#I like it better than the version from 'the sunset tree'

[weretheones]

All You Got | Part 11

Part 11: New Trails

Plot: Daryl Dixon hadn’t known much beyond anger and loneliness his whole life, until he found family at the end of the world. Everything he grew to care about was ripped away the day the prison fell; so when he recognized you, an enforcer of his loss, hiding in that cabin, he almost pulled the trigger. But after you end up saving his life, he couldn’t find the indifference to leave you for dead, even if you’d been on the Governor’s side. (Mid-Late Season 4)

Series Masterlist | AO3 Version

Paring: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Reader Word Count: 5k Warnings: typical twd content. mentions of death. A/N: hey remember me? pls say yes :D

A day later, you raided the closest town. 

A new multitool, granola bars, some tampons. It wasn’t much, but at least you had the car when the night turned cold. 

And Daryl. 

Those hints of vulnerability hidden behind a surly mask hadn't disappeared yet. And best of all, he could look you in the eye again. Even if you still couldn’t always quite tell what he was thinking, the reaffirming glance of familiar blue laced with a type of gentleness you’d never noticed before— not even in those quiet moments: when he was patching you up, when he was sick with fever— warmed you up better than any sputtering car heater could. 

He’d never forget the prison. The sight of those metal fences shadowing your face. But there was a trail where your feet had landed these past weeks, littered with moments that could convince even a man as stubborn and heartbroken as Daryl that it was the right choice to stick by your side, the shadow of prison fences and all. Somehow, somewhere along the way from that dingy cabin to the car you shared, you’d made it okay. 

So things were okay, too. For a while. 

But the days went on. 

On and on and on…

Limp leaves of brown and red flew in the air around spinning tires. Ahead was a horizon of cracked pavement lit by the thin light of sunset and the beam of headlights. Except for the speeding car, the road was empty. Nothing to see but amber skies. 

Then those slipped away. The sun dipped behind tall trees, and it was only those headlights and the cold moonlight. No walkers. Not even an abandoned car. Just an empty road, no matter how many miles you traveled. 

“Where are we going?” 

For the first time in months, there was an air of hopelessness caught in your lungs. It infected your voice, wrapping around the words like rotten tendrils of ivy. 

Daryl’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. White knuckles. 

He shook his head. 

“I dunno.” 

The bus had nearly dashed all your hopes, but there was still that stubborn bit of you holding onto the far-fetched idea that something was still out there to find. To protect. Though the road had become so long over the days, the idea smaller and smaller as north, west, south, and east blended, and slowly you were disorientated. No more paths to follow. No more maps to trace. 

You could feel your grip slipping, right as the first flakes of snow fell. 

— 

Eventually, he taught you how to hunt. 

The tracks were the softest thing you’d seen in a week, not since Daryl had smiled at you by that river. Thin ovals imprinted in the dirt under a scatter of leaves that you brushed a hand across, gently. 

“Deer, right?” You looked up at Daryl. “How fresh are they?” 

He just shrugged. “Wha’ ya asking me for?” 

You crouched closer to the tracks. They were relatively deep, the edges cut into recognizable prints. With the back of your knuckle, you pressed into the dirt beside them. It gave away underneath, marking an even sharper and deeper print. The earth was soft this morning, warmed by the pleasantly bright sun despite the first fall of snow a couple of days ago. 

The sinking prints could only have been made that day. After sunrise. 

“They’re fresh,” you concluded. “Maybe an hour or two?” 

Daryl smirked, and you soon had one to match it. 

A deer would be more than enough meat for the two of you. The last time you’d had a catch like that, it’d been in the thick of last winter. Taking a deep breath in, you swore you could still smell the stew steaming from your bowl. It was enough to give your step an extra bounce. To give some fuel to that dwindling hope in your chest. 

Things weren’t always bad, even if it felt like everything was slipping through your fingers lately. 

And then an hour later, you were standing over a dead walker and a dead deer, all chewed up. 

— 

Still no home. No direction. 

The air was damp. An almost suffocating musk that infected every inch of the abandoned motel room. From the tacky wallpaper to the mismatching purple curtains, this place screamed road-trip stop. A little strip of a dozen rooms at the edge of an unnamed town dedicated for only those passing through. 

It seemed fitting to spend the night, then. 

“You can’t seriously like those things.” 

Daryl’s eyes found yours, even in the dim candlelight. 

“Love ‘em.” He threw another pig’s foot into his mouth and you cringed. 

“Ew.” 

“More for me, then.” 

That was just fine with you. 

You rolled your eyes and took another bite of canned corn. It was too sweet and a bit metallic from its years in a can, but at least it wasn’t a foot. 

The pair of you had your backs resting against your claimed, and ironically empty, single beds. After a week of sleeping in that car, taking turns curling into the backseat, it was a treat to have a real mattress to sleep on. Even if it was cheap and full of squeaky springs that dug into your spine. 

But somehow here you were, on the floor instead, sharing a late and unexpected meal against dusty, floral bed sheets. 

Daryl insisted on holding watch most nights. A simple thing that always seemed to lull you to sleep faster knowing that he was there, he was watching. You stopped doubting if he would keep you safe a while ago. He always did, after all. But tonight, it’d been your turn to do the same for him, to wait for each of those heavy breaths to come and the gentle flutter of his eyes as he fell deeper and deeper into sleep. 

That walker had almost got him. 

Really almost got him. If you hadn’t fired a bullet when you did, you would have spent the night digging a grave. All for some gas to fill a car you still had no idea where to drive. It was always just the next town, the next house, the next store, the next—

He let you throw your arms around him after the last of the dead had fallen, even if his muscles turned to stone when you did. And he listened after you told him to rest first. Perhaps the memory of that loose, unbridled fear in your eyes had turned him to putty in your hands, for the time being. 

It was only a couple of hours before sunrise when he woke up. He asked you to rest, too. Whatever you still could get. 

The last thing you wanted was to sleep, to give in to your heavy eyelids and fall away from the world. Not when you could still smell the walker’s rot, could still hear Daryl’s heavy grunts. The crack of that bullet breaking through that monster’s skull. No. No, you wanted to be here. With him. 

But you were putty in his hands, as always. 

It'd barely been halfway through his turn on guard when an old nightmare slipped its way into your subconscious. A morbid twist of Daryl’s neck ripping underneath that walker’s teeth into the sky high flames you’d never forget from the early days. As you began to toss, the squeaking of your mattress pulled him away from the window. His chest ached to hear the mumble of your fragile voice around incoherent pleads, and then that name— the same name over and over. 

He woke you up. 

The haunting touch of the dead, cold and cruel, slipped away with the curl of his warm, merciful fingers squeezing around your shoulder. It’d taken more than a few seconds to realize his features weren’t twisted in terror and pain, like all those other faces that you could barely remember anymore had been. Then there was the drumming beat of your heart as you sat up and clung onto him, for the second time that day. 

After you let go of him, he sat back on your bed, quiet and rigid as a statue. Back to his usual, touch-adverse self. 

So you sat there, listening to your breathing slow and the whistle of the night’s air sneaking past that cracked window. 

“I’m sorry,” you finally mumbled, brushing your messy hair away from your face. 

The stream of moonlight that slipped through the break in the curtains reached across your face. He followed the movement of your hand, heard the rumble of your voice, thick with sleep, and seemed to warm back up. 

Slowly. 

He swallowed. “Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout.” 

You nodded, fear shifting into numbness. 

“You alright?” 

The moonlight fell on him too, highlighting the concern that laced his eyes. 

“Mhm,” you hummed. 

It was about the most you could muster out; you could still feel the ruthless grasp of dead fingers around your neck. 

It wasn’t convincing, of course. That look on his face didn’t let up. 

“I’m okay,” you reiterated with a deep breath. 

His eyes flickered over you one last time before he finally conceded. 

“Alright.” 

Daryl shifted back again, looking down to the bed. The sheets were thrown back. Your legs curled up to your chest. He had this burning thought— one that had been simmering for a while now, that made him freeze up with fear of his own. Would it help to brush that one loose strand of hair behind your ear? The one you missed? Maybe then you’d hold him again. That seemed to make you feel better, somehow. All he knew was it made him feel warm and—

He stood up, somewhat abruptly. 

“I still got a couple hours, if ya wanna…“ 

“No,” you blurted. “No, I’m not— I’m not tired anymore.” 

He nodded and offered an alternative. No prying and no more nightmares. Just distractions. 

That was how the pair of you ended up on the floor. Daryl eating pig's feet from a jar and you playing up your disgust, because the reality was, you’d eaten far worse than pig’s feet in the last few years. 

“Some fresh game, diet soda, pig’s feet,” Daryl smirked as he wiped his hands clean. “You’d have yourself a white trash brunch.” 

“A delicacy,” you teased. 

“More fillin’ than your corn.” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Whatever. I’ll stick to my corn, thanks.” 

“Your loss.” Daryl took another bite. “Merle ‘n I used to fight over these.” 

You huffed a laugh, “Seriously?” 

“Mhm. He was a sneaky bastard. Used to wait till I looked away, then swipe ‘em off my plate.” 

“Like a dog?” 

He chuckled, “Wouldn't be the first time someone called him tha’.” 

“Oh? He didn’t get along well with the ladies?” 

“Merle thought he did. Don’t think no one else agreed.” 

You gave him a small laugh. Though, truth be told, the talk of brothers, no matter how joking, was starting to weigh on your chest. It always boiled back down to him, and you couldn’t think about him right now— not if you wanted your eyes to stay dry and your heart to beat that steady rhythm in your chest. 

So you backtracked.

“You ate a lot of white trash brunches?”

“Didn't have much else.” 

“Didn’t cook?” 

“Didn’t know how. Didn’t have no one to teach me, neither. Not unless ya count over a fire.” 

Every meal you’d had in the last two years had been cooked over a fire.

“It counts,” you said. 

“Did you cook?” 

“Mhm. Loved it,” you sighed. “I was pretty good, too.” 

“Better than canned soup?” 

“Much better.” 

“My mom used to cook. Can’t remember it much, though.” 

He had a timid look in his eye, and you held your breath. Ready to share your sympathies— which felt all too frequent, these days. 

“She died when I was a kid. ‘Round the same age as Carl.” 

“Who’s Carl?” 

It was Daryl’s turn to hold his breath. 

“He, uh,” he cleared his throat. Shifted in his spot. That mention hadn’t been intentional, it seemed. A slip in memory— that you were new to him. You’d never lived at the prison, never known the people he did. That the only thing the two of you shared, beyond the old stories you shared during quiet nights, were the last two months. 

“He’s Rick’s kid.” 

He had another look. One that made the air smell like rushing waters and moss.

You felt the words bubble up your throat before you even knew what they were.

“The one I—?“ 

“Yeah.” He nodded.

The one you saved.

“Sounded like it.” 

You took a deep breath of that musty motel room air.

“We didn’t have many kids who knew how to use a shotgun. Never mind kill a man.” 

“Carl did?” 

“He had to. Growing up on the road. The first time we fought the Governor.” 

“Poor kid.” 

“He’s tough.” 

“Still. I can’t imagine growing up like this.” 

Daryl’s eyes fell to his fingers, fiddling with his thumb. Your heart squeezed when his shoulders, as broad and strong as they were, seemed to curl in on themselves. Before you could even register your concern for whatever was running through his head, another question tumbled out of you. 

“You think it might be easier?” 

He shrugged. “Ya jus’ get used to it. Shit being ugly.” 

“I guess,” you mumbled. 

But hearing those words, that thick drawl of his tired voice, made something sting inside of you like salt rubbed into a wound. From the small bits he shared, Daryl’s upbringing never sounded easy, or particularly loving. A brother who neglected him most of his life, a mother who died when he was just a boy, and a father he’d never mention. Even if his life had prepared him to survive this sick and twisted world, it didn’t seem fair. 

“It still doesn’t make it right.” 

Daryl didn’t say much after that. You didn’t want to offend him— you hoped you didn’t. Maybe that comment made it obvious you’d been thinking about his past and his family… Those scars. No matter how hard you tried to forget them, to ignore the intrusive thoughts of how they might’ve come to be, the sight was ingrained in your memory. 

So much for lightening the mood. 

It was silent. Long enough for your words to sink into the stale air, and for the both of you to finish your snacks. The empty cans sat on the dusty nightstand to your left and your head rested against the back of the mattress. Your eyes almost closed, too. 

But with that dark silence came those haunting memories again. Flashes of that nightmare. The desperation trapped in dying screams. Fire and blood. 

You stood up. Back turned to the quick look Daryl threw your way, you dug through that bag you packed full after raiding the town’s general store. It was almost bare, save the three walkers you took out, but you managed to find the last of the canned food that now sat on the floor, empty, and a stray sterile pad, kicked underneath one of the vacant shelves. 

“Should change your bandage.” 

“Alright,” he agreed, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. 

It took everything in him to keep his eyes off that pensive expression of yours. Features twisted in contemplation, and a hint of horror, maybe. You tried to hide it from him. In a way, he hid too, concerning himself with only the buttons of his flannel and the leather vest peeling off his back instead of that festering question he couldn’t seem to stop asking. Are you okay? It sat in his heart like a shard of glass, digging deeper and deeper the harder he tried to pry it away— to ignore the urge. 

The fabric of his shirt hung off the side of his body. Enough room that he knew you’d be able to sneak underneath and change his bandage without bother while keeping the rest of his torso hidden. 

