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a-sleepywitch · 1 year

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Tarot Tips part 3; Learning how to read (any) card!

Learning how to read cards is, in my opinion, one of the most valuable skills you can learn, not just when dealing with tarot, but pretty much any form of cartomancy that you enjoy. This can be particularly valuable for people like myself, who don't really enjoy memorising cards and keywords. I find that after a certain point in one's tarot journey, you hit a point where you can manage to read most decks without necessarily reading the manual, and so I wanted to make a post to perhaps help speed up that process!

This is going to be a lengthy post, so I apologise for this beforehand! And if this is your first time stumbling upon my blog, here's a link to my other tarot tips post! I will not be tackling reversals in this post, as I already covered it in part 2!

Part 1 | Part 2

Before getting into the nitty gritty of reading cards, I'd like to propose what I consider to be the most foundational aspect of being able to read any deck of cards: Observation. What are you looking at? What do you see? Disregard any symbolism or implications for now, just state what you objectively see in the card. For this example, I’m going to use a relatively easy-to-read card as the starting off point, that being The Fool from Rider-Waite Smith.

What do I see? There's a figure standing near the edge of a cliff, they're looking forward and slightly upwards, they're carrying a knapsack, they're holding a white flower, there's a white dog standing on its hind-legs, the sun is shining and there's mountains in the background

What does this imply? So, what does all this tell us about the card? For one thing, the Fool is headed for the edge of a cliff, but isn't actually looking down. The Fool's attention is forward, yes, but they're not actually looking where they're stepping. Similarly, the dog looks like it's about to leap off the cliff as well, so one can infer that this card likely has something to do with taking a leap of faith. Additionally, the Fool is carrying a knapsack which would imply they may not be home for a while, perhaps suggesting they're setting out on an adventure or a journey. The sun is shining and the background is yellow, with beautiful mountains to complete the idyllic scenery. It looks like a very optimistic card, but one should also remember that the card is called The Fool for a reason. Like the sun, optimism and idealism can be equally as blinding as it is warm and inviting. While this journey may require a leap of faith from The Fool, The Fool is also perhaps a bit blinded by their optimism and naivety (potentially implied by the white flower) to fully realise what they're getting themselves into.

Here’s an example of a card that I personally found more difficult when I first started reading cards due to its rather blatant christian imagery; The Hierophant.

What do I see? The Pope is sitting on a throne, adorned in a red robe and an intricate gold crown of sorts. The Hierophant is holding a golden staff in one hand while pointing up towards the sky with the other, and before him are two golden keys. In front of The Hierophant are two men, presumably dressed in a uniform.

What does this imply? As mentioned, this card can be difficult to apply to casual readings due to its very religious imagery, but breaking down the main components can help us get to the core of the card. So, what does the pope do? The pope is a spiritual leader, whose main job is to centralise its religious doctrine. Now, what does religion do? Religion provides answers that can otherwise be highly subjective, such as the meaning of life, what comes after death, and offering moral guidance. So here, we have a figure whose purpose is to not only morally guide people, but also to set the rules. The two men are uniformly dressed, essentially stripping them of their individualistic traits, suggesting this card has something to do with conformity and creating a norm. The Hierophant has handed the two men a key each, the key to living a successful life; social conformity and following the strict social order set by the person before them. Now, depending on how this card shows up in a reading and the context of the reading/other cards, this card can also be about going against conformity.

You can also use this technique in comparing different cards to get a feel for the overall storytelling. A great example of this is The Lovers and The Devil.

What do I see? In The Lovers, I see a male and a female figure, and an angelic figure between the two of them. Behind them is a mountain, a blue sky, and the sun shining from behind the angel. Behind the female figure is a fruit tree with a serpent wrapping around the tree trunk, and behind the male figure is a tree that appear to be on fire.

In The Devil, I see a male and female figure again, but this time, there's a more demonic figure between the two of them. The background is completely black, and the male and female figures are both chained to the small box that The Devil is perched on. The Female figure has a tail that seems to resemble a fruit, while the male figure has a tail that appears to be on fire. The Devil is also notably holding a torch.

What does this imply? The Lovers have pretty blatant christian imagery as well, so let's break it down the same way we did with The Hierophant. The imagery is clearly referencing the story of Adam and Eve, the two of them standing in the Garden of Eden, and Eve being enticed by the serpent to take a bite from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. The Lovers are essentially being presented with a choice; to either give in to their natural curiosity and human desires, or to refrain. Perhaps this suggests a choice between heart and mind, virtue and vice, compliance or action, etc. Personally, I'm not a fan of interpreting this card as being a choice between good or bad, because, realistically, very little in life is as black and white as that. Rather, this card seems to imply that there is a dualistic choice being offered. Yes, we all know that Eve taking a bite from the fruit damns her, but not taking a bite would be compliance with the status quo. Not choosing is also a choice, after all.

