#but it does cram everything into a couple months

[whatisshelties]

Once more, I am frustrated with attempting to compete in multiple sports. I also don't want/can't afford to trial every single weekend.

I am now looking at how many events I may want to do in the next...six months. It all depends on priorities/goals.

I'm like...do I want to qualify for NADAC Champs? You don't have to qualify to get in, but you're not guaranteed entry unless you qualify. I dunno if this is a realistic goal considering how I suspect Mud feels about the sport and how freaking stressed out about his body I would be ALL YEAR. Though it is NADAC and he will be a Skilled/Vet dog, so he can jump 12". There's only 2 runs a day over 4 days. I think Sunday there's only one now. Can I afford it? I might be able to write off some expenses if I were to get a vendor booth (which is likely.) Qualification for Elite is 100 pts in the current year in Regular and/or Chances. A Q is usually 10 points. Sometimes can be 5, sometimes can be more (but I'm not doing bonus boxes/lines with Mud, lol.) Pre-elite is 80 points, no more than 120 pts can come from Elite Qs in the dog's life.

Which leads me to priorities/goals and having to choose between events. This month, I'm entered in two AKC trials. There's a NADAC trial and a scent work trial sandwiched between them. I was not planning to enter either of those events. BUT If I want to qualify for Champs, I probably should enter a day of the NADAC trial. I don't really feel like driving 1.5 hours to the shows 3 weekends in a row. I have made finishing Novice AKC agility titles a priority, since they've kind of got a time limit and are not as common as they used to be. I also will not run AKC on fake turf, which limits the trials available. Hopefully we'll knock this out in the two shows I am entered in.

The following weekend starts February and the sheltie club is hosting an agility trial. I kind of wanted to go volunteer and support the club offering more than conformation, even though I'm not a member yet (I've attended enough meetings to get approved, tho.) Then there are events the next THREE WEEKENDS. Junior Handler agility trial (NADAC) and carting and a scent work trial I'm not going to enter because they aren't offering all 4 elements each day are on one day. A NADAC trial the following weekend (good judges). The next weekend is a scent work trial that have considered entering.

There's a little bit of a breather after that in March...unless he doesn't finish his AKC titles in January. There's one of those the first weekend of the month. Mid-March there is a NADAC trial 1.5 hours away and then local trials start up the next weekend. However, the weekend of the local trial I have an art show thing (yay income), and the other day of that weekend is the first WCRL Rally trial. I'd really like to support that new venture, but like...if I want to go to Champs, I should go to the agility trial, right?

I had not really made any plans to compete in scent work until the dog club's local trial in April. Since I still wasn't sure what Mud's stomach would be doing. He seems to be tolerating trials ok again. Turns out "our" trial is the same weekend as a NADAC trial. Do I want to qualify for Champs? There's actually not much on my calendar for this month, just 2 things on the same weekend. Looks like ASCA trials start back up this month. Do I want to spend time/money on ASCA rally or agility?????

May actually doesn't appear to have any conflicting event weekends. Just stuff every weekend. Local NADAC trial, followed by a less local NADAC trial in a nice covered arena. I think Mud likes dirt surfaces, so would be fun to go to that. Then there's ASCA rally and obedience alternating over 4 days the next weekend. After that, there's a LOCAL!!! ORT!!! I will finally hand over the annual member fee for NACSW. (I still dislike that it is annual. I'm not even guaranteed to trial unless I make it my life to travel like come on.)

Then there's a local NADAC trial the next weekend in June. That's the last trial on the calendar right now that happens before the Champs qualification deadline in August.

If I entered every NADAC trial available starting in February (minus the one day of the art show), we would have 42 opportunities to get 8 or 10 Qs (depending on what levels I decided to enter and collect points in). If I don't enter the weekends we have things, we've got 30...if I enter both days of the shows I have to drive 1.5 hours for. That's 3 shows. So, if I only chose to enter one day of those three, and pick the day with maximum opportunities, I have 24. If I scale that back, and don't enter February because I decide to enter the JH trial or go to the carting show and enter scent work, so I'm not at dog events 3 weekends in a row, that's 20. Twenty-two if I enter the JH trial instead of just visiting the carting show.

What's tough about choosing scent work or agility at this point is like...I know Mud likes scent work better, but I don't really have goals for it? He's also in Advanced now and I'm not sure we are ready for Excellent yet, so I'd probably dink around in Advanced until I felt more confident about his skills at a trial. Since he doesn't even seem to really love trialing anyway. I don't know if more experience would help. Though scent work is one of those things we can just continue to plug away with since it's so low impact. Kind of like novice level obedience, lol.

#these are such first world problems it is ridiculous #i guess i should be grateful we take a break in the summer #so it's not like we're competing all year #but it does cram everything into a couple months #so idk if it's any better

[livesincerely]

i was just reading back through your writer’s desks and remembered how much i loved the slideshow au! no pressure but do you have anymore thoughts on it? it’s just one of my faves <3

The outline/notes for that one are still in the very early stages but I’m happy to share what I’ve got so far!

00000

He’s waiting for Tony to come back from the bathroom, the next episode of Crime Scene Kitchen queued up on the tv, when his phone vibrates with a text from Jack.

this prod meeting is running long, probs won’t be back until late. Go ahead and watch w/o me

Everything ok?

ya but part of the set got busted during a scene change so I gotta figure when/how to fix it before tomorrow night

I’ll put your takeout in the fridge and save you some egg rolls

and that’s why you’re my favorite

Say hi to Medda for me

of course

“Jack’s not going to be home until late,” Davey announces as Tony wanders back into the living room. “He says we should start without him.”

….

“Dave,” Tony says, sighing deeply. “Why am I looking at a PowerPoint titled, “Jack Kelly + David Jacobs: A Comprehensive Argument for Maintaining Equilibrium.”

Davey pins him with a scathing look. “It’s a Google Slides presentation, you godless heathen.”

“What the fuck?” Tony asks, ignoring him, clicking rapidly through the screens. “When did you even make this?”

Davey shifts in his seat. “I mean, it’s more of a living document, so it’s never really finished—“

“Davey.”

“A couple years ago, I guess,” Davey says. “Give or take.”

Tony squints at the computer screen. “It’s saved on your old university account.”

“Okay, or maybe it was three months into junior year!” Davey admits, crossing his arms over his chest. “It was a stressful semester and I was super nervous about failing my animal science midterm and Jack was out on a date with that PoliSci major that lived upstairs and— And the when isn’t the point! The point is, according to my research, telling Jack isn’t worth the risk of ruining our friendship.”

“What are these graphs even measuring?” Tony asks, staring at one of the slides. “‘Overall Happiness, Jacobs v Others’?”

….

“Well, your math is absolute shit, for one thing,” Tony says, frowning at a graph entitled ‘Art Pieces per Subject’. Davey’s name is sitting in dead last. “There’s no way these numbers are right. Jack draws you literally all of the time.”

Davey frowns right back at him. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Uh, yeah he fucking does,” Tony disagrees. “You’re, like, one of his favorite things to make art of, period. He spends about half his time bitching about how copic doesn’t make a marker that matches your eyes—at this point I’m pretty sure he’s got more drawings of you than actual pictures.”

“I think I would’ve noticed if Jack suddenly started drawing me,” Davey scoffs, shaking his head. “It’s not like he’s subtle when something’s caught his eye. Plus, he lets me flip through his sketchbooks whenever he finishes filling one and I’m almost never in them.”

“Which one?” Tony asks.

Davey blinks. “Which one, what?”

“Which one,” Tony repeats, oddly intent. “Which sketchbook does he show you?”

“What do you mean, which one?” Davey asks, irritated. “The only one! The one he always— it’s not like it’s some big secret!”

Tony stares. Then Tony sighs.

Very quietly, Davey hears him mutter, “…pair of fucking morons.”

…..

“Okay, but, riddle me this,” Tony says. “Why don’t you just tell him? What’s the worst that could happen?”

“What’s the worst that could— I literally just went over all the reasons why that’s a horrible idea!” Davey exclaims. “It would ruin everything!”

“I really don’t think it would, Dave,” Tony says. “You and Jack… will ya at least think about it?”

“I’ve done nothing but think about it,” Davey says, and to his horror, he can feel his eyes starting to sting. “I can’t.”

“Want me to do it?” Tony offers, and he says it like a joke but Davey knows him too well to think that he’s anything but absolutely serious.

He jolts forward, arms outstretched as if to preemptively cram the words back down his throat. “Don’t you fucking dare, Tones, I am so fucking serious—“

“Okay, okay!” Tony says, holding up his hands in surrender. “I won’t snitch on your neurotic ass, even if it’d make you happier in the long run. My word as my bond or whatever.”

Davey huffs out a laugh, and it’s only a little teary. “Fuck you, my neurotic ass is the reason you made it to graduation, shithead.”

…..

“Hey, can I borrow your laptop?” Jack asks. “Mine’s dead and I left my charger at the theater.”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Davey absently responds.

…..

“Davey,” Jack says, voice straining. “What the hell is this?”

“What is what?” Davey asks.

“This.” He turns the laptop around and— oh shit. It’s The Argument.

He feels his blood run cold. “Oh,” he says. “That.”

“Dave,” Jack says, his mouth set in a hard, thin line. “Did you make a fucking PowerPoint about me? About us?”

Davey swallows. “…It’s actually a Google Slides presentation,” he says weakly.

…..

“You’re telling me this is nothing?” Jack demands, incredulous. He tilts the screen back to show Davey the current slide, which is just an enlarged photo of Jack’s handsome, smiling face, surrounded by a halo of red arrows and the caption, ‘JUST LOOK AT HIM,’ written in boldfaced text. “Nothing? Nothing at all?”

“Maybe we can stop looking at it now,” Davey says, loudly. He leans over the back of the couch, making another panicked grab for his laptop, but Jack dodges out of the way, clicking to the next slide.

#*ask #newsies #javid #*editor's note #*the writing desk #bits & bobs #the google slides fic #this is the roughest of rough drafts but I hope it was legible and made some kind of sense? #hope you enjoy!!! #☺️

[cosmoeticss]

The Pact | Aegon Targaryen Modern!AU (Part Three)

Words: 2K

Pairing: modern!Aegon Targaryen II x reader

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI swearing. Mild slowburn. Overall bad writing. this is my ‘rom com’ fic so please expect rom com level corniness.

Note: Sorrryyy for building this up so much I’ve been going through it besties. Thank you for all the love and I hope you enjoy this.

my masterlist

Looking back on it now, you couldn’t remember a time where a building looked so daunting. Even when you had first moved into the building with Dalton three summers back, it hadn’t made your stomach churn like it does now. In fact, you can hardly remember moving in in detail. The process had been severely underwhelming, and it had happened in the blink of an eye. I guess that was one thing that could hold a candle to how you were feeling now. 

Why the hell is everything happening so fast? 

Just three days ago, you had been in your flat surrounded by everything you’d grown accustomed to being around everyday. Just three days ago, you thought you were in a committed relationship. You were wrong. You couldn’t wait for this to be over. The only thing worse than sneaking into the flat you already paid this month's rent on to break all of your personal belongings out, was if you would have had to do it alone.

Toned, Slender arms drape over your shoulders from behind, snapping you out of your haze. Daeron leans his head against yours. “He’s not in there,” he assures you softly. “He’s at work, just like you said.”

You nod, half heartedly paying attention, neck craning up at the towering building. “He’s at work,” you repeat, mostly to yourself. 

Another hand finds the back of your elbow – Lucerys’ hand – and he squeezes softly. “We’ll be in and out faster than the bastard will know what’s hit him.”

You offer them a warm smile, rubbing your sweaty palms against your denim shorts nervously. “Let’s do this shit.” 

Your friends had pulled out all the stops to make sure that getting out of that flat went as smoothly as possible. Helaena and Daeron had offered up their cars, each of a decent size, and designated them for moving your belongings. Aegon had rented a pick up truck for some of your bulkier furniture. Helaena had found a moving company that rented out plastic moving totes for three gold dragons a day, each stack coming with a rolling cart, and Baela and Jace stayed behind at the townhouse to clean up your old room (when Aegon said he hadn’t touched it in nearly four years, he meant it.) 

Sandbox love truly never dies, and you found yourself grateful that you had found the greatest support system you could ever have at such a young age, and that they had stuck by your side through thick and thin.

“Alright, team!” Rhaena grabs everyone's attention by clapping her hands together three times. “Operation: Free My Girl Y/N is now in effect. I want everyone to listen up, Helaena and I are on bathroom and bedroom duty, I want Aegon, Luke, and Dae on furniture, Y/N wants her couch, her bookshelf, her desk, any art supplies you see, and a couple things out of the bedroom. Anything that looks like someone with taste bought it is going in the truck.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Aegon mock salutes her.

“You need to wait until Y/N clears out her desk and bookshelf so worry about those last,” she says pointedly. “Aemond, you’re the only one here I trust with glass, so you grab any dishes and nick-nacks that are hers.” 

“You got it, Rhae,” he replies cooly, hands crossed behind his back.

“You’re so hot when you’re bossy,” you quip, and she shoots you a suggestive wink.

“Other than that, once we think we’ve got everything, we’ll do a quick run through to double check, and we are outta this bitch,” she holds her hand out for you to take, and you gladly do. “Does anyone not understand their job?” When there are no objections, you lead them through the lobby, and the seven of you and your moving equipment cram into the newly repaired elevator. 

In an attempt to lighten the mood, Daeron and Luke did a ‘sweep’ of the one bedroom flat the second the door was unlocked. Their hands were folded to look like handguns as they maneuvered theatrically through the four small rooms you had once taken shelter in. Luke lifted his hand to clutch the air by his shoulder, speaking into it like it was a walkie. “Coast is clear. Tactical team move in, let's go.” 

“Affirmative,” Daeron responded, mimicking radio static with his mouth as he did. You shook your head, a miniscule smirk playing at your lips as you made your way to your desk, and the gang got to work.

Everyone kept to themselves mainly, other than the occasional query of if something was for certain yours, they seemed to know you well enough to decipher on their own. 

It was alarming how quickly an entire era of your life could be packed into bins and whisked away. It was, as everything else had been these past few days, giving you whiplash. You could admit it to yourself, Dalton Greyjoy was nothing special. He wasn’t a good listener, or particularly doting, and he had barely been holding up his end of your partnership for the better half of four years, but he was yours. He was someone to come home to, he was a quiet night in, he was safe and boring, and maybe he was a little possessive sometimes, but he was all yours. That’s what you had convinced yourself, that the lackluster in your relationship was what you were supposed to feel. That it was safe. That you were comfortable. 

It was enough for you at the time, and you had just assumed it would be enough for him too. 

A warm, heavy hand slides over your back, snapping you out of your daze and pulling you back down to earth. “That's the last of the bins, but Rhaena wanted me to tell you to double check that we have everything,” Aegon’s voice is smooth and low as he leans against the doorframe beside you. “Still feeling okay?”

You nod halfheartedly. “It just sunk in,” your voice comes out scratchy and dry, like you hadn’t spoken in days, and you clear your throat. “Two hours is what it takes to pack up my whole life, just in case you were curious.”

He offers you a sympathetic smile. “Rhaena leads with an iron fist,” It’s an attempt to make you laugh, and if you hadn’t been so melancholic, you’re sure you would have. 

“I’m going to be twenty-seven soon,” you mumble. “I don’t have a plan. I moved to this city with no actual prospects, and no plan for what I’m going to do with my life and then I settled down with the first man to pay me any attention.” 

Aegon stays quiet as you swallow the lump in your throat. “And I finished school for what? I’m still working at The Golden Stag, I don’t even paint anymore, like it would make a difference if I did. I wasn’t any good.” 

The words stung like acid coming out. You had been painting since you gained the function of your motor skills. As you grew up, you’d painted everything – people, places, anything that caught your eye. Aegon knew that better than anyone, when he wasn’t modeling in front of your canvas he was right by your side watching. It was never anything but a passion to you, your mother had drilled it into your brain at a young age that no one ever found a decent career being a sub par painter, and with that turning it into a lifestyle became completely out of reach for you. Dreams of art school became chasing a business degree you had no want for. Your passion became a hobby, and that fact made you so miserable you couldn’t pick up a paintbrush anymore without feeling like a failure.

“Don’t say things like that. You are good,” he took hold of your shoulders, forcing you to face him but you could barely meet his eye. “And it makes a difference because it makes you happy. Don’t you want to be happy?”