As if you hadn’t already seen more than enough of his tanned skin to keep you up at night with unsolicited thoughts of every kind.

Heartbreak.

Desire. 

The bed squeaked as you sat down behind him, feet hanging off the edge as you turned to see the exit wound. You tugged the old bandage off. It was hard to tell what it looked like with nothing but that thin peak of moonlight and the low flicker of candlelight, but with the pass of your fingertips around the wound, you could tell his skin was flat again. No inflammation, no discolouration save that hint of a healing bruise. There was a fresh layer of white tissue where the bullet had passed out of him, which was the best sign of all. You ripped open the sterile pad you found and taped half over the same spot.

Then you moved to the front to do it all over again. Doing your absolute best to keep your focus on the wound and not his watchful eyes, following you as softly as that candlelight danced across his skin. 

“How’s it lookin', doc?” 

As much as he was trying to distract himself from that heavy look on your face, barely relieved with his stupid quip that you spared the slightest smile for, his curiosity was getting the better of him. Weaving in like the roots of a weed. It still felt foreign to concern himself so attentively with someone without that cursed last name of his; Merle was all he gave a shit about before, and even then, his brother usually rejected that care. Called him a pussy for giving a damn. Then they ended up at the quarry, and it turned out he wasn’t entirely heartless once another Dixon wasn’t around to taunt him. 

“Good. I don’t think you’ll need this for much longer.” 

Truth was, Daryl didn’t give a damn about his shoulder right now. Not when your eyes were hazed like they’d been when he woke you up. 

“How do you feel?” You asked. 

It took him a second to remember you meant to be tending to him, right now. Not the other way around.

“Fine.”

He rolled his shoulder as if to prove it. 

“How ‘bout you?” 

Your eyes stilled, for a moment, then snuck back up to his. As if he’d just caught you red-handed. Another hum hadn’t even the chance to slip past your lips, but you could already tell he thought you were full of it. A slight narrow of blue, flickering over the way you'd been biting your lip and your heavy eyes. He gave you a chance to brush it off again, if you wanted.

Somehow that made your resolve crumble away. Knowing that he saw past it all, but he'd never force you to bare it to him, either. But then those walls you put up years ago were ground down to sand, running through your fingers. 

“I don’t have them often. Not anymore.” 

“You said a name,” Daryl mumbled. “Alex.” 

Pouring free. 

You gave a soft nod. Hoped that ringing in your ears would go away as fast as it came on. 

“My brother.” 

Just like that, his eyes were starting to burn you again, so you looked at your hands. In your lap, where you sat on your knees, just next to him. Close enough to wrap his shoulder. Close enough that you could see his own hands resting on his thighs, fingers just brushing against the frayed edges of his torn jeans. 

You picked at the strands of your own, right beside that numb spot on your thigh where a scar was forming.

“I don’t remember it much, but I think it was from the start. When we were at Westwood.” 

“Wha’s that?” 

“It was a middle school just outside of Atlanta. Some army had set up a base there until they could find a way to move us all to Fort Benning.” 

There was a brief moment when his eyes widened. He had a curious stare that forced you to look up before a flash of green sleeping bags and the silver packaging of MRE rations pulled you back into the memory. 

“There weren’t a lot of us. Under a dozen soldiers. Few of us from the city. Most of the kids ran off with their parents— if they showed up.” 

It hit harder than the Governor had stabbed you, right then, that you’d forgotten their faces. Their voices. Their names. Memories shadowed with ghosts who you couldn’t even tell apart anymore… The smell of burning flesh lingered better than their smiles. 

“It went bad quickly.” 

He didn’t ask how. Didn’t need to really, the end was all the same. One day it was gone, and so were they, and the road became your path again. 

“You ever made it to Fort Benning?” 

The edges of his voice had dulled, filed down until the words were nothing but a feather passing along your cheek, beckoning your attention his way instead. Sometimes you wondered how he knew you were picking up the shovel, ready to dig your way into a pit of fear and regret, before the handle ever touched your hand.

You took in a breath. “Yeah. It was nothing but ash, though.” 

“We were headed there. Back at the start.” 

“Fort Benning?” 

“Mhm.” 

“What happened?” 

“Got held up on Hershel’s farm, instead. Rick ran into some guys one day— bad guys. They told him it fell. Badly.” 

Another flash of the dead. 

“It did.” 

You looked back down. 

“Did those bad guys take the farm?” 

“Nah. We left ‘fore they found us. Herd ran us out. Spent the whole winter on the road after tha’, runnin’ from place to place…” 

Ever so slightly, Daryl stiffened. You knew what that meant. 

Until the prison. 

“What was the farm like?” You asked. 

There was a pleading tone to your voice, twirling up the edges of your words in a way that reminded him of the girl who couldn’t stop asking if he’d stay or leave, who would limp behind him after he silently scolded himself for helping you so much. Back when he didn’t care if your leg hurt or not, or at least, was better at pretending so. 

“We weren’t there long.” He shrugged nonchalantly as if there wasn’t a string as taut as his crossbow squeezing around his heart. “Maybe a month. But, it was the nicest place we’d been. Had trees, big old ones. Runnin' water. Fields’a crops and a couple’a horses.” He added that last one even if Nelly had thrown him so hard he wasn’t eager to ride another horse again. “But we were always fighting each other. No one knew what the hell they were doin’.” 

Your brow raised. “Not even you?” 

“Thought I did.” He shook his head. “I tried.” 

A breeze snuck through the cracked window, flickering the flames around you. He took a breath. 

“Still am.” 

“Me too.” 

The shadows cast across your face were softer now. The sun rose on the opposite side of the motel, but he could still see that hope shimmer in your pretty smile. A softer, dusty blue lit up the sky with ribbons of amber dancing across; orange reflecting onto the colour of your eyes he knew so well. Tracing the edge of your curled lips, the curve of your cheekbones. Your hair was getting long, now loose from the toss and turn of sleep. He didn’t see it down often, but it framed your face just as kindly as the light did. 

You took in a deep breath. It sounded less strained than before.

“We should head back to the car.” 

Daryl nodded. 

Then you smirked, and just like that, the charm that made his chest fill with warmth was back. 

“It stinks like pig’s feet in here.” 

—

The wind danced around you, a whirlwind of fallen leaves and that light dusting of snow, sparking like sugar in the sun. The sky was the same as it’d been the last few days. Pale grey clouds with pockets of blue peeking through. The sun’s harshest rays were always hidden away in the name of winter. 

You spared a glance to Daryl who walked by your side, if not slightly behind. Hunter's eyes roamed over the edges of the railroad you passed through, ignoring that crunch of gravel under your feet while he waited for the snap of a branch or the squeak of a nearby rabbit. Crossbow in hand, bolt loaded like always. The sight of him trailing your steps almost made the cold air bite less. 

That hopeless air in you felt lighter than you remembered, too.

Almost fading.

The car wasn’t far, now. Maybe twenty more minutes. The rumble of empty stomachs had sent you behind the motel instead of through the town you looted yesterday, where the train tracks cut through the forest, hoping to find some breakfast before you finally filled the empty gas tank and started on the road, again. 

Ahead, a rust-coloured train car sat on the second track. A few doodles of white and black spray paint coated the sides, but half of them were covered by a hanging banner, beige and held up by four strings. The bold-blocked words SANCTUARY FOR ALL, COMMUNITY FOR ALL, THOSE WHO ARRIVE SURVIVE were painted in a similarly rusty-coloured red. Underneath the banner was a sign, wrapped in plastic but the lines of a map were as clear as a summer day. Blue, red, and green all lead to a black star in the centre-left labelled TERMINUS. 

The pair of you shared a look, your eyebrows drawn together in a mixture of confusion and shock and his eyes narrowed into slits. Inspecting the poster for any kind of warning, any threat, as if a walker was about to jump from behind it. 

“They were broadcastin’ this,” Daryl muttered, after a long and tense moment. 

Your eyes widened. “When?” 

“Before the prison,” he said, sparing you another uncomfortable look before he continued to stare at the carefully wrapped sign. “We heard it on the radio when we were lookin’ for those meds. Couldn’t make it out then, but this is it: ‘those who arrive, survive’.” 

The wind tickled your skin, goosebumps rising and bangs fluttering across your face as you lingered by that sign. In the breeze, a long strap of white fabric caught around your boot, pulled from underneath the train car. You bent down to grab it, brow furrowed at the sight of a used strip of gauze. 

Your heart skipped a beat. 

“Someone was just here.” 

The crossbow was held tighter then, as if he could be any more on edge. 

“How do you know?” He asked through a clenched jaw. 

“The blood.” It looked like Daryl’s had when you changed his bandages every couple of hours instead of days. “It’s fresh.” 

Your eyes snapped to the map again— how big it was. It covered most of the state, by the looks of it. You could roughly pinpoint the prison in the upper left corner and could imagine lines of your own where you’d travelled these months. Between pharmacies and cabins and random sides of the road. 

And whoever had left this bandage… they’d seen it, too. 

“Daryl, look at how far these go.” Your hand traced the lines of railroads, sprawling across Georgia. “This can’t be the only sign. There’s the prison,” you pointed out, “If they have signs across all these tracks then… your people could’ve seen this.” 

Slowly, your hand fell back to your side. The look in your eye was like the sun breaking out from behind the clouds; a glimpse of that brightness he missed so fondly. Sparked by the glimmering hope in your eye, Daryl could feel a flicker of warmth catch in his chest again, and the realization of what you meant sunk in.

“If any of them saw this map, would they go?”

He hadn’t even known he was nodding along until that slight curl of your lip lifted. 

“Maybe we don't need to find them, just this place.” 

Daryl chewed his lip. The lines on the map curved their way through Georgia like vines, crawling through the north, east, west, and south like the ivy he saw across every abandoned building. Who was to say this place was even there anymore? Putting signs up like that, broadcasting their whereabouts for anyone to hear. It sounded more like a last-chance pipe dream than Fort Benning, and he’d already heard how that played out. 

He’d had enough of those soul-crushing losses. Enough fill for an entire life, and then some. He wasn’t sure if he could risk that again. Not when you were just about everything he had left. 

“I dunno. ’S far.” 

“This is our best lead— our only lead.” 

He shook his head. “We dunno ‘em. Dunno if it’s even real.” 

“You didn’t know me.” 

There you were, with raised brows and that look in your eye that somehow reminded him of the forest’s comforts— soft brown fur of nimble squirrels jumping from branch to branch, the bright blue sky breaking through even the thickest trees, green surrounding him like a blanket. 

“And really, where else do we have to go?” 

A forest he’d spend his whole life exploring. 

Eventually, he gave in. A habit he seemed to be picking up when it came to you. 

“Guess it’s worth a try.” 

And there was that smile again, blooming with new hope. 

————————————————————

-> part 12

A/N: omg hi. I took a long and unplanned hiatus. I won't get into it too much but to recap, in case you care/are curious: I went to nyc for the dead city premiere and had a blast, graduated university, started weightlifting (kinda replaced my twd obsession LOL), got really into GOT, and am now back because for some reason daryl dixon being in paris (????) got me going once more. anyway. im excited to continue this series again!! even if it took every cell in my body to finish this chapter LOL. kinda hate it kinda love it. idk. WHATEVERRRR.

more to come. I promise. thank u for reading and being so patient with me <3<3<3 all the love.

if you’re reading this, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. please feel free to leave feedback, it helps so much and I love to read it. have a lovely day <3

AYG taglist: @fuseburner @itsmeatballworld @rickysgrimes @stevenknightmarc @huffledor-able541 @your-shifting-gurl @hopefulatrocity @strnqer @dreamtofus @fillechatoyante @suniloli @kiaslily @poubxlle @normanplusdaryl @sseleniaa

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #Daryl Dixon / reader #daryl dixon / you #daryl x you #daryl / you #daryl / reader #daryl dixon series #the walking dead #the walking dead series #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #twd #twd fanfiction #norman reedus #daryl dixon angst #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x y/n #all you got

[f1letters]

midnight rain | gr63

"chasing that fame, he stayed the same, all of me changed like midnight"

summary: what happens when he decides his career will always be more important than their relationship?

warning: angst, overall just sad, heartbreak, breakup, swearing, mentions of mental health struggles, mentions of hate from fans and media, lowkey toxic George, the beginning of the story takes place at the end of 2021 when George was announced as the new Mercedes driver, happy-ish ending

pairing: george russell x reader

word count: 3.1k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts not only by the reader but also by other people.

well... this story REALLY wanted to be posted, iykyk 🤠 hope the wait was worth it and you enjoy the FINAL version of this story! haha

masterlist

Rain

Life as we know it is made of cycles.

A conversation started with a hello ends with a goodbye. The beautiful birth ends in a painful death. An open door eventually closes. A sunrise in the morning ends in a sunset at the end of the day. Light always ends in darkness.

And love is very similar to this philosophy of nature.

Like the long-awaited magnificent spring flowers, it is born out of nowhere, giving a new colour and a completely new meaning to our lives. It symbolizes a fresh start, a new chance. With it comes enthusiasm, warmth, eagerness. You wake up in the morning happier, looking forward to facing the day ahead. Everything looks better, more colourful, happier.

Spring was in fact beginning when Y/N met George.

She could still remember the 16-year-old boy at the back of the classroom, constantly lost in thought as he stared out the window. His eyes were on the pink blossoms beginning to bloom on the long branches of the old tree in the high school garden. The girl found herself thinking "Why does he look out there so much?" and hence her curiosity arose. She wanted, no, she needed to meet the quiet guy in the class.

