#though at least with Georgia it's original

[ingravinoveritas]

I personally think its disgusting of what she posted yet again its all about her and she the reason why micheal keeps trending 4th day oh please he was trending for days before she came in the picture. And for someone who has no career and basically living off her parter who works so hard and been ill with virus the last few days and haven't been able to perform and she post this. Taking the credit for something that has nothing to do with her. He very grateful that she keep him grounded what that suppose to mean ? He was doing better before she came in the picture since he been with her his career have been slowed a little and she probably the reason for it

What do u say ?

Oh, boy. I saw this a little while ago, and all I could think was that the bar is so low at this point--like halfway between the fourth and fifth circles of Hell--and this still somehow falls short.

I know there has been a lot of talk about the t-shirt Anna is wearing (which was a gift from a fan at the stage door of Nye), but for me, the t-shirt is the least concerning part of all this. It's a reference to a quote from Staged (it's the title of a season 1 episode, in fact), and I am sure Michael found it funny. The only problem is that without the context of why it's a joke, it actually just isn't that funny. And it sets the stage for everything else that is happening.

Which brings me to the caption she wrote, which was what primarily caught my attention. The reason Michael is currently trending on Twitter (X, whatever we're calling it) is because of the overwhelmingly positive response to The Assembly, which aired last Friday night. He is receiving a tremendous amount of praise for being on the show, how he spoke to the interviewers, and the respectful and joyous atmosphere that was cultivated on the show. And rather than allude to any of that--not to mention Michael being sick recently, or the trip they went on to Disneyland Paris--Anna made Michael trending on Twitter about her.

That is what stands out to me the most. The idea of "keeping him grounded" that is coming across more like kicking someone when he is already down. That he somehow needs that, and that she would have us believe he is "grateful" to her for, what...comparing him to a loud bird? Repeatedly making fun of his looks and interests without a shred of respect or affection behind it? I'm also confused by the implication (and the irony) that Michael somehow has a large ego that needs to be kept in check when she is the one coming across as self-involved in this Insta story. So, yes. I'm at a bit of loss here.

I just keep thinking of the things she could have said instead. How she could have uplifted Michael, wished him well on returning to the stage tonight after several days' absence, said how she was glad to have spent time with him or taken care of him while he was ill. Just something that would give him a reason to hold his head high. But I guess it might just be easier to convince herself/everyone else that he is smiling if his head is hanging down instead.

I am just glad Michael is out performing again tonight and getting to be on stage and do the thing he truly loves to do. But those are my thoughts, and I'd be glad to hear from my followers about what you think, regardless of whether you agree or disagree...

[mystic-writings]

we’re just fine | daryl dixon

PAIRING — Daryl Dixon x Fem!reader

SUMMARY — after the fall of the prison, you find yourself in alexandria, alone. two months later, your family finds their way back to you. 

WARNINGS — angst, canon-typical violence/situations, pregnancy, fluff 

WORD COUNT — 5,000

NOTES — idk what happened to me all i know is i blacked out and then this was made. enjoy i guess

masterlist | navigation | requests are open!

Despite the pure monotonous routine you’d gotten used to during your two months in Alexandria, you couldn’t say that it wasn’t sometimes extremely boring. Your only saving grace was the mealtimes you had with Aaron and Eric at the end of the day. At least they had the sense and experience outside the walls to be able to carry out a conversation that wasn’t about what food you were eating or how the weather was. 

It was why you hated when they went out on recruitment runs. As their roommate, you felt awkward being in the home by yourself when they left the walls; as though you were intruding. You felt that way in a lot of aspects. An intruder on a perfect life that these people had grown used to in the wake of the apocalypse. A life where their only worry was whether or not Aiden and Nicholas would find the right ingredients for the food they’d planned on cooking during their supply runs. 

But there was nothing to be done aside from making a meal for one, eating alone with only a soft classical music CD to fill the silence, and to wait for the couple to come back home so you would have normal people to talk to. 

You were glad for them and the runs they went on, though. Or they never would’ve found you, and you’d likely be dead in a ditch by now. 

Your hand shook as you gripped the handle of your blade, wide eyes searching the pharmacy for any signs of walkers, or people. Being on the road alone for as long as you had been was making you feel like you’d gone crazy. Maybe you had already. 

Sweeping the small aisles, you found no signs of life. Most of the shelves were already empty, likely having been raided during the early days. Still, you grabbed whatever was available to you, shoving it into your bag before ducking into a corner, knees pressed to your chest as you rooted around for one of the final few cans of food you had left. 

You’d been rationing out what used to be a plentiful supply for a few weeks now. One can of food per day, nothing more. A lot of what you had was thanks to the traffic blockages on the highways and interstates you’d wandered along on your way out of Georgia. What used to be two cans a day for almost three weeks turned into one for the past week and a half, bordering on two. 

The lack of food wasn’t your only issue anymore. With no signs of life from your former group, you had every reason to believe that they were all dead. Logically, you knew they weren’t. You’d seen some of them escape in the firefight, yourself included. But without any real way of tracking them down, they were as good as dead. Not to mention the sudden and constant fatigue that the southern sun seemed to give to you, making traveling more difficult than you had originally planned. 

Even with no end in sight, no real indicator that the man you called your husband was still alive, and no true hope for your future, you still persisted. You found places to sleep for the night, whether in abandoned cars or gas stations off of turnpikes. You found just enough food to supply you for a few more days if you managed to stretch it thin enough, and you kept going. 

Just as you were about to crack open a can of corn, the crunching of glass and shuffling of footsteps alerted you to the body that had just entered the pharmacy. Its footfalls sounded too heavy and spaced out to be anything but a human. 

Gripping onto your knife, you held your breath and gently placed the can on the floor. With your bag still on your shoulders, you kept your body crouched and your ears peeled, moving around the person — no, people — moving around the pharmacy. 

“I’m telling you, we’ve already been here. There’s nothing left to take,” a voice reasoned. 

The footsteps ceased for a moment, and you paused, praying they hadn’t heard you. “I know. Doesn’t hurt to check, though, right? I mean, we can’t exactly go back empty handed. Aiden’ll have something to say about it.”

“But we aren’t out here for supplies,” the other stressed, “we’re out here for people, remember? New members?”

“I know,” their partner chuckled, footsteps resuming as they rounded the last aisle. You ducked between the shelves closest to the door, hoping to just outrun them and not have to fight them. There was a pause, a palpable beat, before he spoke again. “But I think we might not be coming back alone.”

A cold chill ran through your veins at the former’s words. He knew you were in here. He’d seen your can of food, or heard your shuffling around the pharmacy. In an instant, you were at your full height, eyes wide as your fingers clutched your knife tighter and you ran, against your better judgment, toward the pair. The blond was the one closest to you, his back facing your front. With as much energy as you could muster, you hooked your arm over his shoulder, dragging him to your chest as you pressed your knife to his throat. It wasn’t hard enough to do any real damage, but you knew that if you absolutely had to, you’d apply pressure. 

“Who are you?” You spat, hand shaking as it gripped the knife. “What do you want?”

“Woah, woah, calm down. It’s okay. We’re not here to hurt you.” The brunet immediately jumped into negotiation mode, putting his hands in front of him. The position reminded you of Rick, oddly enough, and your heart twinged as you adjusted your grip on the knife. 

“Then what are you here for?” You spat. “Like you said, there’s nothing worth taking here.”

The faintest of whimpers escaped the lips of the man you held hostage, dragging both yours and the brunet’s attention to him. “We’re just—” the blond gulped. “We’re recruiters. We have a camp not too far from here. A safe one. We’re looking for people to join us. People who have— have experience, out here.” 

His words, as stuttery and fearful as they were, confused you. 

“I’m Aaron,” the brunet said, keeping his arms up in surrender as he slowly slid the backpack from his shoulders. “That man you have is my partner, Eric. Everything he’s saying is right, and I can show you. I have pictures and a brochure in my bag, if you’ll let me get it.” 

Hesitantly, you nodded. Even if he had a weapon, most of your body was blocked by his partner — Eric. There was a highly likely chance that he wouldn’t try to harm you while you kept his friend in your grip, however weak it was becoming. 

Slowly, Aaron reached into his bag, pulling out exactly what he said he would. With Eric still in your grip, he showed you pictures of the place he and his friend called home — Alexandria. “Look,” Aaron sighed, stepping back a bit. “You seem like someone we could use. You have experience that we lack. Plus, it seems like you’ve been out here by yourself a while. We have walls, food, running water, and proper shelter. And if you decide to come with us, our leader, Deanna, will interview you. If she allows you in and you don’t like it, you can leave any time you want. We won’t keep you there if you don’t want to be, okay?”

With a shaking nod, you let go of Eric, nudging him toward Aaron, who enveloped the other man in a tight hug. “I— I can leave if I want to, right?”

“Of course, you can. No one will stop you, and that’s a promise.” 

It took a bit of getting used to, but you were glad that Aaron and Eric had found you that day. You’d been skeptical of things in Alexandria for the first few days, but you warmed to the entire situation a lot easier than you thought you would. You supposed it was because of how things were at the prison, but even then you weren’t alone.

Aaron and Eric, while not pushing the topic often, had managed to get to know enough about you and where you came from before they’d found you that they considered you a close friend. 

You’d only told them the briefest of answers. That you were with a large group in Georgia from the beginning, that you’d been with one of them for most of that time — even, at some point, considering yourselves to be married, though the symbol you’d had to show it had been lost months ago — and then another group came along and took everything away from you, simply because they could. 

The safety and privacy that the couple provided was something you were more than grateful for, even if you were sure you wouldn’t be able to have it forever. 

Because while Aaron and Eric, along with the rest of Alexandria, provided a structure and a sense of normalcy for you, you couldn’t shake the grief that fell upon you every time you were alone. 

The thought of Daryl being out there, combing every inch of Georgia for you while you were so far away, was enough to bring you to tears. It was another thing to think about the possibility of his rotting corpse roaming the woods in search of something living to eat. The thought that you’d never see him again, dead or alive. That you’d just push through life — however much longer that would be for you — without him, even though he promised you’d never have to go through something like that. 