You can’t stop the tears that are freely flowing now, but Aegon carefully brushes them away.Your forehead drops to rest against his warm, soft chest. “I do, but I don’t know how I let it get this bad. I don’t know how to fucking fix it.”

“Hey, do you want to know a secret?” he whispers, and you tilt your chin up to finally look right at him. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing either.”

You simper, a faint huff of a laugh pushing through your nostrils. “No way,” there’s a hint of playful sarcasm bubbling beneath the surface. “You?”

“I know, who would have guessed?” he nods affectionately, shrugging softly. “Guess what I do when I feel like I’m lost.”

“What?” you mutter, and if he hadn’t been holding you so close he might not have heard it.

“I call my best friend,” he soothes, causing an all encompassing warmth to spread through you. “And she picks up the phone every time and sure, maybe I still feel a little lost afterwards, but I don’t feel so small and I don’t feel lonely anymore.”

You draw a deep breath in, trying to expel all the heavy tension brewing in your chest. Of course Aegon knows all the right things to say to you to make it all feel a little bit lighter. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Aegon promises, pointing towards the door. “Those idiots downstairs aren’t going anywhere, so if you need to breathe, or to fall apart for a while then that’s what we’ll do. We’ll just take it one moment at a time.”

You’re quiet as you press the heels of your hands to your eyes, rubbing them, and wiping away your tear stained cheeks. “Tell me what you need right now and we’ll do it,” his words are patient and delicate. “Whatever comes after isn’t important yet.”

Your gaze breaks from his, and roams around the white walls that had been slowly but surely closing in on you without you really noticing, then it falls to the laminate floor beneath you, cold and hard and unforgiving. After what feels like too long, your contemplating eyes find him, warm and welcoming and truly safe. Your thoughts wander to the familiarity of the townhouse, and your rambunctious found family floors below you. 

“I just want to go home.”

He keeps his promise. He takes you there.

The moon is high in the sky when you’ve finished unpacking into your old room. Upon returning home to the townhouse, you find the real reason Baela and Jace have stayed behind to ‘clean’ was technically also a ploy for them to put together the bed and frame they had all got you as a gift. You found yourself crying freely at the heartfelt surprise and before you knew it, pizza was ordered, beers were opened, and Daeron and Luke had picked up interior decorating. 

Maybe it was something that could’ve been done with the same vigor as it had been packed with, but it's slow. It’s procrastinating, it’s laughing over nothing and everything, and taking prolonged breaks to lay on the floor and talk about life. It’s a form of therapy in itself, and you ponder how you survived so long without it. Maybe you didn’t, and that was the point, why it meant so much more to you now.

When the night eventually dwindles out into a close, hugs and sleepy goodbyes are exchanged, along with promises to see each other soon. For the first time in a while, you don’t worry that they’re promises you can’t make good on.

You’re eventually the only two tired bodies remaining, and Aegon plants a chaste kiss to your hairline and bids you goodnight, squeezing your hand before he stumbles into his room. You find your way to yours in the dark like it’s a muscle memory that you forgot you had, and you sink into your bed, a thick sleep creeps into your aching bones.

Yes, you were still lost. It was going to take time to feel like yourself again.

But you don’t feel so small anymore, and as you finally drift off you don’t feel so lonely either.

previous part | next part

TAGLIST

@fan-goddess​ @heavenly1927​

#aegon ii imagine #aegon x you #hotd aegon #hotd imagine #hotd #hotd fanfic #aegon the elder #aegon targaryen #modern aegon #aegon x y/n #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen ii #aegon targaryen imagine

[fandomnsfw]

Changes pt 1 - Scott McCall x Reader

Pairing: Scott x Reader

Prompt: None!~ Just came to me brahh

Warning: NONE! 

ENJOY!!

*****

If it’s one thing the pack was sure of it was that you were very much like Stiles’ long lost twin. Stiles had even insisted you call him big brother, though you refused. However if anyone could match the rambling of said hyperactive spaz it was you.

Only you didn’t have ADHD it was just your personality. Which had still earnt you a seat at the table with what you had once assumed to be the popular kids however turned out to be a very different group.

You somehow found yourself entangled with werewolves and all other type of supernatural people but just like Stiles you loved it. Even with his fear Stiles loved the adrenaline of chasing down the bad guys and putting them to a stop. Just like you.

The pack was full of couples who had been together since before you joined and some after. Aiden and Lydia had got together just before you joined. Erica and Boyd had been together since long before you got there. Allison and Isaac had come together just after you joined the pack. Derek and Stiles still hadn’t got together but that didn’t mean everyone stopped calling them an old married couple.

Liam and Theo were still bouncing off one another but anyone could tell they’d eventually explode and fuck each other much to the disgust of the Alpha. The last couple was fairly new and recently came back to join the pack. That would be Ethan and Jackson. Which shocked everyone except you and Lydia. Mainly because you never really met Jackson.

It had been months since Jackson came back with his significant other and everything was relatively settled except the only people in the group who were single were you and Scott. Obviously if you didn’t count those who had yet to pull their head out their asses. Kira had been gone too long and she and Scott had officially put an end to their relationship.

You couldn’t help but pout as you remembered that even Peter had started dating a beta from another pack just outside McCall territory. You only let out another sound of distress when you realised even Melissa and Chris had started dating.

The parents of the pack officially had a better love life than you.

“You’re doing that thing again.” Derek snorted as he sipped his coffee.

“What thing!?” You replied, sarcasm evident in your voice.

“That thing that Stiles does when he angrily eats his food because he’s thinking about something that pisses him off.” Derek chuckled making Scott look up from his homework.

“Oh yeah he used to do that when we talked about you a lot.” Scott commented, his adorable lopsided grin making an appearance.

“I did not!” Stiles screamed, causing Derek to growl making him shut up very quickly. Stiles flung himself over Derek and made grabby hand at him which apparently Derek understood and handed Stiles his coffee.

“Only a little bit Stiles.” Derek commented not even taking his eyes of his newspaper.

“Yeah yeah, Okay Sourwolf.” Stiles chuckled before taking a sip and handing it back to Derek.

“You guys seem…extra close…” Scott commented as he sipped his coffee with a raised brow.

“Did you guys finally fuck?” You snorted, sarcastically as you crammed some waffle in your mouth, but when Stiles blushed and Derek choked on his coffee which caused you to begin choking on your waffle. Scott patted your back a little roughly but you gave him a thumb up and looked at the apparent new couple.

“Oh my god! GIRLS! STEREK IS HAPPENING!” Suddenly you heard loud banging before Erica, Allison and Lydia came into view with wide eyes.

“Sterek?” Derek asked confused before he looked at Scott for answer but Scott just smirked.

“It’s your names combined.” You replied honestly making Stiles sigh dramatically.

“So which one bottoms?” You questioned making a very prominent blush show on Derek face.

“You can’t ask people things like that!” Derek snarled making you frown.

“Jackson who’s bottom?” You yelled from the kitchen knowing he’d hear you in the living area.

“Me. My ass is too good to resist.” He replied easily.

“Mason who bottoms!?” You yelled again.

“We switch. I’d asked why but I don’t wanna know!” He screamed back earning a chuckle from Lydia.

“If Stiles wants to tell you he can but my lips are sealed.”

“It’s obviously Stiles who bottom’s I mean have you felt his ass.” Erica snorted but Derek quickly growled causing her to immediately shut up.

The questions and guesses continued through the morning before Stiles eventually told you all that yes he was bottom. Scott had tuned out the very private conversation because they were both like his brothers but that didn’t stop him from giving Derek a very small warning that if he hurt Stiles he’d be dead.

You were currently watching Liam and Mason play video games, as you cuddled into the corner of the couch by yourself. As you looked around and saw all the couple you felt undeniably sad. Lydia was sat on Aiden’s lap as she helped him study for finals. Theo was sending Liam goo goo eyes. Cory had Mason sat between his legs as he played video games.

Erica and Boyd were napping on the floor, Derek and Stiles were surprisingly openly cuddling while reading their own books. Jackson and Ethan were scroll through their phones as Ethan teased him about something and Isaac was laid on Allison’s stomach as he napped and she read something on her kindle.

As you looked around you spotted Scott sat by himself as he read a book most likely for school work. You smiled sadly at his cute eyebrows that were currently drawn down in concertation. You got off the couch and strolled outside the newly built pack home, sitting yourself on the porch swing.

You took a deep breath and tried to forget about the feelings you’d buried months ago. You had, had a crush on Scott from before you were even a part of the pack but when you joined the pack you were told he was with Kira so you buried your feels, but after they broke up he seemed happy being single so you buried them even deeper until all you felt was a dull throb.

Recently your feelings had been trudged back up due to someone asking you if you would ever turn into a wolf. That when you got thinking about not only the risks but also the perks. You could be equal to most of your friends for one but not only that, you could also feel the connection the others felt with Scott. Which made you ultimately think about the feelings you had buried.

“Hey you okay?” A soft kind voice asked from the front door which you hadn’t even heard open. Damn werewolves.

“Y-Yeah I’m fine…” You lied but as soon as you saw him frown you knew he’d heard your lie.

“You can talk to me you kno-”

“I think I want you to turn me.” You blurted out, cutting his sentence off before he had the chance to finish it.

“I won’t turn you.” Scott replied as a deep frown set in on his face.

“Why not!?” You snapped, thoroughly offended he flat out refused.

“Because you said you ‘think’ instead of I ‘know’. I won’t turn you unless I know it’s what you want 100%.” Scott sighed, his frown quickly disappearing and being replaced with what you would guess was sympathy.

“I do want to be turned. The only thing stopping me is the fear my body will reject it because I’m weak…” You’d been in the pack for a few months but no one had figured out how weak you really were. You had a few health problems but they weren’t noticeable unless you voiced them which you were thankful for.

“You’re not weak your human and that’s okay.” Scott retaliated, his smile encouraging yet pointless because he had no idea of your problems.

After Scott comforted you a little you decided to go finish your homework. As you sat down you noticed a slight pain in your wrist but chose to ignore it. You’d become very good at ignoring the pain so none of the wolves knew.

You were writing for half an hour when it started again but worse. You knew you needed to leave but if you rushed out of here in a room full of werewolves they would notice. You stood up and turned to the pack with a smile. You knew your back was going to start hurting soon and if you didn’t leave everyone including the humans would know.

“Guys I’m gonna get goi-”

“Sit down now.” Scott growled, causing you to freeze ignoring his command but not long after he shot over to you and grabbed your face.

“Why are you in pain?” He asked his eyes full of worry.

“Scott let her go.” Derek sighed sadly.

“Stiles drive Y/N home.” Stiles nodded like he knew what was happening.

After you left Scott turned to Derek with red eyes letting out a warning growl. Derek rolled his eyes and sat down to read his book.

“What the hell did you do that for!? She’s obviously in pain!”

“DO YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT? DO YOU THINK WE ALL DON’T KNOW THAT!?” Derek screamed making everyone stop their tasks.

“You all know she’s in pain and no one tried to tell me!?” Scott yelled angrily when finally Theo spoke up surprising everyone.

“She’s stubborn Scott. We keep our mouths closed because we can do more that way. She thinks we’re oblivious, so whenever we get the chance we take her pain without her realising. It’s sneaky but it’s the best way. Its human problems we will never understand again. It’s nothing deadly from what I can tell it’s her joints or nerves surrounding the joints. I don’t know what’s wrong with her but I know it’s not deadly and that’s what matters. When we all figured it out Derek stopped us from saying anything because she obviously didn’t want us to know. That’s her choice and we should respect it.” Theo sighed, everyone nodding in agreement.

“It’s really nothing deadly?” Scott muttered with a concerned look on his face that made Lydia and Derek smile.

“Do you really think I wouldn’t tell you if the girl you’re in love with was dying?” Stiles muttered from the door, a sad smile gracing his face. Thankfully your house was only a 2 minute drive from the Hale house so when Stiles walked through Scott relaxed a little.

“She wants the bite but I think she thinks her body is too weak for it but she’s wrong. I actually think she could be one of the strongest wolves this pack has ever seen. I can smell it on her.” Derek commented making Scott nod in thought.

That night Scott thought about whether turning you would be an option he would consider. He spent all night worrying about if you were in pain and that lead to him making his finally decision. He knew turning was your choice but the least he could do was give you that option.

The next morning you walked into school with Lydia only to be pulled to one side by Scott. His eyes were sad but it wasn’t pity you saw it was an apology which thoroughly shocked you.

“If you want me to turn you I will but only if you sure it’s what you want.” Scott murmured making sure no one outside the pack heard you. Your eyes widened at his words but you felt relief and happiness flood you.

Would these damn problems finally disappear? Could you finally do everything your friends could do? Running? Partying? Drinking without having to stop your meds?

“I want it.” Scott smiled and stroked your hair softly before giving you nod and telling you to come to the pack house after school.

Throughout the day you thought about how Scott’s hand felt on your hair. Not the fact you’d be a werewolf soon but the fact that the only guys you’d ever liked, had touched your hair. You snorted at yourself and thankfully no one heard.

Lesson’s dragged on but when they finally ended, you ran to the parking lot and spotted Stiles who was getting into his Jeep. You ran over and hopped into the passenger side making him raise an eyebrow at you.

“To the hale house! GOOOOO!” You screamed making him nod dramatically like you’d just given him some kind of dangerous mission.

Once there you hopped out as Scott pulled up on his bike. You leaped onto his back and giggled.

“Werewolf me Mr.Alpha!” Scott burst out laughing but grabbed behind your knees so he could piggy back you into the hale house.

“Really Y/N werewolf me Mr.Alpha? Really?” Stiles snorted making you shoot him a glare as you made it inside, but eventually chose to ignore him.

We had our Friday night pack meeting and then your text your Mom telling her you were staying at Lydia’s all weekend which she quickly okayed. Afterwards you and Scott went to your bedroom in the pack house for more privacy.

“Where is the best place to b-bite?” You stuttered nervous about the outcome.

“Usually the waist but if your uncomfortab-” Before he could finish you stripped off your shirt and stood there in your skinny jeans and lace black bra.

A silence fell over you both as Scott gaped at you causing you to squirm under his gaze. Goosebumps appeared on your skin as you tried not to think about how it would feel to have Scott take you against your bedroom door.

“Okaaay well this is sufficiently awkward so hurry up and bite me.” You sighed, sarcastically making him quickly snapped out his gaze with a blush.

“S-Sorry.” He muttered but despite his word he got down on his knees in front of you and gripped your hips twisting you slightly so he could get a better angle. He looked up at your waiting for your permission but with the sight of him on his knees in front of you, it made you bite your lip quickly forgetting you needed to nod. He inhaled but as he did his eyes went wide, shooting a look at you that was very much full of shock.

“Don’t say a word.” You muttered angrily, a blush taking over your face. He nodded shyly and decided it was better he bite you before things get even more awkward. His eyes glowed red and he looked up at you before he slowly sunk his teeth into your waist.

It hurt, you couldn’t deny that as the screamed that ripped from your throat was high pitched and enough to have Derek and half the pack burst into your bedroom. Scott pulled his fangs out and quickly stood up blocking you from everyone’s view. He held you up as you began to wobble on your feet.

“Allison get the first aid kit. Lydia help her cover herself. I’ll be back once she’s settled.” Scott instructed his eyes glow red as he peered over his shoulder letting them know it was a command.

Lydia rushed over and held you up with difficulty making Erica run in to help as Lydia slipped a blanket around you. Allison ran back upstairs and started on cleaning the wound as Scott dragged all the males out the room.

“Sorry we burst in like that we just panicked.” Mason sighed, his response making Scott smile sadly.

“I knew she’d scream but I wasn’t expecting a friggin’ Lydia scream. She almost put Lydia to shame.” Aiden joked making Liam nod in agreement.

“Remind me to make her walls soundproof soon.” Derek muttered to Stiles who smirked silently.

“Why would she need soundproof walls?” Scott asked softly, his head tilting to the side in confusion which never failed to make him look like a lost puppy.

After a few hours a frequent checks on you everyone sat down to discuss what would happen next but before long it was late and the pack decided to check on you tomorrow. Everyone was sleeping soundly through the night as the bite healed over with everyone none the wiser.

-> Part 2

#scott mccall #scott mccall x reader #scott mccall x you #scott mccall imagine #scott mccall series #series #part 1 #teen wolf #tw #teen wolf fluff #teen wolf imagine #scott x reader #reader insert #reader

[david-talks-sw]

Final thought on Tales of the Jedi (I hope):

When it comes to the retcons or the content overall... I think there's one more thing to keep in mind:

The description on Disney Plus defines these episodes as "parables".