She remembered it all too well, and she was convinced that she would never be able to forget it.

She would never be able to forget how no one made her laugh as he did. How his hand fit hers as if they were made for each other. How the scent of his perfume made her heart beat faster.

Young Y/N didn't know if soul mates were true, or a myth created by hopeless romantics. But of one thing she was sure: if anyone was hers, it was George Russell.

Two halves of the same heart made to unite, two souls destined to meet in this life and all the ones to come, two bodies attached by an invisible thread.

However, every spring inevitably leads to cold, harsh winters. Blue skies are replaced by dark clouds. The sun rays by thunder. The flowers by snow. The colour by grey.

Again, love always follows nature's trend and, as time goes by, it too inevitably leads to rain.

He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain

He wanted a bride, I was making my own name

Chasing that fame, he stayed the same

All of me changed like midnight

Years passed and with them went birthdays, anniversaries, Christmases, New Years, family gatherings and vacations. 

With them went births and funerals, laughter and tears, fights and reconciliations.

But although the wind changed with the seasons, one thing that always stayed the same was the passionate way that Y/N unconditionally supported her partner.

Seven years later, the young woman screamed his name from the audience with the same intensity as when she saw him win the first time in Formula 3. Her heart seemed to jump out of her chest with the same anticipation as when she saw him become a Formula 2 champion.

It didn't really matter to her whether he was racing karts or Formula 1 cars, as long as he was happy and fulfilled, and although his world brought cages and fences with it, she never felt so free as when she had him by her side.

Everything suddenly seemed to change with the announcement of George's new contract at reigning champions Mercedes.

With the career opportunity of a lifetime came happiness, gratitude, finally the reward for all the effort not only by him but by everyone who was part of his support system.

But on the other hand, what for some was paradise... for others has become a torturous hell on earth.

All of a sudden, all eyes were on the Brit. All the media wrote about the talented star who was to succeed seven-time champion, Lewis Hamilton. All the attention was on him, and so was all the pressure.

And to be perfectly blunt, George lived for it. The fame, the luxury, the focus on him, it was everything he ever dreamed of. 

He lived for the flashes, for the applause, for the screams of the fans. 

The lights that seemed to blind Y/N were swiftly becoming the cause of the driver's tunnel vision.

My town was a wasteland

Full of cages, full of fences

Pageant queens and big pretenders

But for some, it was paradise

In the midst of all the chaos, the same eyes that put the driver on a pedestal were the ones that threw knives at the innocent girl for simply... Existing.

In the blink of an eye, and with her boyfriend's last season in the Williams team now wrapping up, all of the young woman's movements started to be carefully studied, millimetre by millimetre.

How dare she be so happy and smiling ear to ear when he just finish the race dead last.

Look at that frown on her face when her boyfriend scored points in a weak car like that.

She looks so annoyed to be there, so ungrateful.

She has a millionaire boyfriend and yet she doesn't have the money to hire a decent stylist.

My boy was a montage

A slow-motion, love potion

Jumping off things in the ocean

I broke his heart 'cause he was nice

He was sunshine, I was midnight rain

Everything was a critique. Because she did something, or because she didn't. Because she said this, or because she didn't say that. Because she used a white that was too white, or because she used a black that was too black.

George Russell was a montage, and she was just an accidental stain beside him ruining the perfect picture.

But she tried. 

For him, she tried to be the bride people wanted for him. And nothing hurts more than trying your absolute best and still not being good enough.

George's focus was solely on making his own name in the world of motorsports and Y/N ended up forgotten and overlooked by the man while she was facing a world of hate alone.

He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain

He wanted a bride, I was making my own name

Chasing that fame, he stayed the same

All of me changed like midnight

Suddenly two halves that once made a whole became two pieces of a puzzle that didn't fit together.

She was sunshine, he was midnight rain.

Y/N was sitting on her couch, just like every night. Propped up on her beige pillows, the young woman followed her daily routine of masochism and scrolled through screens and screens of comments about her, mentally taking notes of what could be improved.

She shouldn't do it, and she knew it herself, but the desire for approval and validation from others was more important to her than keeping her heart intact.

The unexpected sound of her doorbell woke her back to the real world and the girl was immediately confused, as she wasn't expecting anyone at that time of night.

The only company she wanted at that moment was the thunder that lit up the living room every couple of minutes.

The woman got up, putting her hands comfortably in the pockets of her sweater, and walked towards the entrance of her apartment. She looked through the silver peephole and a wave of panic ran through her entire body.

Fuck me, the team party.

Amid all the stress, Y/N completely forgot about the invitation until now she saw her boyfriend, in a full suit, standing there looking at the expensive watch on his wrist, indicating that she was fighting a ticking time bomb.

When she opened the door, George let himself in without even looking at her.

"So? We're already late." The man questioned, still with his vision glued to the counted minutes, while Y/N froze in her place, in her pyjamas, not knowing what to say.

"Why aren't you ready?" Russell questioned, confused and slightly upset with the girl. "It's almost midnight."

"Sorry my love, I completely forgot" Y/N answered sincerely, approaching her partner and placing a tender kiss on his cheek.

"How? I told you multiple times." The boy spoke angrily, releasing a frustrated sigh. "Come on. Go get ready quickly so we can get out of here. We're already going to be the last ones to arrive. Good job, Y/N." The irony escaped his tongue.

Although the guilt was already consuming her insides, the emotional exhaustion associated with the team only made her want to stay home more. She didn't have the energy to socialize, to make small talk, to keep up the shiny appearances.

"I don't feel like going, to be honest." The woman confessed, exhausted, crossing her arms in front of her chest defensively.

It came like a postcard

Picture perfect shiny family

Holiday peppermint candy

But for him, it's every day

"You never fucking do." His voice rose in pitch as he brought his hand to her hair, tugging at it, irritated with his girlfriend. "It's excuse after excuse. You never stop to think this shit is important to me and my career."

The words that escaped his mouth fell on the young woman like a bucket of cold water and, like the deafening lightning outside, the darkness charged through her and consumed her utterly.

There was no turning back.

"You must be fucking kidding me. This has to be a joke." She laughed humourless, in disbelief. "I'm the one who doesn't care. Me."

"What the fuck are you trying to say?" His eyes landed on her, sharp as knives. "Come on, say what you want to say. You started it, now you better finish it."

"What I mean is, I'm done with this picture perfect act. I'm tired of doing everything for you and getting nothing in return other than scorn, indifference, cold words." The girl screamed, releasing the feelings she had hidden for so long. "I never demand anything from you, I do what you ask me to do, I go where you want me to go, I act how I should act."

Y/N felt tears form in her eyes as she continued her rant. "All of that and what do I get in return? Nothing. Not even a single thank you. It's like you don't even care about me at all." A sob escaped the girl.

"Don't be dramatic, Y/N. For God's sake." George shook his head, completely dismissing his longtime partner's admissions.

"See?" A sob escaped the girl, now shattered and heartbroken. "It's all about you. I have zero value in this relationship. What are we even doing in it if you only care about your fucking self and Mercedes and Formula 1? I'm nobody in your life. You don't have space for me in your life anymore."

The driver looked dumbfounded at the girl in pyjamas while trying to understand what he was feeling in the face of her accusations.

Ignoring the time and the party that awaited him, George turned his back on his girlfriend, leaving her alone to cry sitting on the edge of her sofa, and went to her balcony, closing the glass door and creating a physical barrier between them.

How did things go so wrong all of a sudden?

Neither of them understood how such a warm, sunny love story could lead to the beginning of such a cold, rainy end.

So I peered through a window

A deep portal, time travel

All the love we unravel

And the life I gave away

'Cause he was sunshine, I was midnight rain

Putting some distance between them at that moment was undoubtedly the only viable option to avoid ruining everything. Although the future of the two was uncertain, both would rather die than tarnish the past that they shared over the years.

One minute became five, five became ten, and ten became twenty. 

In her anticipation, the sound of the clock hands seemed even louder than the thunderstorm on the other side of the window to Y/N.

Eventually, George returned to the living room, with his jacket now over his arm and a few drops of rain running down his forehead, resembling the tears that now also fell from his sad eyes.

Without breaking the deafening silence between them, the boy moved to the sofa and took his place next to the trembling girl, not a word escaping both of their mouths.

They were both afraid, but they knew what inevitably had to happen.

"This isn't working anymore, Y/N." George was the first to speak, sighing. "This is not healthy for either of us."

The young woman's head and heart battled within her.

On one hand, she knew; she knew it was right and she agreed that it would be better to end it there than to ruin something that until then had been wonderful, even with its challenges.

But her heart…the poor thing wasn't willing to give up the one person who she believed to be the love of her life.

The girl stood up abruptly, making Russell's neck turn towards her, caught by surprise. "No, no, it can't be. I'll just go get dressed and we will go to the party and everything will be fi-."

"Y/N." The man got up and grabbed her hands, keeping her at arm's length. "This. Us. It's hopeless. It's for the best."

"You can't do this to me." The girl screamed, full-on crying and sobbing now, in complete denial. "You can't, you just can't. Not after all the life I gave away for you. You can't, George."

He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain

He wanted a bride, I was making my own name

Chasing that fame, he stayed the same

All of me changed like midnight

She couldn't help but think of all the sacrifices she'd made for him, for his success even against her own well-being.

All the long flights she took to the other end of the world to support him no matter what place he ended up in. All the plans she cancelled to attend his celebrations, galas and dinners. All the mental health she put at risk. And now…she was alone, with nothing, no future, no hopes, no goals, no dreams.

She simply couldn't imagine a world where her future didn't involve him.

"This can't be the end…" She whispered, letting her inner thoughts escape.

George let his forehead rest against hers, savouring what they both knew were their last moments.

"I'm sorry for everything, love, I really am. You deserve so much more than this. But we want different things in our lives now, one of us would've ended up unhappy and resentful for having to be the one sacrificing everything."

The girl's silence was more than an answer for George, understanding that she agreed with him, even though both hearts felt like they were being ripped out of their chests at that moment.

The driver lifted his head until his lips reached the top of her head, where he placed a lingering, heartfelt kiss. His eyes closed tightly, trying to prevent more tears from spilling at the sound of the small girl's cries.

George broke away from the girl and, after letting his eyes study her image one last time, he walked to the apartment door and just left, not looking back once.

He knew that if he did he would never be able to make the right thing and let their beautiful story end there.

He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain

He wanted a bride, I was making my own name

Chasing that fame, he stayed the same

All of me changed like midnight

How to move on when the person you love leaves? Time.

And like the seasons, time moves on.

You learn to get out of bed again in the morning. Getting dressed to go to your family. Gaining motivation to get on the bus and go to work. Accepting invitations to have a drink or go out with friends, even when you want nothing but to stay in bed crying, eating some ice cream.

You don't feel whole all of a sudden, you might still feel like a part of you is missing but you learn to feel... okay.

Time moved forward, and Y/N slowly began to regain her happiness, now depending on no one but her.

Her life went on and she got just what she wanted: anonymity, peace, comfort.

After a year, she never thought of him daily like she used to.

Except when she turned on the TV in her hotel room, after returning from a girls' night in Cancun, and she saw him.

On top of the podium, the driver had finally accomplished his dream of winning a Grand Prix Prix for Mercedes and, with that, add his name in Formula 1's history.

She couldn't help thinking about the "what if"s.

While she would never be able to admit it to another soul, she couldn't help but think about how much she still hoped he was the one.

I guess sometimes we all get

Just what we wanted, just what we wanted

And he never thinks of me

Except for when I'm on TV

Whether haunted by the memories of them or the happiness she could only feel with him by her side, Y/N would survive the heartbreak, and she knew it.

Of course, she still loved him and she believed there would never be a day when she didn't.

But the beautiful thing about love is that you can love someone and want all the success in the world for them… and still go on without them.

What cold, dark, sad winter it was.

But spring always finds a way to come back.

I guess sometimes we all get

Some kind of haunted, some kind of haunted

And I never think of him

Except on midnights like this

taglist: @dan3avacado @starxqt @roseinnej @spiidergirlsworld @ccloaned @hotpigeon22 @dr3lover @lovelytsunoda @primadonnasdream @luxebeautystyle @wallfloweriism @ilivefortheleague @gwynethhberdara @satellitelh @adavenus @audreyscodes @wifeoflucyboynton @th6ccnsp6cyy @classifiedsblog @flyingmushroomss @motylekrozi @claramllera @gabrielamaex @handsupforamiracle @pierre-gasssllyy @lorenaloveslewis

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@ravenqueen27 @majkaftorek @home-of-disaster @buendiabebeta @itgirlofnowhere @roses-of-eden @thewintersunset @rubychocolatechips

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thank you to everyone that asked to be tagged! please let me know if you want to be added to the next stories! 💌

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 imagine #f1 one shot #george russell imagine #george russell x reader #george russell #gr63 #f1letters #f1 x reader #f1 x taylor swift #f1 x midnights #Spotify #george russell one shot #george russell angst #gr63 x reader #george russell fic #f1 fic #formula 1 one shot

[cryinginmyroomsposts]

I always have had big feelings.

It's a curse and blessing.

When I love, I love with all my existence, so much that the love overflows and topples me over like a high tide on a full moon night. And when I hurt... I feel it everywhere. first, it tugs at my feet like the first big wave of the night and then it takes over me like a tsunami.