Now shifting our focus to The Devil, storytelling wise when compared to the Lovers, this card shows the impact of the choice made by The Lovers. The Devil is typically associated with sin and evil (which is not a particularly nuanced interpretation), but it can also be associated with sex, giving into impulses, non-conformity, eccentricity, etc. Thus, while this card can seem incredibly negative and pessimistic about the choice that's been made, it can also imply something as simple as rejection of the status quo, a rejection of complacency, a desire to fulfil your own passions and desires even if it means sacrificing your own comfort (The Garden of Eden). However, I would still like to point out the chains, which suggests that, although this choice may not be as negative as The Devil card may seem at first glance, the choice that's been made is binding, in the sense that it may have long term consequences; think of things like addiction, co-dependency or submission to something else. In rejecting conformity, one still risks falling into a path of blind submission to a different higher power or belief.

(Note that The Lovers and The Devil don’t parallel each other in all decks, so keep that in mind when deciding how you wish to interpret your particular deck!)

Now the major arcana are often considered easier due to them having very rich imagery, so I want to provide some minor arcana examples as well with various level of detail.

We'll start off with the 4 of Swords.

What do I see? A statue of sorts of a male figure laying on top of a coffin, with the shape of a sword engraved into the side of the coffin as well. The male figure appears to be resting, and on the wall above the resting statue are three swords. Next to the set of swords is a stained glass window.

What does this imply? For one thing, a lot in this card seems to implicate death in some way, not only the coffin, but also due to the stained glass window, which I intuitively interpret as a sign of this taking place in a church. The statue appears to be sleeping or resting, so combined with the theme of death, there's a sense of stagnation, a moment in time where time appears to stop for the person resting. Another thing to consider is the number four. Four is a very stable, rounded number. Think of a table that has four legs, or four pillars holding up a ceiling. While stability is good, it also causes stagnation, as a lot of people may stop themselves from venturing out of their comfort zone in fear of losing said stability. The sword suit, associated with the element of air, is generally considered to be the suit of the mind. A sword cuts through the confusion and complications, it gets straight to the point and gets stuff done. It's blunt and logical, but when you're asleep, you lack that clarity. It may feel like a mental stagnation of sorts, where things become blurry and disorienting, and you can’t quite make sense of things. On the other end; maybe this rest is needed for proper clarity once you wake up. Thus, this card can also be a sign of contemplation and much needed rest. You may feel stuck now, but rest is necessary to move forward.

Below we have the 7 of Pentacles!

What do I see? I see a person who looks a bit exhausted, appearing as if they're taking a break from work. They seem to be in the middle of harvesting something, and is currently staring at the product of their labor. Behind them is a dry patch of land and a light grey sky, but they seem to be stepping on water as well. There are seven pentacles, but only one of them has been harvested.

What does this imply? This card is all about reaping the benefits of your work, but note that this is only the beginning of that process, as there is still work to be done. Pentacles, being associated with earth, is generally viewed as the suit of materialistic and physical needs, with the pentacle representing the five senses of the human body. As such, it's common to interpret pentacle cards as being related to things like work, finances and one's home life, which all serve to fulfil one's physical needs one way or another (money from labor is what puts food on the table, after all). Another thing that I think is worth noting with this card is not only is this just the beginning of reaping the benefits, but the person is also taking a break, with an almost contemplative look on their face. When working to pursue one's own comfort, it's important to not forget to self reflect and question whether this labor is worthwhile or even fulfilling to the person. Especially when you have yet to see the fruits of your labor, it can be difficult to find motivation, but the rewards are just around the corner.

And finally, here's a significantly more minimalistic card; the 8 of Wands.

What do I see? There's a luscious landscape in the background, with a small hill and a river. At the forefront are eight wands, which appear to be launching forward (at least if you're used to reading from left right).

What does this imply? The wands are launching forward, almost as if someone's thrown them with immense force. This is an energetic, action oriented card, brimming with rapid movement towards the future. The suit of wands, which is associated with fire, is all about passion, willpower, desires, creativity, etc. This could imply that the card is all about taking action in pursuing what you truly desire. Another way to look at this card is to compare it to the seven of pentacles we saw earlier. You'll find that a lot of the imagery you'll see in the seventh card in a rider-waite smith deck has to do with perseverance, taking a moment to introspect, reassess, choose, etc. With eight being the number after seven, eight is about taking action after all that reflection. Personally, I can't help but view the seventh card as a protagonist's darkest moment right before the third act of a story kicks off, when they finally decide to take action, leading into the eighth card. Of course, this is just a way I personally read those particular cards, but my point is that you can find a lot of narrative flows in the cards that help contextualise them and intuitively read them without having to necessarily memorise what they mean!