And during the announcement of Tales of the Jedi, when Dave Filoni talked, about these episodes he apparently referred to them as "a series of tone poems".

Months ago, a member of the editorial staff tweeted that these are simplified versions of bigger stories, just like the story in junior novelizations "focus on small, more easily digestible moments rather than the whole story". He also added that:

The episode The Sith Lord is "not meant to be the entirety of that story" but rather a "brief glimpse at a couple of moments".

The last Ahsoka episode is also just a "simplified" 15-minute adaptation of the novel Ahsoka. It's not meant to be the FINAL and ONLY version of that story.

Like, these weren't made with the words "canon" or "BBY" in mind, beyond Matt Martin making sure that the chronology lined up, in Dooku's case (although now we gotta accept that Mace was a Master at, like, 24).

They're stories Dave Filoni came up with on a whim because he saw how awesome the Bad Batch looked, visually, and was like "I want me some of that!"

"I saw what Brad Dunn and Athena [Portillo] were doing in Bad Batch, and how good the show looked… I’m like “well, I wanted that in Clone Wars!” Why does it look like now—- NOW? Mine look like Atari 2600, when it started. Now, you got snow and trees and I’m like “so I’m gonna write something so I can play with those toys.” That’s how it happened!"

During the panel, he also added they're stories he wrote while he was in lockdown during COVID or flying back and forth while filming The Mandalorian.

These aren't meant to be replacements or retcons. They're not meant to be "the ultimate definitive version of how events transpired".

They're art.

They're the streaming equivalent of short films you'd see in a film festival. And they are fucking beautiful. The visuals, the colors, the fights, the emotions, the performances, the RHYMES... all of it. Just marvelous!

The only things that stopped me from giving the show a 10/10 is out-of-universe pet peeves that messed with my suspension of disbelief (like Filoni essentially cramming Ahsoka into everything he's involved in, or his blatantly biased stance on the Prequel Jedi, and his consequentially 2-dimensional depiction of them).

So, really, nothing to do with the quality of the actual episodes, themselves.

Hopefully in the next season, my boy Quinlan Vos gets some time in the spotlight with Asajj Ventress! Maybe Mace gets his own episodes, maybe Luminara and Luke & Ben Solo too?

[clxckwork-sun-n-moon]

dumps a couple stars in your inbox ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ want director's commentary!

gimme so cries the wolf - and i do actually have a part specifically, namely the lil talk between eclipse and monty that ranger ends up eavesdropping on, oh and actually also also eclipse's thought process encountering the other demonic animatronics - he brought the broken animatronics in, safe, n seemed quiet about it iirc. but also yeah any bits u wanna talk about too i want lore gimme

(and, technically cheating bc theres no fic for old forest gods but. spare old gods crumb? something about the lore you're really excited about? honestly curious about how/ if/ when the bet reveal happens, can imagine y/n feeling rather betrayed, hurt, whole lotta drama, or alternatively thats what sun and moon (and eclipse? since he comes in later) expect but y/n just does their damnedest not to wheeze laugh bc of all the people to woo in that town they picked the aro one. great job guys everyone hit the showers. but here too anything ill take everything gimme pleaaaseeee)

ok so I'm gonna split this ask into two because hooooooo there's gonna be BIG responses here, so this post is gonna be for SCtW and I'm gonna make another for Old Forest Gods AU

god the lil talk between Eclipse and Montague, when Eclipse opens up more about his struggle between wanting to stay vs. their original intent to leave once separated from Sun and Moon. I spent like 2 months working on that conversation. it was like I was physically fighting Eclipse's emotional repression. one of the biggest challenges I've really experienced with Eclipse is that they develop like. lightning fast, in terms of personality.

the reader has to remember that when he and Monty are having this conversation, Eclipse has only been ALIVE for what. 2 weeks? maybe 3? his WHOLE EXISTENCE has been the barest fraction of a regular human. mix that in with the fact that he has scattered memories from Sun and Moon, and demonic instincts, and yeah. sometimes I've needed to take steps back and observe this myself. is this too fast? is this too slow? one of Eclipse's biggest struggles is he literally doesn't have words to express a lot of their emotions, because he hasn't learned them yet, which was an important part of the conversation that was overheard. he physically has to pick through describing these feelings, hoping that Montague can give a better explanation (because the 200 year old grimm can provide more insight apparently)

but yeah. at the end of the day, Eclipse is limited in experience and understanding. it makes him narrow-sighted unfortunately, and struggling with trying to talk about emotions with Montague vs spending so much time taking all those emotions and cramming them in a tiny jar when interacting with ranger!Y/N? not a healthy combination. certainly not a useful one for a writer who is desperately trying to figure out how their characters are supposed to be interacting on the page

the broken animatronics too, ogh. as far as everyone thinks, all the other animatronics have been in the same boat as Sun/Moon - there was a soul in there, it mixed with a demonic presence, and then instead of getting free like Eclipse, they got stuck in the animatronic and turned feral. Eclipse mourns that, in a way. he brings the animatronics remains in as a small act of respect. he believes these meant something or someone like him existed, if only for a few seconds.

for some more lore:

yes as you may have noticed there, Montague is well over 200 years old. the church he originally protected was de-consecrated and demolished about 50 years ago due to severe weather damage, and rebuilt over the graveyard. with shifting cultures, Montague was called a hellhound and barghest in his various sightings, resulting in his temperance shifting accordingly (great power in names)

in chapter 1 I put a direct quote from Castlevania because it was very funny and doubled as the first hint that Eclipse had memories from Sun and Moon's time in the daycare

ranger!Y/N put salt around their bedroom doorframe on Montague's advice, and needs to spend half an hour 'refilling' it once every two months by scraping salt in using sandpaper

I started hinting at Eclipse's 'lightning breath' in chapter 3, making it a solid 6 chapter lead-up to it finally appearing in chapter 9. well worth it in my opinion~

(response for old forest gods AU is HERE)

#answered #friendly neighborhood mutual #so cries the wolf au #part 2 later today!

[artbyblastweave]

Gideon the Ninth Liveread, Chapter 11

We are now on Day three at Canaan house. This work does interesting things with time. Sometimes you get a chapter like chapter 6 that’s basically the equivalent of a training montage taking place over months; sometimes you get a three or four chapter run covering like an hour; here you get a chapter that officially begins to stretch out and volumize the total amount of time that the cast have canonically spent at Canaan house without much happening. I’m harping on this because of my ongoing conspiracy theory that this was a book written to maximize opportunities for fandom engagement; around the ring distribution scene in chapter 8, when I realized that this was like a very weird boarding school plot, I developed the theory that Muir was going to do some time jumps, leaving broad holes in the timeline where canon-adjacent stuff can be crammed in. This isn’t as drastic as what I was thinking of, but it fills a similar role; the rest of this chapter shows that while Gideon was sequestering herself, the tertiary cast spent two days getting at least somewhat acquainted with each other. 

Also; as much as Gideon is ragging on Harrow for her chronic truancy (and I’ve read a couple of chapters ahead so I know her complaints are grounded) Gideon is, from the perspective of everyone else at Canaan house, exactly as opaque and inaccessible as Harrow.

“It was in this abandoned state....“ Okay, Gideon, as much as I ragged on Dulcinea for objectifying you in the last chapter, I assess your current state as more than slightly self-inflicted. Dulcinea wants you around. Harrow- the main functional constraint on your behavior, or at least the one you blame everything on- has no leverage here because she isn’t around. This whole dueling sequence indicates your ability to carve out a niche fairly easily. And really, you aren’t adequately questioning the idea that sticking like glue to Harrow’s charade is the only way out of your situation on the ninth. You could cheat! There are people around who might help you cheat! To the degree that you’re abandoned and without prospects, it’s because you’re hiding away! 

....As I write from my lightless bedroom. Hmm.

Okay, enter Coronabeth. Alright. Listen. Somebody must have at least floated the idea of a Canaan-house dating sim, right? I can’t be the only one whose mind went here at this point, with the knuckle-kissing.

Jokes aside, I get the impression that Gideon is astoundingly attracted to Coronabeth and extremely susceptible to her charisma, but it’s unclear to me if she actually likes Coronabeth. The descriptor “an expression like an artillery shell mid-flight” indicates a level of discomfort; Gideon feels less in love and more ensnared, off-balance, following Coronabeth because she succumbed to Coronabeth. Coronabeth is in general treated by the narration of having a gravity that makes everyone defer to her like this.

I’ve decided that I like Magnus, at least in part because Gideon clearly does. This sequence is full of a lot of little signifiers that he’s actually a decent guy; he’s the only person in the room actively friendly to Gideon when she walks in, he’s fiercely but deftly protective of the fourthlings when Naberius is being a dick, he’s humble, he’s a wife-guy, he’s a fun-uncle, he cracks puns and immediately endears himself to Gideon by doing so. I think I called the Hammerlock thing; he’s like the empty, goofy, sanitized signifier of Empire, the fun aesthetic parts, the nobility and sportsmanship, but at a distance from any of the genocidal sausage that goes hand-in-hand with the real-life version. He’s very pointedly not good at being a cavalier- a teen with three months of training thrashes a grown man who self-identifies as the boy toy of the competent person in his dyad. He’s never seen real combat. My read is that he’s either going to die ineffectually (thus removing a voice of reason from play) or be secretly evil, but in the increasingly unlikely scenario that this turns out to be a takedown of his archetype, I am gonna say that he feels believably likable in the way such a person would need to be to have the social power associated with the gentleman adventurer role.

Also, to briefly revisit the AU logic from earlier- I’ve got this guy pegged as the “cool teacher.”

“Three Moves, Magnus!“ I love these little assholes. I love how these little pesterings are structured as intrusive asides rather than as part of the ebb and flow of the dialogue.

Alright, if Gideon’s implicit.... thing with Dulcinea is rooted in an aesthetic fascination and acts of service, Gideon’s impending.... thing with Coronabeth is rooted in the fact that Coronabeth is apparently aroused by Gideon’s massive capacity for violence. Nobody on the rock is capable of desiring Gideon for hinged reasons or being at all normal about it. 

Can’t tell if Magnus’s “Am I getting old? Should Abigail and I divorce?” is a good-natured face-recoupment bit, or if the Fifth actually does have a “divorce your spouse if they’re inadequately martially competent” norm. Or if it is a joke, but a joke contextualized by that norm. And where is Abigail, anyway?

Also: Interesting that Gideon clearly has some residual affection and respect for Aiglamene. Heart growing fonder, et al, et al.

Okay, the whole Babs sequence adheres like glue to a lot of. A lot of high school and sports movie tropes. Scrappy underdog on the back foot until she breaks protocol, and then being lauded for being the more practical combatant even if her well-bred opponent is more skilled within the rules as defined. Preps vs… Goth-nerds? Gerds? Spiced up, however, by whatever deranged under-the-hood dynamics the thirds have going on. Is Naberius, like, a sibling to the twins, a boyfriend, an unholy fusion...? Also interesting is that Coronabeth seems interested in defusing Naberius rather than providing solidarity to him; her approach to the aftermath of the fight is definitely based around keeping in both Babs and Gideon’s good graces. 

Also; Naberius is suspicious of Gideon. He knows enough about the Ninth’s MO that Gideon actually being good at Cavaliering is not usually how the ninth plays things. And he’s right- Ortus, martially incompetent Bone Donkey, should be there in Gideon’s place. This is another example of the dynamic present his introductory scene in chapter 9; he’s vastly more insightful and observant than the elitist prep snob archetype normally is, but he deploys that insightfulness basically purely in service of playing his archetype to the hilt by being a classist, self-absorbed dick. 

And we leave off on the reveal that Harrow saw everything, after three chapters of total non-presence. Dollars to donuts that she’s gonna be pissy about Gideon doing things rather than politely tucking herself away like a piece of unused equipment while Harrow was AWOL. This is, incidentally, close to what I was predicting would happen as a result of Harrow siloing herself off from Gideon.

I should probably say something about the second cav, Dyas (first name unremembered) whose job in the story is basically to provide the above-validation that Gideon is the more practical fighter. I strongly suspect, given how little I’ve seen her name come up, and the fact her uniform is a literal red jacket, that she isn’t long for the narrative. I’ve seen chatter about the 2nd house necro, though. I wonder what she’s up to.

And, to round out, This chapter features the second or third time that Nonius, ninth-house founder, is referred to as some particularly-badass badass, anomalous in comparison to his descendants. I’m curious to see why said particularly badass badass set up his house in the middle of nowhere....

#gideon the ninth liveread #gideon the ninth #gideon nav #harrowhark nonagesimus #naberius tern #coronabeth tridentarius #magnus quinn #the locked tomb #tlt #the locked tomb liveread #thoughts #meta #blastweave livereads

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 27

Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board! Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note.

Wow, you guys. I got carried away with this one. It's a biggun!!

Kick.

The soccer ball rebounds off the tyre.

Kick.

I pretend it's a walker head.

We haven't seen one of the dead in weeks, but I know they're out there.

Kick.

Buried in the snow.

Kick.

Just like everything else.

KICK.

It shoots off into the car yard.

I watch it bounce down the aisle of rotted vehicles, bumping up against the chain-link fence. A sigh escapes my chapped lips and blows away in the wind. For what must be the tenth time today, I pull my scarf up and trudge over to the ball.

Aside from day dreaming, this is about the only thing I can entertain myself with nowadays. I can't play so well without a partner, but the afternoons slog on otherwise. It was a couple weeks ago that people stopped wantin' to talk, or tell a story, or try their hand at makin' a joke, a couple weeks before those ones that Rick stopped talkin' altogether. I just don't think any of us have the energy. The only thing we can waste it on is breathing in and out and lighting the campfire every morning. Some days, like today, I even waste it on the ball.

Besides, we don't got anything interesting to say. There's only so many times you can comment on the weather.

Crunch, crunch, crunch, go my boots in the packed snow.

Thinking back on it, the last time I heard Rick say anything that weren't a barked order was the night we slept in an abandoned house. It was the first time since the farm fell that Dad had come back without any game on his shoulder. Carl had tried eatin' an old can of dog food for dinner. I still remember the way the brown meat exploded against the floor when Rick threw it, and we were scared then, too.

So, we went hungry — And almost every night since then, we've gone hungry.

I wonder if Dad's gonna try go huntin' again today, but I doubt it. Ain't worth it, no more.

It'll be a handful of burnt mushrooms for dinner again, tonight.

I bend and pick up the ball, dusting off the snow.

Some months ago, Rick told me that if he had to hear the word mushroom one more time, he'd go crazy. I almost smile to myself at the memory, the day we shared fruit and worked on the fence. If only he knew he'd be eating them every day; that he'd go crazy, anyway.

It was also the day we lost everything, is the souring thought that comes after, just like it always does.

Movement.

I look up, peering through the hexagonal webbing of the fence, out onto the street.

There it is. A white blob with a black marking.

Well, a dog.

A dog sniffs around one of the cars. I ain't seen a dog since before. I realize that for some reason I'd thought they'd all disappeared, and maybe they have, but not this one. He's a stubby little feller. Barely tall enough to see over the walls of snow, but he manages. His pink nose traces down the tyre, taking him underneath the rusted shell. I watch him cram himself through the gap with little effort.

My empty stomach rumbles to me that I should shoot it from here and we can roast it over a fire.

Is it okay to eat the thing that eats the dog food? Is is different from a squirrel?

When he wriggles back out, a dead mouse hangs from his teeth.

Oh. He caught somethin'.

Outta the corner of my eye, Dad approaches me, a sore frown below the brim of his beanie.

He makes a pincer gesture with both hands, shaking them slightly. 'What are you doing?'

I slap my thigh a few times, the sign for, 'Dog.'

When I point, he turns to look.

The dog clumsily gnaws at the skin holding the mouse meat together, letting the head plop onto the ground.

Dad tenses slightly, glancing out at the empty street; the trees beyond it. He thinks the dog might not be alone. Squirrels, possums. They don't got owners. They're too wild and nasty. But dogs do. We wait for a moment for someone to appear, but nobody does.

We're both thinking the same thing, but I'on think Dad will say it before I do.

'We should eat him,' I sign; the smart thing to do. We should eat him. But, 'I don't want to.'

He pauses. He don't want to, neither.

People are predictable like this. The world has up and ended, but we still pray before we eat, we remember our birthdays for no good reason, and we refuse to eat pets. All the bolts in Dad's bow and all the bullets in my pistol are stayin' right where they is.