The hurt reverberates in me and echoes in everything I do. It burns my touches, my smiles and my breaths. The love emanates from me like radiation, everything glows bright and the lightness in my step makes the pavements look pink on a gloomy night. Being with you feels like a sunset, the pinks and oranges fading into an ultraviolet that brings me an incandescent smile. The calm after a day with blazing heat and raging Manhattan breeze feeding into the slow waves of the Hudson against the pier into a night so vibrant and blue it puts the city lights to shame. I chase the moon. As a child of feelings that eat me up the night protects me from judgmental eyes and wraps me in a blanket of comfort. As I lay there, on several dark nights, on city rooftops, shedding tears of red and gold, the moon stood right above me. The moon had been my best friend before I understood the meaning of the word in a moving human being. You feel like the moon comes down on the earth to be my best friend shining light on a dark stormy night. Like the one I come to during times of turbulence. Again, I am well aware these are feelings that aren't necessarily described as normal psychologically. but I have never been one for being "normal". I am too much for everyone and myself. I smile too much and cry too much. Ask too much and reveal too much. I shy away too much and achieve too much. I love too much and hate too much. I am sad too much and worry too much. I am alone too much and I push people away too much. I think about myself too much and wish I didn't disappoint people too much. I hurt too much and love too much. Yet all I crave is the intimacy of being understood. Everyone sees me, eviscerates me, points fingers at me, criticises me and admires me. Not many know me... Do I know me? Do I know you? What are you if not the pieces you have shown me... and if those pieces are anything to go by, I know we are similar.

You love a lot, with all your being. You love the trees, the sun, the moon, the wind, your friends and your family. To be loved by you would be a blessing from the heavens above. To be the one lighting up your eyes and making you turn red. To be the one who takes care of you and makes a fuss about you for once. I am scarred, everywhere outside and inside. The demons that I acquired in the game of life have poisoned my brain into believing I shouldn't deserve someone who can give so much pure unadulterated love. But I refuse to listen to them... I am scared, I always am. Too much (again). Disappointment has been my companion through the rough journies I have taken up until this point. To get disappointed by you and/or to disappoint you would be a shame. You remind me of me- the version who loves with no inhibitions and sees joy in nature. The image of you smiling at the sunset- a recurring occurrence, will forever be etched in my brain. That exact moment was when I fell in love with myself. Seeing you do something I used to do until I started letting people get to me and realising how beautiful your soul is when I fell for myself.

The pragmatic brain in me tells me that it is probably too soon for me to even believe I am in love with you, while the hopeless heart retorts that I fell in love with myself and that is the more important aspect. Is there a point to this rambling other than to detangle the mess in my brain? Not initially, but now the point seems to be the realisation I have had on exactly how deep my feelings could go. Added with the epiphany that I am not scared about it either. Once again, pragmatism and past pain should know better but I have always been the one to feel with all my being. So it only makes sense I feel this with every fibre cell, even the one still recovering from the last fall.

#love letters #love letters i can't send #unrequited love #unrequited feelings #unrequited crush #unrequited romance #unrequited affection #love #i love him #feeling #i love you #letters to you #love letter: my true feelings #love letter.txt #ashinsmoke #poem #crying in my room again #cryinginmyroom #free verse #in my feelings #love quotes #relationship #diary entry

[hmslusitania]

Sharing different heartbeats in one night

5x18 spec! Spoilers for the things we know or can guess accurately about 5x17 and 5x18

"Penny for your thoughts?" Eddie asks, handing Buck the beer he'd gotten from the bartender. Buck is leaning against one of the trees in the park, staring into the middle distance, and he doesn't look particularly anything. Not happy, not sad, not...

"A whole entire penny?" Buck asks, taking the bottle while the corner of his mouth twitches.

"Eh, I was rounding up," Eddie says and Buck knocks his shoulder into Eddie's in reprimand. "But seriously, you look very out of it."

"Oh, yeah, just thinking," Buck says. Eddie opens his mouth and Buck cuts him off with a quick, "I know, I know, always dangerous."

Eddie snorts and sips his beer, scanning the party. Hen and Karen are absolutely absorbed in each other on the dance floor, and near them, Maddie and Chim are having a tentative slow dance that doesn't quite match the tempo of the song, but it looks hopeful anyway. Near death experiences will do that, Eddie supposes. Bring people back together.

"Where's Taylor?" Eddie asks, forcing himself to sound neutral. Neutral is the best he's ever been able to get.

"We broke up," Buck says.

Eddie has to remind himself a few times that "congratulations" is not the appropriate response to someone ending their longest ever relationship.

**

The party continues late into the night. Hen and Karen leave for their second wedding night sometime around sunset, but the rest of their group stays to dance the night away. At some point, Eddie loses Chris to Toni and Clive's offer to take all three boys -- Denny, Chris, and Harry -- for a slumber party, and Eddie gets to stay and have fun. He dances with Maddie for a minute, and takes a turn with Athena while Bobby laughs, and with some of Karen's friends, and the entire time it weighs on him.

Buck is single now.

Buck is single. And Eddie is single. And Eddie's in love with him.

Not only is he in love with him, but he's doing well enough now that he can admit that to himself, he can hold that thought in his mind -- in his heart -- and it doesn't feel like a live wire anymore. It feels hot to the touch still, sure, but more like cupping a warm mug of coffee in his palms than something deadly.

And Buck is single.

And Eddie could tell him.

"Come dance," he says instead when he finds Buck sitting by himself at one of the tables. It's a relatively safe request, since it's a fast song, and Eddie's been dancing with a group of people that includes Chim, Ravi, May, and someone who might be in charge of the Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter.

"Yeah, alright," Buck says, and allows himself to be dragged to the dance floor.

There's a pervasive sense of joy that seeps through the whole reception. A happiness and acceptance and general wellness that settles in Eddie's bones. And yeah, he's still got some shit to work through, but he's doing so, so much better.

He could tell him.

They share an Uber home -- Taylor's keeping the apartment and Buck's been sleeping on her couch, so it makes good sense for him to just come home with Eddie -- and they're about to turn onto Eddie's street when he finally works up the courage.

"Buck--"

"I've been thinking--"

They both fall silent and do a shuffle of you go, no you go first that results in Buck going first.

"I've been thinking I need to try being single," Buck says and Eddie's stomach falls out through his ass while his heart jumps to his throat. "I -- I think the only time I've really been single, it wasn't my choice, right, because Abby left and then Ali broke up with me, and it definitely wasn't like it was something I chose and so I didn't want it and I didn't try to use it. But now, now it's like, I broke up with her, so I should try to embrace it, right, and I should, like, figure out how I can just be me. With-without trying to be a certain version of myself just to try and make someone else happy. I have to figure out how to be happy with myself. You know?"

"Yeah," Eddie says softly. Because it makes sense, it definitely makes sense, even if it takes that nascent shred of joy and courage that had been bubbling in Eddie's chest and smashes it like a bug on a windshield. "Yeah, that sounds like a healthy and mature decision to make."

Buck smiles, ducking his head in that bashful way he does.

The Uber stops at the foot of Eddie's driveway.

"What were you gonna say?" Buck asks while they slide out of the backseat and simultaneously fish for keys. Buck finds his first and lets them in to Eddie's house.

"Nah, nothing much," Eddie says. He swallows the lump in his throat and warms his hands on the cup of coffee in his head. It'll still be there, when Buck's ready. "Just that you can stay with us as long as you want."

#the ghost ship scribbles #9-1-1 #911fic #buddie #buddie fic #anti bucktaylor #cue season 6 Extreme Pining Era #911 season 5 speculation #911 spoilers

[bodrewritten]

Bride of Discord Rewritten Chapter 19: The Wedding

When the princesses heard of Discord's sudden reformation, it was no surprise that they were skeptical about the situation. It was Luna who eased their worries when she told her sister of her observations. The snowstorm had passed, leaving everything glimmering in a sheen of ice. Princess Luna and Princess Celestia sat under a great willow tree, drops of frozen water overhead beaming every blazing shine of light from the sunset onto the iridescent snow.

"You had given me a second chance, sister. Should we not give him the same treatment, what would that say of our moral judgement?"

Celestia looked upward toward the heavens, seemingly drawing her answer from above.

"I do not believe it is in Discord's nature to go to these lengths for such a goal in the manner he has. In any case, I trust your judgement on the manner better than my own. We will allow him in our kingdom."

Luna smiled up at her sister, who kept a regal face for the next few seconds, until she looked back at Luna and snickered.

"yeah, alright, whatever, tell him to come over Tuesday, but I'm raising the guards' pay."

Luna put her hooves to her sides and guffawed triumphantly.

Of course, it was difficult for Discord to go from plotting against Equestria to doing good deeds, but for the sake of pleasing his beloved, he performed with utmost kindness. Most of the time. He still played a few pranks on ponies every now and then, but hey, in his nature and whatnot.

Life in Equestria could not have been better, especially for Fluttershy and Discord, who seemed to fall in love all over again at the beginning of each day. When he was not spending his time with her, the draconequus was helping ponies with their problems. For instance, he settled a disagreement between Spitfire and Soarin. He also used his magic to protect Equestria from disasters, Fluttershy looking at him after every prevented tragedy like the proudest pony in the world.

"To my one and only Fluttershy," she read, "the love of my life, the apple of my eye, my other half. Without you, my life is empty. I still think that one day I'm going to wake up and meeting you was all a dream, but if it is, I'll take it. You are the best thing that's ever happened to me and I hope you can say the same about me."

She then realized she had been turning the ring, or rather bangle, over and over, the message continuing. She looked up at Pinkie Pie.

"I'm not going to ask how he managed to fit all that in."

"trust me, that's the short version!" Cackled pinkie pie. She helped him design it, after all.

Discord gave her the ring right after she had proposed, and as soon as she'd wrapped it around her hoof it conformed to her size perfectly. Of course, she had no way of wearing a ring of any sort, and so a beautiful bangle would adorn her hoof to show her love for everypony.

"Oh, you look absolutely gorgeous, darling!" Rarity exclaimed once she had made the final adjustments to Fluttershy's gown, lining the hem with a leaf-like trim.

She directed Fluttershy towards the mirror. In it, Fluttershy was sure she had seen the Queen Mab Fairy before her. The dress was simple, but elegant, with a vine design wrapping around her whole body. It was nearly identical to the one she had worn in the forest, only more suited to a wedding. Her veil hung from a wreath of pink roses, which sat perfectly atop her curled hair.

"Rarity," she marveled. "It's beautiful!"

"You're beautiful, Fluttershy!" Rarity hailed! "I only highlighted what is most beautiful about you!"

Rainbow Dash laughed. "I never thought you'd be the first of us to get married, Fluttershy."

The unicorn sighed. "Yes. I thought it would be me, as I did catch Cadence's bouquet, but…oh, you really do look the part, sweetie!"

"Maybe you will be, Rarity, right fartknocker'?" Nudged Applejack teasingly into Rainbow Dash, winking and chuckling as Rainbow rubbed her hooves together, plotting.

Scootaloo shifted in her dress. "Aren't we a little old to be flower girls? After all, we have our cutie marks."

"Maybe," Fluttershy replied, "but I couldn't think of three fillies better suited for the job."

Applejack laid a hoof on her shoulder. "We're really happy for ya, Sugar Cube."

"Even if it is Discord?"

"Well…" Rarity stammered. "We might not have used to agree..."

"But ever since we started hanging out with him, I think we can get used to it." Twilight finished.

There was a frantic knock on the door. "Hey, guys?! You in there? Emergency!"

Applejack approached the door. "One second, Spike."

"Are you mad?!" Rarity yelled. "We're getting dressed!"

The cowgirl rolled her eyes. "Do I have to go over this with you again? We. Don't. Wear. Clothes!" Spike only had a vague understanding of what clothes were anyways.

"Is everything alright, Spike?"

"Oh, right! It's Discord. He's getting…" He peered over at Fluttershy and said the rest in a whisper. "Cold hooves."

The cowgirl gasped and called to her friends. "I gotta go check on the groom. I'll meet y'all at the altar!"

Discord needed a best stallion or mare, but unfortunately, he was still a rookie when it came to making friends, so Applejack had volunteered for the role. After all, she had been the first to support the match.

When she and Spike entered the groom's dressing room, it was empty. They searched in all directions for the draconequus.

She then had a thought and looked up. Sure enough, Discord was hanging by his claws from the ceiling. The cowgirl stomped her hoof.

"Discord, get your rump on outta here!" Applejack commanded. "You're gettin' married in thirty minutes!"

"Make me!" Discord taunted. "I can stay up here all day!"

He summoned a pillow and stretched out against the ceiling.

"Ya can't get cold hooves! You're the one who cried when she asked!"

"I'm not the one with cold hooves..."

He snapped his fingers and Applejack yelped as she felt a sudden chill in her hooves. She glanced down to see that they had been encased in ice.

"Quit foolin' and get down! Fluttershy's gonna be heartbroken!"

She spun around as the draconequus teleported beside her. She tried to tackle him, but her hooves were stiff in the ice. Discord sighed and went over to stare at his reflection in the mirror.

"What makes you think she'll care if I leave her? She'll probably be relieved!"

"How can you say that?" Spike inquired.

Applejack attempted to walk over to him, but she could not shake off the blocks of ice. Spike used his dragon breath to melt them and free her.

