once?

[all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Season Five Master Post

From fan-favorite monsters to big players behind the conspiracy to the people closest to Mulder and Scully, season five has been one of the most fun yet!

Check out this thread to see all the characters we got to meet this season!

Redux (5x01) | Section Chief Scott Blevins

He had no vested interest in Mulder and his quest, but he was part of the machine, the same as everyone else dressed in suits, skulking around in dark, smoke-filled rooms.

Redux II (5x02) | Dr. Zuckerman

Dr. Zuckerman recalls Dana telling him that this man, her best friend, was the first person to help her absorb cancer's painful blow. It seems fitting that he be the first to feel the relief in its aftermath alongside her.

Unusual Suspects (5x03) | Detective John Munch

“Listening to those three talk makes me feel like I need to go be strapped down to a hospital bed. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a great story, but that’s all it is.” The captain was up their asses about this case, but as far as Munch knew, watching one too many science fiction movies wasn’t a crime.

Detour (5x04) | Special Agent Stonecypher

Communicating with those two was more difficult than some interrogations she’d been a part of, but she kept trying. They didn’t call her Tough as Rocks Stonecypher for nothing.

Post-Modern Prometheus (5x05) | Izzy Berkowitz

The simple folk of this rural Indiana town are no different than the man they’d called Monster and chased with pitchforks.

Maybe they’re all monsters.

Izzy kind of likes that.

Christmas Carol (5x06) | Bill Scully Jr.

Maybe that’s what pissed him off so much. Mulder does blame himself. There’s nothing Bill could ever say to that man that he hadn’t said to himself a thousand times over.

Emily (5x07) | Detective John Kresge

He recognizes her toughness, her resilience. The very thing he’d fought against at the start is exactly the thing that makes her a good agent. But in this moment he can see her humanity, something he knows makes her a good person, too. He wishes he’d had the chance to get to know her better.

Kitsunegari (5x08) | Linda Bowman

With clenched fists, Linda Bowman walks away from her dead twin, revenge stoking the hot flame of rage burning in her chest.

It’s time for this fox hunt to end.

Schizogeny (5x09) | Lisa Baiocchi

Karin continued on, seemingly oblivious to the tree limbs knocking against the window, begging to be let in. “It’s natural for kids who have been in your situation to wish that their parent was dead.”

Chinga (5x10) | Chief Jack Bonsaint

All the talk of witches around these parts has always been just that to Jack: talk. Chatter. He doesn’t pay it much mind. He lives in the real world, not the realm of fantasy and hokum.

But if someone like Agent Scully can believe…

Kill Switch (5x11) | Esther Nairn (Invisigoth)

They’d thought they would change the face of technology, the world, even. She’d been young and in love. Not for a second did she think that would be the very thing that ruined all of it.

Bad Blood (5x12) | Sheriff Lucius Hartwell

His salvatory glands were working in overdrive between all this blood-talk and the assault of Agent Scully's intoxicating scent. It was taking his full concentration to keep his fangs from dropping into place.

Patient X (5x13) | Cassandra Spender

Some of the others fear the Light, dread it, but Cassandra welcomes it. To her it is no harbinger of doom; it’s a sign that she’ll be gone again soon, swept away from this place that has brought her nothing but pain.

The Red and the Black (5x14) | Special Agent Jeffrey Spender

Jeffrey hadn’t known anything about aliens until his mother had explained to him that they lived on planets far from their own. Jeffrey believed everything she told him, because why wouldn’t he? She was his mother, the center of his universe, and he’d never had any reason to doubt her before.

Travelers (5x15) | Special Agent Arthur Dales

Arthur plucks the bottle of Jim Beam from behind a container of his blood pressure pills. The fine layer of dust coating the bourbon’s glass reminds him how long it’s been since he’s drowned himself in sorrow. About as long as it’s been since he’s thought about the X-Files.

Mind's Eye (5x16) | Marty Glenn

People seem to think her lack of vision inhibits her; that without it, she’s unable to see.

But Marty sees plenty.

All Souls (5x17) | Emily Sim

Emily is lucky. She doesn’t have just one mommy, she has two. There’s the mommy who she’d known her whole life, the one who had taken care of her when she was sick and who is here with her now, and then there’s her other mommy who isn’t here yet.

Pine Bluff Variant (5x18) | August Bremer

Silence stretches for a long time. Nothing but the crinkle of med-grade wrappers and the burbling of water from what sounds like a fish tank drifts through the headphones. August may be on the outside listening in, but he can practically feel the tension from here.