My most important Advice; Read cards a lot. Your intuition for picking up on symbolism and implications will develop as you get used to observing, and over time, you'll just naturally pick up on how to read a card!

And finally, there is no shame in having to look up meanings. Some days, I'm tired and exhausted. Maybe I have mild brain fog that day. Maybe I'm just not in the right mood. It doesn't matter, there are days where even the most obvious cards go completely over my head and I have to look something up. There are days where I'm sitting and staring at cards and can't get anything from it, even while knowing what the cards mean. There are days my readings feel clunky and contradictory and nothing makes sense, and that's completely ok! At the end of the day, like with most special interests, hobbies and practices, we can have our off days where nothing feels right, but don't let your worst days define your overall skillset. Have some fun with it! If you're really determined to put your cards to use despite your burnout, maybe do something less serious! Start reading for your favourite fictional character or something, or ask a silly question, like how would this deck define the color blue, etc!

If you treat it less rigorously, I promise you'll have an easier time reading cards intuitively, because you're not restricting yourself or being too harsh with how you read them. Loosen up and have some fun with your deck! As usual, I'm more than happy to answer questions that I'm capable of answering, and I'd love any additional input! My asks are always open!

#tarot tips #tarot reading #tarot cards #tarot #cartomancy #divination #divination witch #tarotblr

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cosmermaid · 6 months

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This has been on my mind for probably two days now so I'm going to make this post. I took the Knights Radiant order quiz for three Mewtwos, or in other words every Mewtwo in the Pokemon franchise that has enough characterization to pull from and make the test work. I also did it for Mew, because even though we don't have a lot to go off of for Mew's character, it's personality seems to be pretty consistent every time it appears.

If you're a Pokemon fan wondering what I'm talking about, the Knights Radiant are ten orders of magic heroes from the book series the Stormlight Archives, which is probably my favorite fantasy series of all time. Bond a spren, swear the oaths, get superpowers. Fun times. (And yes, non-human characters can and do bond Spren.)

Alright, on with my post then. Pokemon Adventures Mewtwo

Okay, so the first one I did is probably the least known Mewtwo which is the one from the Pokemon Adventures Manga.

The one with the spoon. This Mewtwo does take inspiration from events from Pokemon the First Movie, but as a character they are a pretty different individual. Also they have a big spoon. Good for them. :)

The Stormlight Archives as a series doesn't have any Stoneward characters that the story explicitly focuses on, with only three appearing as minor/background characters. However, the defining oath of this order fits Adventures!Mewtwo incredibly well. One of the biggest differences between this character and other Mewtwos that have made appearances is their relationship with humans. This Mewtwo has a trainer, (the Gym Leader Blane, who also created them) as well as a few humans it is fiercely loyal to. (Such as Red, and absolute pure bean forest fairy Yellow). This Mewtwo has willingly stepped up to help these characters out in difficult situations, and they have also taken an active role in protecting a Pokemon village. This Mewtwo has also pulled out of battle to look out for the well-being of their human friends, putting them above their own goals. Now I'm not entirely sure if this Mewtwo would get much benefit out of the powers gained from the order of the Stonewards, which according to the Coppermind wiki are

Cohesion Cohesion allows them to manipulate or alter objects at a molecular level.[9] Their exact Powers are so far unknown, but they are able to reshape stone to some extent.[6] This ability lets them reshape things other than stone, but not flesh or anything even slightly Invested.[10] Tension Tension allows them to alter the stiffness of an object.[11][12] Stonewards are able to control the hardness of an object, allowing them to harden clothing into weapons, and have the ability to shape stone at their will.[13] Much like Cohesion, Tension is highly resisted by Investiture.[10]

I don't know how precise this particular Mewtwo's psyonic abilities are, but this Mewtwo was shown to be smart enough to find flaws in traps/technology and outsmart an AI. They would probably find practical applications for the surges of cohesion and tension that they weren't able to do as easily with their pre-existing powers.

Also this Mewtwo would probably be delighted to summon a magical shard-spoon.

M16 Mewtwo (or Newtwo, I guess.)

This is one of those ones that I didn't expect but SHOULD have seen coming. It also made me realize that despite the fact that we don't get a whole lot of this Mewtwo's story, from what we do get, she is an incredibly similar character to Kaladin Stormblessed.