The thought of your baby never knowing who their father was, and their father never knowing who they were, either. 

You could go an entire lifetime without ever seeing Daryl again, and the idea of it nearly killed you when he was still around. It hurt a hundred times worse now that it was practically a reality. 

The night passed without word from or the arrival of Aaron and Eric. It was common for them to be gone a while at a time — this particular trip lasting almost a week — but you hated sleeping in the house by yourself now. You were so used to waking up to Eric clattering dishes in the kitchen that waking up midday when they were gone only proved how fatigued you seemed to feel nowadays. 

Waking up to a knock on the door wasn’t unusual as of late, but it was certainly unpleasant. You were, however, grateful for the fact that when you were given a room at Aaron and Eric’s, it was on the first floor. 

Rolling out of bed got harder and harder with each passing week, but you managed it anyway. The knocking persisted, and you sighed as you made your way into the living room, shouting out, “I’m coming!”

The knocking ceased, and you pulled on the fabric of your shirt before answering the door, only to find Jessie. “Oh, hey,”

“Hi, hon,” she smiled, and you felt bad for being upset at her moments before. “Pete sent me over, said you were supposed to see him this morning?” 

“Oh, shit, Jessie I’m so sorry,” you said, brushing some stray hair from your face. “I overslept, normally Aaron—” 

Jessie smiled warmly, reaching out and putting a gentle hand on your arm. “I understand, Y/n, no need to worry. Just get dressed and head over to the infirmary. It’s not like Pete’s in any real rush.” 

“Alright,” you nodded, bidding Jessie goodbye and closing the door as she headed down the porch steps. 

Padding your way through the home, you went back to your room, pulling on some fresh clothes before freshening up in the bathroom. Routines like these were simple, but they kept you sane. You’d had something a little closer to it at the prison, but it was nowhere near as nice as it was in Alexandria. 

After eating a small breakfast, you were out of the house and on your way to the infirmary. The streets were quiet, as always, and the sun was anything but forgiving. People smiled and waved, and you did the same, even if you didn’t know half of the people in this place. Even after being here for two months, it was hard to remember such trivial things about so many people. Plus, putting names to faces was never one of your strong suits. 

Stepping into the infirmary, you were grateful for the burst of air conditioning that fell over your body. Smiling, you greeted Denise and Pete, the former of the two sitting on one of the beds as she pored over the book in her lap. 

“Alright, let’s take a look at you. Sound good?” Pete smiled, and you nodded back. 

While you hauled yourself onto the bed, Pete readied the ultrasound equipment. Pulling back the loose shirt you wore, your eyes glued themselves to the obvious, albeit still small, bump you were sporting. 

“Hey, I’m about four months along now, right?” You asked, eyes darting up to Pete, who confirmed with a nod. “That means you can see the baby’s gender, doesn’t it? I remember hearing that somewhere,” 

Pete chuckled, powering on the machine and taking the gel from its holster. “Most of the time, yes. If you want me to look around for it, I can do that. After I make sure everything’s okay.” 

“I really wanna know,” you said, wincing at the cold gel making contact with your skin. “It’d mean a lot. Then I can go full nesting mode. And so can Aaron and Eric, really.” 

The ultrasound went off without a hitch. According to Pete, your margins were clear, and everything looked healthy with the baby. It was always a relief to hear. There was little room for error with these things now that you had scarcely little supplies to work with. Finding the ultrasound machine early on in the apocalypse was a miracle in itself. 

“Okay…” Pete hummed, the wand moving and pressing over your skin. “The kid’s giving me a hard time with this one. And…” he pressed a few buttons, eyes focused on the screen before him. You watched his features intensely, as though his expression would give the answer away before he could say it. Pete’s eyes broke from the screen as he smiled, lifting the wand. “You’re having a little girl. Congratulations.” 

Your heart swelled, a wide smile overtaking your features as Pete handed you a towel. “A girl,” you whispered, eyes locked onto your belly. 

Before you were able to stop yourself, you were once more reminded of the likelihood that you’d never be able to share this with Daryl. Tears welled along your waterline as you sat up, swiping the scratchy cloth across your belly. Whether Pete noticed or not, he made no indications. You were thankful for it, and for him leaving the room to put the ultrasound equipment away. 

When he came back inside, he pulled Denise from her books and into the kitchen to talk, but you paid no mind to them. They were talking too low for you to listen in, anyway, and you were too busy trying to quell your emotions on the makeshift examination table to want to eavesdrop. 

By the time you were ready to leave, Olivia entered the infirmary, eyes scanning the room before landing on your frame. 

“Y/n, they’re on their way back,” she smiled, and you nodded gratefully. 

“They’re okay?”

The woman nodded. “Eric’s a bit banged up, hurt his leg I think, but otherwise they’re fine. And they brought a group. They should be getting here soon.” 

Exhaling a relieved breath, you slid from the bed, bidding goodbye to Denise and Pete as you followed Olivia onto the street. You walked side by side in silence, mulling over what she’d said. 

“You said they brought a group?” You asked, following Olivia up the steps to the house that held all of your inventory. “How many?”

Olivia huffed, brows cinching. “Deanna said it was a big one. That they had a lot of weapons, been on the road a while.” 

Your eyes widened. “A while as in the entire time, or?”

“Not sure,” Olivia shook her head. “All I know is I gotta get the weapons cart to the gate, if you wanna help?” 

“Sure. Should probably be there to get Eric to the infirmary, anyway,” you decided. 

And, sure enough, Aaron helping a limping, sweating Eric through the gate was the first — and for now, only — glimpses of the new group you would get. Aaron smiled apologetically as he spotted you, tucked out of view from the newcomers. 

“What the hell happened to you?” You said, looking pointedly at Eric, who grimaced as you took his arm from Aaron. 

“Roamers,” he sighed. “It’s broken, I think.” 

“You think?” You asked, eyeing the bruising flesh. “I can tell it’s broken. Come on, let’s get you to Pete.” 

Aaron thanked you as you wrapped an arm around Eric’s waist, helping him up the road and back into the infirmary. 

As Pete worked to wrap Eric’s ankle, you couldn’t help but ask questions about the trip. 

“It was a disaster,” Eric groaned. “There were roamers everywhere. Plus, this group, they’re headstrong. Been out there a while.” 

“How many of them are there?” You asked. “Olivia didn’t tell me.” 

“Fifteen,” Eric hissed, squirming as Pete positioned his ankle properly. 

Your eyes widened, throat going dry. “Jesus,” you huffed. “That many of them and they’re still going?”

“With a baby,” 

“Oh my God,” you gasped. Your mind flashed with images of baby Judith, heart clenching. The fall of the prison meant that you never found out exactly who made it out alive, and you never dared to venture the thought of whether or not she did. “They must be some lucky sons of bitches.” 

Eric laughed. “Not only are they lucky, but they’re tough. And really close. I think, once you get used to them, you’ll like them. They remind me of you when we found you.” 

“So, scrappy, hungry, and tired?” 

“Yeah, pretty much,” Eric laughed, and you couldn’t help but do the same. 

“If you need me, I’m four houses down.” Aaron pointed, Rick and Carl following his line of sight. “If I’m not there, Eric or Y/n probably will be.” 

Carl’s eyes snapped back to the brunet, a mixture of confusion and skepticism floating within them. “Y/n?”

Aaron’s brows furrowed at the boy. “Yeah. She’s a friend of ours, came here a few months back. Why?”

“We, uh…” Rick stepped in, a hand scratching at his beard. “We used to know someone named Y/n. that’s all.”

“Oh,” Aaron nodded, stepping away and heading back home, where you and Eric were sitting at the table, sandwiches in hand as you giggled about something he wasn’t aware of. 

Upon his entrance into the kitchen, you stood excitedly and hugged the man. “Glad you’re back okay,” you said, heading back to your chair. “I heard the group you brought was tough.”

“Yeah, they are.” Aaron chuckled, still mulling over the puzzle pieces in his head. “You said you were with a big group before, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

Aaron huffed, glancing at his shoes. “I brought up your name to one of the new members — just a name, nothing else — he said they used to know someone with the same name.” 

Your heart stuttered in your chest, limbs freezing as you were bringing the sandwich to your mouth. Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to put the food back down, looking up at Aaron with shining eyes. “This man, what’d you say his name was?”

“Rick. Rick Grimes.” 

If your heart had been fluttering before, it was banging like a drum in your chest now. Your stomach fluttered, your hand coming to rest on the swell of your belly, hoping to quell the anxiousness. 

“Where are they?” You asked, and Aaron’s mouth only remained agape. “Aaron, where are they?”

“Down the street,” he finally said, voice cracking. “The house on the curb, the one you said you liked.” 

Within moments, your food and friends were abandoned as you practically ran from the home, shooting down the porch steps and down the street. You were thankful that no one was out and about right now, or you were sure they’d think you looked crazy. You didn’t even register a person in your path until you’d already bumped into them. 

“Oh! Y/n, are you alright?” Jessie asked, her hands on your shoulders as her eyes searched your wild ones. 

“‘M fine, Jessie.” You muttered. “I’ve gotta go.”

You gave the woman no time to respond before you were wriggling out of her grip and hurrying down the street. Up more steps, you were greeted by the charming yellow door of the home you’d wished you lived in, knuckles rapping frantically and unyielding on the wood. 

The door finally, after what felt like decades, creaked open. Your heart stopped in your chest as you took in the sight of your husband’s best friend, clean shaven and hair dripping from a recent shower. 

Rick’s eyes flooded with tears as they met your own. In seconds, you were pulling him into your arms, grateful that you weren’t the only survivor of the Governor’s wrath. 

You sobbed into his shoulder, gripping tightly to the clean white shirt he wore. “Rick,” you croaked, “is he—” 

“He’s fine,” Rick whispered, heart breaking when your sobs worsened out of pure relief. “He’s just fine.” 

When you finally found the strength to let go, Rick led you inside. “We thought you were dead,”

“There were times I wished I was,” you said, taking a seat at the edge of the couch. “I was by myself for just over a month. Found some train tracks, lost ‘em, then stuck to interstates, mostly. Got lost in the woods, found a small town, and from there, Aaron and Eric found me. I’ve been here for two months.” 

