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gren-arlio · 5 months

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I think we're back to being consistent for a bit. Welcome to Part 1 of Episode 2 of Waku Puyo Translations.

(I'll run out of cool pages eventually. Also, Schezo always seems to be connotated with flowers from my knowledge. Wonder why.)

Hello everyone, it's the funny man who does translations, and after so long...my computer is finally working as intended. Extras can take a break, for the main series is FINALLY back to business...even if this is a two, possibly three parter. This is a tiny bit late because I slept early on the weekends, but we're still alive.

I swear it won't always be like this

I'll start with the big announcement:

I have a teammate now.

Good pal of mines @kirstenonic05 will be doing things related to shop menus and the sort. So for the time being, I'll be skipping shop menus and leaving it to her. She's currently making I believe a Google spreadsheet of a TON of the items you can find in the game, including many I've missed, so...when it releases, check it out. Might help someone's run. I'll still be translating key items though, don't worry.

The plan is to finish this episode fully, drop an Extras episode, and call it a year. If something else happens...wahoo.

Anywho, here's the video itself.

youtube

Timestamps:

Bulletin and Info with Kikimora: (0:00)

Trap ability: (1:58, and completion is at 5:20)

Fufufu Info: (5:45)

"Have You Been To": (7:15)

Draco Appearance: (8:02)

There's two things I want to mention.

A lot of this is info related stuff, so enjoy Kikimora and Fufufu for a while.

Part 2 will have Sasori Man, Draco, and MORE MENUS...Yay.

With this, enjoy.

----

Intro: (0:00)

(Ah. Info boards. First menu goes:

Listen

Rank

Bulletin <-

Back

Then:

To You Who Has the Grimoire (1, I'll be numbering based off what he chooses.)

Fire Mountain (6)

Water Paradise (5)

Starlight Stage (4)

Identification Recommendations (3)

Trap Warning (2)

Back)

Grimoire stuff:

Bulletin Board:

I've found a Grimoire and I have it on me. Let me know when you want it.

When you have a Grimoire, if you can memorize it, you can learn its magic.

But if someone who can't use the powers reads it, they won't learn the spell, and the Grimoire vanishes.

It'd be a waste of treasure if that happened. Might as well sell it.

Please don't throw it away because you can't use it.

- From: A certain genius witch. (Thanks Witch.)

-----

Trap Warnings:

Kikimora:

Hello there! I'll explain traps for you.

Arle:

Alright, I was gonna ask you for a favor anyways.

Kikimora:

Alright then.

Traps are so annoying, you can't see them until you get hit by them, it's frustrating.

Arle:

Yeah, You're right.

Kikimora:

As for me, I prefer to clean them.

Arle:

Clean?

Kikimora:

That's right.

And with all the traps...All of items AND the magic circles will be clean and fresh!

Arle:

Eh? Even the items? I really hope you don't do that.

Kikimora:

Oh...I got off topic.

But really, if you can raise the level of the traps, they're not too scary.

Arle:

Level of traps?

Kikimora:

If you have the trapping ability, whenever you're caught in one, or miss one,

You can gain experience, and with that, you can get better at avoiding them.

Arle:

Trapping ability? I don't have that....

Kikimora:

What? You don't have the ability to remove traps?

Arle:

N-no...

Kikimora:

In order to remove traps, you need thr ability to see them.

Let me guide you to a special room.

----

Trap Ability (1:58-5:20)

Arle:

Wow, this is a big room...

Kikimora:

Welcome to the training room! It's a big room, and looks normal, but,

A number of traps are set up to obstruct your path until you reach the exit.

But if you make it out, I'll happily give you the trap ability.

Arle:

Really? Is that so? Then I'll do my best!

Kikimora:

Would you like some tips on how to clear this?

(They say yes)

To know the location of the the traps, you must find "The Scroll of Light."

Arle:

Yeah...but what if I don't find it?

Kikimora:

...Then you have no choice but to fall right into the traps.

Arle:

Oh, is that so...

Kikimora:

(Well, if you can fly...)

Arle:

What was that? I can't hear you!

Kikimora:

No, it's nothing.

Arle:

Hey! You better give me a better answer!

Kikimora:

Oh well...if you're in danger of getting caught in a trap...

Don't be stingy with your recovery items. Use them.

There's a few items in here that may be of good use.

Arle:

Huh...

Kikimora:

Now then, please do your best.

---

Trap Ability Completion:

Kikimora:

Congratulations! Now, I'll give you the ability to see traps.

(Arle has gained the trap ability.)

Arle:

...Am I finally going to be able to remove traps now?

Kikimora:

Yes.

...But without experience, I'm afraid you're still going to run into them.

Arle:

Aw, really? Guess I gotta practice a lot.

---

Fufufu Info: (5:45)

Fufufu:

Fufufu, I'm glad you're here.

Arle:

You're going to tell me about Identification?

Fufufu:

Fufufu, the items you see in the attractions are a mystery.

You really don't know what they're called or what they do.

Arle:

Yeah, I guess so.

I can tell if it's an item or food, but not what it does.

Fufufu:

Fufufu, in that case, you identify.

You lose MP though. But you know what the item is at least.

But if it's rare, you use more MP, so be careful.

Arle:

Alright, I see...

MP is important, but using an unknown item...isn't exactly safe.

Fufufu: (from here on I legit forget if he says fufufu or nah, so...I won't be adding it.)

In that case, you identify it.

If you identify, you do lose MP, but if you don't, you can't use the item.

Arle:

Hmm... is there a better way?

Fufufu:

Actually, if you do Identification, you gain some experience.

The more you identify, the more EXP you'll get, and it increases your identification level.

So with a higher level, you're more likely to find rarer items.

Arle:

Huh...

Fufufu:

If your Identification level is too low, it'll be hard to identify.

So failing to identify costs more MP, and by then, you'll be out of it.

Arle:

Hmm...By the way, how do you know your Identification level?

Fufufu:

You can check it in "Special Abilties", at the Status menu.

Arle:

I see...thank you! I'll try to identify items often.

Fufufu:

Fufufu, I wish you luck.

-----

"Have You Been To": (7:15)

There'll look weird so bear with me.

Bulletin Board:

Have you been to the Starlight Stage yet?

The attraction is filled with enemies who control sound and lightning, along with traps.

If you're not good with loud sounds, proceed with caution.

---

Have you been to Water Paradise yet?

The attraction has enemies that can control the water and the cold, along with traps.

If you don't like being wet or cold, proceed with caution.

---

Have you been to Fire Mountain yet?

The attraction holds fire-controlling enemies and traps.

If you dislike the heat, proceed with caution.

-----

Draco Appearance: (8:02)

Draco:

(I can't translate it well but she's literally breathing fire.)

Arle:

You! What're you doing!?

It's dangerous to just blow flames here! Watch where you're doing!

Draco:

Gao! You can't go through here!

Arle:

Why are you so rude to me!?

Draco:

I can't let anyone in without a ticket.

Arle:

If it's tickets-- I have them!

Draco:

Really? No way!

Arle:

What? But I have the ticket?

Draco:

Ugh, you're persistent! I can't let you in without a ticket...

Arle:

You're the persistent one! I've been telling you that I do have tickets!

Draco:

Eh? You sure?

Arle:

It's what I've been saying. I have tickets, here!

Draco:

You know, you could've said it from the start!

Arle:

I HAVE!

Draco:

I know, can't help myself sometimes. You can enter.

Arle:

I'm tired...

Carbuncle:

Gu!

----

And with that, Part 1 is finally done. It's nice to be back to the groove of this. With this, that'll be all for now.

Adios.

#Youtube #madou monogatari #japanese translation #puyo puyo #sega #waku waku puyo puyo dungeon #arle nadja #draco puyo puyo #sega saturn #arle puyo puyo

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prettymindset111 · 1 year

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Hey

i have a big problem with relationships and i really see a pattern in this. Every time I date someone new they are very excited, in love, give me flowers etc and but every time when I catch feelings then the boy leaves me. I also don't understand where this comes from, because every time I think 'this is a really good boy' and I don't see myself as 'unloved' or anything. How can I solve this problem with states? Because I really don't understand how this always happens.

everyone is you pushed out . this is the law so by the looks of it what you assume is true is true . no one or nothing to change but self . they are simply reflecting SELF .

Discard the outer-world and that includes your identification with this body. This is ALL an EXPRESSION OF THAT "SELF." So just take a moment and close your eyes and see the blackness. Then pay attention to your inner voice. THAT IS THE ONE WHO IS DESIRING. THAT IS THE ONE WHO IS IN PAIN. THAT IS THE ONE WHO WANTS TO BE FREE FROM ITS BONDAGE. THAT IS THE ONE WHO NEEDS TO BE EXALTED, THE TRUE "SELF." THAT IS THE ONE WHO WANTS TO SEE BEAUTY, TO HEAR GOOD NEWS. THAT IS THE ONE WHO DESIRES TO LIVE A LOVELY LIFE !So give it to yourself in your mind! It is incredibly simple. If you take what I say seriously, you will change how you see and live life. You will identify yourself from within and you will grant your every wish from within. It does not matter if it is impossible, if your "SELF" wants it, grant it within. There are no rules for that "Self." If it wants guilt gone, then remove guilt in the mind. Feel forgiven and its all fine, that Self the true you, is desiring that. There are no rules that says you cant have. The beautiful thing is that the inner world can give you anything. I hate separating You and Self because they are not separate, but I am just doing that for clarity. If you embarrass yourself in your mind, or hurt yourself, spark fear into yourself, you are doing that to "Self" the true you which is expressed. You worry about what society thinks, what so-so might think? Who is worrying? SELF! It is ALL YOU. Then you feel hurt, scared and you feel you can have what you want but who is hurt and scared? Your body? No, it is the inner you, the true you. The one who can shed its skin (state) like a snake. When you are fearing, who is doing it? THAT "SELF!" YOU. IT IS IMAGINING IT! But that "Self" does not want to feel that fear anymore, it desires to imagine something new. But since you identify yourself with outer-world and outer-self instead of your True Self and inner-world where everything is possible, you remain stuck. "SELF" becomes irritated, fearful etc. You feel fear in your body, your irritations, that angst will forever remain until you fulfill it within.So that "SELF" that you are scaring, embarrassing gets expressed! If you want to change, leave the fearful, embarrassing, irritating world just as it is. Do exactly what Neville says. Then identify yourself FULLY with your True Self, the one that is desiring within. Then fulfill all your dreams to its fullest. We already do this but we do it in ways that are harmful to "Self." We try to eat this and that, and read this and that to save "SELF," but "Self" cannot be saved by outer means. Self always wants fulfillment. ~ edward art series ….

the world only reflects what you do within yourself . you want to feel unconditional love that is genuine and stays forever ? give it to yourself within you ….. know it’s done & accept it’s fulfillment . “ I really don’t understand why this happens “ I would really recommend understanding the law ( edward art on youtube is an eye - opener I always find myself recommending his work ) . I hope I helped you angel <3 love you and hope you get all the love in the world .

#˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚anonhelp☕️~!#edward art #law of assumption #self concept #neville goddard #manifesting

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rjalker · 1 year

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some people have been pushing to rename "misgendering" to "mispronouning" because the logic they are using is that:

"pronouns don't equal gender, so someone isn't misgendering you by using the wrong pronouns, because that would imply that your pronouns equal your gender!"

And most of the people I've seen arguing this use multiple or all pronouns.

And they are missing several points.

Yes, pronouns do not automatically equal gender. Anyone can use he/him pronouns, and it doesn't inherently mean you're a man or masculine in any way. Anyone can use she/her pronouns and it doesn't inherently mean you're a woman or feminine in any way. Ect. Ect.

But arguing that pronouns don't equal gender, so therefore no one is ever questioning your gender when they use the wrong pronouns for you, is just so completely flat out wrong it's absurd.

Just because you, personally, don't care what pronouns are used for you does not mean that that's how everyone feels. To argue otherwise is to just be disgustingly transmisic.

These people are also ignoring all of the underlying things that necessitate misgendering in the first place.

I just had someone misgender me on iNaturalist, despite my it/its pronouns not only being on my profile page, but literally in the first paragraph on the first page of the identification guide I made to help people learn how to identify pawpaws and common lookalikes.

@ Nonbinary-naturalist even wrote of this common mix up in her book…

This person misgendered me in direct reference to my book, showing that they'd read it.

And they still ended up misgendering me by using she/her pronouns for me.

Now how, exactly, did this happen? What were the events leading up to this?

They weren't mistaking me for anyone else. No one else has written a free small-flower and common pawpaw identification guide. (I guess most people on iNaturalist don't realize they can just...write their own identification guides, which is a shame).

They weren't talking about multiple people within the comment and mixed up our pronouns by mistake.

"its" and "her" do not share any letters. There's no typo that could accidentally transform "it" to "her".

So how did this person end up misgendering me? Why did they misgender me? What made them type out the word "her" instead of "its"?

Because, and this is the part people who want to rename misgendering to mispronouning apparently do not understand, this person has been thinking of me as a woman this whole time.

Even after reading my book, where I list my pronouns and the fact that I'm nonbinary in the first paragraph of the first page, including instructions on how to use it/its pronouns correctly, even though my profile explains what the word nonbinary means, this person has still spent this whole time thinking of me as a woman.

They didn't accidentally use she/her pronouns for me because they've been correctly thinking of me as a nonbinary person who uses it/its pronouns.

They misgendered me because even after knowing what my pronouns were, even after they knew I was nonbinary, they were still defaulting to thinking of me as a woman.

@ [redacted] my pronouns are it/its, not she/her, so that should say, "Nonbinary-naturalist even wrote of this common mix up in its book…" :)

My sincere apologies, @ Nonbinary-naturalist. Even after reading your bio and paging through said book, my prior programming still got the best of me.

The people who want to rename misgendering to mispronouning do not fucking understand why misgendering happens. People are not using the wrong pronouns because they're thinking of us with the correct gender, they use the wrong pronouns because despite knowing what gender we actually are, they still think of us as the wrong one.

If you think of a trans person as their actual gender, and you know what their pronouns are, you're not going to accidentally misgender them unless you have to spend half your time not outing them to their family under their instructions.

This person has only ever interacted with me since I started using it/its pronouns. They've only been on the site since after I changed my username to literally be Nonbinary-Naturalist.

They didn't misgender me because they were confusing me for someone else, or were talking about a bunch of different people at once and got two of us mixed up.

They misgendered me because, even though my username is literally Nonbinary-Naturalist, even though my pronouns are listed on my profile page and in the first paragraph of the first page of the pawpaw identification guide I wrote, this person was still thinking of me as a woman. They decided, arbitrarily, based on who knows what criteria, that I was a woman, despite my username and knowing my pronouns are it/its.

Misgendering is called misgendering because the underlying cause of someone using the wrong pronouns is the fundamental refusal to think of the person being misgendered as their actual gender.

Just because you don't give a shit what pronouns people use for you and don't feel misgendered when people use whatever pronouns they want does not mean you get to silence other trans people and deny the very real transmisia that causes misgendering in the first place.

#misgendering #exorsexism #transmisia #mispronouning #so people see this. because you are not helping anyone by insisting on replacing misgendering with mispronouning.#you're either missing or purposefully ignoring what's really happening when people misgender trans people #transmisogyny #transandromisia #Queer #Pride #LGBT #MOGAI #transnonbinary

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floraxfaye · 7 months

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Flora decided that she had needed a break. Sure, at this point she hadn't done much trainer, she was mostly just wandering and was pretending to look busy so everyone would look her alone. But even that in itself was exhausted and she felt she had earned herself a break. Grabbing a few extra flowers and plants from the plant identification table, she took a seat against the wall and began to make a bracelet.

She focused hard the bracelet but couldn't help but notice someone standing close to her. The girl looked up and smiled. "Hey, you wanna join me?" She asked, patting the empty spot on the floor next to her. "We can talk about Hunger Games stuff and pretend to be productive."

@callistomeadowforge

#starter #134 #calli

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caleisloading · 8 months

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Twisted Wonderland theory

In this I’ll be talking about a very interesting theory that I saw on tumbler, by darkspellmaster, a theory that Yuu/the mc is mickey’s heart.

If you want to get my version plus added points, you should read their theory first, it is heavily pressed by the theory that mickey is the mickey from Epic Mickey.

This entirely my own brainstorming, so don’t take it too seriously.

So, from the information we have, we know that Yuu is from an alternative universe or reality. They have no memory, supposedly, of how they got here and why they’re missing any form of identification, but the mirror assures that he makes no mistake and refuse to send Yuu back even if they have no magic.

This is when it becomes complicated, from my own ideas and info from the masquerade event translations, I believe that everyone in the twisted wonderland has magic but only 10% have enough of it or can control it.

! Spoilers ahead for the masquerade event!

We find out that Yuu is unaffected by the crimson lotus flowers, so Yuu, Grim and Trein get sent to help the villagers. But if only ten percent of the twisted can use magic, how are all these people affected? Maybe it's not everyone but this is a theory, bear with me!

That could possibly mean that everyone in the twisted wonderland have magic, but only ten percent

can use it or have enough for it to be usable. But Yuu is from an alternative world, one without magic.

So, my idea is that the mirror is like a guardian of the magic, that’s why people get chosen by it and not a test, so to help with the influx of overblots in the future, they bring a human from a magicless world but also someone they KNOW will help and be benevolent and empathic!

But who could they be sure would be, Mickey’s heart from an alternative world, someone who will never be influenced by overblots.

Now back to Grim, let's be honest there's no way he could’ve sneaked past the mirror and his amnesia, that’s very similar to ours, is suspicious...

So, the mirror must’ve let him get in on purpose, because Yuu needs someone to defend them and

act like the body. While Yuu is the heart, Grim is the body, exactly like Crowley said two student that make one!

To reinforce my point, let's look at Kalim and Jamil’s case. My theory is that Jamil with his magic, talent at teaching and taking care of others must’ve been supposed to become the dorm head but after being put down so much and creating an inferiority complex, he must’ve obtained a superiority complex. This must have led the mirror to deem, Jamil, not an acceptable head boy anymore. So, a month later, Kamil was sent a letter, he became the new head boy.

So, it's entirely possible, Yuu and Grim were both brought for this exact reason, the mirror makes no mistake.

!MORE SPOILERS, CHAPTER 7!

Another thing that furthers my point is the events during chapter 7, the diasomnia chapter. Everyone gets sent to their own dreams by malleus, so why do Yuu and Grim go into mickey’s dream

room, they’re basically in mickey’s dream. Only Silver whose unique magic is basically going into people’s dreams could do this.

A little extra, I also believe that the mirror controls our weird dreams. They show us the stories to prepare us and to make us understand what we’re about to go through and what the character is relating to. I also think that they are deciding when to let mickey meet us, they probably also put us into mickey’s dream instead of our own, to help us understand mickey and how the world works or maybe not...?

That’ll be all for now, its farfetched I know, but once you really think about it, it makes a LOT of sense!

-CALEB

#twisted wonderland #theory #twst yuu #disney twst #diasomnia #scarabia #Spoilers #this is all over the place #PLEASE DONT YELL AT ME

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taimio · 3 months

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Conquering Blight: Effective Strategies to Revitalize Your Garden

Gardening is a labor of love, but unfortunately, many gardeners will find their plants under attack from a variety of diseases and pests. One of the most dreaded of these is blight, which can quickly kill off entire plants or entire sections of your garden. Dealing with blight is critical to a successful gardening experience, and includes proper identification, prevention, and treatment. This guide will look at each of those steps and help you understand how to deal with blight in your garden.

How Do You Deal With Blight?

Picture this: vibrant flowers, lush greenery, and a sense of serenity in your backyard. Now, snap out of it, because the reality of dealing with blight can be a total buzzkill. As someone who has battled the beast of blight myself, I know the struggle is real. But fear not, my fellow gardener, for I have some sage advice to help you banish blight and reclaim your garden paradise.

1. Identify the Enemy

The first step in this epic battle is to know your nemesis. Blight is sneaky, so arm yourself with knowledge. Whether it's fungal blight, bacterial blight, or viral blight, understanding the enemy will give you the upper hand. Consult a trusted resource, like GardenersHub.com, to learn more about specific blight types and their telltale signs.