While this Mewtwo isn't explicitly hostile towards humans, she doesn't particularly like them either. And yet, without question she will go out of her way to protect them from harm. "I will protect even those I hate, so long as it is right." -Kaladin Stormblessed.

Both Kaladin and this Mewtwo have been enslaved and tormented in the past, both characters find freedom and comfort in flight, and both will fight viciously to protect the innocent from harm. Both have been hunted for their power and their reputation.

In the stormlight setting, people are divided into a caste system of light-eyes and dark eyes, and Kaladin has dark eyes, so he's of the lower class. He has been betrayed, branded, enslaved, and his younger brother killed at the whims of light-eyed nobility, and as a result he understandably very cold towards light eyed people for their privilege and lack of understanding of the injustices he and his fellow dark-eyed people have faced.

This Mewtwo has a similar outlook on humans. She doesn't like them, but she will prioritize what is right over her own feelings, stepping in to prevent a city from being terrorized by Pokemon (who she was also trying to help.)

The powers gained by windrunners are

Adhesion Adhesion creates an extremely powerful temporary bond between two objects.[27] Full Lashing Using the Full Lashing, a Surgebinder can pool Stormlight into an area. All objects that subsequently touch this area will be bonded to the object, sticking them there and hindering their movement. The bond ends when the Stormlight runs out.[28] Gravitation Gravitation allows the Windrunner to change the direction and strength of an object's gravitational attraction.[27] Basic Lashing The Basic Lashing allows a Surgebinder to bind people or objects to different surfaces or in different directions, effectively changing the direction that gravity pulls them.[27] Reverse Lashing By using the Reverse Lashing, a Surgebinder can increase the gravitational pull of an object, allowing the infused object to pull nearby objects toward it. The Surgebinder must maintain contact with the object to Reverse Lash it.[28] Items that are airborne are pulled more strongly towards the infused object.

M16 Mewtwo can already fly and throw things around with telekinesis, though she would probably find some practical use in using adhesion and lashings to manipulate an object without having to focus on it. She'd probably get more fulfillment out of simply being bonded with an honorspren, though I can't imagine she'd seek out much use for a shardblade or shardplate.

M01 Mewtwo

Everyone already knows who this character is so I'm going to take a moment to highlight an absolutely iconic moment from the only known elsecaller in the Stormlight archives.

"I refuse this," he said, tossing his sword aside. "I will not face a woman in combat. It is demeaning." And so, Jasnah stabbed him straight through the throat.

Okay, M01 Mewtwo is a character most frequently viewed through the lens of nostalgia. People remember him for the drama and a few key quotes, but I don't think his actual character gets looked at enough. So let's review.

Mewtwo can and has killed people for objectifying him. Mewtwo's entire motivation from birth has been about reaching his potential. How he is supposed to be the strongest, else he has no business existing. Mewtwo is an absolute genius, able to teach himself engineering across multiple fields on the fly. Mewtwo is very focused on philosophy, driving himself to the brink of madness for the sake of finding a place in the world.

Jasnah is a bit ahead of the curve when it comes to a similar character arc, by nature of simply being older and more experienced. But she is every bit as ruthless and driven by cold logic as Mewtwo is. She is a world-renowned scholar, but when she took on a student, she took her student into an alleyway to lure out some robbers, then killed the men robbing them as a lesson in philosophy.

She also dedicated quite a bit of thought of what it means to have a place in the world, although through a feminist lens rather than a artificial/naturally born one. In an empire ruled by men, Jasnah became the queen.

So how does the oaths of elsecaller fit Mewtwo? Every time we see him, he is self-reflecting, trying to find where he fits, and pushing the extent of what he can do. Despite his rocky start, he is brilliant, able to solve problems as he comes across them. He was the only surviving clone made by humans, but he recreated a few that died and brought them into the world fully evolved. He built an isolated sanctuary in the middle of an island to make a safe haven for Pokemon that had been abused by humans.

I do want to take a moment to talk about Inkspren, the spren associated with the order of elsecallers. See, the reason that Jasnah is the only known elsecaller is because Inkspren do not trust humans. They are willing to go as far as to get human elsecallers killed to free their fellow inkspren from the bond, even if said spren bonded willingly.

Though Mewtwo mostly moved past a similar attitude, he would still be largely sympathetic to it. I could even see an inkspren trying to bond him in a bid to convince him to kill Jasnah. (Though I don't think Mewtwo would go that far.)