"Thanks," she beamed, before approaching Discord. "Now listen here, partner. You may be different, but I've never seen Fluttershy so happy in my life. You may not be the same species, but love comes in all forms."

"Yeah," Spike nodded. "Like with me and-"

"Like with you and Rarity?" Discord huffed. "Please, like that's ever going to…yow!"

Applejack had stepped on his tail.

"no, like me and Twilight! She's like my mom, but we're different species!"

"My point is that I know what love looks like, and I've never seen two ponies, or any other creatures, more in love than you and Fluttershy. Unless I was mistaken and you don't love her…"

"What are you talking about?" Discord snapped. "Of course, I love her! You think I would say yes if I didn't love her? You think I would have given up my plans for hostile takeover if I didn't love her? Well, let me tell you something, AJ! I love that pony more than anything! You hear? More than anything!"

Applejack smirked. "Whaddaya waiting for then?"

The draconequus blinked and then glanced in the mirror. He then snapped his fingers, making a tuxedo appear on his body.

"GODSPEED YOU HANDSOME DEVIL, YOU!" discord shouted at the top of his lungs, before leaping out of the room in a heroic fashion.

"this is insane, I can't do it dude."

He winced as Applejack nudged him in the side. "You better not bail!"

Every pony was in their positions at the altar. Rainbow Dash, Rarity and Pinkie Pie were lined up beside the bride's vacant space, Applejack stood alongside Discord, Twilight beside Spike ready with the rings. Cadance stood in the middle, beneath the arch of roses.

The guests had all arrived and the room was packed. Since Discord had no relations, the closest ponyville citizens sat on the groom's side while the ponies from fluttershy's family on the bride's, along with many of Fluttershy's animal friends. Discord could recognize a few faces from his side out of dozens, like Zecora, Minty, Kimono, Derpy, Woah Nelly, Berryshine, Apple Brown Betty, Big Mac and Sugar Belle. many from Fluttershy family, of whom he met at a humble family get-together.

Discord choked. "In fact, it's quite hot in here, don't you think?" He tugged on the collar of his suit and wiped the sweat from his brow. "You don't suppose she's changed her mind, do you?"

"She's not late," Rainbow Dash whispered. "The ceremony's not even starting until three."

"But every pony's here! Shouldn't we start now? Ouch!"

"Pull yourself together!" Applejack hissed.

"Quit doing that!" He pulled his tail away and turned the end into a fan.

"Relax. We haven't been standing here that long."

"how long is 'that long' exactly-"

"Put that fan away! It's startin'!"

Sure enough, the bird choir began singing the bridal march, with Angel directing them. the flower girls hopped down the aisle, scattering their petals, discord started panicking.

God, what am I doing here? I shouldn't be here with her, all those suitors and she chose me of all ponies, god I don't deserve her what are you doing here-

Then he looked up and remembered why.

She entered the room with grace and elegance, causing every pony to gawk in awe. She walked down the aisle with her head held high, meeting the groom's gaze through her veil. Her long train was carried by more birds.

A smile spread across Discord's face. "She's beautiful."

Applejack gave him a sly grin. "Easy, Sugar. Save it for the honeymoon."

Meanwhile, the others were tearing up, including the flower girls.

"It's so romantic," Sweetie Belle .

"like a dang ol' fairytale" apple bloom cooed.

"all this mush is starting to get to me." Scootaloo moped through tears.

Fluttershy giggled at them as she passed by. Then she turned her attention back to Discord as she walked up the steps. He gently lifted her veil to reveal her beautiful face. After exchanging a loving look, they faced Princess Cadence. They both kneel upon an embroidered ivory pillow, plush and warm with invitation, and pray to the princesses, the beings of higher magic, and unbeknownst to each other, they both pray to one another.

"Mares and gentle colts," the alicorn announced. "We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Fluttershy and Discord. Never in the history of Equestria has there ever been a love so mythical, yet it started from the most unusual of circumstances. These two standing before you have proved that love surpasses all differences, all flaws, all faults."

She turned to the bride. "Do you, Fluttershy, take this draconequus to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, until death, do you part?"

Fluttershy looked up into Discord's adoring eyes. "I do."

"And do you, Discord, take this mare to be your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health, until death, do you part?

He was so lost in his bride's eyes that he did not hear her at first. "Huh? Oh, I do! Yes, I most definitely do!"

Cadence chuckled. "In that case, may I have the rings?"

Spike presented the silk pillow and Cadence used her magic to levitate the rings. One was attached to a gold chain, which she placed around Fluttershy's neck. The other slid onto the middle finger of Discord's lion paw.

A word from the Equestrian mythology was read, and Cadence spoke once more.

"By the power vested in me, by the crowning of my role, as princess of love," the alicorn continued, "I now pronounce you, spouse and wife. You may kiss-"

The draconequus did not wait for her to finish and pulled his bride in for a dip before pressing his lips against hers as the world seemed to explode into applause around them.

Rarity nudged Rainbow Dash and tilted her head outside.

"Oh, right!"

The pegasus zoomed out of her gown and out into the skies. The couple pulled away just in time to see her sonic rainboom through the windows, one of which shattered on impact. It shone through the sun, bathing the castle in every color visible to the naked eye.

"seven years of bad luck, darling!"

"you'll give me just enough of that," Fluttershy chuckled.

"BEST WEDDING EVER!" Pinkie cried.

The reception was held in the garden. Vinyl Scratch, under her stage name DJ Pon3 played the song for the bride and groom's first dance: "you're my world." Discord had selected it, the song playing when they first kissed. A dance was shared until a slow song played. The first song discord had played for her.

"Lovely is you/In my life/A perfect thing my wife/The joy you bring/ When times are good and bad"

"Shall we?" Applejack bowed to Rainbow Dash.

"Um, it's kinda slow, isn't it?"

"Well, I get if you're not up to the challenge…"

"Hey, wait a minute! Are you saying I can't handle a slow dance?"

"Can you?"

She grabbed her hoof. "Come on, you rascal."

A few songs later, and Rarity was met with an all too familiar unicorn stallion.

"Miss Rarity," Prince Blueblood greeted. "Would you care for a dance?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're kidding me, right?"

Fortunately, she was saved by the previously intertwined. "Yo Rarity, we're gonna do the sea snake dance, come on!"

Rarity's eyes lit up at the sight of Applejack and Rainbow Dash. "Certainly!"

Discord gazed down at his new wife as she buried her face in his fur. Then he noticed a familiar figure standing off to the side.

"Yo, Zecora!" he called.

Fluttershy looked up as he led her over to the zebra.

"Greetings, you lovebirds, and salutations," she said. "I just wanted to offer my congratulations."

"We have you to thank for this," the bride insisted.

Discord raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean? I never told you.

"See, before I accepted your deal, I went to Zecora for advice and she told me to give you a chance- Wait. Never told me what?"

"That I asked Zecora for advice and she helped me make your garden! Hey, hold on!" He pointed accusingly at the zebra. "You knew this was going to happen all along, didn't you?"

Zecora laughed as she walked away. "Prophetic magic? Not a chance. I took a gamble, now go and dance!"

"wuh-"

Fluttershy silenced him with her hoof. "Does it really matter, dear?"

He sighed and took her in his arms. "No, I guess not."

The party lasted throughout the whole night, through to dawn, and just into the morning until 10am. Foals fell asleep on lawn chairs, the cooler ice melted, candy and chili powder littered the ground. It was nonstop dance after dance, the sea snake, the money dance, at one point the men at the reception threw discord into the air! The festivities only stopped when the dj themself fell asleep. Then, after 1 day of relaxation, the parade went on.

Hours of laughter, music and beads later, and a carriage was ready with 3 ponies to take the couple home, but Discord waved them off.

"No need to exert yourselves, boys. We can drive ourselves."

He released the stallions, paid them their due, and opened the door for his bride with a bow.

"Shall we be off, my dear?"

Once the newlyweds were in the carriage, every pony waved to them and they waved back, until they were a spot in the distance.

Discord sighed and glanced slyly at Fluttershy. "Alone at last."

He was about to put an arm around her when an acorn hit him. He turned to see Angel and the other animals sitting across from them.

"What the…what are they doing here?"

"Well, I said they could move in with us," Fluttershy explained.

"You what?!"

"They're just going to live in the garden. They won't get in the way."

"But do they have to ride with us? I can just zap them to the garden and…"

She stopped his paw before he could cast a spell. "Please? They want to ride so badly, and they've got very polite bathroom habits, so the rental stays clean-"

Discord shrugged. "Happy wife, Happy life I guess."

They arrived at Fluttershy's little cottage, now covered in newly grown springtime flowers.

"Okay, we're here! Now scram!"

The animals seemed to giggle and scatter into the gardens. Fluttershy shook her head.

He teleported himself outside and opened the door of the carriage. He then lifted her into his arms bridal style and carried her towards the castle.

"Home sweet home," he mused. "Never really had one until you lived with me."

"It's much more colorful."

"Oh yes, very."

She giggled as he poked her in the belly. "I think I can live with that."

The front door opened automatically and Fluttershy could feel the weight of the week lifting off of her back.

"What do you think of the interior?" Discord inquired.

"Less dizzy."

He chuckled. "I thought you'd like it. Wait until you see the honeymoon suite."

At his command, a door hanging high on the wall with no stairs leading to it opened. He flew her up to it and Fluttershy gawked at the décor of the room. Everything was in the shape of a heart: the bed, the pillows, the windows, the chandelier, the candles in the chandelier, etc. She did not know what to say about it.

"It's, um…very…"

"a lot, I know. Makes me want to gag too, but isn't this how most honeymoon suites look? I don't think we can afford a honeymoon."

"I wouldn't know."

"Oh well, I'm too tired to change anything now. What even is a honeymoon?"

"don't know, don't care, we have our whole marriage to figure it out."

They plopped onto the plush mattress, kissing gentle and sweet, and drifted off into perfect dreams.

The End, At The Moment.

#mlp fim #fluttercord #fluttershy #bride of discord #bride of discord rewritten #discord #my little pony #mlp #applejack #rainbow dash #rarity #rarijackdash #appledash #raridash #rarijack #pinkie pie #zecora #twilight sparkle #spike the dragon #mane 6 #romance #chapter 19 #finale #fanfiction #my little pony friendship is magic #early 2010s #alternate universe #wedding

[aldbooks]

“I thought you left” for gwynriel? :)

Angsty Prompts

I've got to be honest, I struggled with this one and the other prompt in my box because both seemed much better suited to Elucien than Gwynriel so I might end up writing another version for them...

---

"Oh."

The soft exclamation behind him made him pause for a moment, but he did not glance back before resuming his task, methodically wrapping his hands with the long length of black cloth, between his fingers and around his palm.

"I didn't realize anyone was up here. I thought you'd all gone down to the Day Court for the Solstice."

He did not need to look to know who stood in the doorway. There was only one person his shadows never bothered to warn him of. At first, it had been disconcerting. They had never been so at ease with anyone, even his family. For a brief time, he had considered the possibility she had charmed or bespelled them somehow - she claimed river nymph heritage but what if that had been a cover for something more sinister? She did not know her own parentage afterall.

After a time though, he dismissed the theory.

He'd tested Gwyn, several times, giving her seemingly important information and waiting to see what she would do with it, following her and even having the twins tail her on occasion when his shadows refused. She never revealed a word of what he said. Never met with anyone suspicious, or did anything outside the ordinary from her relatively mundane routine.

No, Gwyneth Berdara was perfectly innocent. She spent her mornings in the training ring, encouraging her fellow priestesses and building her own skills and strength alongside her chosen sisters. The rest of her days she spent running around the library, fetching books for the indomitable Merrill, often finding herself berated by the miserable female no matter how well she did her job. And in the evenings, she either joined the other priestesses for sunset service (where, the twins had been delighted to tell him, she sang with the voice of an angel) or holed up in one of the head priestesses offices, for therapeutic sessions. Occasionally, she joined Nesta and/or Emerie in the House for dinner or a sleepover.

There was nothing exciting about Gwyneth Berdara's life, and yet, every time he was around her, he almost felt himself pulled to her by some magnetic force. Even when, on nights like tonight, he would rather be left alone. It was unsettling.

"The others are still there," he said quietly. He finished wrapping his left hand and moved on to his right. He heard Gwyn's tentative footsteps whisper over the soft clay of the training room floor behind him.

"But you did not stay?"

"My shadows do not care for the sunlight," he said ignoring the way his shadows hissed at him for using them as his excuse rather than tell her the truth.

His shadows had been content to hide in the shade of a nearby tree while he and his friends enjoyed the celebrations. It had not been them that had driven him to flee, hiding himself away somewhere familiar and safe, like a wounded animal.

"Hmm." The hum sounded a few feet from his right shoulder, and he could tell she was studying said shadows, while they regarded her in return. "I suppose I have never seen them during the day..."

Her words trailed off into a giggle and he glanced back to see a few of his shadows racing around her in circles the way an overexcited hound might greet its master. He tightened his jaw, calling them back. "They don't like the sun," he said again. Then added, "Or water."

"Then I imagine the Day and Summer Courts are not their favorite places."

"Indeed." The word was tight and clipped and he finished his wrappings with a sharp tug, securing the ends, he stalked from the supply table he'd been standing over to a dummy on the far end of the ring. Behind him, he could hear Gwyn hesitate for a moment before following him. She stopped at the weapons rack, studying the blades hanging there as though she did not see them every day.