2. Quarantine and Conquer

Once you've identified the blight, it's time to take action. Quarantine the affected plants and create a safe distance to prevent the spread. Yes, it's tough to say goodbye to your favorite blooms, but think of it as saving the greater good of your garden. Remove and destroy the infected plants, but be sure to follow proper disposal methods to avoid a blight boomerang.

3. A Blight-Fighting Arsenal

Now that the battlefield is clear, it's time to arm yourself with weapons of mass blight destruction. Cultural practices like proper watering, spacing, and pruning can help prevent blight from taking hold. Consider crop rotation to thwart blight's attempts at a comeback. And don't forget the power of natural remedies: neem oil, baking soda spray, and compost tea can be your allies in this fight.

4. Maintain Vigilance

Blight is not a one-time enemy. It's more like that annoying neighbor who keeps borrowing your tools without returning them. Stay vigilant and regularly inspect your garden for any signs of blight resurgence. Early detection means you can nip it in the bud before it spreads like wildfire. Trust me, a few minutes of inspection can save you from heartache later.

Remember, dealing with blight is a marathon, not a sprint. It may take time, patience, and a few lost battles, but with a fierce determination, you can triumph over blight and restore your garden to its former glory.

In conclusion, blight may test your gardening skills, but it also offers an opportunity to learn, adapt, and grow. Embrace the challenge, fellow green thumbs (oops, I said it!), and remember that even the most pristine gardens have faced blight at some point. So, grab your gloves, sharpen your shears, and let's show blight who's boss!

Learn more about gardening with Taim.io!

#Blight

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bdbdhdjdhdh · 1 year

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My Hero PSLE S4E7 "Lefty loosey, righty tighty"

"OMG I LOVE GRAMMARLY! I LOVE HOW IT CONSTANTLY CORRECTS MY GRAMMAR EVEN WHEN IT'S ACTUALLY CORRECT BECAUSE IT KEEPS DEFAULTING TO AMERICAN SPELLING AND THINKS MY BRITISH SPELLING IS WRONG, AND HOW IT SOMEHOW AUTO-CORRECTED MY TEXT TO GRANDMA'S DOCTOR FROM "Please let her eat KFC" TO "unplug her life support"! YES! SO NOW I HAVE ONE LESS GRANDPARENT! LESSGOOO!"

-said no one ever

"Speaking of, most of you don't really know me, but I do know every single one of you here, and your gang...I've never seen them around before," cum COM guy was saying.

"Well that might be because everyone looks the same here because everyone wears masks like these," *Xiao Ming gestures to mask he's currently wearing*

"Yeah, I'm fairly certain I've never seen you before," COM completely ignores Xiao Ming's comment.

"May I have your identification scar?"

"Wait what-"

*COM immediately rushes forward towards Xiao Ming before anyone can say or do anything, pins him against a wall, and forces his mask off like some sexy k-drama guy to the female lead*

*crowd at café gasps in shock as COM reveals he doesn't have a single scar on his face*

"Oh shit. Well whatever, it's just one commander of memes shit, how hard can it be to fight off someone whose only superpower is commanding memes?" Xiao Ming motivationally quotes to gang.

"Oh don't worry, I'm just really omniscient and know everything that encompasses memes, I can also summon and memise you at will,"

Oh fuck. You're not motivationally helpful, COM!

"And once again, my name is COM-"

"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, STOP PRONOUNCING IT LIDDAT SIA!"

"NO! COM IS ALMIGHTY EVEN IF IT SHALL NEVER BE AS SUPERIOR AS CU-"

Alright alright time to move on to the brainwashed citizens.

"The....they....they are...they are tresspassers? Direct defiance of the Heavenly Lord! SEIZE THEM EVERYONE!"

Oh fuck. They completely forgot about the rather-large crowd of brainwashed citizens waiting at the door of the café eagerly awaiting their opportunity to pound Xiao Ming and gang in the heads.

Shit. They can escape the embodiment of cum himself, but they're not escaping brainwashed as shit citizens sia.

Anyway. Just as Xiao Ming and gang were preparing to load up their powers, Six with his dark energy and weather manipulation, Tempest and Kiefer with their Corvi energy, Ma Xiao Tiao with his gigachad energy and also Grandmaster with his reality warping power which theoretically both should be a game-changer and a useless superpower but we'll dive into that later, some guy wearing a black cloak and crow mask swooped in and saved the day! Yay!

Crow-face just calmly walked up to the crowd, and before COM or anyone could say anything, he just straight-up got up to them, punched them in the face, knocked them unconscious, and gestured to Xiao Ming and gang to come with him, then took off in the direction of the city gates again.

So Xiao Ming and gang followed.

And then they ran for another long distance again.

Then they reached another cave, but it's not the one where the entire population of infected Rainslashers are here, it's a different one-this one quite pretty leh, got lake and flowers and fruit trees. Anyway-

Then finally after running for so long, they finally reached the place.

Then you know what? Crow face, without anyone asking, touched his mask and disintegrated it (because clearly it's not a physical mask and it's one of those cool god things where you can summon and un-summon the mask at will), revealing his actually quite hot sia face.

"Ok," Xiao Ming interrupted. "Now who are you?"

And to that crow-face legit said nothing sia. He just stay silent for a while and stare off into space."Well, to that," oh now he's talking. "I am one of the 9 legendary poets of rhyme and song, I am the poet of Destruction,"

And now to the fact he was part of some other random new organisation he knew nothing about, and also the fact that his name is literally Destruction, Xiao Ming had only one word to say:

"HUH?"

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ammenvs3000w23 · 1 year

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Privilege and Nature Interpretation

I remember a day when my dad stayed home from work. He had decided that we would spend the day together exploring a nearby trail followed by lunch at my favourite restaurant. Back then, it was just another day, however, thinking back on it now, I can't help but recognize the privilege my family and I have. The privilege of taking time off of work without stress, the privilege of eating out regardless of the price, the privilege of being able to access different parks, the privilege of being able-bodied, etc… Needless to say I'm not pointing this out to brag but rather recognize that because of my privilege, I am granted advantages that others do not have.

For me, privilege is defined by the social advantages awarded to someone based on their identification with a particular sexuality, race, gender, class, age, ability, and religion. Privilege is not earned but rather awarded to those who identify with groups associated with unjustified social power.

When I was younger, I was constantly reminded by my parents of how privileged my siblings and I were. My dad grew up in the lower class and therefore did not have access to the same things that I have access to now. They used this as a lesson to remind us to stay mindful of our reality and the benefits that we experience because of it. While it was harder to understand when I was younger given that those around me shared a similar lifestyle, I now recognize how privileged I truly am.

The invisible backpack activity explained by Gallavan (2005) reminded me of an activity I had completed in another course. This activity is called Power Flower and it helps one analyze their identities that align with privileged groups. Both of these activities allowed me to think back on my experiences and how my identification with certain groups puts me at a head start compared to others who aren’t given the same advantages (Power Flower, 2015).

Photo of my Power Flower where the inside petals represent my reality and the outside petals represent the norm/power groups in our society (Power Flower, 2015).

Many of us have been able to develop our love of nature through the experiences we have had over the years. Whether it be camping trips, hikes through national parks, or traveling to different countries, we have all on some level been able to experience nature in a profound way. While these likely shaped the path we are on now, many people lack access to the same experiences. This can affect their relationship with nature or their perception of nature interpretation as it creates this belief that they do not fit within this world. Taking the time to learn about our audience and remembering to remain mindful of these differences is crucial as it allows the interpreter to shape their lectures around the needs of the group (Beck et al, 2018).

Gallavan, N.P. (2005). Helping teachers unpack their ‘invisible knapsacks.’ Multicultural Education, 13(1), 36.

Beck, L., Cable, T. T., & Knudson, D. M. (2018). Interpreting cultural and natural heritage: For A Better World. Sagamore Publishing.Ng, W.

(n.d.). A Tool for Everyone: Revelations from the “Power Flower”. Retrieved February 8, 2015, from http://lgbtq2stoolkit.learningcommunity.ca/wp/wp-content/uploads/2014/12/flower-power-exercise.pdf

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welshoot · 3 years

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Vyn’s wallpaper is possibly the one that fascinated me the most. That might be because Vyn himself is a very interesting character.

Black is the main interest color in Vyn’s wallpaper and, true to the formula of the others, MC is the one wearing that color and Vyn isn’t. Black has a lot of possible meanings. It can symbolize night, elegance, evil, power, mystery, and sophistication along with numerous other things. For the purpose of this image I think it’s symbolizing mystery, sophistication, and possibly power. Vyn is a fairly mysterious guy, he doesn’t really show his hand very often and is frequently portrayed as being kind of shady. He also is shown to be very sophisticated and have the power that comes from being sophisticated and mysterious. He keeps us guessing and that’s part of his charm. In terms of power, he also has been shown to be incredibly intelligent and have a very good read on people, both of which are forms of power in and of themselves.

I’m not entirely sure about what the flower on this wallpaper is but it reminds me of a white camellia. Camellia’s symbolize love, devotion, affection and admiration. This flower can also imply refinement, perfection, and faithfulness. Vyn has been shown to have very deep feelings for the MC and the idea of ‘love at first sight’ has certainly been toyed with. In addition Vyn is very refined making this flower a good choice. White camellias symbolize purity, good luck, and adoration. This is interesting since we don’t know how ‘pure’ Vyn really is. He’s been implied to have a lot of secrets and not be everything he seems. That said, the purity could be linked back to MC, a pure-hearted young lady who has been showing him that people can be genuinely good. The flowers shown in the image also remind of what’s called the Cherokee rose. While it is more likely that the flowers are camellias I thought it’d be fun to discuss both options. The Cherokee rose has legend about it that deals with the trail of tears. According to the legend, while walking along the infamous trail of tears the Cherokee women’s tears turned into these flowers and their sadness turned to strength which helped them through this horrible time. If this flower is indeed a Cherokee rose I think it’s actually rather fitting for it to be on Vyn’s wallpaper. Vyn is a psychiatrist and though he specializes in criminal psychology he has been shown to help those who need counseling, including those that feel broken and lost. Much like how the Cherokee rose helped the Cherokee woman who felt broken and lost.

The notepad, medical id, pen, and clock all relate back to Vyn’s job but the clock is the one that interests me the most. Vyn was shown in the prologue using a clock to assist him with hypnosis. The fact he had this clock the first time we saw him and in this wallpaper makes me wonder if there is going to be something specific in the future plot to do with him and hypnosis or him and time.