So the powers that Elsecallers gain are

Transformation Transformation can be manipulated to change an object into one of the ten essences.[9] Soulcasting transforms one material into another, though Soulcasting into one of the Ten Essences is easiest.[10] To Soulcast, the Elsecaller shifts their perception to see into the Cognitive Realm, and communicates with the Cognitive aspect of the object they want to transform.[11] This is normally done through direct contact with an object, however, can be performed from a distance. Elsecallers are more skilled at doing this than Lightweavers.[12] Elsecallers tend to view Soulcasting differently from Lightweavers.[13] Transportation Transportation allows the transfer of one's physical body into and out of the Cognitive Realm.[14] It works by creating a miniature perpendicularity that the Elsecaller can go through.[15] It is significantly easier to enter the Cognitive Realm using Elsecalling than it is to leave it.[16] It is possible for Elsecallers to leave the Cognitive Realm without seeking a perpendicularity however this is a more advanced skill than entering.[17][18] Elsecallers are able to use this ability to worldhop.[19][20] It is implied that the more Investiture one uses in the Surge of Transportation, the more people they are able to bring into the Cognitive Realm.[20]

So effectively transmutation and plane shifting. These are not abilities that Mewtwo inherently has, and I can absolutely see him figuring out some insane practical uses for it, very quickly. I can also imagine him seeing his psychic powers as being as much a part of himself as his body is, and using that to summon a shardblade into somebody's heart hundreds of meters away.

It's also worth noting that this Mewtwo has some experience wearing armor and would get comfortable using shardplate probably almost immediately.

Mew. (All of them.)

What the hell else was I expecting for the Hoid of the Pokemon universe?

Lightweavers are the orders of absolute enigmas who either can't or won't tell you who they truly are, hide behind illusions, vanish into thin air, make a professional sport out of insulting you, and showing up because they think the plot got juicy.

Mew would be a lightweaver solely because it would get a massive kick at out of using transform on other people, and because it would gain a spirit-starfish that is an absolute math nerd and goes "mmmmm" whenever somebody lies.

I'm going on a tangent because every criticism I have of Mew can easily be applied to Hoid and vice versa. Mew makes a game of being chased by everyone and caught by nobody. Mew is the roadrunner and the entire world is Wile-E Coyote.

Do you want to know who Hoid is? In the beginning he was given the opportunity to become god and turned it down. Now he's a professional clown. He is frustratingly immortal and has likely gotten other people killed by his own choices.

Just like Mew did with Lucario. You can try to claim that wasn't Mew's fault but nobody would have been getting eaten by the white blood cells of a massive tree if Mew didn't kidnap Pikachu without thinking about it.

By the way, if you've only seen the English version of the first movie, you don't know Mew's character. When Mewtwo was basically in the middle of a psychological breakdown over clones deserving some basic respect, Mew told him "Real is real. Fight me and find out."

Now Hoid can't actually fight, he's restrained from doing so. But if he needs some teeth conveniently knocked out so he can disguise himself as a beggar, he'd walk up to Mewtwo and say the exact same thing.

Mew can do the right thing. Occasionally. It saved a baby pokemon from falling into a river once. Good for you, Mew.

What powers do Lightweavers get?

Illumination Illumination is used to craft illusions by weaving light, sound and various waveforms.[10] This can be used to change their appearance for disguises or other purposes, create illusions of walls and rocks to hide behind and in, and to create illusions to confuse or distract. Each Lightweaver needs some kind of focus to make Lightweaving function, such as drawings or paintings.[11] It is also implied that they may be able to create a solid illusion by combining their Illumination surge and their Soulcasting.[12][13] There are some differences in how they use the Surge compared to Truthwatchers.[14] Transformation Transformation can be manipulated to change an object into one of the ten essences.[10] To Soulcast, the Lightweaver shifts their perception to see into the Cognitive Realm, and communicates with the Cognitive aspect of the object they want to transform.[15] This is normally done through direct contact with an object, however, can be performed from a distance. Elsecallers are more skilled at doing this, though it is not impossible for a Lightweaver to be able to Soulcast from afar.[16] Lightweavers tend to view Soulcasting differently from Elsecallers.[14] Using this Surge, Lightweavers are able to enter the Cogntive Realm, but are unable to bring others with them, or return on their own.[17]

Mew already does both, but mainly to itself. I can't really imagine Mew using a shardweapon with those tiny arms, either. Though Mew would probably summon it, leave it on the ground, watch people fight over it then dismiss it.