Rick huffed a laugh, disbelief filling the sound. “Sounds like you had one hell of a trek.”

“I had a car, for a bit.” You shrugged. “Walkers ruined that part. I crashed it into a tree. Stuck to walking after that.” 

“When did you…” Rick glanced down at your swelling belly, forcing a laugh from you. 

Shrugging, you smoothed your hand over your belly. “Four-ish months ago. Didn’t find out until I got here. Been terrified ever since, really. Not knowing if Daryl was out there, if I’d see him again.” 

“You’ll see him soon,” Rick assured you. “He’s talking to Deanna now.”

“And the others?” You asked. “Beth? Judith?”

“Judith is just fine,” Rick said, eyes leaving yours as he sighed. “Beth got caught out in Atlanta. A woman in a hospital killed her.”

Your stomach churned at Rick’s words, guilt crushing your lungs and bile rising in your throat. “Oh, my God,” you whispered, pressing your fingers to your mouth to try and stop yourself from throwing up. 

Rick nodded, resting a hand on your knee. He watched you stand, your arm resting over your belly, beginning to pace the floor before him. 

“I have to… I need to go see the others. Daryl.” And without another word, you were leaving Rick behind in an unfamiliar home, nearly running down the familiar path to where Deanna and her husband lived. 

The group milled about in the small courtyard in front of Deanna’s house, hidden behind the brick walls that fenced it in. Everyone was either sitting or leaning against something, sticking to a tight group, and completely blocking your path to the inside of the home. 

With your mind so set on seeing Daryl, on simply getting close to him again, you failed to register Carol saying your name. Once again, you were pulled from your thoughts only when someone was right in front of you. 

This time, Carol was pulling you into her arms, her grip on your body tight. You hugged her back, despite the sweat and grime that covered her. Soon enough, Glenn, Maggie, Michonne, and Sasha had joined her. You were surrounded by your family, all overwhelmed at your presence, but happy nonetheless. 

When you finally requested to be let go, they obliged, and you finally spotted Judith in the arms of someone you didn’t know. Relief flooded you, seeing the baby healthy and happy as she could be. 

“What happened to you?”

“We thought you were dead!”

“Are you okay?”

“Guys, I’m fine, I promise.” You chuckled through tears. “I’ve been here almost the whole time, and I’m perfectly healthy. The doctor said so this morning.” 

You smiled as Carol’s eyes drifted from your face to your belly, shock overcoming her features, before her smile matched yours. She said nothing, but you were sure everyone else was either figuring it out or partially aware, just based on the interaction alone. 

A loud scoff echoed from the porch door, followed by low, gravelly muttering. Your heart stopped at the familiar voice, before thrumming in your heart like a rapid drumbeat. There, walking with careless ease, picking at his thumbs, was your husband, covered head to toe in layers of dirt and grime. You choked a sob as the group seemed to part around you. 

“Daryl,” you croaked, just loud enough for him to hear it. 

Daryl paused at the top of the steps, his eyes locked onto yours through the hair he’d let grow too long. In a flash, he was down the stairs entirely, rushing to pull you into his arms. You met him in the middle, colliding with his body and bringing you both to the ground. With one hand cupping the back of your head and the other splayed between your shoulder blades, Daryl cradled you close to him, rocking you as you clutched to the leather vest on his back tighter, sobbing in his embrace. 

“I thought ya were dead,” he whispered, fingers digging into your back. “I thought I lost ya,”

A choked sound escaped you as you shook your head. “Never,” you promised. “You could never lose me.” 

“Yer necklace,” Daryl croaked, tucking his face into the side of your head. “I found it, on the tracks in Georgia. Thought ya were gone…” 

“It fell.” You said, words hushed and shaking, as though they were a desperate plea. “Walkers were coming for me, too many for me to take on myself. It snapped off in the fight, I couldn’t go back for it.” 

By the time you felt okay enough to stand on your own, everyone had departed from the courtyard, likely into Deanna’s home. With a vice grip on his arms, Daryl helped you stand. His eyes raked over your face, tear-stricken and flushed with emotion. No matter the state you were in, Daryl could never see you as anything other than utterly beautiful. 

“You’re okay?” You asked, hands gently brushing the hair from his dirt-caked face. “You’re not hurt?” 

Daryl shook his head, leaning into your delicate touch. Hands smoothed over cloth, over skin, dedicating the feeling of your body beneath his touch to memory. He watched your eyes flutter closed as he did so, relishing in the slight pressure of his palms against your skin. They slid down your hips, your waist, and Daryl’s brow furrowed. He’d committed your body to memory long ago — every curve, every bump, every scar. Slowly, and with a hand that was less steady than it had been a moment ago, Daryl’s fingers drifted delicately over your front, eliciting a small gasp when he found what he’d suspected. 

The sound forced your eyes to open, meeting the bright blue of his own, widened in shock. Immediately, your stomach churned and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, a habit you’d been unable to shake since high school. 

“Daryl?” Your voice shook. 

“Yer…” he breathed, eyes darting down to where the backs of his fingers rested, the slight swell of your stomach confirming what he’d been about to ask. “When’d you… did you know?”

“No, no…” you whispered gently, shaking your head. “I had no clue when… I didn’t know until I got here. I suspected it on the road, but… no, I didn’t.” 

A shaking breath fell from his lips. “And yer okay? Yer both— both okay?”

“We’re just fine,” you smiled, resting your palm on his cheek. “I promise. Your girls are just fine.” 

Daryl’s breath caught in his throat, a new wave of pure emotion rolling through his body. It seized his muscles, freezing him in place as he struggled for breath and blinked away tears. Girls. He was going to be a dad. He was going to have a daughter. 

“Ya have no idea how much I love ya,” Daryl muttered, his head dipping low, forehead resting on your shoulder. 

“I think I have a clue or two,” you joked, voice as soft as you could make it.

Daryl scoffed, lifting his head and pressing his lips to yours. It was short, shorter than you would’ve liked, but it carried as much love as all the other kisses you’d shared and stolen with the archer over the years. Still, he was here, and he was safe, and so were you. Nothing else mattered except that. 

The horrifying reality you’d thought yourself to be in was nothing but that — a mere thought. For now, you and Daryl were safe. Together. As a family. 

And you knew that, as he slipped the necklace back onto your skin, this time on a leather rope tied tight, there was nothing either of you wouldn’t do to stay that way. 

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[so-long-soldier28]

Favorite Sociopath

kai parker x reader

summary: damon and bonnie leave you in charge of babysitting kai. you accept willingly as time to get to know him.

tags: characters watching american horror story / ahs references, talking about trauma, past child abuse, childhood trauma, accidental cuddling / cuddling, bonding

word count: ~3.5k

“I’m almost finished, shut up,” Bonnie snaps at the brooding man beside her.

Damon puts his hands up, “jeez.”

“He’s in Georgia. At this location,” she points to the site on the map.

“What’s he doing there?”

“It’s your brother, you tell me.”

“It’s not like I control him!”

“Ah,” a voice interrupts their arguing, “the two of you, still bickering. Just like in the old days of 1994.”

“Shut up, Kai,” Damon orders the younger man. 

“Harsh words! I’m hurt.” He grabs his chest as if he were stabbed.

“You’re fine.”

The siphon clicks his tongue, “so when are we leaving?”

“We? You’re not going anywhere.”

“Oh come on! I helped,” he gestures vaguely, “with the spell.”

“Suggesting a locator spell is not helping. But regardless, your help or lack thereof is not why you’re not coming. You’re dangerous; you can’t be trusted. You’re staying here. Y/N, you’re watching him.”

“What?” Bonnie whips to face Damon before you can even comment. “He cannot be alone with her, he’ll kill her! How do you think Elena will feel when she finds out you let the psychopath murder her cousin?”

“Please, she’ll be fine! She can handle her own.”

“Kai is a psychopath! Whether or not she can handle her own means nothing when you have a psychotic witch against a mere human!”

“Only slightly offended,” you mutter. Then louder, “I’ll be fine, trust me. Kai’s a sociopath, not a psychopath.”

“And that means what exactly? That he’s not capable of killing you?”

“No, I’m just saying… I don’t know… I trust him. Sociopaths at least have the capability to feel emotions, they’re just buried, or reserved for certain people. Psychopaths are the ones that scare me.”

Both are obviously baffled from your statement. Though as soon as Bonnie gets over it, she yells, “you trust him?! Are you crazy?”

Kai borrows your words, “only slightly offended.” It makes you chuckle. “Just a reminder - I’m right here.”

“And?”

“And, Bonnie, no. She’s not crazy. She can think for herself, y’know? And she’s right - I’m not going to hurt her.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then don’t. You’re not the one being told to babysit me.”

“Damon, we cannot leave her with him!” She turns back to the man. 

“Well we’re running out of options. We could go with my original plan and leave these two here, go retrieve Stefan, and return. Or, we could bring them with us. Listen to Kai talk non-stop all the way to Georgia, grab Stefan, squeeze all three in the back of my camaro, and drive all the way back, with Kai still yammering. Does that sound fun to you?”

“Better than letting Y/N die at the jam-covered hands of him.”

You roll your eyes, “Bonnie, I’ll be fine. I promise. You two need to go get Stefan before he attacks someone else, and Georgia’s a long drive. Kai and I will be fine, and if not, there’s plenty of people I can call for help. Not only that, plenty of places I can hide in this massive house.”

“Just not under the bed,” Kai smirks, “I’ll find you there.”

You stifle a laugh as you meet Bonnie’s eyes. 

Kai notices her expression, too, and coughs, “just a joke. Very bad joke.”

“No more jokes.”

Seeing the fire in his friend’s eyes, Damon chooses the next moment to interrupt. “You’re right, Georgia’s a long drive. Kai, no leaving the house. Y/N, watch him carefully. No killing, no threatening, no nothing. Call Rick if you need anything-”

“Ew,” you cut him off.

“Alright. Call, I don’t know, Jeremy then. What’s wrong with Rick?”

“Weird, just weird. Might be the beard. Might be the…”

“Spit it out, Y/N.”