Position-wise, MC appears to have fallen and landed on Vyn. Her arms are thrown out to show she is bracing herself against what is likely a floor since they appear to be laying down. She is smiling at him, almost smirking and he’s looking back at her with a mildly amused, rather doting expression. This says a lot about their relationship. MC feels confident enough to look at him the way she is in such a position. She’s obviously comfortable with him and doesn’t seem bothered in the least by their position. Vyn isn’t uncomfortable either and seems to be preparing to wrap his arms fully around her. All in all, their positioning and expressions imply a romantic and rather playful relationship which they’ve been shown to have in the game.

#vyn richter #rosa #vyn x rosa #Tears of Themis #tears of themis MC #mywritings #analysis #flower meaning #flower language #can someone help me with flower identification?#I'm still bad at it #color symbolism #body language

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geopsych · 2 years

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Do you have any tips or suggestions for learning plant identification? It’s a skill I would love to improve but don’t have much experience with yet!

Hi. This is hard for me to answer. My parents both knew plants and the names of all the plants around us was part of the education they gave my brothers and me from the very start. I was surprised when I started school and at some point I discovered that the other kids didn't know the names of most of the plants. So I had an unfair advantage. Learning that early, I internalized all the criteria without thinking about it: not only the shape of the leaf but the thickness, texture, and subtle shades of color and how they grow on the stem; not only the general shape and color of the flower but a look at the stamens and the way the flower attaches to the stem. I started to get a sense of what might be related to what. Then I was the only one of the kids who became fascinated and once I could read I would borrow my parents' plant identification books and go out for slow walks identifying anything that caught my eye. When I moved out I got my own book and it became a passionate hobby. So maybe I'm not the best person to tell someone else how to learn it. I was a giant nerd born to two giant nerds. That's not a method available to everyone. Haha. Luckily now there are apps, sort of Shazam for plants, that can identify most plants for you. Other than that I would say keep a plant id app on your phone, maybe a wildflower book in your bathroom or by your bedside to look at sometimes. I grew up with the Peterson Guides (I sat and read them like novels, staring at plants I wished I could find and memorizing everything about them) which go by color, but there are other guides which help you key plants down more botanically. If they're giving wildflower or plant walks near you, go on those. You'll not only learn what grows near you but you'll meet at least one plant person. That's key. And just keep looking at and noticing plants wherever you go. They become like friends. Start by learning the ones that interest you most. As you go on some will draw you in more than others. 💚🌿. P.S.: I also should add that learning flowering plants doesn’t help when you go to learn ferns and mosses and (gods forbid) lichens and fungus. You have to start all over again. It works on different principles entirely. It’s *so* frustrating! Anyway, good luck!

#plants #plant identification #long post

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 2 years

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There’s A Heart On Your Sleeve (I’ll Take It When I Leave)

Summary: Spencer is no Clyde and you are no Bonnie, but why can't you just run from it all?

Content Warning: Spencer's prison arc, mention of narcotics, and Spencer being drugged.

Pairing & Category: Spencer Reid x Reader (She/Her) & Angst with a bittersweet ending

Word Count: 3,450

Note: This is based off Run (Taylor's Version) (From the Vault) with Ed Sheeran. It was one of my favorites from the vault immediately. Their voices sound beautiful together! Technically this can be considered a part 2 to this fic, but it's more like they take place in the same universe. I like doing parallels or callbacks to older fics (P.S. it's the one when they get married in the field of flowers with flower rings). Anyway, I hope you enjoy this & there's more vault fics to come!!

Latest Fic | Masterlist | Thoughts? Ideas? Vault Requests?

There's A Heart On Your Sleeve (I'll Take It When I Leave)

When he realizes what’s happening, all Spencer can hear is people yelling. His head hurts too much to think. All he can do is sit there in the cell and hope that the spinning stops. In his head, he pictures how the dust settled as the lights in the rear view flash before his eyes. Everything hurts. His hands, his head, his chest. It feels like his heart is going to explode from his chest.

Anytime when the world gets to be too much, Spencer will try to ground himself. He’ll think of things in his surroundings that remind him of the good in the world. But, hundreds of miles away from home with blood caked into his nail bed, he struggles to find the good. He reaches into his pocket, looking for the small piece of good that he has left. Your gold and red locket is heavy in his shaking hands. He hides it in his hand, keeping it safe. But he wonders, who will keep it safe from him?

The guard comes to the cell waving his hand to get Spencer’s attention. He stands up, hoping that someone will finally tell him what happened. No amount of clarity will help Spencer understand why there is blood crusted under his nails and why he feels like he is flying. All he feels is shame, though. After years and years of staying clean, after crawling out of his own grave time and time again, he’s watching it crumple like a piece of paper tossed to the side. His head hurts too much to think about that.

��I need to call Y/N,” Spencer whispers to the guard, “I need to call my wife,” he says, hoping for some mercy from this stranger.

“You're gonna need a lot more than that,” the man says, his eyes scanning across Spencer’s face. He doesn’t have a mirror, but he doesn’t need one to know he looks like he’s been through it. From his blood-caked nails to his dirty hands, Spencer, himself, knows he looks anything but innocent of whatever it is that he’s in here for.

“What’s going on?” Spencer says, desperate for answers that he doesn’t have. He’s not used to not knowing. He’s used to having all the answers, but now he’s in the dark without a flicker of light in sight, “What am I doing here?”

“You tell me,” the man says, “You tell me what you’re doing flying down the road high out of your mind. Where’s your identification? Your passport?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer says, his voice growing timid with defeat, “I-I…Something’s wrong. I can’t remember anything. I need to call her. I need her,” he says, his desperate pleas going ignored.

“What’s your name? What happened to your hand?” he asks, making Spencer look down at the bloody gash on his hand. How did he not see this before? How did he miss this? He never misses things like that, it’s not like him.

As the man stares at him through the cell bars, your locket burns into his skin. He wants to curl up on the cot a couple feet away and pretend that this is all a nightmare. The rest of the room bustles around making Spencer’s head spin.

“Doesn’t that seem like something a person would know?” the guard says, the sarcasm in his voice not lost on Spencer, “And you Americans don’t understand. You don’t get a phone call,” he adds, the bitterness stinging Spencer more than his bleeding hand.

“I don’t know, I don’t know what’s going on,” Spencer says, bringing his bloody and dirty hands to his hair. When he’s stressed he tugs on his hair like it will help him suddenly understand what he needs to do. It never works.

What works is you.

“Well, what if you help me understand why you had narcotics in your possession? Maybe then, I’ll help you get that call,” the man says, bargaining with Spencer. So many times Spencer’s been on the opposite end of this conversation, offering someone a deal for a piece of information. His head hurts too much to think straight. It looks like the man has three heads and maybe four floating eyes.

“You forgot about that didn’t you,” the guard chuckles, a twisted smile spreading to his face, “If I were you, I’d start talking,” he suggests, leaning forward to whisper through the cell bars, “Start from the beginning,”

His mom. The treatment. The car. The woman. The blood. It all comes rushing back.

You follow in behind Luke and Emily. The station where Spencer was brought to is a place you know you never want to be in again, but you know you’ll return in your nightmares. The flight down was silent. Neither Emily or Luke wanted to admit to you they had no idea what to do to help Spencer, but you knew it anyway.

Luke, despite not being on the team for long, seemed to have taken on the burden of making sure that Spencer is okay because he reaches the cell before you can. When you approach him, Spencer’s eyes darken with shame. He refuses to meet your eyes in embarrassment or humiliation, you’re not sure. Whatever it is, though, you never want to see it on his beautiful face again.

“I’m going to run some tests. Try to figure out what they got you on,” Luke says softly, his genuine care for Spencer making you believe that somehow you’ll be able to get through this, “We’re all here for you, man,”

“Thank you. Helpful,” Spencer mutters, holding the cell bars as he rests his forehead against the metal. All you want to do is reach out and fix his hair, “You came,” he whispers, his eyes, for the first time, meeting yours.

Everytime he looks at you, you fall in love all over again. His golden brown eyes melt as he looks at you. With one look, you’re transported back to all those sweet memories with his arms around your body holding you steady. Now it’s your turn.

“Of course, sweetheart,” you say, “I love you, Spencer. I love you no matter what happens,” you tell him like it’s the last time he’ll hear it because it might be.

“I love you,” Spencer says, tears streaming down his face as he reaches out between the bars for your hand. He grips onto you, holding you steady as your shake with fear and anxiety, “forever and always,”

“Forever and always,” you whisper, squeezing his hand. He looks away, swallowing his fears for your shake. You want to kick yourself for letting him be the brave one again.

“We’re having a hard time finding this Dr. Rosa,” Emily says, sifting through the paperwork in her arms. She hands Luke a thin file of the information they collect from Garcia, “Can you tell us anything about her? A last name, maybe? Why were you going to Mexico to see her?” Emily asks, glancing at Luke.

Their silent communication makes you feel a little uncomfortable and totally useless. There isn’t much you can do, but hold Spencer’s hand through the cell bars and try not to cry. You know they don’t mean to purposely leave you out, but your desperation to see Spencer free outweighs the way it stings.

“I’m trying to remember,” Spencer says, his gaze moving down to his shoes. You recognize that look, the shame of it. What you would give to take all his pain away. You want to bottle it all up and toss it away into the ocean, far away from Spencer. He’s had so much to try to strip him of his goodness, it will be a tragedy to see it wilt away yet again, “I don’t know. I don’t know anything,” he repeats, his words slurred as he speaks.

“My agents chased you near the border. My best guess is you planned out crossing it,” the man from earlier says, appearing from the left near the officer’s desks. Emily and Luke make eyes at each other again, the communication lost on you, “Is that true?”

“No, I don’t...I, uh,” Spencer says, stammering through the words. He brings his hands to his head, the blood dried around the wound. It looks like it hurts, but from the way he talks you’re not ever sure he remembers his name, let alone feels any pain, “I think I was chasing someone,” Spencer says.