#stormlight archives #knights radiant #pokemon #mew #mewtwo #m01 #m16 #pokemon adventures #I don't think Mew as a character is really comparable to shallan #but it's worth noting that Sylphrana also got lightweaver when I ran her through the quiz #and Mew and Syl DO have quite a few things in common #but not as much as Hoid #anyways sorry for this post but uuuuuh #I was thinking about it a lot #so I made it anyway #read Stormlight Archives its really good #I didn't do the detective Pikachu Mewtwo because that Mewtwo is more of a plot device than a character #I also don't buy the big theory that it's the same individual as first movie mewtwo

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thewintersoldier · 1 year

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Hello 💜

This set is absolutely gorgeous. Like, jaw-droppingly stunning. I don't know why it seems like the better, more complicated sets never get as many notes 🙁 but this set is so amazing it makes me weep.

https://at.tumblr.com/thewintersoldier/705733681810227200/wesj90y4zy6k

Please when you have time can you do a tutorial for the first or second gif?

(I promise I wasn't just trying to butter you up with that opening - I've been showing this set to everyone I know, it is truly beautiful)

Lol dude you’re totally good thank you ♥️♥️♥️ but yeah, I can do a tutorial! Everything’s under the cut!

Alright, so first things first, I’m going to assume everyone looking has a basic knowlege of coloring gifs with photoshop.

Now, the biggest thing is you want your two gifs that you are blending to have a lot of contrast. So for my first gif, I chose a scene that I could make the background pretty much pure white but have the subject in it be as close to straight black as possible.

So this is what I start with

Bucky’s legs are pretty dark here, but since the background is mostly shades of grey, I know that I can get it to lighten up to white pretty easily. To do this, I create a layers level, selet the white eye dropper tool and click around on the background until I get a white that I like. I ended up choosing the big of white sky that you see up towards the top right hand side of the image. This was the area that was already closest to white already and I don’t want to blow out the whole image by selecting an area to make what that was too dark to start with

And now I’m here.

I now create another layers level and select the black eye dropper tool.

and it takes me here

This is going to help make your blacks blacker while keeping the white’s still pretty while and you need as much contrast as you can get for this to work well.

At this point, I now add brightness and contrast and exposure layers and play with them until I get the whites as white as I can while also keeping the blacks black and I end up here.

What I also like to do to help the gif blend better is add a hue and saturation layer. From there, I’ll go and reduce the saturation on all the colors I don’t want that are in the image. So For this gif, I just went a head and turned the saturation down to -100 on the cyans and yellows to remove the little bit of yellow and cyan that I’m seeing.

So now about the only color I have going on is a bit of red in the skin of his hand. However, looking at this the skin you can see there, it’s going to make blending the second gif on top of it a bit more difficult and I’d like it as close to black as I can get to the second gif I overlay looks as good as it can. The way that I tackle this is I added a black to white gradient map.

Which at this point pretty much turns the gif black and white. If you don’t want it to be straight up black and white though, I suggest adding the gradient map, setting it to soft light and playing around with the opacity until you like how it looks.

But this is what I’m left with for the first gif.

Now for the second gif, this is what I’m starting with

The only color I’m looking to preserve here is going to be the red, so what I’m going to do is follow the steps I took on the first gif with the two level layers, and brightness and contrast/exposure until I’m happy with it. I then also add the hue and saturation layer to remove the yellows I see in the image.

This leaves me here. But I want to add a bit more contrast to make the book pop out even more. So I add an exposure layer to make the brights a bit more bright and then balance it out with the blacks.

My last step is I now add a gradient map of black to red because I want to bring out the reds a bit more here and increase the contrast.

I then set this layer to soft light and played around with the opacity (ended up with 17%)

and we get here

I find the more contrast you can put in, the better gifs will blend together. If they’re all sitting at the same range of shades, it’s just murky and you can’t really see what’s going on. Now at this point, I convert both these gifs to smart objects and place them on a canvas together. I do this my creating a new project, making the background black, and then converting the black background to a smart object as well.

I then drag and drop both smart objects of the gifs into this new canvas. I keep

The put the first gif on bottom and then place the second on top and set it to screen. For this step, play around with which gif you think looks better set to screen and which one looks better just set to normal. With all the contrast I have in it, I find it really didn’t make a difference either way. This is what I get from doing this:

These blend together well because the colors in the second gif don’t show up well on white, but they will show up on the blacks. If your contrast isn’t as intense, you can create layer masks on the gifs and erase parts you don’t want showing, but keep in mind, since the gif is moving you have to be careful about where you erase. I do this sometimes, but frankly it’s a pain in the ass and if I can avoid it, I will. I much prefer to blend just with setting a gif to screen if I can.