“Nah.”

Bonnie gives you a glare.

“Fine, I’ll call him. But I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. Right, Kai?”

“Mhm.”

“See?”

“Whatever. Just be careful.”

◇◇◇◇

Twenty minutes later, they’re finally out the door. 

“Finally!” You collapse on the couch, “peace and quiet!”

Kai takes the chair across from you, then watches as you get comfortable.

“Want to watch something?”

“I am.”

“No, you goof. I mean on the TV,” you roll your eyes playfully at his comment.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know? Let’s see if there’s Netflix on here.”

“What’s a Netflix?”

“You’ll see.”

After a bit of scrolling - the brothers did, in fact, have Netflix downloaded - your eyes light up at one show in particular. 

“Oh this is a fun one.” 

“American Horror Story?”

“Mhm! Murder. Mayhem. It’s a masterpiece.”

“You’re into that sorta thing?”

You look at him, “why? Do I not look like it to you?”

“I don’t know, you just seem so sweet and innocent.”

“Oh, Kai Parker,” you coo at him, “that’s the thing about girls. Even the sweetest ones have a dark streak in there somewhere.” 

His eyes stay focused on you, nearly black and unblinking, but it’s hard to miss the lump in his throat.

“So you want to watch it?”

“You’ve got me intrigued. Now I’ve got to see it.”

You can’t help but giggle in excitement as you press start on the first episode. “They don’t have to be watched in order, but season one is a classic. Wait til you meet the love of my life, Tate Langdon.”

“Who’s Tate?”

“Oh, just my favorite sociopath,” you wink at him. “Aside from you, of course.”

His cheeks flush, but he tries to hide it with a cough. 

“It’s starting. Meet,” you spread your hands out as an introduction, “the twins, that I honestly forgot opened the show. And I don’t know their names.”

Kai chuckles, smiling at you before turning his eyes to the TV.

Only half of your attention is on the show, as the other half watches for the witch’s reactions. You notice a small grin when the twin - Brad? - gets sucked into the basement’s abyss. The expression should scare you, but you find yourself more entertained than anything else. His face changes, however, when Ben’s caught cheating on his wife. Kai’s eyes darken and jaw tenses. The smile returns when Vivian cuts the man’s arm in a fury, making you giggle. 

“He deserved that,” Kai justifies.

“Oh definitely.”

“I don’t know that much about… like, love, and all that, but you should never cheat on someone you love.”

Ignoring the butterflies in your stomach, you smile, “okay, Tate.” 

He cocks his head at you.

“You just nearly quoted him verbatim. Couldn’t help it. You’re right, though.”

You guys continue to watch. 

Eventually, the scene fades into the introduction. You can’t help but stick your tongue out at it, and don’t miss Kai muttering, “ew. That’s a little creepy, all those dolls and jars.” He grimaces.

“Sometimes the intros are scarier than the actual show.”

“How many seasons are there?”

“Four, but I bet there’ll be more.”

“Good. Ten minutes in and I’m hooked.”

“Season 3 is called Coven. But I really want you to meet Tate.”

“Coven? Is it anything like mine?”

“Well, let’s see from what you told me about yours... Shitty leaders - check. Awful parents - check. Stupid traditions - check. Yeah, similar.”

“Wait… you believe me? About my parents?”

“Of course,” you say without hesitation, “I mean, they locked you away for god’s sake. Of course I believe how they treated you. Why it made you snap.” Your tone quiets at the end, afraid to hit a nerve. Kai, however, doesn’t seem bothered by the mention of his crimes. He’s too focused on someone actually believing him; someone listening. 

The two of you stare at each other for a moment before he remembers to respond. “Thank you. For believing me.”

“All the evidence is stacked against your father. And if we’re being honest, dads are usually the cause of trauma, in my personal opinion. I mean, just look at my childhood. Hey, look at Ben Harmon,” you gesture to the TV, “every shitty thing is his fault. Or, maybe I’m projecting. Either way, he sucks.”

Kai laughs.

“Regardless, yes, I believe you, Kai. You’re not alone in your feelings. And like I told Bonnie, I do trust you.”

He’s quiet for a second, “it means a lot.”

You nod.

“Back to the show now?”

“Sure.”

You push the back button a few times to where you guys were before your mini conversation. For a second as it starts to play, you keep your eyes on him. His lips form a small smile. Fingers are still, resting on the armchair. His posture, though…

“Hey, Kai?”

“Hm?”

“Are you comfy?”

“Enough, yeah, why?”

“Come here, sit with me.” You sit up to pat the pillow where your head had just been. “Don’t hurt your neck looking up like that.”

“Are you sure?”

“‘Course. I don’t bite.”

The witch chuckles as you move the pillow for him to sit beside you. He sinks into the couch and gives you a smile that reawakens the butterflies in your stomach. 

“Better?”

“Mhm, thank you.”

“Is it okay if I touch you?”

“What, why?” The question catches him off guard.

“It’s okay to say no, I just wanted to ask in case I lean into you by accident. Don’t want to startle you, or cross a line.”

“No, um, wait. It’s okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, you’re okay.”

Sensing his hesitation, you take slow movements to get back into your comfortable position. Soon, your shoulders touch gently, causing him to flinch a little.

“I’m okay still. I wasn’t… expecting it. I mean, I know you told me, but I wasn’t allowed to… I, uh, I’ve been isolated a lot of my life.” He debated his words carefully before settling on the explanation. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, sweet. It’s not your fault. I’m guessing your father’s responsible for that, too?”

Kai nods slowly. “As a siphon, who didn’t know how to control their power, any form of contact would harm the other person. If I was allowed out of my room, I had to wear gloves, but even then, wasn’t allowed to touch anyone. Then I was in the prison world for eighteen years, alone.”

Hearing another bit of his past makes your heart break. Neither Damon nor Bonnie have told you much about him, except for a few antics from the prison world. They call him dangerous, but haven’t even told you his side of the story. As you learn more about him, everything in you wants to reach out and give him a tight hug, but you refrain from doing that to not startle him. 

He acknowledges your silence, “is this the part where you run?”

You snap out of your thoughts, “no, Kai. No, I’m not going to run. I’m sorry, I was just thinking. How awful of a man to treat his son that way.” Suddenly, you turn your body so you can look him in the eye. “You’re safe with me, Kai. Okay? Ever need to talk, ever need a hug. I’m here.”

“Okay. Um, thank you.”

“So… you okay if I…” you slowly get closer to him until your shoulders are touching again. “This too much?”

“No, you’re okay. Feels nice, actually.”

“Tell me if you need me to move.”

He nods, then pushes play on the remote. 

A deep focus takes over to the both of you as the show continues. At some point, Kai’s hand begins to absentmindedly trail along your arm - a gesture you don’t notice until you feel a chill throughout your body. He feels it too, and immediately retracts his hand.

“It’s okay. I like it.”

Kai doesn’t say anything, but to your delight, puts his hand back on your arm. You stay like that throughout the episode, too relaxed to recognize the heaviness in your eyes as sleep soon consumes your body. 

◇◇◇◇

Sometime later, your eyes flutter open, making you confused. There’s no sound, not even the TV, but it’s a comfortable silence, not one that feels threatening. Slowly, you wake up more fully and are able to better take in your senses. You’re still on the couch, but laying on your back. Your head is on something soft, but not pillow-soft. A hand runs along your arm - just as it was before you fell asleep… Kai. Where’s Kai?

You try to ask for his name, but in your state, all that comes out is a whine.

Nonetheless, he answers. “Hey, are you awake?”

“Kai?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, but when did I fall asleep? Where are you?”

Eventually you’re able to pull your body up so that you’re sitting, not laying, on the couch. 

“I’m right here,” he waves to you as you reposition.

“Did I fall asleep on your lap?” The realization hits you, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. No worries, I, uh, kinda liked the contact. Like I said, I kinda lacked that for a while.”

“I know, but I would’ve asked first.”

“Technically, you did. And you can’t control being tired, it’s fine. Trust me, I don’t mind being your pillow.”

A blush creeps onto your cheeks.

“In fact, I wouldn’t argue if you wanted to lay back down, because now I’m missing it.”

That’s all the convincing you need to reassume your position in his lap. Though this time, you move your head so you’re looking up at him. “Hey, Kai?”

“Mhm?”

“I’m happy you trust me enough to be this close. I like it, too. And I like being someone you are comfortable around.”

“Me too, Y/N. Oh, and hey, I paused the tv about an hour ago because I wanted to watch it with you but you were asleep. But we’re some way through episode two.”

“I slept that long?”

“Yeah, but it’s okay. I’ve been on Twitter, so I haven’t been completely bored.”

“Not Tweeting pictures of me sleeping, right?” You joke with a snort.

He snaps his fingers, “aw, I should’ve! Quick, go back to sleep!”

“Hell no! The whole Twitter-World doesn’t need to see my sleeping face! Bad enough you already did!”

“Awh, what are you talking about? You have a cute sleeping face. Twitter would thank you for being able to see it.”

The blush and the butterflies return with that comment. “I-uh-thanks.”

“I’m serious!”

“I, um, uh… do you want to keep watching, or are you bored?”

“I’m down to keep watching if you are.”

“Okay, press the play button.”

“Oh, wait, wait, wait, before we do - I met Tate!”

“Oh, yes! How’d you like him?”

“He’s fun! Highly relatable all the way down to the music taste. I see why you like him.”

“See?! My friends think I’m crazy for it, but he’s such a good character. And the way he absolutely loves Violet - he’d do anything for her! I mean, yeah, he killed a bunch of kids, but I don’t know, maybe if his mother didn’t fucking abuse him, he wouldn’t have snapped the way he did.”

You see Kai’s jaw set out of the corner of your eye. “Sorry, uh, spoiler alert.”

“It’s okay. Do you really blame his mom for that?”

“I mean, yeah. Yes, he was the one to carry out the crimes, but you can only take so much hurt and abuse before you snap. Emotions fizzle out until there’s just a numb feeling, and then… well, I imagine it’s hard to make rational decisions when you feel that way for so long.” A second later, you realize you’ve been ranting. “I’m sorry, I’ve just really studied his character. Done a lot of research, including research on sociopathy, and the long-term effects of childhood abuse. Helps me understand him, and what he felt, and what caused him to snap. Sorry, I’m ranting again, oh jeez!”