“My officers believe you were too,” he says, looking at Emily and Luke, “But they didn’t get any information on that person,”

“I think I’m being framed,” Spencer says. You suck in a breath, even though you knew he was innocent the whole time, you wonder how he got himself into this mess in the first place, “I didn’t hurt anyone. I would never hurt anyone,”

“I know, baby,” you whisper, “I know you wouldn’t” you reassure, wishing you could do nothing more, but hug him so tight he forgets all about his terrible day.

You pinch your skin, hoping foolishly that you’ll wake up cuddled up next to Spencer’s sleeping body under your warm sheets and golden sunlight. But you don’t wake up. Your skin hurts from the pinch, but it’s nothing compared to the pang in your heart.

“Who would do this Spencer?” Emily asks, “We put so many people away, but this, this is something different,” she gathers, sharing looks between Luke and Spencer.

“It’s not looking good, Reid,” Luke says, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder, “I’m trying to get our counterparts to release you to us. It’s going to take some time, but we’re going to do our best to get your home,”

Spencer nods, thanking his co-workers for their unyielding loyalty. They really are good people, you think. If you would be able to have it your way, you would have broken him out of here guns blazing. You would have been in the getaway car on the open road with responsibilities in the past and possibilities in the future.

“I want to talk to Y/N,” Spencer says, his voice threatening to break as he says your name, “I need to say somethings,”

“Spencer, baby, I’m right here,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady for both of you, “I’m not going anywhere,”

The man from earlier returns with a partner, maybe the second in command. He walks over to Spencer’s cell without a word, unlocking the cell. Spencer’s cuffed hands don’t make for an easy hug, but neither of you care. Spencer doesn’t smell like his normal coffee and mint shampoo. He smells like bleach and sweat, but, again, you don’t care. His metal cuffs cut into his skin and he lets you hug him. You know that you want nothing more than to put his arms around you and pretend that this day has never happened.

“No touching!” the partner shouts angrily, making you jump and remove Spencer from your embrace.

Spencer’s pale face looks more ghostly than ever. His hallowed cheeks and wild eyes look nothing like the gentle, golden, and good man you know and love. But somewhere, under the caked blood, bloodshot eyes, and dirty skin is the man you married. He’s still him, even though you don’t recognize the lifeless stare he wears.

“I’m not weak, I’m not weak, I’m not weak,” Spencer whispers, rocking on his feet slightly as he tries to soothe himself. You want to reach out to him, tell him he’s the strongest person you know, but the words don’t come. It’s like you’re paralyzed by it. The reassurance that lives on your lips falters into nothing.

“You have five minutes,” the man says, dismissing his partner and himself as they walk away towards the direction they came in.

Emily and Luke share another pointed look, communicating silently as Spencer continues to mutter under his breath. Now that the police are gone, you rush to Spencer’s side. First you inspect his wounds. The bleeding on his hand has stopped, but looks really painful. His head is bruised too and his lips are puffy. Whatever has happened to him has left as much of a mental scar as a physical one. You were forced to leave your purse at security when you first arrived, but it’s not like it would have been much help anyway. Afterall, bandaids don’t fix bullet holes, or in this case, grazings.

“I’ll be okay,” you tell them, wanting a moment alone with Spencer before you lose the chance. You know, without a shadow of doubt, that he’s innocent. But, unfortunately, it’s not for you to judge. And, like Luke said himself, things aren’t looking in Spencer’s favor right now, “Five minutes,” you confirm, smiling a tight-lipped smile as they follow the police out the door and into their offices.

“Oh, my sweet boy,” you say, “come sit,” you tell him, directing him to the metal bench against the wall, “I don’t have any bandages or anything. I just—”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Spencer says, holding your face in his hands. You lick your lips, a nervous tick you’ve always had. You don’t know what to say. Was this a confession? No it can’t be, “We shouldn’t be in this town,” Spencer whispers, wiping the tears that fall from your eyes, “I’m so sorry, I fucked this up for you too,” he says, resting his forehead against your forehead in a moment of profound tenderness.

“I just—Spencer, tell me. Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me what you were doing here,” you say, hoping to get some answers from him, whatever they might be.

“I—I came here because Rosa has this experimental medicine that’s going to save my mom. I needed to save. I have to take care of her,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut as the memories of the last three days flood through his mind.

“Your mom?” you ask, you know her condition and Spencer’s anxieties surrounding it. He’s always had this intense sense of responsibility for his mother, “Spencer, whatever I have to do I’m going to get you out of here. I will do anything for you,”

“I know,” he whispers, his lips ghosting across your lips. They are chapped and rough as he kisses you. It’s not much of a kiss, more like teeth clashing against teeth in a passionate and frustrated mess. You’re skin and bone, fated to get through all the challenges that life throws your way, “I love you. So much. And I fucked it all up,” he whispers, his voice breaking for the first time.

You kiss him to silence his worries, even though it’s only temporary. This one is much sweeter, less desperate. Spencer lets you set the pace. He loses himself in it, kissing you like it’s the first time and last time he’s kissing you.

“I have something for you,” he whispers, his lips moving against your cheek. He breaks the kiss to reach into his pocket. He pulls out your locket, the gold and red necklace that he gifted you for your first anniversary together. Spencer puts it around your neck; the cool metal resting against your skin, “Take it with you. I’m sorry I swiped it from you, but I needed a piece of something good when I left,”

You told yourself the whole plane ride here and car ride to the station that you’d have to be the brave one. You know that doing that was a long shot, because when it comes to seeing Spencer in pain you’re automatically a mess. Gently, Spencer wipes the tears that glisten your cheeks. You hate yourself for the split-second that you doubted him.

“Spencer, you’re the good thing,” you tell him, hoping that he knows just how good he is. He might not believe it, but you’ll believe it enough for the two of you, “You’re always the good thing,”

“You always had more faith in me than I could ever understand,” Spencer says, kissing your knuckles as you lower your hands to your lap, “I’ll love you forever, but you don’t have to love me forever, whatever happens to me, Y/N, I never want it to stop you from being happy,”

“Shut up, Spencer,” you say, almost mad that he would suggest that, “I’ll break down any jail with my bare hands before that happens,” you promise, looking him in the eyes so he knows you’re serious. He smiles sadly, kissing your forehead as you melt into him.

“I wish we could run away,” you say into his shirt. He wears his old plaid green shirt. The one he wears when you do yard work together or go apple picking in the fall. You wonder if he’ll ever be able to wear it again without it being tainted by today. Or if he’ll wear anything besides a very different uniform, “Let’s run, Spencer,” you offer.

He sighs deeply, knowing that you know you can’t run. No matter how much Spencer wants to see your sweet home again, he knows that he can only do it with the law on his side.

“Tell me a story,” Spencer asks, hoping to change the subject. You feel him tense under your touch, but you can’t help yourself.

“We can go where our eyes can take us,” you say, hoping to convince him, even though you know you can’t, “Darling, let’s run,”

“Remember that time we went to that little field and got married, it was the best day of my life, Y/N. I remember your vows, they were the most beautiful things that I have ever heard. You were the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. You are the most beautiful person I’ve seen,” Spencer says, continuing on his train of thought.

“We can run like we’re running from the law,” you say, kissing his shoulder. Maybe that’s the key to get him to agree; he can never resist your kisses, “It’s a shot in the dark, Spence, but we could do it,”

“And my vows, you made me recite them for weeks and weeks,” Spencer continues, “I can say them now, if you want?” he offers.

“Please,” you say, forgetting, for a second your determination to run, “Please,” you say again.

“On February 14th, 1990— years before you and I met— Voyager One captured our first picture together. It’s not a great picture, it’s really fuzzy and hard to see. It’s just a pale blue dot in a sea of grainy grayness…But we’re all in it. All of us. And, uh, I’m not the best with words, Y/N. So I’ll like Carl Sagan say it, ‘Everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every superstar, every supreme leader, every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there--on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam,” he recites, perfectly remembering his speech from all those years ago.

You mouth the words as Spencer says them. You’ve been married long enough to have them committed to memory. He continues as you cry into his arms, wishing that things could have been different.

“Say you’ll never let them tear us apart,” you whisper into his shirt, squeezing Spencer so tight that maybe you’ll mold into one and you’ll be able to take him home with you, “Please, Spencer,” you beg, hating yourself for sounding so desperate.

“We’ll go where no one else is,” Spencer promises, kissing your head as he sighs again. You look up at him, bridging the gap between your lips.

“Darling, let’s run,” you say, hoping he’ll believe you this time.

He kisses your eyes, doing your cheeks, your nose and under your neck. This isn’t his I Love You Kiss this is his Goodbye kiss. Your skin is like Braille and he’s doing everything he can to memorize you. He commits to memory the way that your skin feels against his lips, the sighs of peace you make when he finally connects your lips to his lips, the feeling of your eyes on him. He kisses you like it’s your last kiss, a kiss you never thought you’d get. Of thousands of kisses it has to be your best one, even though it’s the one you hate the most.

“Darling, let’s run,” Spencer repeats, but there’s no promise in his voice, only defeat.

TAGLIST

@pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @fandomfriend33 @folkreid @@the-chaotic-cow @muffin-cup @reidslibrarybook @jswessie187 @fbivestreid @emilyprentisswif3 @doctorspenceryeet @alexrosex99 @alexontheinternet @itendswithns @cncos-baby @reidslovely @shemarmooresfedora @strawberryspence @drayshadow @navs-bhat @mimischaos @nomajdetective @xoxospencerreid @gspenc @ssa-uglywhore27 @alexxavicry @simmonsmilf @spencerreidat3am @reidsmilf @reidsacademia

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x female reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #boldlyreblog #spencer reid #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 3 years

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Words: 5,340 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Hershel's Farm Warnings: Language, domestic violence, fear and anxiety A/N: Here with some Protective!Daryl for ya'll! Summary: When Daryl finds the reader outside in the rain in the middle of the night, he gives her a dry place to sleep, but the next day it causes problems with her asshole of a boyfriend.

Your name: submit What is this?

Daryl couldn’t sleep. He’d tossed and turned restlessly in his tent and finally decided to get up and do a perimeter check just for some goddamned thing to do to pass the time. A heavy rain was falling and it bothered him not being able to hear anything over the deluge.