Dad moves past me, undoing the gate latch and pilling it open, mutely snapping his fingers.

The dog's head snaps up.

Fresh blood paints its lopsided, gaping grin, dripping small jewels into the snow.

It considers the both of us, unsure if it wants to abandon its dinner. His head is droopy and egg shaped, undeniably ugly but in an adorable way, with two black dots for eyes and a chest like a body builder. Bull Terriers, I'm sure they're called. Rodent killers.

Stepping over the little pile of organs, the dog makes up its mind and trots over to us.

Dad kinda flinches when it places its nose in his outstretched hand, relaxing, letting it nuzzle at him.

Luckily, he ain't a human killer.

'It's okay,' He's concluded, guiding the dog inside and latching the gate closed.

I drop to my knees, giggling softly as I cradle the dog's big face, scratching behind his ears. Oh, he loves it. He must'a been lonely.

I mouth up at Dad, Keep him?

Food is scarce, and Lori is sick an' pregnant, but I still hope we can keep him. I'm already preparing a list of reasons we should.

'Everyone's decision,' He signs, before nodding us back the way we came.

Standing up, I follow behind him, and the dog makes sure he don't get left behind.

The garage stands firm in the onslaught of snow. We've made it a sort of home for now, but it's far from paradise. It's old. Small. It don't keep the wind out. Beth, Maggie, T, and Glenn are huddled around the campfire in a patch of melted sleet, the four of 'em the first to notice our return, and our new friend. They perk up at the sight of the dog, before breaking out in smiles.

Kneeling next to Glenn, I help him welcome the dog with pets and cuddles.

Rick's marching over to us before I can even wonder where he is, 'cause ain't nothin' happens without him knowing.

I expect him to be angry. He's always angry when it comes to mouths to feed.

But after exchanging some words with Dad over my head, he surprises me by nodding, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets, watching us. I think I must've got it mixed up, but nope, he sends me the slightest, weightiest of smiles and nods again.

A foreign sort of relief flushes through me at the realization that I don't gotta persuade him.

I'm happy, for free.

Grinning up at everyone, I bask in the wonderful sight of their silent chuckles.

Glenn makes finger guns and taps them together.

'Name?'

I glance down at the dog; give it a good think. If I were a weird little rodent killer, what would I want my name to be?

I know. Dusting off the end of my nose with my finger, I share my decision with the group.

'Mouse.'

I startle as the dog licks my knuckles.

Maggie pouts, mouthing the word, Cute.

'When I found him,' I sign, trying and failing to keep my hands clean of dog-slobber, 'He caught a mouse.'

'He's a hunter,' Dad agrees, approving.

I lead Mouse into the garage to meet the others, ducking under the shutter doors and shivering off the sting of the snow. I wish we could light another campfire in here to keep warm, but Rick says the smoke would kill us faster than the cold will.

Not that it mattered much to my hearing aids.

As it turns out, the cold kills batteries, too.

I've learnt to manage without 'em by now, but I miss it. There were even days where I could hear my own laugh.

At least when the thaw comes back around, I'll be able to use them again.

I step over the piles of blankets scattered across the concrete floor, mindful not to cross paths with any of them. I wouldn't be a very popular person if I trampled somebody's stuff. Any little thing will cause a fight nowadays. We're stacked on top of each other in here. Chickens in a slaughterhouse cage. I learnt that it's easy to lose yer temper here, even if we do love each other, when I woke up durin' the first night. Glenn was apparently muttering in his sleep, sum' about, No, please, this is all I have, before T-Dog shook him awake with a pair of angry hands, growling at him to, Shut the fuck up. Nobody slept after that, but nobody ever really sleeps.

Mouse sniffs around the many makeshift beds, his tail beating back and forth against his muscly legs.

I already know how to study somebody's face to see which side of them I'm getting that day. I did it with Merle all the time. I knew the exact angle of his brow when he was drunk, about to start plottin' murder and makin' loud phone calls to people that owed him whatever it was he got scammed outta that week, the exact angle when he was gettin' mad, when he was asleep, or high, or both.

It's a talent to read closed books. Living like this for so long, I ain't the only one good at it, no more.

'Hey,' I wave to Lori. She's sat against the wall, wrapped in blankets. Not angry today. Safe to talk. 'We found a dog.'

Her bleary eyes widen.

Mouse plods up to the table, where Herschel and Carl are sitting. It's like they think he's a baby polar bear at first, but they soon realize it's safe. He soaks up their attention before slipping through their legs and approaching us, expecting some from Lori, too. 

Cautious not to lose her fingers, she sneaks a hand out from under her many layers, stroking Mouse's long snout.

A smile graces her pale lips.

'Where did you find him?', Herschel signs to me, his veiny hands moving fast and precise, 'cause he's the best outta all'us. It ain't all that fair, since I'm the deaf one and all, but this old man has known sign language longer than I've even been alive. 

'At the fence.' I answer, watching Carl stand from his seat and join his Momma on the floor, reaching out to pet the dog with her. I stare at the top of his head, tryna remember the last time we spoke. When I look back up at Herschel, I add, 'I was playing.'

'Have you named him, yet?'

Nodding, I make the sign. 'Mouse.'

'Mister Mouse.' He chuckles heartily, reminding me of Santa Claus. It's dim in here from the total lack of windows, but I can still see the way his cheeks crinkle around a mellow smile. I can always count on Herschel to make me feel like there's bread baking in the other room and I can smell it and everything is going to be okay. 'I'm sure he would love to play with you sometime.'

I return his smile, suddenly craving warm bread. 'I hope so. Tyres are bad at soccer.'

'Goodness. I'm sure.'

Calling Mouse over with a few kissy sounds, the two of us duck back under the doors in search of the soccer ball.

'Hey. Watch this.'

'We're watching.'

At the thumbs up Glenn sends me, I turn, focusing on holding the soccer ball in front of me. One, two, three. I drop it onto the toe of my boot and give it a small kick. It flies. Mouse pounces on it like a cat with a ball of yarn, slipping and sending it rolling away.

We been practicing that move for ages.

Looking back at everyone, I notice that they're all clapping for us, cowering their faces into their poofy scarves.

'Did you see?', I ask, just to make sure.

Another thumbs up from Glenn. 'Very cool.'

It weren't very cool at all — In fact, it was total garbage — but it was fun putting on a show.

'Thanks.' As Mouse chases after the ball, I leave him be and return to the campfire. 'I'm so tired, now.'

I really shouldn't be. I'm only a kid, and kids are supposed to have a lot of energy. I'm sure of it, since our neighbour Betty used to complain to Dad about her boy havin' too much of it whenever the two of 'em smoked together on our porch after work. His eyes would droop like a slow-blinking frog's whenever he got back from the mechanic shop, sometimes sleeping for a whole day, even at the dining table, while he was halfway through a meal. All the adults I knew were tired, but not like this. We's starving; hollow.

I'm jealous of my past self, who used to be able to play soccer for hours on end.

Maggie sends me a sad smile. 'Me, too, honey.'

'Sorry,' Glenn signs to me, 'cause he always says that. 'Come rest. It's warm here.'

'Can I sit next to you?', I ask T-Dog, pointing to the empty seat between him and Glenn.

Like the others, there's two moon-shaped craters hanging below his eyes, bruised an ugly purple against the brown of his skin. The man sends me a deadpan look, as if the cold's gone to my brain. 'No,' Then, sassily; 'Of course you can.'

Rolling my eyes at his attitude, I sit down and lay my head against the canvas backing.

My bones have been replaced with rope, loose and heavy.

I know we're gonna be leaving soon.

That pensive look on Rick's face is easy to recognise, even if he tries hiding it behind his scarf as he stands watch.

According to the map, there ain't no drug stores or doctor's offices for nearly five miles around us, and we're gonna need one. The medicine, what little we'd scrounged up, has ran out. Lori ain't suffering anything worse than a sniffly nose and a cough, but out here, — In the snow and the wind and the rain, with nothin' but a flimsy bitta metal to shelter us from it all — Well, we all know. I asked Dad if the baby in her belly could get sick, too, and all he told me was that none of this is ideal. I understood. When things ain't ideal, people die.

That place Rick was talkin' about, the one that we can fortify and make a life for ourselves in, it's still out there somewhere. He lectures us about it so often it's as if he can't think about anything else, a dog with a bone dangling just in front of his nose.

I bet there's lots of food and medicine there. And even beds. Proper beds, with mattresses and everything.

Maybe even a little mat for Mouse.

Yeah. That would be ideal.

Nobody would die in a place like that.

I tear my gaze from Rick, turning it onto the one big cloud in the sky.

I still think about Shane, sometimes. It comes and goes. Most of the time, he's alive. We're sitting at the picnic table back on the farm, coloring a meadow of flowers together, and then there's an ebbing swash of time where something inside me hurts real bad like I've been shot, and then he's holding my hand in a forest because I'm scared. I'm showing him the frog I've caught, mirroring his grin.

Suddenly, none of the muscles in his face are working and he's looking at me with milky eyes.

I don't wanna shoot him.

Bringing my hand up to my locket, I squeeze the thousand-pound weight between my fingers.

The spot he's taken up in my brain was supposed to be mine, and so was Momma's, and Merle's, and everyone else's.

Even in death, as Andrea said, He's still a fucking asshole.

I wonder if she's still alive.

A girl went missing from our town, once. My Daddy was in the kitchen washing dishes while I watched her Momma cry on TV.

I didn't know Andrea too well, so all my tears are staying inside my face for now. It's not like it was with Sophia. No, we packed into our cars and we fucked off North to a place called Newnan, leaving everything, including her and any chance of finding her, behind.

A bit stupidly, I hope the cows made it out alright.

Then, a hand is waving over the sun.

Lifting my head, I realize it's Dad trying to get my attention.

'How are you?', he signs as I stuff the locket under my sweatshirt.

'Hungry. Tired.' The usual answer; then, 'Everything okay?'

'Yeah. Taking a break.'

'I think Rick wants to leave.'

As Dad eases himself onto the crate beside me, he sneaks a glance at him. 'He does. We were talking.'

The others must be reading our signs, 'cause Maggie butts in, talking with Dad for a minute. I wait 'til they're done.

'We need medicine,' I comment quite uselessly when his attention is back on me.

'That's right. And better shelter. This place is shitty.'

'Do you want to leave?'

'I want you to be safe and happy. So, yes.'

'Are we walking again?'

He makes a face. 'No. We're riding bicycles.'

'Funny, Dad.'

'He wants to head East. The next town is close. Nine miles. There's a hospital there. Might have medicine.' His hands slow down. They hover, unsure. When he picks one back up, he finger-spells the word, 'S-h-a-r-p-s-b-u-r-g.'

The blood in my neck rushes up into my cheeks, and for just a moment, I'm warm.

I wonder if her house still looks the same. With the gravel path leadin' up to the porch, lined with weeds before any of this even began. My bike chained to the wire fence, asking itself where the little girl that loves it has gone as it grows rustier every weekend that passes. The grass was always scratching my knees, wild and forgotten, a bit like me. We made the most of what we had.

I hope the mirror in her bedroom is broke. I hope the kitchen is rotted; loungeroom filthy.

It don't deserve to be the way it was before, 'cause ain't nothin' the way it was before. That was for us.

Dad is waiting for me to say something, but I got nothin'.

Being that close to that house again might just make me start believing' in ghosts, but we need to do it. For Lori.

'No choice.' I sign, plain and simple. 'We need to go.'

He studies me for a moment, torn on something, before nodding and rubbing his fist over his heart. 'Sorry.'

I shrug, playing with the pebbles of lint on my mittens.

I think about Momma, too. She weren't all that different from Shane, especially not in the end. Both were sick, but not in the way that Lori is sick, not with germs. Even now, I don't quite know if it'd be worse knowin' whether or not she turned and lost her mind one last time. At least in the picture in my locket, she ain't ever gonna turn. I'll keep her safe from everythin' outside her little bronze door.

'Forget about that.' Dad waves off the imaginary town, sneering. 'I'm going hunting. You coming?' 

I hear that right? Hunting?

All the rabbits are hiding at the bottom of their burrows at this time of year, the squirrels either dead or holed away. Even my Dad, the best hunter and tracker I know, who can shoot a field mouse out a tree, ain't been able to catch nothin' in this weather.

'You tried,' I remind him. 'Many, many times.'

'I know. But,' He nods over his shoulder, where Mouse is rolling around in the snow. 'Now we have help.'

Mouse. Of course.

Our last chance at catchin' a proper meal.

He reminds me of Tank a lil' bit, but smaller, whiter; with all four legs.

I'm willing to give it a chance. 'Okay. I'll come.'

Since we started to catch onto the fact that the cold slows the walkers down, we all been allowed out more.

A pat on my knee. 'Good girl. Let's go.'

He asks Glenn if he wants to come as well, and 'cause he got nothin' better to do and we make a good team, he agrees.

I'm inside a giant snow globe, waiting for the glass to break.

It was about a month ago now that I woke up one morning with my head in my hands, holed up in a gas station, crying snot and tears and dribble 'cause the ringing in my ear had turned unbearable. I didn't believe Herschel at first. My hearing couldn't deteriorate. I didn't even know what that word meant. But no matter what words I did or didn't know, their voices kept getting foggier and the ringing kept getting louder, until one day there was a pop beside my brain, a burst of pain, and then the world went silent. And then I believed him.

I was scared, at first. How could I hear a walker comin', now? Would I never hear my Dad say, I love you, again?

But it didn't take long for us to learn enough sign language to talk to each other, I love you, included. Nothin' would've stopped us. Maggie found a little ASL guidebook with pictures in it while we were passin' through a library. Go, Be quiet, Hide, Run, were the first words Dad made sure I knew. Good morning, Goodnight, and all the other things I'd wanna say. Thank you. Have mine. Fuck off.

Even now, whenever I wake up during the night, I always find one person studying the book, pages cradled by a flashlight.

As the three of us follow after Mouse, snow drifts through the thicket of naked branches like ash, catching winks of sunlight before they kiss the ground. It's hard to feel like I've lost anything when it snows. It's one thing that's always been silent. So have ripples in water, or a smile on a loved one's lips. I've made a place for myself in the silence, and I fit well here. Nobody else is allowed in my snow globe.

Glenn squeezes my mittened hand as I'm watching the falling snow, pulling my gaze up to his face.

With his free hand, he signs, 'Ringing?'

I shrug one shoulder, pinching my fingers. 'A little.'

It never really goes away. It's the one last thing I can hear, but I tune it out.

He attempts a smile, the curve of his cheekbones a raw shade of pink. 'Sorry.'

I always feel guilty when I have to answer that question. I'on know why. It ain't my fault.

'You always say sorry.'

'Sorry.'

Holding back a smile of my own, a real one, I ignore him in favor of watching the snow again.

The memory of that morning we had on the roof of the RV swells in front of me now, pretty and sun-colored, a cherry on my tongue. It was the mornin' after we found out I wasn't dying. I had a life. I had a chance to live it just like everybody else. Equals. Whenever I look at Glenn, I remember that morning. Happy and alive, with a group of our own. A friend. The first one in a long, long time.

When it's just the three of us like this, I always feel like I'm betraying Merle. It's a slimy feeling, one I force myself to swallow it down each time, but I ain't done nothin' wrong. I ain't replaced him on purpose. If I lie, I can say I ain't replaced him at all.

The worst part about it is that Glenn fits better into the void Merle left behind than Merle himself ever did.

My thoughts are interrupted when Dad puts an arm out in front of us.

I jolt, following his gaze.

Ahead of us, Mouse furiously investigates along an invisible trail at the end of his nose. He, too, goes still all at once. He's found something. We watch him square up with a lump in the snow, his tail an exclamation mark. Then there's a rabbit, a bite, a struggle. I squeeze Glenn as snow goes flying. Dad lifts his crossbow. A single bolt is released, and the rabbit is pinned to the ground by its heart.

It twitches around the bolt once, twice, tryna run away like all rabbits do, and then it goes limp.

That's our first kill in weeks.

'Dinner!', I exclaim to Glenn with both my hands, as Dad moves to pluck the bolt out, shaking off the snow.

A long, fat rabbit.

Dad was right. Mouse done spoiled us. Him bein' such a great hunter must be how he's survived this long. Everybody's got a reason. Mine is that I have people who love me, both dead and alive, who have fought tooth and nail to protect me every day.

Dad slings the rabbit over his shoulder, gesturing onwards. 'Let's keep going.'