“It’s okay,” Kai swallows hard, “I, uh, feels nice to be understood. For Tate, I mean.”

You stiffen. “Kai?”

“Mhm?”

“Did your parents hurt you?”

“I mean, I was isolated for a long time.”

“I know that, but…” you don’t want to say it. Don’t want to open a wound; don’t want to push him past his limits of comfort. But, you need to know. “Did they hurt you?”

A visible lump forms in his throat. “What counts as that? Cause I mean, some parents just toss their hands in the air. Some others hit with shoes, I’ve heard. Jo’s friend actually mentioned one time that they had a wooden spoon reserved for punishments.” He’s deflecting. You can’t blame him; he’s obviously been through a lot.

He rambles on like this until he meets your eyes. Tears welling, threatening to spill. A trembling lip. You know. He knows you know. 

“Yeah, sometimes, Dad would. Most of the time he’d use magic, probably just to make a point about me being the abomination that can’t do magic.”

“For what reasons? Like, what did he see as a reason to hurt you?”

“Hmm, like if I talked back, or left my room without permission, or spoke to someone outside of the coven, like a sibling’s friend or neighbor. If he were really angry, like if I siphoned a sibling, he’d get more physical. Let’s just say, there’s probably a reason everyone wore long-sleeves with band tees in the nineties. Cover up those bruises with some devil band your parents hate,” cocking his head, he adds, “which then leads to more bruises but for different reasons.” He then pauses to clear his throat. “Eventually, I learned how to siphon the magic he’d throw at me. For three days, I felt so powerful. He’d hit me with a spell, and I could absorb some of it to fire back at him. But while I got a few good licks in, it mostly just made him angrier. He started getting even more physical, and later, would only include magic once I was down and unable to think up a spell.”

“Kai-”

“And then Mom died, and he only got worse. I mean, Mom and I never had a relationship so I wasn’t particularly affected by her passing. He was, though, and he got more violent towards me. I mean, he was now single-handedly raising eight kids - he had to take his anger out on one of them. Who better than the one you already hate? Anyway, life continued. Dad got more secretive, more dangerous.” Kai actually laughs, “I even feared him a little. I didn’t know if I’d ever escape that stupid bedroom, and even if I did, he’d make my life hell. Not only that, but it felt like he was planning something. And what do you know?! He was. Right before Jo and I’s birthday, the stupid fucking coven planned their monthly meeting in our house. Directly under my bedroom. I heard them through the vent, how they weren’t going to let us merge, and how they were going to wait until Liv and Luke were twenty-two instead. I had my suspicions about this - I knew something was off about the way he was acting - but for him to break coven tradition just to prevent me from merging? Fuck him. Coven always came before family with him, but he’d break the rules because he hated me so much.” Fire dances in his eyes, but he calms down a second later. “And that night is when I snapped. Something took over and I did to my family what my Dad probably wishes he did to me the night I was born. When he came back after whatever the hell the coven had left to do, he found Jo. And from that point on, I think you know how it went.”

Some time through his story, you had sat up to face him, leaving you now right in front of him as tears roll off your cheeks. “Kai…” There’s no words for what he’s just told you. Instead, you reach forward and hug him. Your arms wrap around his waist and you bury your face into his chest. Tears continue to fall, soaking his shirt, making you cry harder. A few moments later, you feel his arms on your back and he pulls you close. 

You two stay like that for a couple minutes. It’s nice. 

“I don’t want to pull away, but I want to tell you…” he lets you lift your head to face him again. “It feels good to have told someone. Thank you for listening to me, Y/N.”

“I’m glad you told me. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

He responds by pulling you back into the hug, “so, yeah… pretty relatable, your favorite sociopath.”

“Mmmm, actually, that title belongs to you,” you lean back so he can catch your wink. 

“Honored, Miss Y/N. Should we get back to watching your, ahem, second favorite sociopath?”

“Let’s do it.”

“Pressing playyyy, now,” he drags out the ‘y’. “Oh, and don’t you dare think of letting go.” 

You look at your position. Sitting on his lap, your arms around him, his around you. Your head on his chest, and his fingers tracing your back. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Beautiful semi-detached 1890 Victorian in Savannah, Georgia. 4bds, 4ba, $1.3M and it's already under contract.

The 1st fl. has been modernized, but they left the lovely colored glass windows and original fireplace.

The living room has pocket doors and goes directly into the expanded kitchen that has been remodeled.

It appears that a wall was removed - you can see the crossbeam is supported by a column. They have it blocked by a rolling kitchen island, but there's a great fireplace in here, with some cookery on the mantle.

Even though they expanded, the kitchen is still a little small, but at least it didn't encroach on the fireplace.

Redone bath with a space for the washer/dryer is always a welcome addition.

This fresh and bright bedroom could be the primary, but it's hard to tell.

It's amazing how beautifully plants make a home. Why can't I do this? I'm lucky I'm only down to four that are still thriving. This is a single family home, but it looks like it was originally a 2 family and this is the upstairs living room.

There's a lovely bedroom up here with a fireplace.

A nice bath.

There's another kitchen up here, so it was definitely a 2 family. I don't know, the realty ad says it's a single family, but it looks like this is someone's apt. Even the decorating style is different.

Another lovely bedroom.

I think that the real estate is wrong, this is definitely a 2 family- there's another washer/dryer up here, too.

Actually, there's even a 3rd apt. in the finished attic.

The beams, roof line, and exposed brick are wonderful up here.

Cute little child's play area.

Cute kitchen.

Nice bedroom, too.

The patio's a little crumbly, but there's a lovely pergola and space for some lawn and gardens.

[0perfectimperfections0]

Yo, I know I might be one of many people who ask this but I was wondering. Will get any lore expansion on the Everett family in the book you’re working on? I’m asking because the family has me really intrigued, especially Greyson. I know he’s one heck of a jerk, to say the least, but he’s a rather interesting jerk and I want to know more about him. I especially want to know how on earth he became that way despite his father, Henry, being quite a decent person, at least upon first impressions. I don’t expect any spoilers, though. I know you might want to save that for later. I just confirmation on when we can expect to see more of the Everett’s. Hope to hear from you soon! Keep up the great work!

You're actually the first person to ask about the Everett family. Which isn't surprising to me since I didn't make them a main focus point for the first book. The second book, "Blind Stitch", will give them more screen time like chapter 5 does, but most of the lore for Greyson Everett will be revealed through my Shell-Shock series.

It's just a matter of trying to figure out how to incorporate said lore into the Stitch series, because I really want to.

Greyson Everett is different as far as antagonists go, and I intentionally made it that way. He doesn't necessarily have trauma, he hasn't been abused, he wasn't set to unrealistic expectations, none of that.

Greyson's grandpa used to work at the World Trade Center (twin towers) and died when 9/11 took place. Yes, 9/11 will have an impact on the Stitch series and Shell-Shock, so if any of you are uneasy about that bit, consider this your warning. There won't be flashbacks or anything like that, just a general explanation of why Greyson initiated Henry's idea to start a doll company and why Louis exists.

The reason I don't have Greyson as a victim of trauma or anything like that is because of the way I have him treat Lou. Greyson is obviously abusive to him both physically and psychologically. And the message I'm getting through with that is that generational abuse and trauma have to start somewhere.

Greyson simply has strong political and world views, shaped by his family upbringing and 9/11, that drive him to simply believe that the way he treats Lou is the only proper way.

Not everyone that is abusive needs a tragic backstory, because it has to start somewhere. Some people are just cruel and don't deserve the "I was abused" card, and that's the hidden message I'm writing within the series.

As such, Greyson won't have a redemption arc or anything of that nature.

For background (I don't know how much you noticed in chapter 5 of Blind Stitch) but they live in Georgia. I can't remember the specific city, but the Everett's and the factory are located there.

I also did research on the actual UglyDolls line and that's how I built the rest of my fictional world around the factory. It originally was established February 14th of 2001, just months prior to 9/11.

In my story, Henry is the one that founded the company itself and was making it for the purpose of creating and producing dolls. He made sketches of potential doll designs, and Greyson helped him with most of the work.

Technical stuff aside, the first dolls weren't actually conscientious (alive). The first actual prototype couldn't walk or talk or any of that.

It wasn't until after 9/11 (spoilers so I won't go into detail) that Greyson started a secret operation that Henry didn't know about to create the microchips that would bring the prototypes alive. And this in turn would mean the regular dolls would be sentient as well.

I swear it makes sense once you know the full plan 😂 right now it probably sounds chaotic, and it kinda is. But I've got some sound plot based on my research of programming, AI, and all that stuff.

There are fictional elements to these stories, obviously, but a lot of the specific information I use is actual sound research.

Yes, I spent like 2 hours researching the step-by-step process of how to make a microchip 😂 which is why in my short story "Reunited" is really long. All that information he tells the dolls about their microfibers, microchips taking 4 months to make, all that stuff, that was research.

And the light colours are also accurate, but not specifically for when something is learned. Microchips are made out of silicon, which can be multiple colours, but whichever colour it starts out as affects what colour it ends up being after being exposed to light or thermal annealing.

I still have to do more research on it, but the reason why Lou's eyes are blue ties in with his microchip and the colours that are reflected when the microchip is exposed to light.

https://opg.optica.org/oe/fulltext.cfm?uri=oe-22-25-31545&id=306286

The above link is for those of you that want to read through an example of one of the many articles I use to attain this information, but don't feel pressured to 😂

Anyway, I'll stop rambling. I have to go to class anyway.

[foofenshmirtz]

My version of the slender forest/ creepypasta universe

Everything in this is fiction, the names and characters said in this universe aren't mine unless said otherwise and nothing is canon. Everything is just my interpretation and purely for entertainment purposes.  Please also forgive any spelling or grammer errors this is all just a summary of my au and not a full written story yet.

In this Au non of the creepypasta characters live in a fancy mansion or anything like that, but most do reside along in similar woods.