He shouldered his crossbow and sheathed his knife, grabbing his flashlight from its place next to his cot. He slipped out of his tent and started through the maze of tents. That’s when he saw you. It looked like you were sincerely hoping he wouldn’t, like you were trying to blend into the tree trunk you were leaning against, sheltering as much as you could beneath the oak, obviously somewhat wet from the rain and shivering slightly.

Daryl’s brow drew down over his eyes and he headed straight for you. “What the hell are ya doin’ out here alone in the dark in the middle of a damn thunderstorm?”

You didn’t answer but you did raise your eyes to his, hugging your arms more tightly around yourself. He watched another shiver wrack through you. The archer frowned. “Why ain’t ya in with your guy?” he asked, jutting a thumb in the direction of the tent you shared with your boyfriend. Daryl didn’t like him at all... Frankly he thought the guy was a controlling piece of shit, and he had a hunch that he might be worse even than that.

You avoided his eyes again. “We, uhh—had a fight,” you murmured. Daryl could easily read the embarrassment and shame on your face.

“That don’t explain why you’re out here in the rain,” Daryl drawled.

You continued to avoid his eyes and didn’t answer. He could think of a couple reasons why you’d be out here instead of inside the dry tent, and neither of them were good. Either he’d kicked you out or you’d left because you were afraid of him, afraid of what would happen if you stayed. Either way, there was no way in hell Daryl was gonna let you spend the night outside in the cold autumn rain.

“Ya ain’t stayin’ out here in the rain. C’mon,” he said, nudging his head back in the direction of his own tent. He turned to lead the way and glanced back over his shoulder to see you hesitating to follow him. “If ya stay out here all night, all soakin’ wet like ya are, yer gonna catch yer death. C’mon.”

This time you followed him, still shivering.

Daryl held the tent flap open for you and you stepped inside, your arms still wrapped tightly around yourself. He followed and zipped the flap closed on the rain and night. When he turned you were standing awkwardly in the middle of the tent. Daryl set his crossbow down and clicked on the lantern next to his cot. He replaced the flashlight and pulled off his jacket. He held it out to you.

You gave him a questioning look.

“I can see ya shiverin’. Take it. Can’t have ya gettin’ pneumonia. We’ve already gone through too many of Hershel’s antibiotics.”

You accepted it from him. “Thanks,” you said.

He watched you pull it on, anxiously chewing his bottom lip as the fabric swallowed up your frame. He sat down on the floor across from you and pulled his knife out and his sharpening stone, just for something to do. He needed to busy his hands, because with you in that small space with him he was suddenly feeling nervous. “Make yourself at home,” he said, nodding toward his cot on the opposite wall.

You sat down on the edge a little gingerly and watched as he drew the blade of his knife across the stone.

He kept his eyes fixed on what he was doing but his deep voice broke through the pattering of the rain on the tent. “Ya wanna talk about it?”

You shrugged deeper into his jacket. It still held the warmth of his body and it smelled like him—musky leather, campfire smoke, and the outside air. “I don’t know,” you admitted.

The sharp noise of his blade punctuated the silence. “He kick ya out or… did ya need to get out?” This time his eyes flickered up to your face.

He watched you gulp, but you held his eyes. The warm lantern light threw the angles of your face into sharp relief. Your eyelashes cast long shadows on your cheeks.

Daryl’s light blue eyes moved back down to his hands. “S’alright. Ya ain’t gotta say.”

You bit at the inside of your cheek and couldn’t help another shiver that ran up your back. The archer looked up at you again immediately, concern furrowing his brow. He set his knife aside and climbed to his feet.

He unzipped the flap of the tent and stepped out. He met your questioning gaze with a nod. “I’ll be right back.”

This left you alone in his tent for a short time, just the hammering of the rain to keep you company. Your eyes wandered around the contents. It was a little unkempt, with clothes piled haphazardly in one corner and the edges of the canvas floor cluttered with tools and random items. There were half-finished crossbow bolts piled on a box that was serving as a side table, but something beneath them caught your eye. You gently brushed aside the wooden shafts and carefully lifted what had drawn your attention. It was delicate and brittle but you recognized it immediately as you carefully laid it out flat on your palm.

One day in the summer you had been collecting firewood for the group, eager to do something useful and needing some space for a while. You’d come upon a vine bursting with crimson flowers and as you’d stood and admired it, such a simple but beautiful thing, you’d watched hummingbirds flitting between the blossoms.

Wanting to know the name of the plant, you’d plucked a bloom and brought it back to the archer to identify. He’d taken hardly a glance at it before telling you its name. “Coral honeysuckle,” he drawled. “Ya can crush the berries and use ‘em on bee stings.”

“Coral honeysuckle,” you repeated. “There were tons of hummingbirds on it.”

He nodded. “Mhm. They like the nectar,” he said, holding the flower back out to you.

“Keep it,” you said with a smile, “as payment for your identification services.”

Daryl’s heart jumped at the smile on your face and he twirled the bloom between his fingers as he watched you retreat back toward the group.

This looked like the very same flower you had picked. He’d obviously pressed it underneath something to preserve it. The vibrant red petals were only slightly muted in color. He’d kept it all these months? You puzzled over this as you replaced it where you’d found it and arranged the crossbow bolts over it again. It was hard to ignore the warm feeling growing right between your lungs, threatening to spill outward.

A few minutes later, Daryl came into the tent again. There were raindrops on his shirt and caught in his hair. He had a small mug clutched in his hands and you could see spirals of steam rising from the surface. He extended it toward you and you accepted it, puzzled as you looked inside.

“Tea?” you asked, looking back up as Daryl settled onto the floor again.

He nudged his nose up at you in a nod. “Mhm. I dunno if it’s any good. I think it’s some ginger-lemon thing Maggie brought to help with Lori’s nausea. But it’s hot. And you’re still cold,” he said. He felt nervous under the bewildered gaze you were giving him.

This man had just gone out into a thunderstorm to heat water for you and bring you tea simply because he’d seen you shiver. Not to mention that you were wrapped in his coat and he was sheltering you from the storm when your own boyfriend had—his voice broke your train of thought.

“I told ya. Can’t have ya gettin’ sick.” Daryl picked up his knife again and went back to sharpening it.

It was silent for some time as you sipped at the tea and watched the archer work on his knives diligently. You didn’t know that he could feel your eyes on him and it was driving him crazy. His body seemed to respond to you like you were a drug and he was an addict. He did his best to keep it under control. After all, you were technically spoken for, even if the guy was a complete douchebag at best.

But finally you spoke, setting the empty mug aside and sitting farther back on his cot, pulling your boots off and folding your legs under you. “Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, grabbing the next knife that needed sharpening from its sheath.

“What do you think of—of my boyfriend?” you asked. Your cheeks immediately flushed. You felt stupid even asking the question. You already knew the answer and you knew where this conversation would lead. You knew what you needed to do, but you were afraid to do it. Did you really think someone else saying what you thought out loud was going to somehow give you the courage to go through with what needed to happen?

Daryl’s hands froze and he looked up at you, his eyes narrowed and fixated on your face for a long moment. He averted them back down and resumed his work again just as suddenly as he had stopped. “Don’t matter what I think.”

“It matters to me,” you said quietly.

The silence between you was suddenly thick, like a stagnant room full of humidity, the air heavy. The raindrops on the tent seemed to surround you and insulate you from everything else, from the rest of the world. The atmosphere was almost intoxicating, disorienting.

Eventually, Daryl’s blue eyes lifted again and fell on your face. He sighed heavily. “Ya really want to know what I think?” You nodded. “I think ya deserve better.”

Your heart skipped a beat as your eyebrows lifted in surprise. You’d expected Daryl to call him an asshole. You hadn’t expected that stated so explicitly. And you really didn’t expect him to go on.

“Either he threw ya out of your own damn tent into a thunderstorm in the middle of the night, or ya had to get out because being outside in a thunderstorm in the dark was a better option than bein’ in there with him. What kinda man is that?” He scowled for a moment as he thought about how much he wanted to drag the guy out of your tent, give him a few good punches, and leave his ass in the rain. He turned back to his knives.

You were silent, consumed by your thoughts, but eventually you yawned and Daryl looked up immediately. He systematically put away his tools and then he grabbed some balled up clothes to use as a pillow. He also grabbed his poncho. His eyes lifted and met yours. “Ya take the cot. I’m good down here,” he said.

“Oh, you don’t have to—I’ll go—”

Daryl let out a scoff. “What are ya gonna do? Go sleep out under that tree?” He shook his head and settled down on the floor, leaning back onto the makeshift pillow and draping his arm over his eyes. “Wasn’t a question anyhow. Just get the lantern when you’re settled in.”

You couldn’t help smiling at him on the floor where he was stretched out under his poncho, a knife right beside him. You watched his ribs rise and fall with his breathing a few times and the butterflies in your stomach made you realize that you were most definitely in trouble… in more ways than one.

You clicked off the lantern and laid down on his cot, still wrapped in his coat. You slept peacefully until morning.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You woke early as the orange glow of the sun struck the tent walls and you shot up straight at the sound of Daryl stirring.

He nudged his nose up at you in a greeting and you gave him a small smile. His heart jumped at the sight of you in his jacket, on his cot, that sleepy smile and your tousled hair. He tried to ignore how many times he’d fantasized about this very scene, but with a slightly different context where that was right where you were always supposed to be.

“Hey,” you greeted him.

He stood and shouldered his bow. “I’m gonna go hunt. Ya ain’t gotta get up yet. Sun’s barely up.”

You bent and started pulling your boots on. “It’s alright. I’m already up.” You slipped his jacket off and laid it on his cot. “Thanks,” you murmured, tucking your hair behind your ear and trying to smooth the strands a little self-consciously. “For everything last night.”

He shrugged and chewed his bottom lip a little anxiously. “S’nothin’.” For some reason this made you smile and he thought your cheeks grew a little pink.

“You always downplay everything you do. You shouldn’t,” you said kindly, standing up. “It was way more than nothing.”

Daryl gulped and simply opened the tent flap and stepped out. You followed him and gave him another small smile as he nodded at you one more time and then headed for the woods.

You decided to do some of the morning chores since you were already up and set about gathering more and restacking the fire wood and doing some preparation for breakfast. You grabbed the water canisters and headed toward the well to fill them. You were filling the second container when you heard footsteps in the grass behind you. You turned to see your boyfriend striding straight toward you. Your stomach churned.