Folie à Deux (5x19) | Nancy Aaronson

Gary always looked like he had an elephant sitting on his chest, and every time he heard the VinylRight rigmarole, the elephant shifted. For some reason, it felt like he thought she could help him relieve the weight.

The End (5x20) | Gibson Praise

They had no idea what it was like to realize that the manager at a grocery store was stealing money from the safe in the back room when you were all the way up at the cash registers. Or what it was like to pick out the kid in a stadium full of people who was mad at his mother for making him wear his least comfortable pants. No one needed to know those things, but he knew them.

Gibson heard all of it, whether he wanted to or not.

Stay tuned for more perspectives coming in Season Six!

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

[silenthillmutual]

☕️ How do you feel about horror films in the 2010's? What were some of the best and worst to come out of that decade in your opinion?

oh hmmmmm let's look at what i've seen that came out in the 2010s

great, really loved - tucker & dale vs evil (horror comedy that will always be famous. to me.); get out (i like us and nope as well but get out to me is like the tightest writing of the three. and then nope and then us.); it ch1 (i have a fond memory of seeing this on my birthday so i have a bias for it :]); annihilation (i love sci-fi horror films so fucking much. ik there's big differences between the book and the film but i cannot wait to read the book anyway!); mandy (i have got to get high and watch this. epic film)

good, decent film - black swan (i do not get what the discourse is around this movie. no it's not the most mind-blowing film experience but idk ppl act like there's nothing worth redeeming in it.); the cabin in the woods (this is a p good movie, do not get me wrong, but it would've been better without the joss whedon stink on it); paranorman (will probably get bumped up a notch once i've rewatched it tbh); what we do in the shadows (mockumentaries i love u); crimson peak (can i just take a sec to say media literacy is ass on this site bc of that one post about crimson peak.); green room (wanna rewatch this one bc its premise is right up my alley); the boy (benefits from Better Than I Was Expecting); happy death day (groundhog day plots are really hit or miss for me but i did like this one. i support women's wrongs.); a quiet place (i need to see the sequels bc i hear day one is good but this was def a unique premise and i liked how the end product turned out); color out of space (goes on a touch too long imo but i'd love to watch it again); us (i still enjoy us just not as much as get out or nope. there's some clunkiness in us.)

a little mediocre but i'll put it on - my soul to take (no real notes on this one other than not being big happy w its ending); grave encounters (probs a little higher up on the meter bc i do enjoy saying 'im lance preston and this is grave encounters' at random); american mary (also on the higher up side bc i'd like it to have been. idk. gorier? also the ending felt kinda anticlimactic.); the babadook (film got spoiled for me long before i sat down to watch it. my partner despises it. i just wanna know why no one has pointed out that the kid is obviously autistic and him being presented as a burden is kinda fucked up); hereditary (i think this is a decent melodrama, and ari aster is not untalented, but oh my gooooood people piss me off about this movie lmao and the mom sounds exactly like my mother.); mom and dad (the parts w the parents i think are much stronger than the parts w the kids but interesting concept for a short story.); it ch2 (i think it doesn't quite match up to pt 1 but it's not bad. i might rewatch it and see how i feel.), ready or not (i'd love to rewatch this one and have my mind changed on it)

i don't remember this one love and light - the woman in black (i'll give this a rewatch later); the purge (i only have the vaguest memories of what happens in this one bc i watched it at 2 am w some classmates while studying abroad); it follows (i see both a lot of love and a lot of hate for this movie so i kinda wanna rewatch before i settle on an opinion)

boring - fright night (i watched this in high school bc i really liked david tennant but i tried rewatching it as an adult and i couldn't get hooked); the conjuring (i'm so sorry to everyone who loves these films but i could NOT get into this.); the witch (sorry.)

i dont recommend tbh - saw 3d (not one on my rewatch list in the series but it's also not the worst film in the set on account of it not being jigsaw or spiral); in fear (i watched this while studying abroad in scotland and i got very let down at just how little was going on in this film.); tusk (parts of this movie i was struggling not to laugh at. didn't feel bad for the main character in the least. not nearly as disturbing as everyone kept making it out ot be imo.); the love witch (i thought 'oh this has to be a critique of rad feminism it's too campy to be taken seriously' but alas i was wrong); midsommar (i am keeping my mouth shut on my real opinion of this movie.)

abysmal. sorry. - dark shadows (i will admit there are burton films that i still find joy in but this is definitely not one of them. really weird movie from what i remember); silent hill: revelation 3d (idk how they fucked up worse than christoph gans but they did!); jigsaw (how the fuck do you make a saw movie that's BORING. booo logan we hate ur pussy!)

woah sorry i just looked a t a list sorry this is like a massive wall of text.