 In my interpretation of the woods everything takes place in the Appalachian mountains (Alabama, Georgia, Kentucky, Maryland, Mississippi, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, Tennessee, and Virginia, and all of West Virginia.)

The logic behind this is because of all the paranormal sightings, cult activity, and murders that have happened over the years along these trails and states, and its unrealistic to think that all these creatures and murders would resided in such close proximity of each other, but i do still think they would interact or at least know each other due to the portals and pathways around these woods.  

Much like the similar (and real, yet its speculated if actually haunted) goatman's bridge in Texas, these woods have many portals along the trees which can be used to access different parts of the forest. These portals are often hard to find but have markers that help the creatures and criminals living in the area help navigate the mountains and forests with ease. 

Along many of the trees there are the slender pages that help indicate to residents where these portals are and also try and help scare hikers or any other passersby away from the portals or the deep sections of the woods.  

The proxies in this Au have the job of patrolling the woods, killing and getting rid of anyone unwelcomed, and keeping slendermans pages up near the portals. There are around 11 proxies but there are around 3 different types of proxies. (hollowed, agents and revenants)

The Hollowed are proxies who have almost no conscience and act rather animalistic, attacking anything in sight and act more like zombies than humans. They seem more skinny and tend to look like they are decaying and slowly dying. They often roam the woods looking for victims, and don't seem to care much about anything other than eating. The hollowed can be seen near caves or just around roaming the woods, attacking hikers and feeding on the bodies to stay alive, though most hollowed don't live long. They are the proxies who couldn't handle the mind control and went too insane to keep any of their original personalities, now just being used as an extra layer of protection to keep normal humans away from the portals.

Agents are a lot more human than the hollowed in the sense that they have feelings, interests, and a sense of their past, though most of their passions revolve around being a proxy. These are loyal followers who aren't fully in the head to understand what they are doing is wrong. Agents are loyal dogs who often act animalistic and don't question why, they do as they are told and when they are told to do so. Agents do a lot of stalking and cleaning up, they help keep the forest somewhat clean and decent around the borders so as to not alert authorities. They mostly hide bodies and are the ones who make the signs for the portals and put them up in areas that are needed. These proxies are quick and look mostly human but aren't typically seen during the day.

Revenants are the scariest of the proxies, these are the ones who are harder to kill, are faster than most humans and seem to have faster regeneration nor do they seem to age. These proxies do have feelings, passions, interests, and goals but have a clouded memory and are typically ruthless with their kills. They do what they need to do and they get the job done quickly and oftentimes messily. These proxies are often in charge of everything though are mostly on patrol duty, walking around the forests looking for hikers or anyone who doesn't belong, or making sure none of the portals close or are disturbed. If faced with one of these proxies there is a very low chance you will make it out alive.

[penig]

Concerning Pink Lemonade

So, in the wake of yesterday’s brief lemonade discourse with @prismatic-bell, I started wondering. I began my researches at home, by consulting my late-70s edition of the Betty Crocker Cookbook. Yes, Betty Crocker is a corporate invention and shill, but her cookbook (at least for that edition ) is very handy for a lot basic things. If a dish is frequently found on American tables, odds are good it’ll have some sort recipe for it, even if it isn’t your favorite version of the dish. And sure enough, “pink” was down as a variation on lemonade, and the lemonade recipe itself is an acceptable one. Alas, to make pink lemonade the instructions are to make basic lemonade and add two tablespoons of grenadine syrup and a drop or two of food coloring! Which is about what you’d expect from commercial lemonade but I think we can all probably agree that it’s a cheat in a private kitchen and not worthy of the name “home cooking.”

So I started considering what I knew, or thought I knew, about pink lemonade, and why I thought so. That it was made from grapefruit I had no doubt - I distinctly remember my mom’s voice telling me that when I hesitated to drink it the first time. But I think the rest of the idea I had about it, though logical and experience-based, is not something anyone ever told me. (I have never actually made the stuff myself; never had that much grapefruit juice on hand.) Because, pink lemonade excepted, if a drink is made from a fruit, water, and sugar, it is fruitade - lemonade, limeade, orangeade. But grapefruitade is not a word and you only have to see or say it to know why. So grapefruitade became pink lemonade - essentially the same recipe, with an appropriate amount of grapefruit juice in place of the lemon juice. If a fruit is added to lemonade it becomes fruit lemonade - strawberry lemonade, raspberry lemonade, etc. Add one more fruit and you’ve got yourself a fruit punch.

This all seems tolerably obvious to me. But prismatic-bell’s evidence demonstrates that, to some people, strawberry lemonade is an alternate term for pink lemonade, not a separate thing.

So I asked my husband what was in pink lemonade and he said: “Well, if it’s real pink lemonade, grapefruit.” Which was highly gratifying but not definitive. He’s from Georgia and my family is all midwestern (though I”m an Air Force Brat and my cuisine, like my accent, is a kind of American Fusion). We are, however, the same age, and I thought it entirely possible that the original pink lemonade had fallen out of fashion and that Kids Today had never known The Real Stuff. So I cranked up the old search engine and went looking for pink lemonade recipes and culinary histories.

Well! Imagine my consternation when I turned up not one single pure grapefruitade recipe, only a lot of variations on fruit lemonade. Cranberry is apparently far the most common, but prismatic-bell’s strawberries, raspberries, pomegranates, and even watermelon appeared. Even more shockingly, one of the legends of its invention (which are lost in the mists of the 19th century circus) is that it was created when a refreshment stand worker threw cinnamon candies into the lemonade. I can believe a lot of things, but I do not believe that.

So now I’m curious. I have no particular hope of a poll made on my blog getting any traction, but I’m going to turn the Shiny New Post Editor back on and make a poll, and plead for it to be reblogged around. I’m typing this in Legacy because I forgot and anyway who’s going to read all this before voting in a poll?

[justinspoliticalcorner]

As a new generation of young people speaks out against attacks on women and children halfway around the world — this time in Gaza — college administrators from Boston to L.A. are racing to call in heavily armored riot cops to shut down protest encampments at campuses they’d sold to applicants as bastions of academic freedom, open expression, and historic demonstrations that had changed the world. They are destroying the American university in order to keep it “safe.” In a week when decades happened, the lowest moments in what became a nationwide assault on college free speech by militarized police veered from shock to tragicomical irony. [...] The most tumultuous week on U.S. college campuses since May 1970 resulted in at least 600 arrests at 15 different schools as of Saturday, with more surely on the way. It’s going to take even longer to tally all the students facing suspension and in some cases expulsion for speaking out on the bloodshed in Gaza, or the now-ruined careers of principled professors who stood between their students and a nightstick. Not to mention the lasting psychological scars for young people who saw their dream college summon cops to arrest them or even fire rubber bullets or canisters of tear gas at them, which would be considered a war crime if used in Ukraine but is apparently OK in the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s hometown of Atlanta. The notion of college as the American dream — fostering not just upward economic mobility but a nation of informed citizens taught to think critically — has been steadily dying since the original right-wing backlash against student protest in the 1960s triggered the end of taxpayer support for low tuition, which caused a $1.75 trillion student loan crisis. The maelstrom around the war in the Middle East has given the enemies of higher education — and they are many — a chance to move in for the kill. [...] Their ammunition is the complicated relationship between student protests for Palestinian liberation and against Israel’s current conduct in Gaza, where its more-than-six-month assault has killed at least 33,000 people — the majority of them women and children — and the constant scourge of antisemitism. Even though some advocates lump political criticisms of the state of Israel under an overly broad definition of antisemitism, there’s no question that the despicable harassment and assaults on Jews on or around college campuses have risen since the Oct. 7 start of the war (as they also have for Muslims). A few of the claims linking the worst antisemitism to the student protests have been disingenuous, such as when some journalists cited a nonstudent and well-known antisemite stationed a block from the Columbia University main gate as an example of protester hate speech. At Boston’s Northeastern University, administrators sent in police Saturday who detained 100 students based on a shout of “Kill all the Jews!” that veteran journalists on the scene said came from a Jewish demonstrator waving an Israeli flag, apparently seeking an escalation. But there has also been some instances of antisemitism that are indeed the fault of pro-Palestinian student protesters.

[...]

The biggest driver is right-wing authoritarianism. Red-state governors like Abbott in Texas or Georgia’s Brian Kemp have watched the new hero of U.S. conservatism, Hungary’s Viktor Orbán, make crushing his homeland’s once freethinking universities the centerpiece of his strongman governance. Now they are importing the strategy. The Gaza protests have given governors and their fellow travelers on Capitol Hill a golden opportunity to squelch the notion of a liberal education while squeezing out a few more tax-cut dollars for their billionaire donors, and creating a nightly Two Minutes Hate of young people on Fox News that distracts from the 88 felony counts against their presidential candidate. [...] The complexities of never-ending conflict in the Middle East is what allows the cynical Greg Abbotts of America to get away with this. Too many would-be Democratic critics are too wedded to years of deep support for Israel, ignoring that a) the right-wing extremism of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and his allies is not your father’s Israel and b) the assault on campus free speech has much deeper implications than the current crisis. Too many college presidents have displayed extreme cowardice, caught in the headlights between Republican bullying and billionaire donors, who likely fear the protesting students might eventually question the brand of capitalism that made them billionaires.

Will Bunch at The Philadelphia Inquirer on the violent crackdowns of student protests against Israel's genocidal campaign against Gaza on college campuses orchestrated by police (04.28.2024).

Will Bunch wrote a solid column in the Philadelphia Inquirer about how the recent violent crackdowns on student protests against the Gaza Genocide and Israel Apartheid are a prelude to the fascist hell that America will be under should Donald Trump be elected come November. The violent crackdowns on student protests are also an excuse for right-wing reactionaries to wage war on higher education, academic freedom, freedom of assembly, and freedom of speech.

[janusfranc15]

Happy Cappadocian Greek/Palestinian (could be both) Soldier-Saint Immigrant Day!

Or rather Happy Saint George Day! Slayer of Dragons/Crocodiles (shh don’t listen to Pope Gelasius the Dragon/crocodile is Real), Person Who Suffered a Lot (like most early Saints, Thanks Diocletian!) And potentially a Palestinian born in Lydda! According to the Palestinian Heritage Trail. (He may have also been born in Cappadocia in Turkey. And Martyred in Lydda. There are at least 2 different accounts, here.)