Taking Glenn's hand again, I have a thought. 'Is his name Rabbit, now?'

He shakes his head, no, both of us falling into step with Dad and Mouse. 'It's Mini Daryl.'

Pssh. Whatever. 'Bad name.'

'Great name.'

I point side-long at Dad, as if saying, Go on, then. Tell him.

He cringes. 'No, thanks.'

'See? Bad name.'

'Are you bullying me?'

'Yep.'

Unamused, Dad gives us a look. 'I'm not blind. I can see your hands.' A pause; glance. 'She's right. Bad name.'

Like I always do when I'm giggling around Dad and Glenn, I say a silent, Sorry, Merle, because he's always been inside my head.

By the time we're walking back through the car yard gate, Mouse has caught us three more rabbits.

Beth's jaw drops.

'Dinner!', I sign to her, grinning, turning to sign the same thing to T and Rick who are stood on watch, their eyes going wide when they notice the bounty. I duck under the shutters and sign it to everyone else huddled in the garage, too. 'Dinner! Come on!'

They follow me out to the campfire, not wasting any time skewerin' and roasting the rabbits as the sun begins setting.

'Well done,' Maggie signs to the three of us, thoroughly impressed.

Dad nods to Mouse, as if to say, Thank him.

Thanks, Mouse, Everyone obliges, and even though he don't understand Human, he still grins his silly, gummy grin. I take a seat next to Dad on the wooden pallet, basking in the delicious smell of bubbling fat and the sight of my smiling family.

The moon is waning over our heads like a pretty marble, passin' through the stars, as we slurp up our greasy, mouth-watering rabbit meat. Even Lori has come out of hiding to enjoy the meal, her thin body curled up next to Rick in the broken car seats, shivering as she nibbles a meaty thigh. There's a bump under her blankets, right on top of her belly, that makes it look a bit like she's hiding my soccer ball under there. Really, it's the baby. Some nights, she lets me put my cheek to it so I can feel the heartbeat from the outside. It freaked me out at first. It's like she swallowed an alien. There's a tiny human in there, separated by only a few layers of skin. I hope it likes rabbit.

I know she needed this. I think we're all relieved to see her eating a good meal after all this time, something fatty and heavy, something to fill out her caved-in cheeks. If we're gonna leave for Sharpsburg at some stage, she'll need the energy. We all will.

Carol says that if it don't come out early, the baby's gonna be born in Spring. I've always thought of the seasons as a clock for huntin', just like my Daddy does. Summer's when all the coyotes come out, and you can stay out late 'cause the sun don't go down 'til after dinnertime. In Fall, the migratory birds start to fly over Georgia to reach warmer places further South. I've always liked watching the V shapes glide across the sky, wishing I could grow a pair of wings and join 'em up there. Spring is baby season. When everything gets born again, from the grass under the mud to the leaves inside the trees to the baby deer, called calves, inside they Momma's bellies.

Babies are good at bein' born in Spring, I told Carol when I could see a tick of worry in her brow, especially after Carl brought up naming the baby Sophia again, You'd think they's dumb, since they's babies an' all, but they know.

I's talkin' outta my ass a lil' bit, 'cause I was a baby once and I was born in Summer, but it made her feel better.

And then there's Winter. Everything's dead in Winter, except for the things that know how to hide.

Swallowing a juicy bite of rabbit, I glance at Mouse.

He lays at my Dad's boots in the snow, both of 'em gnawing away at their scraps of meat like long-time buddies.

Sucking the meat off the warm bone in my hand, I click my fingers to get the dog's attention. He perks up, craning his neck to look at me, his eyes bulging as I toss the bone in his direction as thanks. He catches it midair, crushing it between his teeth.

When my gaze meets Dad's, he gives me a thumbs up and a questioning look. 'Tasty?'

I nod, my own greasy thumb glistening in the light of the fire as I give him one back.

His lip twitches upward, as if he's about to smile, but then he remembers something. 'We're talking about leaving.'

Looking around, I see the whole group deep in conversation as they eat.

'What they saying?'

'Glenn thinks we should stay. He goes to Sharpsburg with T-Dog and they come back with medicine.' He tells me. 'But we can't split up. Dangerous. Could get lost. And we can't stay here. Cold. Not secure. Both; too risky.'

'So we all go.'

He nods, with not much else to say. We all go. 'We leave tomorrow.'

I don't remember voting for that decision, but things ain't worked like that in a long time.

Nine miles. That would be nothin' if we were a flock of birds. Birds can fly twenty-five miles an hour, don'cha know. I know lots of animal facts like that one. Whenever I can't sleep, I try and see how many I can remember until I'm blinking myself awake and the sun is rising. But we ain't birds, and we ain't even got the cars no more. I'on know how fast humans walk, but I guess I'll find out.

Pushing away my thoughts, I sign, 'It's kinda funny. We're surrounded by cars and none of them work.'

'This place is shitty,' He says for a second time, agreeing.

As we make our way through the meal, Dad, Glenn, and T-Dog keep forcin' their food into my hands. They act as if they can't see my signs telling them to save it for themselves, 'cause they're a bunch of assholes. I give up on changing their minds after a while, 'cause I've learnt it never works. Rick and Maggie do the same to Carl, Lori, and Herschel. We're all just a bunch of assholes who love each other.

That night, it's the same routine. Pull down the shutter doors. Tie a shirt through the padlock loop. Switch on the lamps.

I get comfortable in my pile of blankets that I share with Dad, digging through our bag. Wind rattles the garage walls, bullets of rain and hail battering the thin metal. For once, the rumbling of my stomach ain't here to join 'em. I pull out my journal and pencil, starting my ritual of shaving the wood away from the lead using Merle's knife, dwindling it down to the size of a used cigarette. Blowing the dust off, I sheathe my blade and flip to a page I can write on. Ain't no blank ones left, but I can squeeze what I wanna say into the gaps.

As everyone lays down, they keep clutching at their bellies like Lori does all the time, stuffed full of dinner.

Hello, diry, I write, 'cause Lori taught me how, Today was a grat day.

Mouse comes and inspects our blankets before plopping himself down next to me, resting his chin on his paws.

We faund a dog. I named him Mows becoz he kils mise and he is cyut. He caut for rabbits for us. He is my frend.

Dad lays down on my other side, giving my arm a squeeze and closing his eyes.

We are leeving again tomoro. Dad spelt it, Sharpsburg. My Muma uset to live ther but she is ded now. I wont to leev but also I dont. Im a bit scered. Dont tell nobode. At leest we are leeving the car yard befor it gets the chans to kil one of us.

As olways, Rest in peece, M, T, A, M, O, S, S, J, J, P.

I snap the book shut and place it back into the bag, zipping it up and rolling onto my back.

Dad throws a blanket over me as the wind blows in through the slash in the wall, pulling me into him with a strong arm.

Somebody clicks off the last lamp.

Squirrels can jump ten times their body length, I think to myself, focusing on the beat of Dad's heart and the warm weight of Mouse slumped against my legs, before I'm opening my eyes again and there's a band of cool sunlight on my face.

I watch a bird fly past the gap.

We never stay in one place for long.

I hover near the gate along with the rest of the group, clutching the straps of my backpack.

Lori got worse overnight.

I'm looking at her right now, as Rick peels off his coat and wraps it around her. Her face; it's paler than the snow, her nostrils two rings of puffy, red skin, leaking snot onto her lip. She wipes it away, fingers shaking. I almost want to tell Rick to call this whole thing off, but that would be stupid. The sky's cleared up some, making way for the sun. If we don't go now, we'll be stuck here forever.

Threading the last button through the loop, Rick turns and rallies all of us to follow him outta the car yard.

We file out into the open, a trail of footsteps carving a line through the snow.

Rick takes up the front of the line. Dad, the back. When wolves travel in packs, the two strongest of the group do this, too. This way, one can flatten the terrain for everyone else, while the other can keep an eye out, make sure nobody falls behind. That's why I'm in the middle, trailing behind Lori, Carl, and Herschel. We're the smallest and the weakest and the sickest, but I can still trace the treeline with my gaze and watch for danger, grabbing for the hilt of my knife every time a shrub shivers in the wind.

Mouse walks alongside us as we journey, 'cause I think he's decided he doesn't wanna be alone, anymore.

With every step I take, I find myself missing Dad's truck more and more. I know it was just a hunk of old, blue metal on two pairs of wheels, but it's still gone, and I still miss it like I'd miss a person. It's true that it'd been through its fair share of bumpy rides through the forest and countless tyre changes, but ain't nothin' short of an army tank would'a made it outta what happened to it in the end. They came out of nowhere, is how T tells it. We were cruising along the streets of a small town when a group of people jumped us. Way I tell it, they came out from behind some cars that were spilled out across the sidewalks. A gunshot. We veered, straight into the window of a store.

Dad and Rick killed those ones, too. Four people; two men, a woman, and a sorta-kid — A teenager.

I remember the boy's face. Caramel-colored with a nose that looked like a bird's beak, maybe a few years older than my cousin, Tobias, but people always said he had a baby's face. I couldn't figure out if they deserved it. They'd tried to rob us, a small group with two kids and a pregnant woman; our medicine, blankets, water. But back in the beginning, Dad and Merle did the same thing to other groups. Lone cars on the highway, pairs of people as they walked, sleeping camps. It was awful, but it was how we stayed alive.

There was this one night that Dad asked Merle if they should stop while he thought I was asleep.

We're doin' it for her, was all my Uncle had to say.

Every bad person I ever met probably had somebody they was doin' it for.

Their blood pooled onto the tarmac as our blue truck smoked, wedged between a scattering of debris and rubble. The men tried pushing it free for over an hour, but it was stuck there, well and truly. Eventually, we accepted we had to leave it behind.

After that, Rick's truck shut off one afternoon and refused to turn back on no matter what Glenn did to it.

We couldn't all fit into the grey car, or onto the back of Dad's motorbike, so that's how we were left with nothing.

Still, Dad swears up and down he's gonna go back for his bike as soon as he can, soon as we're settled someplace proper. He hid it real good and took the cylinder head with him, so there's a very good chance ain't nobody nabbing it before he can get back there. My Dad's a smartass like that. I think he'd sooner pull all his teeth out 'fore he lets somebody else have his precious bike.

On a little street sign just ahead of us that reads, Poplar, a tiny bird perches.

It chirps and flies off when we get close.

Poplar Street. Two miles down.

Herschel looks at me over his shoulder, his brows made even fluffier than usual by the snow that's gathered on them.

'Doing well?', He asks.

I nod, yes. My feet are achin', but I'm sure I ain't the only one. 'You? I have water if you need.'

'That's okay, sweetie. I'm not thirsty.'

I give him a bit of a stern look, one that Rick would be proud of, but he just turns to face forward again.

Hmph. I'm suddenly appreciating how the others must feel when I refuse their food. 

Glancing behind me, I extend the offer to Carl and Lori. When they accept — Well. When Carl accepts and forces Lori to do the same, — Dad alerts Rick, and guides us off the road, into a little eating area beside a kiosk station to take a break. I drop my backpack onto the seat of a wooden table and pull out my bottle of water. Lori and Carl sit down as I unscrew the cap and hand it to them, waiting for Carl to take a small sip first, holding it to his Momma's cracked lips after. Her neck gulps twice before he passes it back to me.

Most everyone else settles down at the other tables, catching their breaths.

Dad approaches the three of us. He points at the bottle with a no-nonsense expression. 'Drink that.'

I'm about to stash it, but do as he says. I am a little thirsty.

'How are you?'

'I'm okay.' I zip the empty bottle away. 'My feet hurt.'

'You can handle it.'

I nod. I can. 'You?'

'Feet hurt.'

'You can handle it.'

He huffs a chuckle. 'Don't be smart. I'm going to check the—.'

I follow his gesture over to the kiosk, nodding and taking the seat next to Carl.

The boy glances at me a couple times, as if it's hard to look at me, like how it's hard to look at the sun for too long before you start seein' shapes. He awkwardly points at my bag. Huh? He touches his fingers to his freckled chin, swiping forwards.

'Thank you.'

He knows how to sign?

All this time, I ain't seen him pick up the guidebook even once.

I ain't sure what to say, so I just nod until he looks away again, and then we're both just watching Mouse sniff the ground.

Boy, do the two of us know how to hold a grudge. Ever since our squabble that afternoon before Dale died, we been holdin' so tight onto 'em we ain't even know what to do with 'em anymore. You're a stupid baby, Harley. I hate your guts, Carl. I'm glad you're not my sister. I'm glad you ain't my brother. Stupid. That was months ago, now, and I might still be a stupid baby — I'll give him that — but I don't hate his guts. I just hate sayin' sorry. My teachers used to say bein' able to apologise is a life skill, but I never saw how it keeps ya alive.

Mustering up the courage to give it a go anyway, I sign to him, 'Back on the farm. I was just—.'

Wait. He's looking at me all confused. He don't understand.

I deflate, embarrassed. Never mind.

'Are you okay?', Beth signs to me from the other table.

'Yeah... My feet hurt.'

'Mine, too.' She sighs wistfully, her blonde hair flying around in the wind. 'We need a massage.'

It forces a giggle outta me. She makes me feel like such a girl, sometimes.

When Dad comes back, T-Dog in tow, it doesn't look like they found much in the way of food or water — Just what looks like a crumpled granola bar and a couple newspapers that we could prolly use to make a fire. Mysterious Infection Hits France, is one of their headlines, not even worthy of a bold font. Dad stuffs the little bar into Lori's coat pocket before he helps her stand from the bench, gently passing her off to Rick. He runs a hand up and down his wife's back, murmuring to her as I sling my backpack on and get to my feet.

I'm okay, I think she's assuring him, trying to brush him off.

Maggie shares a worried glance with Carol, then with Dad.

Before I know it, I'm walking over Rick's footprints again.

There's the river.

I saw it on the map, but it's bigger in person. It's not just a white strip of ink bent around laddering terrain lines. It's a flat, blue sheet of ice wedged between two frozen shorelines, snow scuffing over its surface as the wind pushes it around.

Like I said, I saw it on the map. That's why I know the only road that passes over it is miles away.

We're gonna have to cross it on foot.

'We need to be careful,' Rick turns to address us. He makes sure to sign as he speaks, very obviously struggling to match the volume of the wind. 'I'll go first. Make sure it's safe. Then, Harley, Lori, Carl, and Herschel. Then, the rest.'

There's no option for any of us to dispute the plan, so he goes ahead and nods to himself, sighing and turning toward the thick bank of snow. This is what Rick does. He risks his life, risks falling into rivers and freezing to death, 'cause he's got a few screws lose and he's brave, and some months ago, on the side of the road after our home burnt down, he told us, This isn't a democracy, anymore. I grab onto Dad's hand, squeezing it like a stress ball at the doctor's office before they stick the needle in ya arm, as our leader surfs down the hill.

Fringes of snow break off and roll down as he goes, eventually landing at the bottom.

Okay, I think I can see him mouthing to himself, Okay.

He takes his first step. He holds his arms out on either side of himself. Another step. Another; delicate, as if he's testing out whether or not he's gonna burn his feet, learning he won't, and then doing it all over again with the other foot.

When he reaches the other side, he pulls himself up onto the shelf of snow.

He plops onto his ass.

He made it.

When he realizes this, he raises his hand and waves us over.

I take a deep breath.

Harley, Lori, Carl, and Herschel, is what he said. Harley. I'm next.

'Go slow,' Dad signs to me, looking at me in a very serious way. 'Don't walk exactly where Rick walked. It could break.'

I nod, repeating his instructions in my head as I let go of his hand, forcing myself to approach the ledge.

Sitting down and sliding all the way to the bottom, I push myself to my feet, staring out onto the ice.

Oh, shit.

I swear it ain't look this far from up there.

'It's okay,' Rick's signing to me from across the river. 'You're light. You won't fall.'

'You promise?'

'I promise.'

Okay. Okay, I can do this.

I take my first step. Shit, it's slippery. I almost lose my balance, catching it right at the last moment. My gaze snaps back up to Rick. It's okay, He signs again. I look over my shoulder, where up on the hill, Dad signs the same thing. It's okay. It's like a tight rope. Taking care to mind the puddles of sleet sitting on the ice, I walk the rope one step at a time, water rushing underneath my boots.

When I'm close enough, Rick braces himself on one leg and reaches down for me, hooking his hands under my armpits. He lifts me onto the shelf of snow, setting me down beside him. I clutch his arms, my legs shaking. Oh, solid ground. It's never felt better.