The ring filled with the pounding of his fists against the wood and straw padding as he began warming up with a series of punches in sequence. Jab, jab, uppercut, right hook, left hook, jab, jab, uppercut. 1-2-3, 1-2, 1-2-3, breathe.

From the corner of his eye, he say Gwyn pull a short sword from the rack and examine it, the blade gleaming in the moonlight. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked after a moment.

His arm stuttered slightly, missing his target by an inch. He ignored her and continued on, allowing his body to fall into the rhythm of the motions until he did not have to think about what he was doing.

"I can tell something's wrong," she continued, still studying her the sword before setting it aside and picking up another. "You don't have to talk about it, of course. And I won't blame you if you tell me to shove off and leave you alone but... I thought you might like some company, at least. I know I usually do. Prefer not to be alone when I'm upset, that is..."

She was rambling, and he could hear in her voice that she did not want him to send her away, but she would go if he asked. Something had driven her up here as well in the middle of the night after all. He paused, glancing over his shoulder at her. She was not looking at him, still studying the new weapon in her hand, though he knew she did not see it. Her shoulders were tense and she was biting her lip, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

With a sigh, he stepped back from the dummy and waved a hand at the rack of weapons she stood before. "Pick your poison, Berdara. Daggers or swords?"

He watched her lips twitch as she studied the rows of blades before her. After a moment, she replaced the sword in her hand and grabbed a pair of matching knives. "Daggers."

He felt his own lips twitch as he reached for another matching pair. "As you wish."

#anon ask #ask box #gwynriel #gwyn x azriel #azriel x gwyn

[g4yr4t]

@lokh tagged me to post ten songs! I'm gonna try to make them different from the ones I'm always posting, but no guarantees. the "rules" or whatever don't say to add commentary but I'm gonna!

"up the wolves" by the mountain goats - look I know I talk about this one a lot but I am ALWAYS referring to the version from come, come to the sunset tree, which is superior, and which is what I've linked here.

"gap year" by twin tooth - what is there more beautiful than a living thing in transformation?

"calling" from the world ends with you - this used to be my ringtone, back when ringtones were a thing people did

this NakamuriEmi song - forgive the spotify link; I can't copy-paste the name of the song from spotify and I can't read or type japanese so I can't find it. anyway, the horns kind of make me feel like things song could be in acnh lol

"far east disco" by weinners - makes me want to dance!!!

"bloody destiny" from the psp remake of persona 1 - this is another one I'm always talking about but whatever... SAVE ME FROM THAT BLOOOODY DESTINY

"namae no nai ao" by kami-sama, I have noticed - when I got to the end of the first episode of keep your hands off eizouken! I lost my mind bc I was like "I know that one!!!"

"heart ga sameru maeni" by glim spanky - I'm gonna be honest, I was looking for another song off this album but this one is better

"CRASH CRASH CRASH" by veltpunch - long-ish instrumental intro, really good chorus

"staring at the sun" by TV on the radio - I'm not leaving making a list without this one sorry

aaaand there it is! I put a lot of thought into this list so I hope someone actually listens to some of the songs. I'm gonna tag @orbees @coccolithophore @allcatsarebabies @squidmoon @talesofsymphonia2 and that's IT! no way I'm tagging ten people that's too many.

#long post #unsolicited song recommendations #ask meme #babble and blather #honorable mention to “closer to fine” by the indigo girls #and of course “pando” by squalloscope

[medtech-mara]

So, your other ocs. Are they involved in the campaign at all, or do they exist separately? Followup: Do any of them interact with each other in any capacity? Friends, coworkers, passing acquaintances, etc etc

Music | CharacterKey | Random

Short answer: Yes. I think what makes this campaign standout so much, at least mostly to me, with 18 years of roleplaying experience…Is how alive our Night City feels. These aren’t just some random newcomers, these are people born in Night city, they had lives before being mercs and it really shows throughout the campaign, where members are trying to hide what they are doing from those they love the most. One players family, friends, even ex-lovers have made huge marks on other players characters lives.  Long answer: YES. MY GOD THIS IS WHAT I LOVE THE MOST ABOUT THIS CAMPAIGN. Mara/the Adams & the Desert Foxes/ Atredies are probably my crown jewels of life brought life into the city.  It started with me just loving how complex Mara’s life was juggling being a Medtech for a Clinic she Co-owns with her Childhood bestfriend/ love of her life that neither have found the words to say to each other yet & trying to hide her Merc life because Jack & Jayce wouldn't approve of it. Something about Jayce wanting to hide the fact he was working for Maxtac from Mara until he couldn’t any longer, Mara then having to go through great lengths to make moves around Maxtac district lockdowns to not be seen or caught by her brother. Having to come up with a good enough lie until I just started running out of them for Mara to tell Jack as to why she was leaving work early, or needed time off for a Gig.  Then, after meeting Jago’s mainline Chae-Rin after his passing, she became apart of Mara’s life some weeks after when she had to be rescued by Mara, and chose to never leave becoming her roommate. There was even a sibling like relationship between the two when Chae-Rin would retaliate against J I H Z Z Y using her Matcha bodysoap by sabotaging Mara’s expensive tech hair shampoo.  2023 had caused a massed homelessness that was solved by the city by using shipping containers and making them into districts around the city. A bulk of them reside in Santo domingo between the outskirts and the Sunset motel, so when rockerboy and new Night Raid member J I H Z Z Y and Mara started their notso Secret relationship, she spent a lot of time out there, and had come to learn and love the tight-knit community that is CD-82 and its residents that have helped raise J I H Z Z Y up from nothing.  These are just a couple examples. I know I refer to Mara a lot and/or jihzzy a lot, but its due to me being able to talk about them a little more liberally than I can with any of complex relationship tree we have going that shine MOST in the AU due to being able to create a little more freely there. It’s INSANE OVER THERE and I love it, I can’t wait to start the new one to further build our version of Night city. This story has all the dynamics, you name it. Even healthy family ones. *Points to the Shins*

okay, so this took me longer than it should have, again im so sorry. Lol. Anyway, I could go on more, but i gotta know who interests you the most, even if they aren't my character, I got the biography of my campaign mates, they always love indulging in some blorbolory (trademark pending?) I know I still don't have it all together yet, still slowly working my way thru it. I got a PH.D on this subject, I know it better than the writer for the campaign.

#Ask #Askbox #Ask me #Rin Asks #Legends of Night City ask #Cyberpunk RED #Cyberpunk RED Campaign #Legends of Night City #LoNC #my oc: mara “panthera” sterling #OC: J I H Z Z Y #my oc: shin chae rin “dart” #OC: Jung Ho-Seok “Jago” #OC: Jayce Adams #My OC: Jack Adams

[augment-techs]

I already have this one in the works but I’m curious to know what you’d do with this SO

"hi, you might not know me but my name is Eugene Skullovitch, and I have recently come to the realization that you can not kill me. Many have tried, and at times have bled me well. But here i am…limping yet still standing. Angel Grove’s rock and roll cockroach. So what do I say? Come at me bro.”

+Skull/Billy

How very strange it was for poor Billy to find himself in this situation--surely the Emissaries could come up with something better than locating all of the most fucked up versions of the Rangers throughout the infinite dimensions and putting them on their own newly made little world. Part Twilight Zone, part that weird amalgamation of every "children's" book that Neil Gaiman and R.L. Stine had ever written; and the Blue Emissary asking Billy to have a conversation with one of the only members of the new planet that...didn't quite feel right for the place of exile/containment. This, normally, would have been a fascinating thing to be allowed to do: witness darker versions of himself and his friends brought to a place that was technically a prison, but could almost be considered paradise in that they claimed their territories, set up agreements and accords, did what they wanted; just without the threat of hurting anyone but themselves. Drakkon was finally in a place where he was probably having the time of his life, constantly brawling it out with a Jason Scott that was simultaneously a raving lunatic and an industrious tactician; a Kimberly that looked the Ranger Slayer seem like a sad wet kitten popping in to comment on their fights like a caricature of a 1950s cinematic femme fatale. The evil versions of Bulk, Zack, and Trini spent most of their time, from what Billy could gather, flirting as hard as they could with each other, while also ruining each other's plans for building new towers of infamy or palaces of lunacy; a wet dream that Alexander Dumas would slobber over, to be sure. Now he was faced with what the Emissary had mentioned as the oddity to the pack of horrible assholes: a Skull that was maybe late thirties or early forties in appearance, tall as a tree, dressed like a more sunset/sunrise leaning Goblin King, smoking a thin black cigarette and, apparently, preventing the Billy Cranston that was a scary motherfucker with extremely sharp teeth from choking out the little one that had come to look in on them. '....Why does he have to be hot?'

#boom! comics power rangers #mmpr #ggpr #ask fill #prompt fill #billy cranston #eugene skull skullovitch #short version here; long version on AO3

[acatinafancyhat]

Watched Chess på Svenska last night since people have been recommending it! Boy it was A Lot. My family has no respect for bonkers Swedish musicals so i'm just gonna vent the thoughts i had while watching it here. Beware of spoilers (though I probably haven't even noted half of the crazy shit that happened this show is really something else).

I had only seen RAH Chess in Concert and a few snippets of other versions going into this so that was my baseline, but in hindsight these two versions aren't really comparable since they're barely trying to tell the same story...

This is a little long I apologize i had many thoughts (: Also this formatting may or may not work, I'm about to find out.

Act I

- First impression: oh wow Chess has a plot now

- So Anatoly is the protagonist? Interesting.

- I like Swedish Florence she's cute? However Swedish Freddie has been on screen for five seconds and he already Sucks

- Ok I was NOT prepared for drunk florence singing nobody's side but turns out that's exactly what this musical needed

- Oooooohhhh Florence and Anatoly running into each other in the hotel could it be?? that this version?? actually invests in their relationship????

- Jean Jaques van Boren what a name, and he didn't even need one

- This arbiter is in a show all of his own look at the little man go he's so into it. Into what, I'm not sure.

- Wait is he flying on a wire because he's above the game is this symbolism

- Did Freddie... did he just... eat a chess piece?? I... what...??

- Aww hungover Florence is trying so hard to be dignified i'm already very up for her walking out on Freddie in this one.

- "the toads fall out of your mouth" heh idioms from other languages are the best

- Um this arbiter kinda gives me the creeps?

- Florence and Anatoly hanging out! bonding! not just running off into the sunset after being in the general vicinity of each other for 5 minutes!! (No offense to RAH Mountain Duet it's great and hating on Freddie together is a hilarious catalyst for their relationship but I'm actually getting invested here)

- Someone Else's Story is literally a different song but it works

- "husband" wait are Florence and Freddie supposed to be married in this?

- Sneaking away from Molokov ahahahaha

- oh sHIT YOU LEAVE THAT CHILD ALONE!

- And they are aware that there is no embassy in Merano yes thank you i did wonder about that like these places don't grow on trees how did they all even get there in RAH?

- Coming to the conclusion that everyone in Merano is batshit crazy

- And just realized that Walter isn't even here. Does he not exist? Has Sweden canceled the CIA?

- Swedish Mountain Duet is also a different song. Anatoly is very charming yet has lowkey Bastard vibes. Florence is clearly having a minor mental breakdown here maybe don't drag her into your midlife crisis? Oh well, at least he has some respect for her, unlike chess piece munching Freddie...

- But "She's my only friend" aw fuck now i have feelings about this asshole

- Anthem is good. Anthem is always good.

Act II

- Start of this act is already looking Intense

- Swedish Freddie is such a trainwreck my god.

- How To Lose a Girl in Ten Seconds the autobigraphy by Frederick Trumper

- "So you want to break up" FUCK the look on his face just killed me

- This Pity the Child is somehow more pathetic than other versions I have seen. And i mean that in the best way. He's hugging the pillow. Just wants mommy to love him. Fuck.

- So here's Endgame showing up early hmmm

- And here's Anatoly evolving from lowkey bastard into full on piece of shit. Has Svetlana done anything to deserve this abuse? Not to my knowledge, no.

- "You're an ass!" Sveta sweetie you are absolutely correct

- But at least he loves his kid I give him one (1) credit for that.

- I have mixed feelings about Heaven Help My Heart in RAH but it works much better here in terms of both timing and lyrics!

- Oohh new Svetlana song (heard of it but never heard it). Yes Sveta you TELL him.

- Merano reprise?

- Happy Florence!!! Happy Florence!!!! Happy Florence is adorable look at her precious smile!!!!!

- Aaaaand in comes freddie to fuck it up.

- (gets his kicks above the waistline but sure knows how to hit below the belt)

- "Take it easy, little friend" omg

- *aggressively clinging to each other while singing about how they never want to see the other person again* yep i'm dead

- This Freddie really has zero redeeming qualities AND YET

- oh random acrobatics? cool. i'm no longer surprised by anything that happens on this stage.

- Jean Jacques van Boren is back. I want to compare him to something but every time i see him my mind just goes blank in quiet horror.

- Svetlana strolling in to slay that cheating motherfucker

- Ok I support Sveta's rage always but I have to say i do not love this flipping of I Know Him So Well. I mean, what's the point? Why do they have to fight? It's not like it's Florence's fault Anatoly decided to run off (at least not in this version) since it was pretty clear from the beginning that him and Sveta weren't doing,, super great. The original song has its own issues but I stand behind the concept of Florence and Sveta bonding over their shared experiences with shitty men and especially this shitty man. Now it just makes me like both of them less. And it still doesn't pass the Bechdel test. Ugh.