“Morning, Y/N,” he said, coming to lean against the side of the well. His affect was flat and you were immediately on edge.

You avoided his eyes and didn’t say anything, just continued your work.

He reached over suddenly and pressed the pump handle down hard to stop the flow of water and your eyes shot up to his face. His expression was dark.

“You know, it’s weird. I got up while it was still dark and went out to look for you. Even went up to the house, but,” he shrugged, “you were nowhere to be seen.”

You stared back at him, your heart starting to rush a little in your chest.

“And I just wondered to myself, ‘Where could my girl have gone?’” He moved toward you, drawing himself up to his full height.

You stared up at him, gulping at the nervous tightness in your throat. “Seeing as you threw me out, I figured you wouldn’t care or come looking,” you said, reaching over and lifting the well handle again to start the flow of water, a little surprised at your own boldness to talk back to him in the way you did.

He immediately slammed the handle back down. “Well, I did. And imagine my surprise this morning when I saw you coming out of Daryl’s tent.”

You gulped.

“As soon as you found an excuse you just went running straight to that dumb redneck, didn’t you? Huh? How long have you been sneaking around behind my back? Did you have a good fuck last night?” He was right in your face now and you recoiled.

“It wasn’t—It wasn’t like that. I didn’t! It was storming. All he did was get me out of the rain. He—he slept on the floor. I just slept on his cot! That’s it,” you said, urgently grabbing the water and trying to rush back toward the tents and the group, sensing sincere danger not far away.

But your progress was stopped when he grabbed your arm and spun you back around. You dropped one of the water containers which spilled its contents onto the ground. “You really think I’m gonna believe that? How stupid do you think I am?” There was rage burning in his eyes. “We have a fight and you think you can go fuck whoever the hell you want? Do I have to remind you who you belong to?!” He was yelling at you now and you tried to pry his hand from your arm. His fingers were digging in painfully.

“I’ve never cheated on you! I wouldn’t—please!”

He sneered. “Why the hell should I believe that?! Huh? You’re mine! I don’t want to see you talking to another man. Hell, if I even catch you looking at that redneck again, you’ll pay for it.”

His grip on your arm felt like it was tightening by the second. “I swear nothing happened! You’re hurting me! Let go!” you pleaded, feeling your eyes going wide with fear.

He growled at you through his teeth. “I can do whatever the hell I want. I’ll break your arm if I want to,” he said viciously, starting to twist your arm behind your back painfully. You couldn’t help crying out, but that was the wrong thing to do, and you knew it.

The next moment you felt a blow across your jaw and tasted blood in your mouth. You fell to the ground, splayed in the dust, narrowly missing cracking your head against the cobbled stone of the well. Your vision was black. You could only hear a high-pitched ringing in your ears.

The blackness dissolved slowly and you climbed desperately to your feet, but another blow landed across your cheek and you fell hard against the stone well this time, your back colliding painfully with the jagged edges of rock. You had an arm up to shield yourself as you tried to orient yourself again, waiting for your vision to clear.

You were waiting for the next blow to come, steeling yourself as best you could, but it never landed. The next thing you knew Daryl had barreled out of nowhere and he had your boyfriend on the ground beneath him, landing blow after blow into his face and body. “You piece of shit! Ya think hittin’ her makes you a fuckin’ man?! I’ll kill you if you ever lay a goddamn hand on her again!”

You watched in stunned horror. The rest of your group members were tearing across the field toward the commotion. They’d heard the yelling and your surprised scream and raced to get to you. Rick and Lori were in the lead and suddenly they were there. Lori grabbed you and helped you to your feet, her face white as a sheet as she looked at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and supporting you in your daze, leading you slightly back and away from the melee. When you glanced back over at Daryl you saw that he now had his crossbow aimed right at your boyfriend’s head. His chest and shoulders were heaving and every muscle in his arms were tensed. Rick was trying to talk him down.

“Daryl. Daryl, this isn’t the way. Let’s just calm down and we’ll decide together how to deal with him,” Rick was saying softly. “Just put your bow down and we’ll deal with him.”

The muscle in Daryl’s jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth. “This bastard deserves to die,” he growled.

“I know. I know… I see what he did. But we’ll talk about this and decide on it together. Alright? Let’s just calm down for a minute.”

It took everything he had, every bit of willpower not to pull that trigger and end the bastard right there. And if you hadn’t been watching, he might have done it. But he didn’t want you to be afraid of him too. Daryl lowered his bow and Rick pulled him off your boyfriend, who was cowering on the ground with blood pouring down his face from an obviously broken nose. His eyes were already swelling shut.

Rick grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him to his feet. “You are comin’ with me,” Rick growled, dragging him away toward the barn.

Daryl ducked his head, his chest still heaving with exertion, and spared a glance in your direction. Your bottom lip was split and you had a hand pressed over the left side of your face, concealing the already blooming bruises from that asshole’s fist landing on your jaw and cheekbone. His heart ached, his stomach twisted, and he turned and stalked off after Rick.

You avoided the looks of pity and shock that the rest of the group was giving you and did your best to hold in your tears of pain and humiliation. You focused on Lori as best you could.

“Oh my God. Come here, honey. Let me look at you,” Lori said, moving in front of you and pulling your hand away from your face. Next, she noticed that your back was bleeding in a few places where you’d hit the stones and you winced as you tried to straighten up completely. Spots of crimson were staining your shirt. “Oh, Y/N. I’m so sorry. Come on. Let’s go clean you up. Come on.” She wrapped an arm around your shoulders again.

You felt like you were going into shock. You were disoriented. Lori led you up to the farmhouse and called out to Maggie and Hershel as you entered. They both rushed into the front room.

“Oh my God. What happened?” Maggie asked urgently, her eyes going round with horror.

Lori gave her a look and Maggie seemed to understand. There had been suspicions going around the group that perhaps your boyfriend was laying his hands on you occasionally, and they all seemed to now be confirmed.

Lori led you to sit down on a chair in the dining room. The vet-turned-doctor examined your face and determined that, luckily, no bones were out of place, but that you likely had a fractured cheekbone and a concussion, not the mention the injuries to your back and your split lip.

Lori guided you to the bathroom and started the bath tub filling with warm water. “Alright. Climb in there and I’ll be back in to help clean up your back, alright?” she said gently. She left and shut the door softly behind her.

You obediently stripped your clothes off, in a daze still, and stepped into the tub, wrapping your arms around your knees, holding them tightly to your chest. Lori knocked a moment later and you murmured a “come in.” She had a washcloth in one hand and sank down on the edge of the tub, immediately dipping it into the hot water and dabbing at the wounds on your back. The abrasions weren’t too deep, but it looked like most of your back would be badly bruised.

You were grateful she didn’t say anything. You’d seen the expression on her face and that was enough. She sighed heavily and climbed to her feet. “Come on out when you’re ready. Hershel says you can stay in the guest room tonight. We want to keep an eye on you because of that concussion, okay?”

You nodded and rested your chin on your knees. It was right then when the tears finally started pouring down your cheeks and you gasped in a shuddering breath. “Y/N. I’m so sorry this happened to you,” Lori said, rushing right back over and kneeling beside the tub, smoothing a hand over your hair.

“I don’t even recognize who I am anymore,” you said, rushing to wipe the tears that broke free from your eyes. “I think after everything fell apart, I just thought if I didn’t have something to cling onto from before that I—I don’t know—that I wouldn’t make it. But then he just… changed. And it didn’t happen all at once and I think that’s why I didn’t just—it was gradual. I almost didn’t notice it and then all of a sudden he just wasn’t himself anymore.” You hastily wiped at your tears again. “I feel so stupid and embarrassed and ashamed,” you admitted, unable to look at her.

“It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. And you have nothin’ to feel ashamed about. And it’s all over now, alright? It’s over.”

You gasped in a shaky breath. “If Daryl hadn’t—”

“I know,” she shushed you. “I know. But he did. It’s all gonna be okay now, alright? Get cleaned up and I’ll be right outside in case you need anything.”

You gave her a grateful look and nodded. You sat in the hot water until it started to cool, your mind mostly blank. The adrenaline had worn off now and you were feeling every bit of pain. Your head felt like it was going to split open and you winced at the sight of your swollen and bruised face in the mirror. You pulled your clothes back on and ventured into the hallway. Lori was standing there with some clean clothes for you and she led you to the guest room and set them on the bed.

“Get changed into those clean clothes and then you need to rest. Hershel’s orders. He wants you in bed. We need to be careful because of that concussion.”

You thanked her again and nodded. You discarded your bloodstained shirt and dirty jeans on a chair in the corner and pulled on the new outfit before climbing under the covers. You couldn’t stop the tears from flowing out again and you squeezed your eyes shut against the pounding in your face and head.

Outside, the group was gathered to discuss what to do with your boyfriend. Daryl couldn’t stand still and was pacing angrily in front of the house. He looked up as Lori came out and the screen door slammed with a snap.

“How is she?” Rick asked, his face dark with concern.

“Alright, considering,” Lori said, slipping her hands in her back pockets. “Concussion. Bruised and swollen. Abrasions over half her back. Hershel thinks her cheekbone is fractured.” She caught Daryl’s eyes and gave him a knowing look.

“Oh my God,” Andrea said, exchanging a look with Carol, whose eyes turned down toward the grass.

Daryl swore under his breath and resumed his pacing.

“Well, what do we do?” T-dog asked. “We can’t just keep going on like everything is normal with him in camp. He’s got to go.”

“The question is how,” Dale said.

“That bastard ain’t even deserve to still be drawin’ breath,” Daryl drawled. He looked at Rick.

Rick sighed heavily. “Yeah…”

“I mean, I agree with Daryl, man. I don’t want that guy around any of us,” Shane said.

“What if we just take him out and leave him? Drive him way out and drop him off somewhere,” Rick mused.

Shane scoffed. “We might as well shoot him in the head right now. He’d never make it out there alone. That’s as good as killing him.”

Rick nodded. “I know, but it feels a little less like the blood is on our hands then... He has a chance.”

“He don’t even deserve a chance. I’m fine with his blood on our hands,” Daryl spat. “If I hadn’t been over there huntin’ he coulda killed her.”

Rick sighed again, the weight of the decision obviously weighing on him, and he rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah… Let’s just take the day to think it over. We can decide tonight. And Y/N can have a say.”