Well done, He mouths, giving both my shoulders a firm squeeze before letting go.

Looking back at the other shoreline, I see a small Glenn and Maggie both sending me thumbs' ups.

'Proud of you, baby,' Dad is signing beside them, as Carol cups her own cheeks, relieved.

'I made it,' I reply, heart pounding.

'Yeah, you did. With sore feet, too.'

I wish I could let out a laugh, but I can't. Not yet.

Lori is next.

Lori, sick and frail, with the baby in her belly.

T-Dog slides down first and catches her when she reaches the bottom, holding her hands to steady her. She carefully steps onto the ice, alone. Her fingers leave T-Dog's. She's so skinny these days, I'm worried the wind might just knock her over. I feel Rick tense against me. Slowly, and cradling her belly, she ventures further out. There's a moment or two I think she might trip, but she makes it.

Rick pulls her up, and then it's Carl's turn; then Herschel's.

The four of us help the old man climb up onto the bank. The worst of it is over.

We wait for everybody else to cross. Glenn and Maggie set out next, keeping a good distance between them the whole way, before Beth makes her way down behind them, doing the same. Everyone calls out encouragement and praise, egging them on. One by one, we work together to pull them up. Glenn. Then, Maggie. Beth, who's shaking like a little lamb. And Mouse, who don't even need our help.

As Rick and Maggie pull Beth up, the last ones to begin their crossing are Dad, T-Dog, and Carol.

They're halfway across when Mouse starts barking.

A head appears over the hill behind them. Shoulders. A fleshy ribcage. It's a walker. An actual walker. It don't know where its goin', blindly trudging forward, skirting the ledge. It's gonna fall down. Everyone realizes this at the same time, suddenly pointing and shouting things. The three of them stop in their tracks. They turn to look behind them, just as the thing takes its next and final step. With no more ground to stand on, it falls head-first into the slope, tumbling, once, twice. It smacks into the ice, a cannon ball of limbs.

A line as thin as a hair shoots out from under its body.

A crack. The ice is cracking.

My body lurches as if I'm about to do something, about to climb down there and help, but we can't.

The only way we can help them is by staying off the ice.

The line grows longer and longer. It's under Dad's boot before he can even take a step. His chest heaves, staring down at it. Carol and T-Dog linger nearby, terrified, as if any flinch or gasp from them will send them all under. He pulls his crossbow off his shoulder. I'm not sure if he's about to shoot the walker, or maybe ditch the bow to lessen his bodyweight, but he don't get to do either.

His leg goes straight through the ice.

He falls onto his forearms. His weight splits the line into three; snaps the surface into pieces.

SPLASH.

Both he and Carol are suddenly neck-deep in the water.

I think I squeal a little bit, 'cause I feel it in my throat.

The walker lifts its head.

T-Dog looks back at us, shouting and holding his hand out. He wants something. Rick catches his meanin', unholstering his pistol and rearing it back, hurling it as far as he can over the river. T-Dog told us he used to be the best player on his baseball team in high school, so he catches it with one hand, pulling the slide back to check the chamber. I guess we can stop callin' him a liar, now.

The walker drags itself forward, clawing marks into the ice.

Dad reaches under the water, teeth bared, face scrunched, hauling his crossbow out and slinging it across the ice.

It spins across the slippery surface, coming to an eventual stop someplace that don't matter anybody.

T-Dog raises the gun.

He pulls the trigger.

There's a flash of light, and at the same time, a spurt of black blood.

As soon as the walker is dead, he takes a step toward, but Dad shouts at him and he stops.

Water goes flying as he grabs for purchase, setting his elbow on the ice. He puts his weight on it. The ice crumbles like a cookie. He tries again, this time keeping his body as flat as he can, and manages to pull himself up onto his stomach.

I can only imagine how much it hurts, but he pushes through it, army-crawling over to Carol.

They lock hands.

With what little strength he has left, he drags her out, too, letting her collapse beside him.

They both lay there, the wind blowing over their bodies as they struggle to suck in a full breath, curled up like shrimps.

T-Dog wastes no time. He teeters and slips around on the sleet as he kneels, grabbing a fistful of their coats and pulling them further away from the broken ice. They're not moving. It's like they've turned into the frozen walkers, their joints all locked up from the cold, unable to hinge. T-Dog gets Carol to her feet first. As Rick, Glenn, and Maggie hurry down to the shoreline, I follow after them and grab onto Carol the moment she's within arm's reach. We all help pull her up, as T-Dog spins around, waddling back to Dad.

Carol's legs give out. Her body lands in the snow, her arms wrapping around her stomach.

Over her hip, I watch as T-Dog, strong as an ox, gets all one-hundred-and-ninety pounds of my Dad to his feet.

When they reach the bank, we all grab for him.

Even through the layers of fabric, I can feel the deadly cold seeped all the way through his skin. As we lay him in the snow, he winces, his hair frozen stiff and his cheekbones redder'un cherry popsicles. I cup them with my mittened hands, crouching at his side.

I'm grateful I can't hear any of the panicking around me.

I just hold him, waiting for him to open his eyes.

When he does, they're blue, like the river.

Then, Rick and Glenn are pulling him up. I give them space, letting 'em hook each of his arms around their shoulders. Maggie and Beth follow suit and with Carol, hugging their arms around her waist, frantically looking for direction from our leader. He points. We all follow his finger. There's a couple tiny buildings just up the road, not too far. That's where we're going. We need to get Dad and Carol warm. We start making our way over there without a second thought, bracing ourselves against the snow coming down on us, now.

We reach the yellow security barriers. Carl helps me force them upwards, letting everybody through. It looks like this place was a ticket and security checkpoint. There's two little booths, the windows smeared with old blood, and a bigger building in the middle. Rick kicks that one's door in, making way for us to spill inside the kitchen-sized room, as they set Dad down on a dirty bed in the corner.

The two girls gently lower Carol down next to him, helping her peel off her wet clothes.

Taking Dad's coat zipper in my fingers, I rip it all the way down and pull him out of it, quickly doing the same with his shirt.

Rick casts about. He spots a wastebin in the corner of the room and moves it to the middle, taking the newspapers that T-Dog is offering him from his backpack. Glenn passes him a lighter as he stuffs it down. Flick, flick. He cups it; holds it there.

It catches.

—hould be contained within a week, according to the French Health Ambas—, it reads, before curling around the flame.

As warmth begins to emanate, I move down to Dad's boots, unlacing them, tossing them away with his socks. He's left in just his jeans, with barely enough energy to hold his hands out to the steadily burning pages of the Washington Post.

Taking off my own coat and cuddling up to his side, I hope I can give him some of my body heat. I don't have much of it, but I don't need it all. I'm happy to share it. Already, he looks a little less awful just by being outta the wind. Carol has been stripped down to her bra and cargo pants, shivering as Maggie fits her into a spare sweatshirt. Pulling my beanie off, I fit it onto Dad's head. He looks silly. Shirtless with his edgy tattoos on display, wearing his daughter's pink hat. When Maggie passes me another sweatshirt, I help dress him in that, too.

As I work, T-Dog approaches us, setting the crossbow against the wall.

A pearl of water drips off the end of Dad's nose as the man leaves.

I study him, feeling guilty. 'I wanted to help.'

He frowns at me.

I add nothing more. There was nothing any of us could do, but I still wanted him to know.

Everyone finally settles around the tiny fire, absorbing every last ounce of heat it has to offer.

Rick signs to me, 'We can stay the night.'

'Thank you,' I nod.

As he moves his attention elsewhere, I sneak a glance at Lori.

She's coughing. A yellow glob falls into her hand, before she wipes it on some newspaper. I know that ain't good.

We stay like this for a while. The only way to tell that time is passing at all is every minute or so, when someone adds a fresh wad of newspaper to the fire to keep it alight. Paper burns fast, but it also creates a lotta smoke. We eventually have to open all the windows to let it out, which in turn lets the cold in, but our only other choice is to suffocate to death. Ain't nobody in the mood for that.

Once Dad and Carol have both fallen asleep, I take out the little ASL handbook from my bag, scooting back to sit against the wall. I might as well get some studyin' in, if we ain't leaving for a while. I rest it in the crook of my thighs, flipping to a dog-eared page.

To sign, IMAGINATION, it reads, Start by extending both pinkies.

The little hands in the picture look like they's holdin' invisible teacups, so copy them, and it's easy enough.

To sign, OPINION, the picture directly below it reads, Start by creating a circle shape with one hand.

A kick to the bed frame.

Startled, I look up at the attacker.

It's Carl.

He points to the empty spot next to me. I ain't got any real reason to decline, so I give a nod, making a little extra room for him as he settles down at my side, only to do nothin' but fiddle with his fingers in his lap. I can't ask him what he wants.

Suddenly, he takes the book from me, thumbing through the alphabetical section.

He stops when he reaches S, studying the first picture on the page.

To sign, SORRY, it reads, Start by forming a fist.

My eyes go wide, watching the boy do as it says. Place it over your heart, making a grinding motion. He glances at me, silently asking if he's doing it right. He's not, obviously. You ain't s'posed to leave a bruise. But I get the message loud and clear all the same. He's sorry. Maybe for calling me a stupid baby, or for telling me that even though I know what a chantrelle mushroom is and I can shoot a gun, I still ain't worth nothin' without somebody else around to watch out for me; him around. Or maybe just for what happened at the river.

Before I can decide which one it is, he gets to flippin' again, finding what he wants at E.

He blanches. Got more than he bargained for with this one.

Still, he gives it a go.

It's slightly wrong again, but there's only one sign I know that looks like that.

'Everything.'

He stares at me, boyishly unsure, not looking very much like his Dad anymore like he wishes he did.

You don't need to be sorry, I'd sign to him if he could understand, You were right. I do need help, sometimes.

'Me, too,' I sign instead, reaching over and flipping to the page with the same phrase, and signing it again.

He glances from my hands, to the page, back to my hands again. I'm sorry, too. I think that's all we need to say, but I'll still add this last bit on, anyway. Word by word, I use the book to translate. It's obvious we could use my diary and pencil to write messages to each other. It'd be easier, but easier don't feel right. Anybody can do that. It's only the special ones that will learn your language.

When the sentence is complete, I rest my hands in my lap, watching his face for a reaction.

'You're my brother.'

He's stunned for a moment, and it's a long moment.

But then there's a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Carl is my big brother, and that's just the way things is. It ain't my fault we're in this little family together, that we've seen people die together, been scared and hurt together, that he let me cry on his shoulder one night and never mentioned it again.

He consults the book one last time before lookin' me in the eye, signing back, 'You're my sister.'

Always have been.

When I jokingly flip to the page that reads, To sign, I LOVE YOU, he snaps the book closed. A genuinely disgusted expression plagues his face, looking like he's just eaten rotten broccoli. It makes me forget all about how cold I am as he gets up and walks away.

It's nighttime when I open my eyes.

Lifting my cheek from Dad's shoulder, a yawn parts my lips. The sight of the moon peeking over the windowsill greets me, glass pulsing a faint orange as the fire in the wastebin burns nearby. I can see Rick out there, hugging himself next to a little light.

Scooting off the mattress, the guidebook falls from my lap.

I pull on my socks and boots. I don't think I'll be able to get back to sleep, anyway.

I remember in the Winter, when it was time to get dressed for school and work, Dad used to lay our clothes over the electric heater that we always had plugged into our living room wall. We'd make a game of it, pretending we were cooking steaks over a grill while the sky turned from black to grey, to white, to blue. His boss at the mechanic's shop had him startin' his shifts at six in the morning, while Merle and everyone else in our trailer park was still asleep in their beds. It was unfair, but he always found ways to make sure I never found out.

Grabbing a stick of newspaper, I stand and tip-toe my way through everyone sleeping on the floor.

When I open the door, I shoulder myself into the cold and step out.

It closes behind me.

In the middle of the outstretched road, Rick sits with his back to everything, staring up at the stars.

I wonder if he's got a person up there, just like I do.

As I come to sit beside him, he lowers his gaze; regards me with an empty sort of look.

I don't mind it none, instead opting to study the creative setup in front of us. A metal cooking pot filled with damp sticks, a small flame flickering amongst the ash and dirt at the bottom. I take the paper in my lap and ball some up, tucking it into the pot.

'I thought you might be cold,' I explain as the flames grab onto it, growing larger. 'Your fire sucked.'

He doesn't smile; lips heavy, downturned.

I sign something else. 'Why are you out here?'

'Can't sleep.'

Well, I guessed that. 'Are you okay?'

A sigh leaves his body, sucked into the wind. He's not going to answer that. 'You should go inside.'

'I'm not tired.'

'Doesn't matter. Come on.' He moves as if to stand, holding a hand out for me to take, but I cross my arms over my chest and stay right where I am. He tries waiting me out, but it's useless. Settling down again, he hesitates before signing, 'Stubborn.'

Unfolding my arms, I finally get him to crack a smile as I sign, 'I know.'

It's wiped away when he flinches uncomfortably at something.

'Was there a noise?', I guess, confused.

The horizon gapes emptily at us from afar, a black stripe. I can't see anything unusual.

'Lori.' He supplies, defeated. 'She's coughing.'

A soft, oh, slips from my mouth.

'It's why I'm out here.'

The only thing I can think of to say is, 'She'll be okay.'

It's not much, but Rick still reaches out and takes my shoulder, attempting a smile before dropping his hand.

I'm on the side of the road again, the trees looming over me, tucked between old cobble walls as the farm sits some miles away, whatever that's left of it burning to a crisp. The door is there, is what he snarled at us. Let's see how far you get. The world was an open set of jaws in that moment. While I'm almost certain Dad and I would've made it, because like T says, we're cockroaches, I don't know for sure if the rest of the group would have, if Beth, Herschel, and Carol would have. We've been together since... Everything.

But I do know that we chose Rick, and he chose us. I would say it's like this thing called symbiosis, which I learnt about in second grade. But it's not. My teacher told us that without the egrets and the anemone and the sucker fish, the cattle and the clown fish and the sharks would die. They can't make it alone. But we ain't a family because we'd die otherwise.

We're family because Dale had this stupid old watch while he was still alive, and he said that despite everything, our paths aligned at the quarry all the same, and then I got scratched and a whole bunch of awful stuff happened, like explosions and gunshots and broken fences, and we blinked, and now we love each other so deeply we don't care if we could survive apart.

'You're doing a good job, Rick,' I sign.

It might be the fire, but his eyes go shiny afterwards. Yeah. I'll pretend it's the fire.

He got us to the CDC. Got us out. Killed Sophia. Jim. His best friend, just a few days later. Those four people on the road.

He touches his chin. 'Thank you.'

I can tell he doesn't believe me. M, T, A, M, O, S, S, J, J, P. I don't know how else to convince him. Maybe I can't.

Absentmindedly watching the fire dance, I clutch the locket through my sweatshirt.

'What is that?', Rick asks.

Thinking nothing of it, I pull the thing free, letting it sit against my sternum. 'Shane gave it to me.'

Something about Rick twists at the mention of Shane, making its way onto his face like a curling snake, a nasty scowl. He holds his hand out, wanting to hold it. A little unsure, I thread the chain over my head and carefully lay the pendant in his palm.

Bringing it closer to his lap, he glares down at the olive of metal as if it's his best friend reincarnated.

'When we were at the gas station,' I tell him, trying not to remember the blood, 'We argued. He gave it to me after.'

The BANG, the spike of blood, his arms shielding his face as he lay on the floor.

I think... I think I don't like this.

'Can I have it back now?'

His grip turns white.

Feeling a bit like I'm interrupting something that should be private, I don't bother asking again, just reaching ou—

My hand is knocked away. He rears his arm back — Oh, God. My heart, going cold as the snow. — and throws the locket into the fire. It disappears beneath the flames. I exclaim something, a half-word or maybe a shriek, like I've been burned at the same time as the brown thrasher and the photo of my Momma inside. My hands shoot out all on their own to grab for it, but I reel them back in.

I need to— I need to put the fire out. I've gotta smother it with something.

Frantically starting to scoop up handfuls of the snow around us, I think Rick realizes he's made a terrible mistake. He seems to wake up, pushing himself to his feet to try and help me save it, grabbing more, more, and more snow, dumping it onto the fire.

The light goes out all at once, smoke trailing up into the air, a dreadful, blackened smell.

He claws through the pot, wincing as he touches the metal, pulling out the locket.

When he thumbs the door open, the photo is nothing but a stain of soot.