- Molokov gets a Tragic Backstory because everyone needs one i guess

- It is not smart to fuck with the KGB. Anatoly appears startled by this.

- Side note this act has too little Freddie in it where's my epic rivalry where is the drama

- The way the stage is set up for the final match is pretty cool though

- This match feels a little anticlimactic but in a way that sort of works? Everyone's made their choices already? This is just the inevitable end to the tragedy and you can feel it.

- It does make the whole 'singing the names of previous champions' thing seem a little out of sync. We're past that, this obviously isn't about chess anymore.

- The circular ending is neat. The Story of Chess still doesn't fit the rest of the narrative. Again, very little actual chess in this.

- At this point I don't really care about Anatoly's feelings but Florence deserves better. Normally I'd say she deserves Svetlana but this Svetlana is kind of terrible so, hm, no. She deserves to be single and recover from her breakdown in peace i honestly don't want her to see any of these people again.

Well I definitely understand why this is some people's favorite version! The story's close to solid, and even though everyone's an asshole, they all have their moments of being... if not sympathetic, then at least just pathetic (looking at you Freddie) enough that the audience can give a damn. Personally i still prefer RAH, but then I did come here by way of Rent so I'm biased.

Anyway if you haven't seen Chess på Svenska yet go watch it, you will come out of the experience a different person but you won't have wasted your time :)

#chess the musical #chess musical #chess på svenska #long post #thoughts

[zeldaelmo]

This is my favorite installment of this year's calendar, I hope you'll like it, too! It's not set in a specific game. Five parts in total!

The Pen Pal Plan

Zelda's mother rattled a long finger over the handle of the baskets Zelda had lined up on her desk. "So," she said with a light tease in her voice that drew a giggle from Zelda and made her duck her head. "How are we going to do this?"

"Okay, so what you see here is a year's worth of 'The Penpal Plan'."

"You gave it a name?" Her mother chuckled behind her other hand. "To think that I just asked my parents who would be the three most promising suitors and picked the one who didn't step on my toes at the ball." She winked conspiratorially. "Well, that's the official version. Unofficially I chose the one who gave the best kisses. You don't want to be married to someone who gives sloppy kisses."

"I know, I know." Zelda dropped into her chair, arms spread wide on the armrests. "Father suggested keeping an eye out on the balls, too. But you know I hate the flattery that comes with these events with great passion. I don't want to be reduced to my beauty. I wish for a partner who can hold a candle to me in conversation."

That couldn’t be too much to ask for, right? Zelda tugged at the fabric of her blouse. Either the fireplace had been packed with too much wood or her mother’s teasing got more to her than she liked to admit. Humming, her mother flipped through the envelopes in the basket standing dangerously close to the corner of the desk. "Out of curiosity, how many letters did you get when you announced that the hand of the Princess of Hyrule could be won in pen pal ship?"

"Oh, hundreds." Zelda waved her off. She leaned forward and smirked at her mother. "You wouldn't believe what the poor servants had to endure during the first few weeks. Someone sent an outgrown apple tree to gain my favor, roots and all. And another one commissioned a painting of him and me in a rather… romantically entangled pose."

"Oh my…" Zelda's mother fanned herself with a letter and laughed. "I see it was a grave mistake to leave you to your business and take a winter break on Snow Peak. I'll make sure that we're here when your plan finally comes to an end, I can't risk missing all of the fun again."

"I sure hope that the candidates I picked know how to behave around a lady." Zelda scrunched her nose, letting the memories of the oddities of the first few weeks pass again. Then, she stood up and pointed at the first basket. "This one here has excellent taste in poems. He even wrote a few for me. Unfortunately, that seems to be the only thing that comes out of his quiver, so I thought about meeting him first."

Her mother halted in her fanning. “Wait, why would you want to meet the most boring suitor first? Why not meet the most promising candidate and ride off into the sunset with him? Given he's a good kisser, of course.” 

“Mama!” Zelda laughed and rolled her eyes. To think that her mother was supposed to be the mature, middle-aged ruler of the Kingdom here and not the twenty-year-old, giddy princess looking for a husband… “These men have entertained a pen pal friendship with me for nearly a year now. I have the duty to meet them all. Everyone deserves a fair chance.”

Her lips pinched in a line, her mother suppressed a giggle. “You’re too serious sometimes, little bird. Live a little! But now let’s see what we have. Maybe I can help you sort through them.”

Zelda pushed a basket in her direction, smiling bashfully. “Actually… I want you to skim-read some so that I might get your approval of inviting them to the castle.”

“Oh, but Zelda!” Her mother laughed and shook her head. “You don’t need my approval nor your father’s.”

“I know, but I would feel much better if you had a look.”

“As you wish, little bird.”

Her mother rang for tea and they settled on the settee, each of them with a basket of letters on their lap. Zelda observed through her lashes how her mother giggled and chuckled while she went through the letters. She found Zelda’s plan to find a partner over the top, that much was obvious. 

It wasn’t that Zelda hadn’t tried to find an acceptable suitor traditionally. She had danced her fair share of nights away at balls, and she hadn’t lacked offers. Still — she never had more than a few dances in a row with someone, and their names were long forgotten come morning regardless. Surely there must be another way of finding someone who could participate in an engaging conversation with her? Someone with whom she could talk (or yes, maybe even kiss) the nights away?

A little sigh escaped from her lips and she was quick to cover it with rustling papers. She longed for another soul, for a partner, but her station didn't make it easy. 

The guard in front of her door knocked politely, opening it for the servant who arrived with tea, nodding in their direction. 

"This one," Zelda started, distracted by the maid pouring them tea, "is an expert in all kinds of science. We had a rather heated discussion about the ups and downs of keeping plants in glass houses for the benefit of cultivating fruits."

"And any heated discussions about something more you related? You look for a husband, not a professor." Her mother laughed heartily and even on the faces of the maid and the guard played a small smile when the door closed again with a thud.

"Uhm." Zelda flushed and put the basket aside. "Let's look at the next, maybe."

They went through a handful of baskets after that and Zelda, much to the amusement of her mother, wrote a schedule on a chalkboard behind her desk.

"Okay, that was all, I think." Zelda's mother put the last letter back into the basket and rested her hands on the handle. "I couldn't help but notice that you aren't overly enthusiastic about all of them, is that right? Or are you just a bit shy?"

Zelda squirmed under her knowing gaze, feeling for something under her desk with her foot. "Actually… I've left one basket aside because I want to put him at the end of the schedule. He's, um, not the most eloquent, but we've gotten along rather well. I mean, his letters are fine, he just keeps them to the point and he doesn't send poetry or something along those lines, like the others." 

"Oho, now we're talking!" Zelda's mother impatiently dropped all the baskets on the floor and leaned forward onto the desk. "Show me. I want to know everything."

Zelda hid her deepening blush behind her hands and peeked through the gaps between her fingers. "He's cute. Writes things like how he learned the lullaby that's named after me on the ocarina so that he has an excuse to think about me. He's a bit secretive about his profession but other than that, we've been writing about everything."

"Around your age?"

"Yes, 21. And he's quite attentive. Look what he sent me." Zelda rummaged through the stacks of letters hidden under her desk and pulled a flower out. "It's a Silent Princess folded from paper. I mentioned it once that they are endangered and weeks later, I wrote that I like them."

Zelda's mother leaned back with an easy smile. "Well, well, well, we have our winner. Do you have a name, a town? Maybe we can find something out."

"No, I'm using pen names with all of them. It's a bit silly in my case because they all know who I am, but I wanted–"

"–to keep it fair. I get it. What's your plan now? How are you going to meet them?"

Zelda shrugged. "I thought about inviting them and having tea?"

Her mother yawned excessively into her hand. "Sorry, what did you say? A masquerade ball? The winter festival in Castle Town?" 

Oh, the nerves! Zelda threw a rubber at her mother that she caught, laughing. "I want to meet them one by one to avoid tensions. And masquerading is impractical because I finally want to know who they are."

"Okay, I understand. But tea?"  

Zelda shrugged. What was wrong with a nice afternoon, drinking tea and talking? How was she supposed to get to know someone better at a loud and chaotic festival?

"Little bird, what am I going to do with you? Go out and have a bit of fun before you get married." She winked. "The winter festival is just perfect for that, trust me. Snatch some guards and meet your suitors there. And if we have to hurry with the wedding because you won't fit in your dress otherwise, then so be it."

"Why wouldn't I– Mama!" Zelda leaped from her chair, tearing a basket with her that clattered to the ground. "You'll stop talking like that right now!"

Cackling, her mother stood up, circled the desk, and picked up the letters. "Alright. No jokes about your modesty anymore. Although I really think you could loosen up a bit in that regard. Most young people have a little experience although they rarely talk about it. I think it makes for a better relationship, too, but that's not for me to decide. Still, the festival? Does that sound so bad to you?"

"I…" Zelda glanced down at the paper flower. In the end, it only mattered that she had an opportunity to talk to him, right? And she could still arrange their meeting in a tavern where they could chat to their heart's content. "I'm considering it. You're not wrong, if a meeting goes awry, I could at least find distraction at the festival. A boring conversation partner might be much more difficult to bear over a cup of tea."

"That's the spirit." Her mother beamed at her. "I'll alert the seamstress. You'll need pants and a blouse that's simple enough to melt in but displays your curves nonetheless. And a hood." She clapped her hands. "Ah, I'm so excited! My little bird wants to court!"

Smiling, Zelda shook her head. "I do, yes. Let's hope everything will work out."

"Of course!" Her mother rang for another cup of tea, and soon, Zelda was absorbed in enthusiastic planning.

#zelink #legend of zelda #advent calendar #Day 16 #zeldaelmo writes #The pen pal plan

[seventhwinterwolf]

Tywin and Rosalind’s Children

I’ve decided to update the Prologue chapter eventually, there will be some changes but the biggest is that I want Rosalind to be married to Tywin for longer, and that means more heirs to the Lannister legacy. I’m getting better with using Artbreeder, though it’s still not quite what I would truly like it to be. I have these potential children all planned out for birth dates and appearances but I will not reveal more than the first two’s years to avoid unwanted spoilers. 

Tyrus Lannister, the heir to Casterly Rock

Born: 299AC at Casterly Rock

Looks: He possesses the traditional Lannister colors, Tyrus has light golden hair that he wears short with emerald green eyes. He resembles his half-brother Jaime and Uncle Kevan or a softer feature version of his father Tywin. (Eyes reference, duller and a bit darker)

Name: From the Lannister traditions of “Ty” and works as a combination of Ty+win in regards to his sister Winona as the first two children of Tywin from Rosalind. The name Tyrus means “land of the yew tree” from Tyrone and “heir to the throne” from Cyrus. The fictional weirwood trees resemble real-life yew trees to reference Rosalind’s homeland and fulfill Tywin’s dream of a worthy heir to replace Jaime and prevent Tyrion’s claim from coming to fruition after his death. 

Winona Lannister 

Born: 299AC at Casterly Rock

Looks: She displays the classical appearance of Lannister women with wavy golden hair, though hers is much darker than the common light whitish blonde hair. Winona has jade-green eyes flecked with gold like her father’s. She does not have the true beauty that Cersei, Myrcella, and Joanna possess. Winona is considered to be fairly pretty though not particularly remarkable. (Wavy hair alternate and Eyes reference)

Name: Winona is partially named after her father’s suffix matching Tyrus’ name possessing the prefix of Tywin’s name. Winona originates from the Dakota people and their language wherein Winúŋna means “first-born daughter”. It is closely related to Wynora / Eleanor which is derived from Greek and means “shining light”. 

Aredian Lannister

Born: xxxAC at Casterly Rock

Looks: He primarily reflects his Lannister heritage with some traces of the Stark long facial structure. Aredian has golden hair that he wears shoulder length with some light waves in texture. In his beard, eyebrows, and hair undertones there are hints of the Tully auburn color. His eyes are minty grey-green and melancholic. Aredian is considered to be of average appearance with no common trait of attractiveness.  (Eyes reference)

Name: Aredian is derived from many different things. In Scandinavian cultures, Ari means eagle, and Ari in Hebrew means lion. In the Badaga language, Ari also means “sun-like”. The combination of an eagle and a lion create the griffin creature which is seen as the king of kings for beasts as the lion is referred to as the king of the jungle and the eagle the king of skies. Aredian is partially remade from Adrian which from Latin correlates to the sea or water to make a general reference to Casterly Rock’s location on the coast of the Sunset Sea.

Pronounced as “Uh - rid - ian”, similar to iridium 

Loreon Lannister

Born: xxxAC in King’s Landing

Looks: He has golden hair with pale green eyes flecked with gold, his eyes are shrewd and calculating. Loreon is a spitting image of Tywin in his youth, he resembles his father tremendously leading to comments on Loreon being Tywin’s twin or clone. Loreon wears his hair short and tidy. He sports a light beard that is also neatly trimmed. (Eyes reference)

Name: From the ancestors of House Lannister, Loreon the first King of the Rock.

Clayre Lannister

Born: xxxAC in King’s Landing

Looks: Clayre has auburn hair with bright green eyes. She favors Rosalind the most and is fond of her Tully heritage. Her hair is straight and she generally wears it long and unadorned. There are soft brown undertones to her hair. Clayre is comely in appearance and is often regarded favorably like her Aunt Sansa and Grandmother Catelyn. (Eyes reference)

Name: It is a respelling of Claire which means bright, clear, and famous. From French and Latin origins it can also be described as “fair-colored”. Rosalind named Clayre after her mother. 