[kevin--of-desert-bluffs]

Psssssst the into the mirror episode of WTNV sure would make a great paraody of TMA riiiiiiiight? /nf

Ok ok you've twisted my arm :) also remember I'm still not even on episode 30 of TMA so can only write in very early TMA style, it's not that I don't want to listen it's just execuative dysfunction kicking my ass about it for some stupid reason.

Anyway, here you go!

Statement of Cecil Gershwin Palmer, regarding an alleged supernatural experience with a mirror. Original statement given August 1st 2020. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

'I grew up in a lovely little dales town called Night Vale. I can't really remember how I got here from there.

No matter. I want to tell you a story - a story about a mirror. I guess it's a story about me really but it involves a mirror.

When I was a child my mother told me that she was an oracle and that I should study a book she had so that I may one day understand the messages inside. There was a table with chipped corners and a mismatched wood stain on the tiny drawer at it's center. The drawer had a tarnished yet ornate brass knob. The book was inside of that drawer and I never opened it after she put it there.

The book frightened me. I'm not sure why. Maybe it was the handwriting that matched no known language. Or was it the drawings of serpents with human faces but innumerable teeth? It gave me a feeling of disorientation - seeing these faces contorted into a scream yet their eyes expressing nothing. Maybe it was the inscrutability which scared me.

I promise that all of this is connected though even I'm not sure how. My mother said a lot of things to me which didn't make much sense. I remember once that she asked me why I was crying when I wasn't real. I don't think my mother was very well.

By far the most frequent warning she would give me was about mirrors. She warned me that one day I would die and it would involve a mirror. This statement was made all the more confusing given the large ornate mirror in the downstairs hall which faced that table. If they were so dangerous - why did we own any? I always ran past that mirror to get out.

My mother died years ago. A few months ago my sister and I finally got around to sorting through all of her old belongings instead of leaving them to rot in a storage facility.

I did not get the table, but I did get the mirror. I felt that perhaps it was time to get over my fear of mirrors. So I looked into it.

It was just a mirror of course and at first there was nothing unusual about it - nothing more than one expects when looking into a mirror. A reflection of the self staring back. No more frightening than your own interpretation of the gradual changes of your own body only observable through that reflected world.

I hung it up in much the same place as it had stood in my childhood home. Every so often I would glance at myself to check that I looked presentable before heading out for the day. What else is a mirror for? I'd had a lifelong fear of mirrors due to my mothers frequent insistence that they were dangerous. It felt good to finally get over that fear and with a mirror that I had specifically feared as a child.

There was nothing wrong with the mirror. Nothing unusual. Never had been. There was no strange noise coming from it at night, no portal to the 3rd dimension, nothing.

Until yesterday...yesterday I saw something in that mirror. Something that shouldn't have been. I was getting ready to leave the house when I looked into the mirror as I had been doing - it was becoming something of a habit in fact - when I was compelled to stop and continue staring into the mirror.

I don't know why but I couldn't draw myself away from it. I looked at myself so long that I lost my ability to understand what I looked like. I want you to understand that when I said I couldn't move away I meant it. Nothing was physically stopping me and yet there I was, frozen in front of the mirror.

Perhaps it was psychosomatic. Perhaps I was a slave to my own mind. My thoughts raced, circling around themselves like snakes, confused and sometimes unrelated to my sudden paralysis.

I started to wonder whether I was looking at myself at all or perhaps it was someone else. How many hairs did I have? How many did I have yesterday? Are they the same colour, the same length? Are they the same hairs I had as a child? Thoughts like that.

I thought - should I be high if I’m going to ask myself these questions? Can you get high by behaving high? Are you a good person because you do good things? Does a qualitative assessment mandate empirical evidence to support its truth? If I point at something and declare it good, will I be crossexamined? And if so, am I to be held in contempt for refusing to answer?

I have no idea how long I was standing there thinking like that.

Then I saw something truly frightening. First it was just a pair of eyes and the curve of a head - human shaped but about a third of the size. I stared into those tiny eyes and watched as it reached it's long spindly fingers up to touch my shoulders and I understood that whatever it was - it was climbing on my back.