Another thing to add, the second gif does have a pretty dark background which also helps make the gif blend a lot easier. If you’re putting a white background on a white background you’re just going to end up not being able to see much of anything.

Now, my last step for the coloring is I add a Gradient Fill layer.

and these are going to be my settings for it:

I now then set the gradient fill to Multiply and we get this effect:

It is important to note, this needs to go on top of both of the other gifs or it’s going to mess with the blending. For example, if it put this between the two gifs, it turns the white background to red, which is going to give the second gif more color to show up on which will then make it look like this

and since we want it to really only show up on the black, putting it anywhere but on top of them isn’t going to work.

I played around with the text until I got ended up here

I have a tutorial for how I do this effect here.

The font’s I used were Champagne & Limousines for the white text, set to 16px

and Doctor Glitch set to 72px, with a flag warp text, which you can find here.

I hoped this helped! If you need anything explained in more depth or you have any other questions, just shoot me an ask!

#ask #anon #ps help

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splintered-emotions · 1 year

Text

I posted 10,596 times in 2022

That's 8,343 more posts than 2021!

51 posts created (0%)

10,545 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@/dingdongyouarewrong

@beenovel

@shurisneakers

@merisscatteredbooknook

@blueberryrock

I tagged 3,883 of my posts in 2022

#star wars - 447 posts

#that fanart tho - 395 posts

#marvel - 365 posts

#dsmp - 336 posts

#words - 236 posts

#lotr - 219 posts

#tiktok - 185 posts

#stranger things - 183 posts

#amazing art - 143 posts

#fic rec - 115 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#and the admin wouldn’t fucking switch them out of that class despite the toll it was taking on their mental health free time and other class

My Top Posts in 2022:

French Onion, Broccoli Cheddar, and Pho soup :)

French Onion - Who is your favorite author(s)?

there's honestly so many so i'm just gonna name a few:

@jackdaw-kraai with his wonderful Guides

@irndad and the tasm!peter fics

@yellow-feathered-faerie who i really must work on that Mandis fic with eventually

chancecraz on ao3 and their time travel star wars fics

and of course, you

Broccoli Cheddar - What was your inspiration for this wip

this is honestly an odd inspiration but i had an absolutely terrible math teacher last year who used to give the most difficult tests and during winter break, while i was cramming for the 3 tests we had in the three weeks after it, i convinced my mom to rewatch the hobbit with me, and a few days later, at like 1 in the morning, i just started typing up Transported and here we are

Pho - Describe your ideal writing set up

i think i'd have to say like music (probably The Amazing Devil because it makes my brain go brr) playing in the background, my laptop charged and not trying to burst into flames, discord open on the side to share snippets and just talk, and me actually having the time to sit down and write without any interruptions

13 notes - Posted January 5, 2022

Hello! If Lotr/The Hobbit requests are open, I hope it's alright that I request one ;-;

Could you please do something about a Reader who was Merry and Pippin's best friend when they were really little kids but they left Middle Earth somehow. But now that they're adults, she gets back to the Shire and now she's a kickass blacksmith who is still really witty and comforting with them and it's a really sweet and wholesome reunion? You can either do Polyamory or Merry x Reader if that's not your thing. I think Merry would be the most likely to get a crush on a human blacksmith reader with big muscles because he strikes me as the kinda guy who'd like Tomboys

I also have this hilarious idea of, since the Reader is human, Pippin finds out that she became an adult at 18 and he's so jealous because she's officially an adult and he's not lmao. Thanks so so much, I hope you're doing well hun! Keep being awesome!!

okay i finally finished it! this may have taken a slightly different route than you were expecting but i hope you like it regardless!

As I looked upon them for the first time in what seemed like a decade, our time spent together in my childhood and their tweens came rushing back, almost flashing before my eyes. The summers spent stealing from Old Farmer Maggot and hanging out at various hobbit parties that I clearly wasn’t invited to were reminiscent of a much different time.

It had been prior to I had been apprenticed to the only blacksmith near Hobbiton and Merry was forced off to visit some relatives or another for months on end, leaving us with no time to see each other, let alone act upon the last things that we said to each other. Although it sometimes seemed like it had been just yesterday when our relationship began to split from the almost something that it had become, but given the new signs of maturity on his face and the burn scars on my hands, it was clear it had been far longer than either of us expected.

Pippin stood next to his cousin, looking between the two of us as we refused to say anything while we took in the differences in each other’s appearance. I had certainly changed far more than Merry, given the fact that blacksmithing required a lot of strength, far more than I had had last time I had seen either of them. The buff female blacksmith had very little similarities to the teenage girl that had never worked a day in her life.