Regardless he is very much venerated there by local Christians and Muslims, as well as Druze.)

He is also combined with Al-Khidr in Islam as well, and al Khidr appears to have been combined with Elijah as well, interestingly enough.

Nice book on him i recently got- this is the ‘cheap’ version. Also made in 1909. This was the source for me learning about him having a significant presence in Palestine; though the fact that there’s an entire country named after him (Georgia. No. Not the American one) is also impressive.

The Author of the book also complains that people kept on conflating this George with another one who was a Bishop of Alexandria, and also Sucked.

Further reasons why George is multicultural and therefore Cool-

[neptunianrefrain]

my real actual life got in the way, so it's time to play catch up! this post will be a compilation of all days missed.

OC-tober day 4 - underappreciated OC -skipped

sorry for skipping a mandatory day, but literally none of my ocs specifically come to mind. because like all of them are because i forget they exist, there's no one guy that specifically gets that title. and i'm not drawing all of them there's TOO MANY

OC-tober day 5 - redesigned OC - skipped

no specific redesign i want to talk about :P

OC-tober day 6 - past

not many of my ocs get backstories, since i don't often have them for long enough to care about those sorts of things... but all of the ocs i've spoken about so far do have at least something within their past! so let's talk about them!

gio was born in the philippines, to a family who didn't really want him. his original birth name was marikit. through some kind of program he was adopted out to a family in canada. this family adopted 3 other children due to fertility issues, though they did manage to have one biological child. they let him change his name to georgia. his life was pretty normal. in his teens, he started to figure out he was trans. by the time it started to click, his mom died. so that kind of got in the way of things. there's also an abusive ex somewhere in there but i haven't figured that bit out. anyways now he's an adult and looking into transitioning. now his name is giovanni. he really likes g names. he fully transitions over the course of several years. during this time, somewhere towards the end of his transition hes like late 20s or something, he meets and soon falls in love with a guy named michael (who belongs to my moirail @dialtone-town,) starting a long and loving relationship. eventually mike's sibling dies and mike fucks off to new jersey. this fucks gio up for a while! and eventually he has to go to new jersey for work shit. and he meets mike again. and theyre friends now yaaay

starlight has a vague backstory involving his development, as he was a custom order. there were several prototypes made of him, that still exist somewhere probably. they're more so an oc that exists to exist instead of an oc that exists for a story.

victor is still very new, but i did come up with the idea that her coding - that is to say the very makeup of her being - was intentionally messed with by another gem to create a reliable hitman, though they fucked up and victor immediately killed them, now continuing to kill as she lacks purpose beyond this.

chartreuse probably served the gempire at some point. eventually rebelled and had a bit of a turbulent life, had a best friend for a while but he fucked off and became a massive bitch. now she's part of a major rebel group, serving as the lead engineer.

OC-tober day 7 - likes

most of my ocs like similar things to me, or things that fit their sort of vibe. it's kind of hard for me to come up with likes and dislikes sometimes... but i try my best!

gio loves all kinds of video games, particularly liking ones with interesting stories or game mechanics. he also tends to enjoy science fiction, liking both sleek and elegant futuristic tech, and rough and war torn machinery. he watched some anime as a teen, and still finds new animanga to enjoy to this day.

starlight enjoys futuristic themes and styles, such as cyberpunk, and cassette futurism. he also enjoys fashion, especially alternative styles. and by god does he love playing weird indie video games. sometimes he does play more normal video games. sometimes. loves music, genre and language mattering not. he WOULD pass those "do you really listen to anything" tests. he also loves creation, making art and music and writing. he loves creating as much as he loves looking into what others have made.

uhh victor. victor likes killing people. chartreuse uhh. she likes something probably.

i have other ocs i cld maybe put here but i don't want to introduce them now. blehh

[ingravinoveritas]

Did you see this picture yet? The first thing I realized was Michael's hand on David's back and their lovely smiles.

Hello! Yes, I did certainly see this group picture that was posted this morning, after every other picture had been posted. This is from Georgia's Insta, so for those who haven't seen the original post, here is a screenshot, along with a close-up of Michael and David, so we can see a little better:

It seems that Georgia's hashtag has been causing some confusion due to her use of an idiomatic expression, so for non-native speakers, the word "tits" has multiple meanings--colloquially, it's another word for breasts, but in British slang, a "tit" also refers to someone who is a fool or an idiot. So Georgia is saying here that she has tits, Anna has tits, and Michael and David are a pair of "tits" (idiots), which gives us the number three.

I did notice and enjoy that there is a "beading" theme to this picture, between David's suit and Anna's dress. I actually very much like her dress and how flattering it is, and it's something I would wear myself, although probably in a different color than white. I also love the way David's jacket sparkles, and there is something about him wearing it while standing next to Michael (who looks one box of bleach away from Aziraphale) that makes it have even more of a "the angel and the Starmaker" vibe to it. Because it's them. You know?

That was a large part of the impression I had of this picture, as it were. Of there being two distinct couples here, but perhaps not the couples you'd assume. It actually reminds me a lot of the picture that the four of them took in Lapland last year, which also looked like two gay couples rather than two straight ones. They all seem to look very comfortable in this arrangement as well, in a way that I felt was somewhat absent from a few of the pictures that were posted yesterday.

To your point, though, I did notice Michael's hand on David, and the warmth that radiated out just from that single touch. His hand is also noticeably low on David's waist, which echoes how we've seen Michael with his arm around David in the past, and is a lovely complement to David's hand being near Michael's neck. Michael's hair is also a bit disheveled compared to the red carpet photos, and I love the idea of it being messed up from a snogging session he and David were having in a coat closet before the girls pulled them out for a pic. Actually possible? Maybe, maybe not. But it's still a delicious thought.

Another thing I noticed is that there is something to the way Michael and David draw the eye in this picture. Georgia and AL are posing/smiling in the same exact way they do in every group picture...although unlike the others, this one wasn't a selfie, and so I wonder if that could be why they seem to be giving off a sense of discomfort to the camera. With Michael and David, the feeling is more one of hesitation. The warmth and crackliness and connection is still there, of course, but it's also almost as if they're holding back, somehow. Which doesn't seem very much like them, at least from what we've all see over the years.

It is a nice picture overall, though, which makes it unfortunate that Georgia's caption sort of takes away from the moment a bit. And given that she's been in the habit of adding these types of cutting comments/tags to a lot of her recent posts, it feels less like "British humor" and more like knowingly taking a dig at Michael and David. She could have just as easily posted the group pic without the hashtag, so at least for me, that's what makes her using it feel so deliberate.

So those are my thoughts on the Oliviers group picture. I am glad that we actually did get one of Michael and David, and to know that they did have the chance to interact at the event. I'd love to hear what other folks think as well, so feel free to add your perspective in the comments. Thanks for writing in! x

[gallawitchxx]

Hello 👋 List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! Get to know your mutuals, followers and all the wonderful people on here!

georgia my love! thank you for this!

wanted to sneak an answer in before the end of 2023, because even though this past year can suck every dick, it wasn't all bad! lmaooo. SOOOOOO --

five things that make me happy:

this fandom & all of the incredible, talented, rad, sexy people i've met just for loving on some traumatized gay husbands. WHO KNEW?!

writing! writing! writing! it wasn't a huge fic year for me, but one of the rad cuties from number one reminded me that i've been doing a great deal of original writing & that is important!

my wife & my pup. we've made some huge changes this year & it hasn't always been nice or easy, but we've made it through together. plus, i think we're all feeling hopeful for next year! (my wife & i are, at least! who the hell knows what my dog thinks...)

reading! reading! reading! i read so much this year! so many books! so many fics! there's always something to read & it's just the best. plus, i have so many books coming my way in 2024. weee! so happy!

breathing & blinking. that's where i'm at right now. to be alive on this broken morning is magic, or whatever mary oliver said. blessings to all that is sacred, holy, profane & mundane.

cheers to 2024! xx

[fireinmywoods]

I’ve been reading Kirk/McCoy on and off for like 10 years now, and you - through your fic and this here blog - are like single handedly responsible for dragging me back into it this time around. I wondered about any head canons you had around Leonard’s childhood and teenage years. We at least get a glimpse of young Kirk and young Spock in the movies, but nothing for McCoy, and I’m very curious about your take.

Oh, I have plenty of thoughts around Leonard's youth, though I'm afraid it's hard to recall what's already made it into posted works and what's still buried in WIP drafts, so forgive me if I get a little slip-slidey. Some of this is semi-canonical, some I've just made up for Reasons, but I think it's all plausible enough!

1. Leonard grew up as the only son of a prominent family in the (fictional) small town of Marysville, GA.

Extended universe canon has it that his paternal grandfather was Chief of Medicine at Emory in Atlanta, which I think we can reasonably assume is still the top hospital in Georgia as of the 23rd century. And of course his father was a doctor as well. So he comes from a solid line of highly educated and successful professionals.

Leonard is semi-canonically from Atlanta himself, but I've gone ahead and rejected that, because no fucking way was that folksy-ass motherfucker (who is after all "just an old country doctor") born and raised in Atlanta proper. (Though it is also extremely funny to me to imagine him as some city asshole cosplaying as a hayseed for some mysterious reason, knowing damn well that no one else on the Enterprise knows enough about Georgia to catch him out.)

To reconcile this, I've decided that his mother's family was originally from [vague hand wave] some ways outside Savannah and that Eleanora didn't much care for city living, so after getting married, she and David moved to Marysville, where they were initially viewed with some suspicion as outsiders (and high-and-mighty city slickers, at that) but in time came to be accepted and respected as pillars of the community.

2. He was the only grandchild on his maternal side and spoiled rotten by his granny and granddaddy.

The family alternated holidays between David's parents in Atlanta and Eleanora's parents near Savannah, and while Leonard loved both sets of grandparents, he preferred being at his granddaddy and granny's place and often accompanied his mama on extended summer visits. The McCoys were kind but a bit more serious and reserved, with a beautiful home filled with lots of things little boys weren't allowed to touch. Much more fun to run around orchards sticking worms in his pockets and getting into mild mischief. It didn't hurt that Granny was a superb baker (and also known for her eggnog, as noted in pentimento).