Rory Lannister

Born: xxxAC in ????

Looks: Rory has golden auburn hair that he wears long and wavy curls. His eyes are wolf-like with a wildfire-green color. His hair could be called golden copper, golden red, or similar descriptions. Rory’s hair is primarily auburn red with natural golden highlights that are subtle in most lights. He generally is clean-shaven and is well regarded as handsome though his eyes are commonly thought to be striking and full of burning hunger. (Long hair reference, younger Rory somewhat, wildfire color reference albeit not glowing)

Name: Rory’s name is Irish and means “red king”, derived from the High King of Ireland in the 1100s who fought against Anglo-Norman invaders. It is similar to Rodrik, Roderick, Rogar, etc. 

Cerion Lannister

Born: xxxAC in ????

Looks:

Name: From the ancestors of House Lannister, Cerion a King of the Rock who greatly extended the kingdom’s domain. 

Marius Lannister

Born: xxxAC in ????

Looks: Marius has sandy blondish brown hair with pretty sea-green eyes. (hair is lighter than in the picture, blonder highlights, and eye color reference)

Name: Marius is comprised of a few naming elements. One aspect is from “Maria” which means “a drop of the sea” and another is Mars being the Roman god of war leading to a meaning like “sea wars, or warrior of the sea”. From Latin Marino / Marinus there’s a general relation to the ocean or sea.

Additional Names

Boys - Addam, Cedric, Godric, Gilderoy, Jason, Benroy, Lucias, Lucien, Kasar, Leo, Leobald, Lyonel, Jeremy, Tybur, Tyrek, Tyrone, Tybolt, etc

Girls - Joanna, Jeyne, Gwyneth, Aemma, Tyshara, Cerelle, Ariel, Myrielle, Ellyn, Cassandra, Irene, etc

Rosalind wishes to name girls after Joanna and Jeyne Lannister to honor Tywin’s first wife and mother, but he eventually only agrees on the condition that she can name them as such if she has twin girls

#tywin lannister #rosalind stark #house lannister #tyrus lannister #winona lannister #aredian lannister #loreon lannister #clayre lannister #rory lannister #artbreeder #face references #asoiaf original character #asoiaf fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #original lannister characters #lannister names #rosalind stark's children #tywin lannister's children #casterly rock #the seventh direwolf

[mountaingoatsfirstlineaday]

I've always wondered why John repeatedly says his guitar skill + compositional creativity has improved a lot from his early days (obviously everyone's does as they practice, not what I mean)—so much of his early lowest-fi stuff is really experimental and fun sounding to me! E.g. "Chinese House Flowers" with its G7, F7 E7 ending to say nothing of the main chord progression in the song, "Alpha Gelida" which is just fucking amazing, the coroner's gambit studio version of "Shadow Song" which is soooo much more powerful than the I V centric version of it I've heard live, tunes like "bluejays and cardinals" or "new Britain" that make heavy use of suspended chords... And a lot of these early tunes have little melodic picking parts in them too. I love all his stuff but to me the boombox stuff is a lot more sonically interesting than the heavily folk/country inspired instrumentation he sometimes uses on later songs. It's different and a lot of the new stuff is harmonically complex too, don't get me wrong, but I feel like he underrates some of the lyricism and songwriting of his early stuff. Sorry for the huge ask but I wondered if you had thoughts on this

ayyyy never apologize for a big ask!! i love getting stuff like this. give me your thoughts 😈

I get what you mean, though. And I agree with you -- I love the newer stuff deeply and with every inch of my soul but there is something very... interesting, and special, about the lo-fi era of tmg music. Imo it's a little less accessible, it makes you work a little harder as a listener to figure out what the hell's goin' on, and that makes it a different experience from the newer stuff. Not inherently good or bad, but very very different.

The first thing your question brought to mind for me is how he thought that The Sunset Tree was the last record he was ever going to get to make: "But then after we moved here, I, you know, I wasn't quite sure what we were gonna do and our original contract with 4AD was for three records, and I sort of, because I'm me and I'm kind of defeatist and I have a thing about worrying that nobody actually likes me and that someday this will all be taken away, you know, I was like, well, we're gonna get to the third album of the contract and then you have to go back to the nursing business, right. So that's why I sort of, like, opened up and said 'well, I'm gonna tell a story that is true for the third record 'cause it'll probably be the last Mountain Goats record that ever gets made', was the thinking in my mind." (source) (if anyone has a video where he says this speech, that'd be great! I only know it from the wikia page on tst).

And he thought this after he had made ahwt and tallahassee.

John Darnielle can probably see in a lot more detail than we can how and in what ways he's grown as an artist, because obviously he's privy to all of the inner workings of his music. I can speak as a person who's been doing creative things for my entire life, including songwriting, that having to interact with your old work can be incredibly painful. Not just in a cringy "I can't believe I ever made that" way, but also because it might remind you of old times, events, or feelings that you'd really rather leave behind. It can be easier and better for your mental health to diminish your old work to cringe, unintelligent drivel, novice shit, etc etc to make it hurt less. Obviously I'm not John Darnielle and am definitely speaking from my own experiences, but I feel like it's a valid theory. I also come from a mentally ill place, and was abused as a child, and all of that frequently makes its way into my art.

It's also possible that as cool and fun and experimental as his old stuff is, it just isn't what he wants his music to sound like! In the early days of tmg there's a really good chance that the music sounds more experimental because it is. He was probably playing around a lot more, trying to figure out what he liked and how to make those sounds. This is also something to consider in the context of the evolving nature of the band. We've got our core group figured out now (John, Jon, Peter, and instrumental mastermind Matt) but in the early days there were tons of lineup changes and studio changes and production + mixing differences from album to album, and even from song to song, especially in the case of the triplet comp albums of 1999 (Ghana, Protein Source of the Future... Now!, and Bitter Melon Farm) and in the case of an album/ep/etc that had recordings from radio stations. If I remember the liner notes of the 2013 ahwt rerelease correctly, ahwt is the only album that the descriptor of "one guy alone in his house with a guitar (and the Panasonic RX-FT500)". I suppose that now, Songs for Pierre Chuvin also fits this description :)

Honestly, I think he underrates his old stuff too. There will never be a love song that hits me in quite the same way that Masher does. Never another song that makes me feel as hopeful as Onions and Elijah do. Hearing Water Song at the show on the 19th, I mean, it was transcendent! It's really beautiful, special material; that being said I also understand why he might shy away from it.

I hope this at least sort of is what you were talking about? If not, feel free to send in another ask and I will happily discuss more! This is my jam, and we all know how jd feels about jam...

#asks #fuck12 #not a first line #tmg #the mountain goats #john darnielle #seriously love this it took me like 50 mins to write this out and fact check myself. talk about a lovely morning #:)

[theadorian]

Get out of my head.

Get out of my head. I want you out of sight, out of mind, out of heart. You do not belong to this realm.

My dear, I cannot welcome you into my arms anymore. You are not even… you. You are the remnants of my memories of you — and we both know that my memories are watered down, piss-colored versions of what they used to be. What they really are.

My anger has disappeared and now I am simply a being who is empty and filled with longing. Maybe this is my punishment — like Tantalus in his constant race for nourishment. You are there, so close, just a tap away. I can see glimpses of you, and how you’ve changed. I chase after it like an animal.

But I pull myself back. I remember just how much distance between us there is now, and how only you could cross it.

It’s been months now and I haven’t heard a peep from that side of the road. I think the silence more than expresses your answer to my questions, unspoken they may be.

I can’t believe you did it. You uprooted a tree that was blocking the view of a beautiful sunset with just a plastic spoon and I hope that things are better for you now. Hope is all I have left and so I hope, and I hope, and I hope.

#adorianpoetry #spilledpoetry #spilled poetry #poetry #poets on tumblr #spilled emotions #original poem

[bailesona]

aaaand go ahead and give this post a like if u want ur muse to get some gifts from the squad! below the cut there's a list of what to expect from each character!

victor: flowers and plants. dried flowers, pot pourri, essential oils derived from his flowers. jams, dried fruits, fruit juices, chutneys, how-to books, seeds. he's got u covered for the flora.

eli: video games, cheat codes, music, playlists, mixtapes, movies, tv series, discontinued series. anything digital, really; he built aisling's computer from scratch over a particularly hot summer.

tina: origami and embroidery are her hobbies, as is antique shopping! you might get a paper bouquet, or a cute pillow cover, or a vintage brooch from milan. it's anyone's guess!

tim: usually baked goods or cookery books, although his recent fondness for decorating cakes has resulted in many culinary masterpieces being delivered to friends and loved ones this year.

andrew: his fondness for photography, videography and art means that it'll likely be a copy of a home movie, a framed family photo, or a poster or portrait he found in a store.

gabriela: much like andrew, her love for her family means that she places a huge wealth of value in the position of people in said family. as a result, pajamas, bedsets, mugs and placemats are all gifts she'll likely present to people.

stanley + richard: sweaters, hiking boots, scarves. honestly, they pick one thing and get a few personalized versions of it each year. one time they got wine glasses and aisling's had a sunset painted on it while nate's had a starbucks logo on it. also a hug. the hug is a traditional necessity.

nate: i can't really describe nate's gift language any better than the vibes of a dad who finds out his kid's favorite fruit is watermelon and he proceeds to make watermelon their entire personality for the rest of time.

henri + etienne: henri always attempts to give everyone super obscurely elite kitchen gifts. etienne consistently softens them into something else. japanese kitchen knives in a handspun linen holder? a ramen bowl hand-painted with your name and favorite colours, and a lacquered set of chopsticks.

leo + sammy: usually a gift from their worldly adventures. a boomerang and a marmite gravy recipe book was aisling's gift last year. the year before, they got stanley and richard matching kimonos and a katana with their names engraved on the blade. stanley uses it to trim the rose bushes whenever their neighbors are being pricks. which is always.

ramsay + renée: ramsay isn't accustomed to the idea that "money isn't everything", so renée has teamed up with him this year to stop him from buying people yachts and tech companies. so far, together, they have bought aisling a recorded play list of irish trad music and a framed family tree with stanley and richard at the top, aisling and the squad on the next level, and the foster kids stemming from aisling. needless to say, a very fondly and tearfully received gift!

#reverse meme call #ooc. #mobile.

[icybreaths]

Unusual and/or Prying Character Questions - 5, 9, and 18

|| Character Q's (accepting) || @characternerdocs ||

5. What kind of first impression does your muse give off to people just meeting them? How does this change as people get to know them better?

I would say it's a mixed bag of intimidating to kind of an asshole, to feral and unpredictable, to she seems kinda cool(?) How that changes would depend on other people’s perception of her.

Jewel is difficult to get to know on a significant level because she doesn’t like to open up about herself or give her time to others unless there’s a purpose for it (like for work related stuff) and even then it’s a surface level interaction. She’s a closed off, private person. Aside from passive conversation, she doesn’t make much of an effort to show her interest in others either unless it’s through combat or maybe shared hobbies and interests if they happen to come up.

Combat (or hunting in other verses maybe) is the most common way to befriend her. It’s something she genuinely enjoys and lights up over, and is the most common thing others associate with her. During combat one would get a chattier Jewel, one that grins and compliments, snarks, spits wit, and rages on occasion. She’ll accept victory with grace (unless she’s been trying to get one whole win against her opponent for eons and got it she’ll boast about it a little bit) and loss just as freely. She’s not a sore loser.

I think further nuance in her would come from finding her alone. She could be exploring out in nature, flipping through an atlas, fishing, or sifting through creek rocks to find the one, sketching, or sculpting art from her own ice under the shade of a tree. From the outside, it’s clear that she enjoys her own company and fills her time with more than just fighting and her job.

It’s hard to gauge how close she is with her besties because she doesn’t spend a lot of time with even them. She likes people who aren’t clingy and don’t need her around all the time. She needs space and plenty of time to warm up to another person because she’ll write off people who cross those boundaries and try to rush her into anything.

Those that have known her a long time get a more relaxed version of her. She’s still a lone wolf in a lot of ways (and a little shit) but she’s more willing to linger and do things with her friends, and be there if they need her for something. They'll get a more subtly affectionate side of her.

9. What sort of burial / memorial arrangements would your muse want for themselves once they pass on? Have they spent much time thinking about it?

This isn’t something Jewel has put any thought into past dying itself, which is, “It’ll happen when it happens.”

One thing that comes to mind that she would want her loved ones to do is to take all of the crystals, rocks, bones, teeth, and feathers she’s collected and to scatter them in a bunch of new, unfamiliar places. It doesn’t matter where, but she would want all of her trinkets to have the opportunity to ‘travel’ to new places to hang out at and let nature take them where it will after that point. Her friends would get to see new places and so would the things she had collected over the centuries.

18. What is your muse’s favorite part of their job or their everyday life?

With her job it’s whenever she can go to the human world. It feels more like home to her than Seireitei does.

In her every day life, her favorite thing is enjoying her own company and personal freedom. Whether that be waking up before sunrise to get some fresh air, a hike or swim in, or enjoy some iced sake by a noisy stream. Or after sunset, having a night dive and then going home for a hot herbal bath.

#characternerdocs #[ asks ] #//thank you for sending eri <3