The group nodded in agreement and dispersed. Lori went back in to check on you.

She knocked lightly on the door and you murmured for her to come in. “How are you feeling?” she asked you.

“I’m fine,” you said, lying about how much pain you were in.

She nodded. “We’re all going to figure out what to do about him,” she said. “You should think about what you want to happen. He can’t stay here, but as far as what that means—”

“Okay,” you interrupted her. You rolled over and looked at her in the doorway. “Is Daryl—?”

She smiled a little and nodded. “You want me to get him? He’s probably still pacing on the front porch.

You nodded. “If you could.”

“Of course.” Lori left and in a moment the archer appeared in the doorway.

You were in bed, your back to the door, but you turned and looked over your shoulder at the sound of his footsteps. Daryl’s stomach twisted at the swelling and red welts on your face. “Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey.” You pulled yourself up in a seated position and Daryl came around and sank down on the chair pulled up at the side of the bed. “I just wanted to say thank you,” you said, unable to meet his eyes and instead running the edge of the sheet through your fingers, staring at it like it was the most interesting thing you’d ever seen. “And I’m sorry that you got pulled into this mess…” you trailed off.

“I ain’t,” he said forcefully. “I’m glad I got to beat the shit out that guy. I just wish I’d done it sooner.”

You looked up at him and the glistening tears in your eyes made the colors in your irises stand out. His stomach flipped again at the sight of your injuries. “I feel so stupid. I never should have stayed with him.”

Daryl shook his head. “Ain’t that simple.”

You were grateful for his understanding. Daryl watched you struggling with some thought until you finally spoke it. “What if he gets out?” you asked, fear obvious in your eyes.

“He ain’t getting’ out. I tied his ass up myself,” Daryl reassured you. “But I’ll sit watch outside all night. Nothin’ is gonna happen to ya. It’s over.” The archer stood but your hand shot out and gently landed on his arm. He froze at the feeling of electricity that crackled from your fingers.

“Will you sit with me for a little while?” you asked. “Just—until I can fall asleep.”

He nudged his nose up in a nod and sank back down, feeling nervous and chewing on his bottom lip. Daryl watched as you settled back down in bed, pulling the covers up over yourself and shutting your eyes, your long eyelashes fanning out against your cheeks. The feelings welling up in him were getting more and more difficult to deny, and he knew now wasn’t the time—not yet. You needed to get through this first. But Daryl wanted to show you how you did deserve to be treated, even as he dared not hope that he’d have the chance, that you’d feel the same thing for him that he felt for you. He wanted to protect you, take care of you. He wanted to show you how strong you actually were, even as he thought of how much you reminded him of that flower you’d brought him; vibrant, sweet, soft, delicate, but always climbing toward the light. And he was determined to help you see it.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #protective!daryl

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By now, some of you might have heard about the situation in Poland. The following text was posted on FB by a Polish friend of mine following the events of 07. August 2020 in Warsaw. It describes what happened, and the context of what led to the events of yesterday. Please reblog and share this post to spread awareness about the current situation.

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For a very long time it has not been easy for me to write and talk about my country. Publicly, for a very long time I haven't. Disagreeing with most of what the current government stands for, that would have become a full-time job. Feeling that one is powerless, one can easily become indifferent and either emigrate abroad or immigrate inside to the bubble of like minded friends, trying to just go on with life regardless, to wait out the storm, to hope for the world to change one day on its own. I am guilty of doing both. But yesterday, I believe that Poland came to its turning point. We went to sleep in a troubled democracy and woke up in an authoritarian country that uses the full force of the state apparatus to oppress and unjustly prosecute members and allies of the LGBT+ community.

No good person can stay indifferent facing these circumstance.

General context:

👉 It all began members of the activist collective "Stop Bzdurom" (eng. Stop the Bullshit) spray-painted and cut the tires of an anti-abortion van. This van was taped with graphic images of dead fetuses and frequently driving through the streets of Warsaw. While the activists spray painted the van, the driver intervened and it came to a light physical quarell with pushing and elbowing. This is the video of this altercation: https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=1324521857722944&id=137358556439286

👉 On the basis of that, the Public Prosecution (which is under total political control in Poland - the Minister of Justice IS the Attorney General) decided to press charges of violent assault and destruction of property against one of the members of the collective - Margot. Margot identifies as a non-binary person (it will be important later in the story). Under those charges Margot could face up to 7 years in prison.

👉 Some weeks ago, Margot was dragged out of her apartment by police in civil clothing. At that point, police refused to give any information about her whereabouts or charges. It took many hours to establish that she was taken to the prosecution office for interrogation and to provide her with a lawyer. The prosecution filed for two months of arrest, awaiting trial. The court initially denied prosecution's request and released Margot. At that stage, this story could have ended as yet another, relatively harmless episode in our disfunctional democracy - unjust and infuriating of course, but at the end smoothened out by the somewhat independent parts of our judiciary.

👉 In between that and yesterday, the same collective hanged rainbow flags from monuments in Warsaw. One of those was a statue of Jesus. This was follwed by a wave of arrests under the charges of "desecrating monuments and offending religious feelings". The arrested were charged while our prime minister and president were visiting desecrated monuments and placing commemorative flowers.

And then yesterday happened:

👉 The prosecution appealed the court's denial to put Margot under arrest. Another court, for reasons still unclear, reversed the decision and decided to put Margot in jail for two months before any trial. There could not possibly be any reason to make such a decision legitimate. Margot is a special case because Polish arrest and correctional facilities are an extremely dangerous place for a (visibly) queer person like her.

👉 When Margot learned of the decision, she happened to be in the office of the biggest Polish LGBTQ+ NGO - Kampania Przeciw Homofobii (eng. The Campaign Against Homophobia). With the police on the way to arrest her (quite symbolic, isn't it), a few NGO’s asked people to gather in front of the office in a demonstration of solidarity. A few hundred people and plenty of journalists showed up, including multiple members of parliament from left and center opposition parties.

👉Margot decided that if she has to go, she won't just go quietly but as publicly as she can. She walked through the demonstration up to the police officers, offering herself to be taken away. They refused to arrest her. We thought they got scared of the public support and the cameras. It looks like we couldn't have been more wrong.

👉 The spontaneous demonstration moved to a nearby allegedly desecrated monument. There, peacful demonstrators were met by an excessively large police force seperating them from the monuments. And then someone has given an order to make an example out of demonstrators and turn the arrest into a show of power.

👉 First, an unmarked car approached. A bunch of police officers in civil clothing dragged Margot inside. For all that has happened later the crowd remained non-violent.

👉 Then, demonstrators sat down around the car to prevent it from leaving. (see Photo) The police attacked with an unprecedented brutality. Tens of undercover police officers arrived and together with their colleagues in uniforms they begun brutally attacking, beating, suffocating and throwing the demonstrators into police cars driving away with them. All that during broad daylight, in front of TV cameras. Without any shame or hesitation. Multiple photos of police brutality bellow. All questions about the basis of the detention were met with laughter. The protestors were not even called upon to disperse. Just faced with violence for the sake of power - no law, no order. TV cameras have caught police officers giving eachother orders to arrest "three random people from the crowd". Bystanders and people passing by were also arrested.

Yesterday in Warsaw is was enough to be in a wrong place, wrong time. We witnessed a straight up round up.

👉To paint the picture of the excess of the police brutality in more detail, I'll quickly describe one of the detentions. During that whole time, MPs (Member of Parliament) were present at the site. Now, they hold immunity from being arrested, but I don't believe anyone in Poland ever imagined that this immunity would have to be used in such a way. Among the photos below, there is one of a blonde woman, holding her hand on the back of a demonstrator, who's being pushed to the ground by the police. That women is an opposition MP who left yesterday's protests injured by the police and described in detailes what had happened. She saw police officers throwing the protester in the picture to the ground and kneeing her down. Her head was bleeding on the pavement. The MP run torwards them screaming to let go and pushing the police away. She lied down on the protester to guard her with her own body. Only then the police let the MP to put her purse under the bleading head of the protester (seen photo) and take care of the head-wound. The protester was then taken away by the police to an unknown location. That story is just one among many horrifying stories from yesterday.

👉 Later, noone knew where exactly the detained people were taken. We guess that around 50 people were arrested.

50 political prisoners.

Police has been refusing any information. The demonstration has moved under the main police stations and the second wave of random arrests happen (you can see it on the video: https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=295720058542451&id=107750507339408).

👉Members of parliament and attorneys have been present at the police stations all night trying to get any information and to provide legal help to the detainees. In order to prevent this contact, police has started to move the arrested people out of Warsaw- a tactic straight up from the harshest repressions of the communist times. On one of the photos below you can see two MPs standing in the way of a police van in the middle of the night to prevent that from happening. People were being dragged out of the police stations to the transport vans. They were shielded on the way to the car by other police vehicles to make identification impossible. Few of them managed to scream out their last name. Attorneys were immediately requesting access to their clients, and were met by police officers bluntly lying that such a person was never there.

👉 To paint the picture in more detail, again, of what was happening on the police stations- below you have a photo of a lady reading a piece of paper standing in a window with bars. That's yet another Polish MP, reading a list of the people being held at that particular station to the desperate families searching for their loved ones.

As for today, we are still unsure about what is going to happen.

We know that the arrested people are being presented with bullshit charges, citing ”the participation in an illegal gathering with an aim of violently assaulting a person or a property". Those charges don't stand on any grounds - not only we have photos and videos - the whole peaceful protest was on live TV.

We know that the Polish Ombudsman and the National Mechanism for the Prevention of Torture has started visiting the police stations.

We know that the first international institutions have started to speak out. Example is in the photos below. With the gravity of what is happening, I'd urge for more and sooner.

Poland is not living up to any standards of a free country. Poland is below anything, that should ever be accepted within the European Union. The long-standing aspiration of my country to become a part of the "West" has shifted towards countries like Russia in a matter of a night.

I will fight this, my friends will fight this. We will not let this go gently into silent night.

But I am not sure how much more fight we have in us.

I'll end with asking all of you abroad for support. Let people in your countries hear about this. We in Poland may not be enough.

#poland #lgbt #lgbt rights #human rights #EU #europe #police brutality #activism #demonstration #protests #warsaw #lgbtq

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