I stand there, too big to fit inside my skin, my everything shaking with a different type of horror.

It's gone.

Rick stares at me, the smoke blowing past him.

My snow globe bulges in all directions like a pulsing heart, silent as ever. The door to the staff room opens over Rick's shoulder, my Dad hugging himself as he steps out. I was supposed to look after her. She was supposed to be safe in there. He's spewing apologies before my Dad even understands what's happened, but he catches on quick. The thing in his hand is my locket. It's ruined.

You did this?, I think he's needling him, or sum' like it. The Hell is wrong wit'chu?

Rick's shaking his head, cradling it like it's a pile of bones he can put back together. I'm sorry. I didn't know.

Just give it back!, I demand.

It's the first time I've tried to speak aloud since losing my hearing, the syllables an awkward tar in my teeth.

I snatch the locket from his grasp, giving the pot a hard kick before storming away.

SLAM.

It wakes everyone up, but I can apologise later, 'cause right now I'm throwing myself onto the mattress and pulling the blanket over my head, sealing myself away from them all. This ain't the farm. I can't just hide away in a tent somewhere, or take a breather in one of the paddocks. I'm stuck in this stuffy room, where I know I'm being stared at even through the blanket. I know how to ignore it.

The locket is a hot coal in my hands, illuminating the dark pocket as the last of the photo smoulders.

A long while passes.

Then, somebody's sittin' down next to me.

They don't move for a long while, just a comforting heat at my side.

Then they lift the blanket up, and it's Dad, pulling it over his head so we're both hiding under it.

'She's gone,' I fill him in before he can ask, just in case he ain't already know. For real, this time.

He saw. 'I know.'

'It was Rick.'

A pause. 'I know.'

'Did you punch him?'

'Did you want me to?'

I think about it for a moment, tracing the smear inside the locket door, before shaking my head. 'No.'

I know it's stupid. It's just a photo, but it was the only one I had. I won't be able to see her face whenever the feeling strikes anymore, or if I find myself missing her more than usual. I'm already committing the photo to memory so I don't forget her face.

'He said Shane gave it to you.' He signs, more of a musing than an accusation. 'I didn't know that.'

I never told him where I got the locket. It could've been from Beth, Maggie, Lori. Anyone but Shane.

No point lying, now. 'Well, now you do.'

'Why did you keep it?'

I don't know. 'I missed him.'

He fails to say anything for a minute or two, but then he picks his hands up again. 'Do you still miss him?'

You're allowed, Carl muttered into my shoulder that night.

'Yeah.'

'You know he was a piece of shit, don't you? '

I scoff through my nose. That ain't even the half of it. 'Yeah. I know.'

He eyes the locket, as if wanting to take it away from me.

My fingers curl around it protectively, holding it to my chest.

It's mine. He's gonna have to fight me for it.

He studies my face for a while, but we both know he's not gonna fight me. No. Instead, he pulls the blanket down, tucking it around my shoulders. I force out a sigh and rest my head on his chest, feeling him stroke his thumb up and down the slope of my cheek.

After the rest of the group see I'm more or less alright, they lay their heads back down.

The window sits there, pulsing orange.

Both the moon and Rick are exactly where they were before. He's back to consulting the stars, this time, without the light.

Author's Note.

So, I've obviously decided to spend a little more time with the group before we reach the prison. I'm anxious to get us to season three, but I just felt like there's some story beats left over from the farm that could use their own space. I hope you enjoyed it! :)

Heads up - You can expect only one more Winter chapter after this one.

Please let me know what you think of the new dialogue format, with everyone using sign language now. It's not permanent, seeing as Harley will have her hearing aids back once the weather gets warmer, but she's still 95% deaf and will rely on ASL most of the time.

It was a bit of a bold move to fully lean into Harley's disability, but in my opinion, it was the only natural progression. I did a bit of googling, and to the best of my knowledge, everything here is anatomically realistic and accurate. Oh, and so is all the ASL! :)

However, there isn't actually a river separating Newnan and Sharpsburg... Shhhh! ;)

One last thing. This story's playlist has gotten quite a lot bigger. Check it out!

I'll be working hard on the next chapter! Thanks for reading 💙

#twd #fanfic #the walking dead #daryl dixon #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon daughter #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #angst #rick grimes #glenn rhee

[rainyfestivalsweets]

Damm damm dam

So this month has been a set of trials &  tribulations of my good friends passed away. One of my old roomies actually.

That was incredibly upsetting. He was very young. He was only like 34 years old. His mama is absolutely upset.

I had known him for about ten years and unfortunately he was an alcoholic. His family does not have enough money to cremate him so I donated what I could.

 I had a couple bad Binge days and I had about a week where I didn't work out at all. I know I'm wearing higher than I was probably around 200. But everything still fits okay. I also had a bad period in there and some other c*** I'm just tired. I'm super tired of the s***** a** periods that I can't function for 3 whole f****** days. Good Lord I normally workout 2 hours a m************ day. Normally walking dogs is about a hour and, then I normally do a weight's class or a cardio session and these periods just continue to have me flat on my back, just exhausted beyond exhausted.

 I'm doing a lot better at not bringing Binge food into the house. So that's good, although, I kind of have to watch it because some things that I buy for mom are totally bingeable and and would be so easy to just cram it in. But I'm really trying to do better. Paying for coaching and all that. 

​I love CBD ❤️ but it makes me wanna eat.

​ I still eat so much 😩 

#healthy lifestyle #getting healthy #losing weight #healthy eating #healthy habits #fitblr #operation lose this gut #operationlosethisgut #weight loss #weight loss journey

[wrenrogue]

kuroken au where kuroo moves away for university in a different prefecture, far away from tokyo, far away from kenma and all his other friends. he does good, he genuinely does good, but despite everything he's still not good in new places. homesickness hits him really hard.

The first month or two of being away it was all very exciting, new things and places to explore and try out. Kuroo was loud and exuberant and he was eager to learn new things and make new friends. Kenma, in particular, would get the rundown at the end of the day of what he did.

kuroo makes some friends, he wouldn't say they were friend FRIENDS, but they were acquaintances nonetheless. They would ask him to hang out with him, and sometimes he would, but lately he would go home and do his own things instead, quiet things like watching kenma's streams, maybe watching old matches or being on call with yaku and kai.

"How are you?" he would ask and he'd get all his friends' excitement and when they asked him, "How are you?," he would pause, and think about it and go "I learned about hydrocarbon today, want a lecture?" and everyone would go "absolutely not" and that was that.

The truth was, kuroo was doing fine, but he also wasn't. After the high of change, came the plateau where he kept at his activities, did really well in his classes, but they weren't home enough. He started to miss people more, started to realize that maybe going too far was a bad idea. Maybe he should've stayed in tokyo, where everyone was, where kenma was.

He called Kenma everyday and asked about the team, he asked about his day and talked Kenma's ear off as Kenma played his games. But it wasn't the same, because Kuroo couldn't sit close to Kenma, he couldn't touch Kenma, he couldn't run his fingers through his hair or pinch his nose to annoy him. All he could do was miss those things and hope he had time to visit soon.

Missing people was common, but what Kuroo felt was probably worse, so he worked to keep his mind off of it and worked even harder to make sure the loneliness didn't break down everything he already achieved.

He worked until that's all he did, and forgot about lunch and dinner and even breakfast at times, until kenma would ask and he would lie and say "yes I did eat a good meal" and the good meal being just a banana with peanut butter for the day.

"you're okay, right?" kenma would ask sometimes. "you know you can tell me if something's bothering you," and kuroo would tell him he was just busy studying for a big test and it was stressful, nothing more.

"I love you" Kenma would tell him at the end of their call and Kuroo wished he was with him in person to say it back properly.

Sometimes his grandma would call and she'd tell him all about the neighborhood gossip and how she made his favorite meal that day and hopes he has time to visit soon so she can make it for him again soon. Kuroo would tell her he was swamped with work, but he'll try to make the time

Months into university, his grades were still fine. He spent all his time on them after all to make sure they didn't drop. He didn't want the loneliness to win, until he got a bad assignment score and he realized it had.

See homesickness can be tricky. It was okay to miss home, he knew this, it was fine. But sometimes homesickness can isolate even more than it already has. Kuroo doesn't realize this until he noticed the stacks of paper on his desk, he doesn't realize this until his college friends rarely ask him to go with them to places because he always declines anyway, he doesn't realize this until his bad assignment score stares back at him.

He knew he shouldn't have skipped a couple lectures, but the fatigue was too much, so he stayed in his apartment and now there were consequences. Kuroo figures he just needs to work harder, it's only thursday night, he can cram in some more studying in the library to relearn the material better.

He's about to head out when there's a knock on his door. He's not expecting anyone, so he finds it odd.

On the other side is Kenma, who immediately drags him into a hug before kuroo can voice his surprise. "you haven't answered my texts in a few days, you never do that. you always answer them, so I knew something was wrong," kenma later tells him as he poured kuroo a cup of soup.

Kenma apparently realized something was wrong a while ago, but it wasn't until he hadn't heard from Kuroo in 2 days that he decided it was time to do something about it. He had taken his mom's leftover soup in a thermos, packed his bag with his consoles and other essentials, told his parents to cover for him in school, and Taketora to save his homework and let the team know why he's away.

"a shinkansen ticket is very expensive, you didn't have to go this far me"

"i had the money, and I wanted to" kenma says, "you're worth coming this far"

kuroo doesn't know what to say, but he doesn't have to say anything, bc kenma knows kuroo, knows the kid he once was and currently is again. kenma sits next to him, digging through his bag for psp, "you don't have to tell me anything right now, just eat. I know you haven't yet"

the irony isn't lost on kuroo, but he eats his soup that kenma's mom had made him many times before, while kenma plays his games right next to him. It's familiar, it's home.

"so are you going to tell me what's wrong?" they're in a cuddle pile on kuroo's bed, kenma holding kuroo close, running his hands through his hair.

"nothing's wrong" kuroo mumbles against kenma's chest "just tired"

"tired is something wrong, why are you tired?"

"school"

"kuro, i'm serious" kenma pulls kuroo's hair to make the point even clearer

kuroo winces before relaxing again, "I know. I just- I just miss you. I miss everybody"

"you can always reach out to us"

"it's not the same"

"how so?"

"you're not close enough. I don't do well in new places, and you're not close enough"

"I know"

"no one's close enough"

"I know"

Kuroo's not sure when he started crying into kenma's sweater, but kenma only held him a little tighter, and kept his fingers in his hair.

"I feel bad that you're missing school right now."

kuroo had woken up the next morning to an empty bed, thinking kenma's presence was just a dream, until he heard the door open and the sound of plastic going into his kitchen, where he now sits as kenma hands him breakfast.

"mmm I got it covered" kenma kisses kuroo's forehead before he sits down across from him with his own bowl of egg over rice.

"you didn't have to do all this for me, it's a lot of work"

"I want to" kenma repeats what he's said before "you're worth the effort"

if there’s anything kuroo knows is that kenma doesn’t do things he doesn’t want to do. and as he watches his other half eat his breakfast like he’s currently not playing hooky and miles away from home, kuroo decides to believe him. “thank you”

kenma stays with kuroo the entire weekend. he wants to say he showed kenma everywhere around the city, but instead they spent most of it in kuroo’s little apartment cleaning it from clutter, restocking his kitchen and playing video games.

At times kuroo would tell Kenma that he didn’t need to help him clean his home, but his sweaty and out of breath boyfriend would tell him the same thing: “I want to.” So kuroo stopped protesting.

“I have to go back home tomorrow” kenma say sunday night while he holds kuroo once again

“I know,” kuroo holds him tighter

“I’ll come back though”

“it’s too far for you”

“then maybe you should visit too”

“I have a lot of work to do”

“kuro, you need breaks too, plus grandma wants to see you. I don’t want you to be lonely all the time. Let me help. Let grandma help”

kuroo snorts, “okay, I’ll visit”

“promise me you’ll visit next month?”

“I need to see my calendar first”

“If I give you a kiss will you promise me without looking at your calendar?”

“kenmaaa”

“please”

“since when are you like this?”

“since I fell in love with you”

“oh”

“yeah. so will you?”

“you just told me you’re in love with me, let me get my bearings first”

“tetsurou”

“okay, I promise. can I get my kiss now?”

“no you can’t”

“kyanmaaa, that means our deal is void and I have to check my calendar now”

“no you don’t”

“I do”

“you don’t”

“I do”

kenma doesn’t say anything and instead tilts kuroo’s head up and leans down to kiss him proper. “you don’t” he smiles against kuroo’s own smile. “so I’ll see you in a month?”

“yeah, hopefully”

“you promised”

“i know”

kenma squeezes kuroo’s hand; they’re at the train station, “I want you home soon. I don’t want you lonely”

“I miss you already”

“i know, but I’m here” kenma taps on kuroo’s chest, right over his heart “and I’ll always be here too”

“since when did you get so romantic?”

“since i fell in love with you, we talked about this”

“kenma you can’t just say that in public! how lewd of you”

“fine, I take it back then”

“now you’re just being mean”

“visit me and I’ll give it back”

“next month?”

“next month.”

kuroo goes home to an empty apartment, but it’s somehow less lonely. kenma left behind one of his consoles and a couple of his games so kuroo can play and then tell kenma all about it.

kuroo can’t say he’s magically better and he can't say he doesn’t miss kenma the minute he left or his people back home. loneliness is sticky and removing it takes work. Work kenma has started for him though by giving him something to look forward to. Work he'd like to continue.

He has class that afternoon, so he starts getting ready to head to campus. He finds a sticky note on his failed assignment that wasn’t there before. A note from kenma, that says “I’ll see you next month.” And kuroo’s knows that he will.

#kuroken #kuroo tetsurou #kozume kenma #meow #2022 #ficlet #tw depression #bruh why is this so long hsjjdas

[what-if-nct]

hi hi hi today's reminder is correct me if I'm wrong but taeil hasn't been on hiatus super long. it's been, what, a couple of months at most? it was a little bit before the concert if i remember correctly. so you're telling me that 127 (well…certain members, but my point stands) have been unemployed for Months, to the point where fans were begging sm to show us taeil, and they decided to shoot the promo material for the new 127 album while they were preparing for/actually performing a whole other concert instead of while they were free??? and made the staff pick/edit/draft the content on what I'm sure was an insane deadline?? like that's nine whole, very distinct, films, that would've taken ages. i don't pretend to be an expert on k pop idol scheduling but surely there's better ways to go about it

anyway. i love that they still included taeil while letting him heal up. the vibe of these have been all over the place tho because why is jaehyun negotiating a deal with a sophisticated mob boss while taeil is straight up being given drugs at a night club? why is jungwoo just playing games while doyoung is contemplating what went wrong in his marriage in front of a pet shop aquarium?

Hiii, yeah it seems like golden age teasers were done over at least the past year as they all traveled during tours and even sent someone to film Winwin during his personal schedules. So to cram 127s in the span of like two or three months was definitely a decision since they all vary quite greatly but perhaps because they're all just in Korea and seemingly the same area that could of helped but how they did it is a mystery to me as well. It was a nice way to include taeil while he's resting. And I so far deciphered two distinct vibes there's the somber, dark film vibe with Johnny, Yuta, Doyoung and Jaehyun then the more light hearted party vibe with Mark, Jungwoo and Taeyong. Haechan fits in with the light hearted part. And Taeil's a mix of the both but because it's an animation I can't quite feel the vibe as well. But it does fit 127s overall energy. And my best guess the theme is overall quite dark and grungy which like watch it be the exact opposite but somehow be about getting a blowjob behind a 7\11. Which Jungwoo, you know where to find me.

Also unrelated but skz VMAs talk once more but I was weary of the reactions to skz watching Megan and Cardi perform. Why? cause I know how kpop fans are. And I didn't care about their reactions but I was prepared to be angry at things that fans said and look at that I was right. And I just wanna say

one, they're grown ass men I highly doubt they haven't seen a Cardi b or Megan music video. We've seen NCT sing Megan, Cardi and Nicki songs. Kpop idols haven't been sheltered from the obscenity of female rappers chill.

Two Changbin and Hyunjin weren't looking away from Megan twerking they were watching Cardi walk over to the other stage. Just like they were watching Megan perform on that same stage for her verse.

Three they weren't fucking traumatized, they're not innocent babies being corrupted by the female body. Someone said the dancers were so sexualized they couldn't watch it. Use sexualized wrong again, I want a kpop fan to use sexualize the wrong way again.