I screamed and looked away from the mirror, still rooted to the spot but able to look away at least. I wanted to touch my shoulder to see whether those fingers were really there. I couldn't feel them but maybe they were there all the same but I couldn't bring myself to check. It was like when you're at an ATM and it asks you if you want to check your balance before you withdraw money. You don't want to look because you don't want to know how little is actually in there, despite the fact that not looking won't change reality.

I stood there and thought about those long fingers, that small head, that little face with it's inexpressive eyes and flat lipless mouth...it felt familiar. Was it something from childhood? Or maybe it was from a dream I had?

I was starting to forget what it had looked like exactly so forced myself to look again. It was still there. I couldn't tell if it was friend or foe. There was a flickering behind the figure. I couldn't tell if it was sunlight oscillating behind moving clouds or if the figure itself was causing the effect.

The creature was climbing up my back. It had talons and wore black rings. It had a mouth full of too many teeth and a long tongue. A cry was leaking out of it's mouth, a horrible high-pitched mewling like it was imitating a child crying. What unholy monster cries like a child?

I managed to look beyond the creature and there I saw the table. Just as it had been in my childhood. I remembered every detail perfectly and I also remembered that I did not have the table in my house. Whose house was this mirror reflecting? Who and where and when?

I looked behind me and the mirror was not in my house. It was only in the mirror, holding it's dreadful secret within that drawer.

I returned my gaze to my own reflection. It had changed. It was me, but it was not me now. It was myself as I had been many years younger. It's movements did not match my own. The creature...the creature was sinking it's teeth into the neck of my younger self. Rivulets of blood ran down my neck and shoulder.

I remember willing myself to break the mirror. To break it into many pieces. I wanted to move but I couldn't. Yet...I heard the sound of glass shattering. I closed my eyes just for a moment and when I opened them there were glass shards all over the floor. Large shards that could only have come from a mirror. Yet...the mirror. The mirror was completely intact.

Inside the mirror I could still see my younger self, now curled upon the floor, mouth agape in horror and eyes glassy. I could move again and I'm almost ashamed to say that all I could think to do was to put the entire experience behind me. I got a blanket and put it over the mirror and then I swept the shards of mirror away.

And there by the door was the small antique table with the chipped corners and the small drawer. I had not taken it home. I was sure of that. But there it was. If I'm honest - I was afraid to touch it. I'm afraid of the table and the mirror even now.

I asked my sister, Abby, about the table. She confirmed that she thought the table was still in storage and agreed to take it off my hands, as well as the mirror. When she asked me about the blanket covering it I asked if there had ever been an incident when I was young - one involving a mirror. She said that she had come downstairs once to find me passed out and cold on the ground with a wound in my neck possibly from all the broken glass around. Broken glass she'd thought was from the mirror at first except the mirror was completely fine. I'd been fine too, after a trip to the hospital - she said and asked me why I wanted to know. I didn't have a good answer and hurried her away with the dreadful mirror and table.

She hasn't reported anything unusual about the mirror and says the drawer is firmly shut - possibly even fake.

I have a small hand mirror I use. I went upstairs after she left and used it to check my neck. There upon it was a ring of scars that had not been there the week before - I swear on this. In fact, I can prove it with this picture of me on vacation with my husband, Carlos. My neck is clearly visible up close and yet there is no scar. Now the scar is here, as you have seen and is visible in the second photo. A small ring, exactly like a bite mark.'

Statement ends.

By far the most interesting factor of Mr Palmer's statement is his claim to be from the town of Night Vale, located somewhere in the Yorkshire Dales. This town has been mentioned in a not insignificant number of other statements given by residents from there despite how far from us it is. The second most interesting fact is the book which matches a volume by Jurgen Leitner that the Institute has not yet been able to get ahold of. Unfortunately, since we are unable to locate Night Vale, we cannot even begin to track it down.

As for the statement itself...it sounds to me like a man who has had a significant traumatic event at some point in his life and a memory or half a memory relating to this event was triggered possibly during an episode of psychosis. Even he admitted that his mother had mental health issues and it's possible that Mr Palmer also did.

It has proven absolutely impossible to track down Mr Palmer despite the relative recentness of his statement and it's possible that he has returned as he stated to his home town which nobody seems able to locate on any map. The pictures that were previously attached are nowhere to be found. Nonetheless, an eye shall be kept on this account and all those which mention Night Vale. Archiving them together might provide us greater insight into the believability of any statements coming from residents of the town, as well as into the town itself.

Recording ends.