Fun fact: it's his granny and granddaddy's home outside Savannah (which tends to get a lot of there-and-gone afternoon thunderstorms in the summer) where his childhood memories take place in sforzando.

3. He was a mama's boy.

He looked a lot more like his father and of course went on to follow in David's footsteps as a doctor, but personality-wise, he's much more like his mother, who shared a similar blend of fussing over her brood and low tolerance for bullshit.

4. He was raised up right. Theoretically.

Look, an attempt was made, okay? Someone - many someones - for sure gave that boy all the right home training. He's from two long lines of born and bred Georgians, and there is absolutely no way he wasn't rigorously trained in appropriate manners, decorum, and housekeeping. He even did cotillion classes, remember! (Jim definitely remembers. Jim will never, ever forget, nor let slip an opportunity to bring it up.)

So his elders tried. And as noted in pentimento, his parents did their best to work with him on his temper when he hit his teen years and started blossoming into the mouthy hothead we know and love. It's not his their fault he grew up into such an irascible old cuss who's apparently determined that the genteel passive aggression he grew up steeped in must sometimes be supplemented with full-on aggressive aggression.

I guess what I'm saying is, you can't blame his raising for why he's so Like That. That's sheer force of personality, baby. (I mean, aside from the part where he enjoys swanning in to inquire about his frenemy's troubles and drop a "helpful" and vaguely insulting pearl of wisdom before swanning back off to gossip about it with his bestie. That there's a Southern specialty.)

5. He was fairly popular growing up.

I recognize I may encounter some skepticism on this point, given the, uh, everything about the grown-up Leonard we know and love, but let's look at the facts.

He was from a good family, which goes pretty far in a town like Marysville.

He's exceptionally smart and hard-working as an adult, and given where he ended up career-wise, one can imagine he must have done well in school. I've even gone so far as to decide he skipped a couple grades at some point, though admittedly that was partly an effort to make sense of his timeline so that he could be a fully trained doctor by the time we meet him on the shuttle at 28.

So anyway, he was smart and a good student - but as Jim intuited in pas de deux, it wasn't the sort of disquieting freaky-smart that made baby Jimmy something of an outcast in his own small town. Leonard's was a more...palatable intelligence, let's say. And it helped that he was also a jock.

Yeah, you heard me. The extended universe indicates that baby Leonard dreamed of being a pro basketball player, and as an adult he is in suspiciously good shape for a man of science, so I went ahead and had him play basketball in middle and high school until a knee injury took him off the court for good.

So in summary: smart, good family, an athlete, well-mannered, and looks like young Karl Urban? Yeah, I'm pretty sure my guy did just fine among his peers, introversion/short fuse/social awkwardness be damned.

In fact, I'm looking forward to introducing you to some of those peers in the high school reunion fic! Assuming I can manage to finish it before the heat death of the universe!

That's all I've got off the top of my head. I'd love to hear anyone else's ideas too!!

[hometoursandotherstuff]

While this may look like a lovely, house it's actually a WTH House. You've never seen a reno job like this. Think columns and posts. 2008 build in Marietta, Georgia, this 5bds, 5ba home is priced at $923K (Nope.) The home may have not actually been built in 2008, b/c sometimes, the real estate will give the year that it was completely renovated.

The first thing we notice is that they cut part of the 2nd floor to make a 2-story entrance hall.

You can't convince me that this doesn't look like a funeral home setup.

Here is the first glimpse of the posts. Apparently, they cut out every wall that existed and, without regard for support walls, they just left all the corners and made them into posts. Note the silly little wainscoting.

Ah! I was wondering what those few inches of light above fireplace were. It's what may have been a 2nd fl. bedroom window.

This is insane. 3-pronged posts all over the place. They even cut around the doorways. (Well, at least you can see the original footprint of the house.)

This is the view from the new 2-story entrance.

Upstairs, they cut a few pieces of wall out of the hallway and also made a small balcony on the right.

View from the balcony.

They opened it up to make it open concept. I'm sorry, but open concept isn't a maze of posts. Somehow they get the place to stand up.

I love the wood here in the hall, and that they left the niche. (I'm wondering if that wasn't a dumbwaiter, though.) What I don't like, is the stupid frame they put around the light switch.

Oh, this is cool. After a big meal, step into the hearth and burn those calories.

Don't worry, it's private- they can't see you from the kitchen table b/c it's blocked by a flatscreen on the dining table.

The kitchen is new, of course. This would make a nice bar, rather than a small appliance parking lot.

Here, they're showing off the "beamed/coffered" ceiling they made with beadboard and molding.

The bedrooms are small, but they have nice shutters.

What a great idea, they can steam the clothes.

Just so ya know, the other bedrooms have plain ceilings.

Look at the mini park at the end of the street.

https://www.movoto.com/marietta-ga/309-fairbrook-cir-ne-marietta-ga-30067/pid_d015kdllbh/

[oddcryptidwrites]

10 Songs Tag

Rules: Use your WIP playlist and put it on shuffle. Write the first 10 songs that come up and quote your favorite lyrics from each song and/or the lyrics that fit your WIP best (they might be the same lyrics), then tag 10 people.

@druidx tagged me in this and I'll tag... @delusionisaplace @wordswrittenbynight @nemaliwrites @missaddledmiss @lili-loves-whump @pga-books @downtoithaca @jubatuslucifer @from-the-depths-into-your-soul @fluffy-with-the-red-clouds and whoever else wants to play!

I'm going to do this one for Not Your Typical Fairytale (a post-post-zombie apocalypse thriller-ish wip). get ready for a WILD fucking ride

1. The House of the Rising Sun -- The Animals

Oh, Mother, tell your children/Not to do what I have done/Spend your lives in sin and misery/In the House of the Rising Sun

2. Dead Mom -- Beetlejuice

Hey mom, dead mom/I need a little help here/I'm probably talking to myself here

3. DARKSIDE -- Neoni

There's no heroes or villains in this place

4. The Snake -- Eric Church

Rattlesnake said to the copperhead/"You know we were the original sin/And I bet my rattle against your copper/The bitch takes the apple again."

5. Unholy -- Sam Smith and Kim Petras

Dirty, dirty boy, you know everyone is talking on the scene/I heard them whispering 'bout the places that you've been/And how you don't know how to keep your business clean

6. Who's Ready for Tomorrow -- RAT BOY & IBDY

I think I need a hero (oh)/I don't have no ego (oh)/'Cause I'm spinning out now

7. The Devil Went Down to Georgia -- Zac Brown Band

The Devil went down to Georgia/And he was looking for a soul to steal/He was in a bind, he was way behind, he was willing to make a deal

8. Rasputin -- Boney M.

For the Queen, he was no wheeler-dealer/Though she'd heard the things he'd done/She believed he was a holy healer/Who would heal her son.

9. Survive -- Jorge Rivera-Herrans

You have hurt me enough/Six hundred lives I'll take/Six hundred lives I'll break/And when I kill you, then my deed is over

10. Hell's Coming with Me -- Poor Man's Poison

He wiped the blood from his face/As he slowly came to his knees/He said I'll be back when you least expect it/And hell's coming with me

Also just for shits and giggles, 1, 5, 7, 8, and 10 are all about the same person (and 9 is someone else referring to that person). @thetruearchmagos here's a little glimpse into NYTF's soundtrack that plays in my head

[evolutionsvoid]

Cryptic Beast (Normal / Dark)

- "Despite sightings of this Pokemon being reported across many regions, there is little actual proof of its existence. A paranormal magazine suggests this beast escaped from some secret laboratory." Cryptic Visitor (Fairy)

- "A story in a paranormal magazine talks of tiny winged beings invading an eyewitness's home. The report of them was never taken seriously, especially when the writer claimed they liked baked goods." Cryptic Wing (Flying)

- "A strange flying Pokemon that supposedly terrorized a town. A paranormal magazine says this creature can be identified by its glowing horn and horrid stench." Cryptic Stalk (Steel / Grass)

- "A robotic Pokemon said to have come from a crashed spaceship. Though there are no real records of this event, a paranormal magazine says it is a result of a coverup." Cryptic Collector (Dark)

- "This bizarre Pokemon is blamed when things vanish mysteriously in the night. A paranormal magazines claims these creatures are tasked with collecting "samples," and that includes other Pokemon and people..." Cryptic Crescent (Steel / Flying)

- "An odd metallic object a pilot spotted as it soared through the skies. It can fly faster than any known craft or Pokemon, or at least that is what a paranormal magazine claims." Cryptic Wheel (Steel / Fire)

- "No sightings of this entity have been recorded, but its existence is argued due to ancient carvings and drawings. This blazing wheel is mentioned often in a certain paranormal magazine, as they debate if its origins are from this world or beyond." Cryptic Pods (Grass / Dark)

-"A seemingly harmless collection of seeds, said to have come from another world. A paranormal magazine warns of what they can become, or rather, who they can become..." -----------------------------------------------

Had so much fun making the paradox fakemon with @james-silvercat, that we just had to do more! This will probably be the last batch for me, but who knows if I will get a hankering for it again in the future.

So of course, explanation time (from top, left to right): We got an Electivire based around the concept of an escaped lab experiment and made to look like Ro-Man, a Ribombee based on the Mince Pie Martians, a Masquerain turned into the Van Meter Visitor and a Sudowoodo based on the Georgia Stalks. Then we got a Delibird that is part Tuscumbia Space Penguin and part alien abductor cliche (why the actual paradox Delibird didn't go that route is beyond me), a Lunatone based on the UFO seen by Kenneth Arnold, a Solrock that is based on a chariot wheel (which tends to be mentioned when talking ancient aliens and angels) with also the idea of a UFO shaped like a ferris wheel (which my Scholastic Alien Encyclopedia says has been sighted before, but this book is all sorts of wrong on a bunch of stuff, so maybe not) and then finally an Exeggcute that is the pods from Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Enjoy!