The dancers, Cardi & Megan choose to dress and dance that way it's a choice. Was it my choice for my class to look up my skirt and the teacher not stop it or say a word or for boys to try to throw things in my cleavage when i was 14 was that my choice? No. There's a fucking difference. Not everything sexual is sexualized. Sometimes it's just sexy and that's okay. Women are allowed to express their sexuality. I'm sorry that just triggers something in me.

Anyway all of the negative things I see are definitely slightly if not blatantly anti black, sexist,infantalizing, and I've even seen fatphobia which....why the fuck? God forbid women have fat on their body. This may seem over dramatic but I will never forgive kpop fans for what they did to cupcakke so I am hyper vigilant and the hate kpop fans have toward black women is just so disgusting. But yeah how dare women dress and perform as they wish in an area where your precious innocent 21 to 25 year old men are and clearly there's no way they can enjoy such sexual performances. I wanted to call those fans very mean things but I will say. All fans over the age of 20 and with common sense are cool and I love you and are a good 68% of the fans the rest of y'all, just grow up.

[infrxred]

i don’t care what anyone says about it,

flowers for algernon by daniel keyes changed my brain chemistry at the age of 13 and i will never recover

(spoilers below the cut read the fucking book NOW)

i think it’s terrifyingly beautiful in inexplicable ways. i still think about how beautiful it truly is to learn and experience new things. I really begin to understand when I’m given this perspective of a man who is given such a short amount of time to really live life as he’d wanted, and struggling to cram all that time into a couple months to make it last. and to some degree, that piece of fiction reflects onto reality as well. life is fleeting and we have such little time to do..everything. it’s even impossible.

another thing, i loved the last few chapters despite how gut wrenching it was to read. Charlie is losing all of his knowledge and is desperately trying to retain it. until eventually, he accepts it. he accepts the reality of his situation and almost comes to peace with it. So what does he do? He appreciates what he had, he appreciates that he was able to experience and learn things that he didn’t know even existed previously.

there are so many aspects to appreciate in this book and life itself, I could really go on for hours.

anyways book analysis coming soon (no it’s not i have several missing assignments to do)

#flowers for algernon #daniel keyes #literature #classic literature #charlie gordon

[keii]

I’m back home from Vegas and good news! Hun and I were able to sign a lease on a cute townhouse there and not only that but it’s a 4-7 minute drive from Sushi’s place??? HOW LUCKY! LOL 🥰🥳😭 We’re down the street from each other!!! To be THAT close to my bff??? The move in date is next month and we only have a couple weeks to pack shit up ☠️ It’s going to be absolutely hectic cramming everything in, I’m going to be running on adrenaline. I appreciate hun so much for taking this chance with me and how I’m so lucky to be with him bc wtf… who does that… remember… if they wanted to, they would 😭❤️

It’s a HUGE change, but I’m so excited and ready to step into the next stage of my life! I can finally have my own space to create and indulge myself. To decorate it with everything and anything? A space where I can feel completely comfortable in my own skin? I am so excited. I still can’t believe there’s a Potato Corner in Vegas… that shit was my OBSESSION when I was in the Philippines, so the fact that I can eat that whenever??? Absolute bonkers.

Like I swear so many things changed in less than a year?? Some parts were upsetting but WAY MORE GREAT CHANGES overall??? It’s so hard to believe that it all happened within that time. When I look at my life compared to how it was just when several months ago, I’m surprised with how much happier I am??? So much more than I’ve been in a while. I feel like I have become more honest with, not just others, but also myself. Less self loathing and doubt, but more hopeful. I want to grow more for the better, especially with the new changes in my life ✨

#gonna be packing my shit AHHH #i can't wait to decorate #but my set up gonna be on the floor for the time being LMAOOO #sushi gonna come over and see my computer set up on boxes #x #shrekeii

[yourbendy]

And so Julie she has two phobias at once: Dysmorphic phobia (Fear of not being beautiful) and Philophobia (Fear of falling in love with someone, or having some kind of emotional attachment). Julie has been a hyperactive and positive girl since childhood. In elementary school, she did not even think about what does not fit the ideals of fashion. She dressed the way she liked. But how high school started. All her friends tried to prove that you have to be beautiful and fit the fashion. And if she does not follow this fashion, then she will be alone and no one will notice her. Alas, it was easy to manipulate her then. And the girl tried to imitate her girlfriends to be perfect and beautiful in front of others. Gradually, the girl began to be surrounded by beautiful guys because of her beautiful appearance. But everyone tried only to brag to her that they say they are dating such a beautiful girl. And their relationship was more ostentatious. Frequent infidelities and betrayals formed Philophobia in her. Because of one incident at school when she was upset and dressed the way she liked. By making two ponytails as in childhood. No one at school wanted to talk to her. Even her best friends still had dysmorphic phobia. She was afraid that if she was not beautiful, no one would even notice her and make friends or communicate with her. After she graduated from school, and after university. She began to feel worse and worse mentally every day. Because of Dysmorphic phobia, she was depressed that she could not be beautiful enough. Going to a psychologist, and the psychologist was just Frank. Gradually, they became pretty good and best friends. Julie decided to move to a Quiet Place, where Frank had lived since birth. So that they could spend time together more often, and she could start life with a clean slate.

Evidence:

1. Julie is very emotional, it's pretty easy to make her worry.

2. Julie is friends with all the neighbors in a Quiet neighborhood, except for Wally, who is a Sociophobe.

3. Julie likes to be the center of attention, so it would be difficult for them to be friends with Wally. If they had met.

4. Julie knows about the strange artist Wally, she saw him a couple of times when she was walking around the area. But she can't say anything about Darling.

5. Julie is an animeshnitsa, her favorite anime is "Regardless of My Adolescent Delusions of Grandeur, I Want a Date!"

6. Julie is very afraid when someone confesses to her, she immediately starts crying. She is afraid that the friendship between her and this person may end, and that he just wants to use her.

7. Frank and Julie often like to stay at Julie's house to watch anime, play various board games.

8. She has a habit of buying everything that is fashionable.

9. The weight of her cabinets are crammed with various clothes and shoes.

10. She has three closets with a bunch of clothes.

11. Unnecessary clothes that have gone out of fashion, and she does not like it. Julie gives to a shelter, or to those in need.

12. The girl loves to sing, she has a very beautiful voice.

13. She dreams of becoming a singer, but she is afraid that she will not be able to live peacefully as before.

14. To this day, Julie receives letters with confessions from some people. Therefore, when she reads these letters, she cries very much on the shoulder of her best friend.

15. Julie has a Kigurumi Pikachu.

16. Once a week she comes to Poppy to learn cooking.

17. Once a month she arranges a sleepover of her best friends, Sally, Poppy, Frank are always present at it.

18. Julie is very curious and she always wants to know what and where happened in their quiet place.

19. The girl tries to help Howdy to be confident in the conversation. Tries to help him overcome Logophobia.

20. She is 20 years old.

Well, I've finished Julie, I'm going to Frank)))

#welcome home au #welcome home

[mlobsters]

supernatural s8e22 clip show (w. andrew dabb)

bro, dude from the wendigo episode? *looks at episode title* oh right. little puka shell necklace and i recall a satphone?

from s1e2 wendigo HALEY He checks in every day by cell. He emails, photos, stupid little videos—we haven't heard anything in over three days now. SAM Well, maybe he can't get cell reception. HALEY He's got a satellite phone, too.

pat on the brain for that one, i remember the important stuff :p

so is someone gonna go through and knock off people the winchesters saved, via mind splats

why is dean grumpy with cas again? aghh. taking off with the tablet? hopefully they'll fight and fill me in :p

CASTIEL Dean. I'm sorry. DEAN For what? CASTIEL For everything. DEAN Everything? Like, uh... Like ignoring us? CASTIEL Yes. DEAN Or like bolting off with the Angel Tablet, then losing it 'cause you didn't trust me? You didn't trust me. CASTIEL Yes. DEAN Yeah. Nah, that's not gonna cut it. Not this time. So you can take your little apology and you cram it up your ass.

s7e21 reading is fundamental

you can stuff your sorries in a sack, mister

CASTIEL Dean, I thought I was doing the right thing. DEAN Yeah, you always do.

seriously, dude. they all fuck up while thinking they're doing the right thing, but he does it on such a grand scale. wipes out a ton of humans and angels being god for a hot minute, what even was the body count related to the leviathans getting out. whew. at least with ruby sam had the powers of heaven and hell conspiring to make it go down the way it did

SAM Dude, go easy on Cas, okay. He's one of the good guys. DEAN Dude, if anybody else – I mean anybody – pulled that kind of crap, I would stab them in their neck on principle. Why should I give him a free pass? SAM Because it's Cas.

this really makes me laugh because i've struggled with cas on this show a lot! they're always trying to convince me that he's all tight with dean but they never show it! haha anyway. nothing needs to make sense, he's paving the way to hell with good intentions and the fan fave

oh, the dungeon, lol i have also heard about this place

goober

they got abaddon from that? i thought it was pete from mad men

SAM Hey, those chains look exactly like the ones in our dungeon. CASTIEL In your what? DEAN Demon on a leash – cool.

lol. dean is being such a child. sam, tell the angel that i'm not talking to him

yeah he does

this scene with him coughing up blood again, just reminds me of how i was always vaguely confused as to how the trials made him sick because it seemed like a set of strange issues. it wasn't clear in what i read always if time in the bathroom was from stomach thing or coughing up blood thing. but i see now the food/nausea elements combined with the consumption. i mean. does he have heavenly tuberculosis?

DEAN Well, short story is, uh, Sammy there is gonna take whatever shredded your friend and every other black-eyed bitch out there, and he's gonna get rid of them for good. FATHER SIMON He is? In his condition? DEAN Father, over the past couple of months, I've seen him do crap that I didn't even think was possible. I mean, sure, he's miserable and he's hurting, but you know what? There's not a doubt in my mind that he's gonna cross that finish line – not one. So, will you help us?

oh, dean. well, i appreciate them letting us hear dean be so proud and faithful. journey from the "the only person who doesn't let me down is benny" moment

i often feel similarly. this attempt at shopping and him being clueless and awful is something

seeing cas interact with metatron kind of highlights to me how particular of a character they're having cas portray. it's not like all angels have this quite flat affect and clueless about humans thing.. and cas didn't always either (he was really bitingly snarky there for bits which doesn't really line up with whatever lack of abilities in pretending to be a person thing is happening now) but after all the brain scrubs who has room for personality retention, right?

it gives me derek from teen wolf vibes. he had a purpose in the early days, then he was a fan fave and part of a big ship and they kept him around and seems like they had no idea what to do with his character. it was weird. this is weird

so how does castiel not know metatron? i thought all the angels were siblings. and is megatron about to talk cas into another extremely bad idea?

METATRON Is that what she told you? I mean, Naomi's a player – don't get me wrong – just one of many. There are factions upon factions, all fighting, betraying each other. It's just a matter of time before they start ripping each other apart. It's all broken. CASTIEL I know, I'm the one who broke it. There was a time when I thought I could lead our people, but I was mistaken. I spilled so much blood. And I've tried to atone for my sins and I did penance. And I [sighs] betrayed my friends to protect our secrets, but I've just failed. And now – METATRON Look, I know. But now the angels – heaven – need someone to come to the rescue. They need us.

this is what i get for zoning out during heavenly politics scenes

FATHER THOMPSON The date is August 3, 1958. This is trial 19, hour 1. My subject is Peter Kent. Mr. Kent is the father of two young sons, and three weeks ago, he was possessed by a demon. I'm going to ask you a question now. When you crawled into Mr. Kent and ate his children, how did it feel? PETER KENT Orgasmic.

okay.

whole cas and metatron angel trials closing the gates of heaven okay i don't even know

looks real disgusted for sure

that's a good look on her

SAM How'd you get this number? Crowley Ah, first things first – what are you wearing? DEAN Oh, okay, hanging up now. Hang up. Crowley Fine. This isn't a social call.

leaving abaddon unattended, great idea guys.

wheezed at the size of the print

😂 ok

CROWLEY Oh, Moosie, isn't it obvious? I'm killing everyone you've ever saved – the damsels in distress, the innocent whippersnappers, the would-be vampire chow – all of them.

baby sam (and the cute hair) and a lady he kissed that didn't die, will she get by twice?

SAM That's new. SARAH Yeah, I... His name is Ian. He works search and rescue. Guess I have a type. Our daughter, Bess – she'll be one in a month. SAM That's, uh, great. I mean it. I'm really, uh... I'm really happy for you.

shame dean-o can't give you kids

SAM Me? Pretty much the same, I guess. SARAH No, you're not. You're not the same. Look, it's been years, and I can't even imagine the things you've been through. But I don't know. You just seem...more focused, confident, like... ...like you know what you want. You grew up, Sam. SARAH I do miss the old haircut, though.

very sweet

CROWLEY I thought of sending in a few of my bruisers, really letting them go to town. But then, well, trial one was kill a Hellhound. Trial two was rescue a soul from the pit. So, from here on, I'm gonna keep everything hell-related – demons, et cetera – away from you. Safe side and all that – plus, I just thought it seemed fitting. From what I understand, Sammy took that bird's breath away. What's the line? "Saving people, hunting things – the family business." Well, I think the people you save, they're how you justify your pathetic little lives. The alcoholism, the collateral damage, the pain you've caused – the one thing that allows you to sleep at night, the one thing is knowing that these folks are out there, still out there happy and healthy because of you, you great, big, bloody heroes!

the supernatural books allowing this to get more meta. liked how they did his speechifying intercut with them searching but kept that all soundless.

rip sarah, thought maybe having a 1 year old baby would save you

all right i think i know the general endpoint of this storyline but no idea how we get there from here. we'll see tomorrow. blaming dabb for not being able to shut up about this episode

#long post #got away from me #supernatural #spnwatch #spn 8x21 #andrew dabb

[roleplayersoul]

Apologies I’ve been quiet. I’ve got some reasons under the cut. TW for a lot of things, just don’t read if you’re sensitive, I’ve got to be honest.

To be honest, my home life has been devolving the past year (and has been since Middle School with tons of emotion abuse), but one of the people I’m living with suffered a stroke and has undergone a personality change with it. They were “the nice one”.

Now, every day, without fail, there’s an argument. Too many ice cubes in the cup? Tea cold when you wanted hot? Did you ask where to find the tape? Prepare for yelling, screaming, insulting, name calling, and LOADS of mocking and blame-shifting. A few days ago was my birthday, and the whole time I was miserable. I purposely tried that day to stay quiet, not say anything, to stay out of the way, and I got yelled at nearly constantly.

I can’t stand it. If it wasn’t for college, I’d have taken the car and took a plane to Washington State. That’s still the plan, honestly.

The last few times I’ve visited my friend, they just either aren’t taking care of themselves or aren’t involving me in anything they do. All my friends are too busy or have moved away. 

Work has been a mixed bags with some real nasty coworkers getting promoted because, yeah, they work for longer hours and are really hard workers, but it sucks to see the person who was a big reason why you tried to off yourself suddenly become a manager. Naturally, in this job economy, applying for jobs for months, and nothing. 

School has been so hard, too. Thankfully, I work my ass off and have all As. But this college I’m at crams double the amount of work in half the time. To compensate, you take half the classes, (which means more mockery from others, even though, yes, I’m a full time student legally. People don’t seem to get that the college does things differently.).

The staff there is so incompetent. It took them 3 months to register me for the right classes and process everything with constant reminders and phone calls. 

It’s been harder than every to just enjoy things. There’s no time. And when there is time, there’s no drive. I can’t speak or talk right to others to form relations. I’m ugly. Even starting to work out at the gym for half a year has just lead to no results. Oh, right, and the college I was at prior suddenly dropped the degree I was taking mid-year, so I had to find some sort of online college (since there’s no place nearby that has my degree anymore).

I contacted literally every real estate and apartment complex in a 20 mile radius, and not a single one would accept me because I “don’t make enough money”. No one wants to take me in, and tbh I can’t really move rn because of college. 

I’m so fucking tired, constantly. I’m so upset, constantly. But I’m doing “too well” to get grants or funds or whatever the fuck. I DO finally have a doctor who won’t just leave off the face of the earth or begin to harass me over the phone now, at least, coupled with some nice meds, but I don’t think any med really helps with the shit I go through.

Not that I ever do enough, anyways. I always could’ve been doing more.

Sorry. This stopped being why I wasn’t here and turned into a rant. I’ll delete this later.

#delete later #delete later please #ooc #vent