I suppose if I had known how much muscle I would have to build up to truly become good at making even the simple things that hobbits nearby required, I would have thought twice before deciding on this. But now wasn’t the time to rethink the decisions that I had made for my life. Now, I needed to figure out how to begin a conversation with a figure from my not too distant past.

“So,” I said, not entirely thinking through the rest of my sentence just yet. “Have fun with the Tooks?” Oh fuck that was terrible. I was a fool and I would never speak again.

“Yes.” Thank the Valar, he was just as awkward as I was. “And how is your apprenticeship going?”

I could almost see the wince as he finished speaking. We had to break this ridiculous tension somehow. There had to be some way to talk beyond just standing here awkwardly as Pippin looked on. “I kinda finished that a couple summers ago. My master passed on the shop to me once I was done and left to apparently go adventuring. Imagine a 60 year old man going across Arda in search of adventure. Although I suppose with Bilbo, you don’t really have to.”

He seemed more at ease with this topic, immediately replying, “I’m not convinced he truly went. The Mad Baggins was apparently quite tame before he left the Shire.”

“I don’t believe that. That pipeweed smoking hobbit would have jumped at the chance to do it. Although his stories did speak of some hesitation.”

“A Took could never pass up the chance,” interjected Pippin. “I guarantee that any one of our cousins would enjoy it.”

“But Bilbo isn’t a Took. He’s a Baggins. Baggins never do things like that,” stated Merry.

“I thought he was half Took. So there would have been an equal chance of doing it.” I took a breath before saying, “Either way, I assume you didn’t come here to discuss whether or not BIlbo actually bested Smaug, chiefest and greatest of calamities. What did you need?”

The sudden change in topic seemed to lower the energy in the room, but I could see Lobelia Sackville Baggins coming closer so I needed it to look like I was running a “proper establishment” before she decided to enter. This decision wasn’t driven by a sense of urgency, but rather an urge to escape a lecture before she hands me her frying pan to be fixed again after banging on Bilbo’s door again for an hour.

Pippin started, “Oh! I believe that—”

“Frodo asked us to stop by to inquire after a frying pan that was sent to be mended a few days ago. Would you perhaps have it currently ready?” That was oddly stiff in its phrasing. Did he think I was trying to get him out of the shop? Or did he know that Lobelia, the bane of my existence, was approaching?

“I think it’s back here somewhere. Although I think I need another day to fully work on it.” Okay, this was my chance. I could ask. After years of not seeing him, we could finally have a chance at what we had both wanted. “I needed to take a couple days off for my birthday a week ago and the new responsibilities that have been dumped on me have been ridiculous. They don’t tell you that when you legally become an adult, but anyways, I could meet up with you sometime tomorrow to drop it off. If you wanted to do so of course.”

“Sure, but—”

“You’re an adult?” Pippin asked. “But I’m older than you and I’m still a tween.”

“You’d hate being an adult. You have to do taxes and stuff and you can’t just spend the entire day hanging out with friends.”

“Yes, but it’s about the principle of the matter. I am 5 years older than you and yet I’m not even of age.”

“That’s your loss for being born a hobbit. I however can do adult things and buy a pint without my cousin chaperoning me.”

“Regardless,” Merry interjected. “I believe that I shall be free at around noon tomorrow, so would you like to meet under the party tree?”

“Uh, yes of course. I’ll have it done by tomorrow. As long as Lobelia doesn’t have anything new to bring me.”

“Good then. Well I suppose we shall continue this fruitful discussion tomorrow.” At Pippin’s newly open mouth, he continued, “Alone.”

“Yes. Now shoo. She’s coming in and I don’t want to have to pretend like I’m just a blacksmith in front of you too.”

“We will be back!”

See the full post

21 notes - Posted January 31, 2022

i fucking watched the new doctor strange movie and i'm so close to just rambling about the bits of marvel that i hate and the reasons why

24 notes - Posted May 17, 2022

Can I get “that dance, that they did today? it kinda reminded me of when we…” with a pairing of you choice 🥺?

Also makes sure to eat and drink water 🔫

okay so this ended up being a tasm!peter parker x gn!reader fic because i had an Idea so here. also it's kinda implied desi!reader, but it can really be read any way.

also you better do the same 🔫

the link to the dance which i mention is here

Finals were over. My bed was calling my name as I walked back from the horrid chem exam that had caused far too many all-nighteres in an attempt to memorize all of the ions and their charges as well as the formulas that we had learnt only a couple weeks ago.

But now, I could sleep for as long as I wanted until I had to start packing everything. Which was not until tomorrow because the dorms were supposed to be cleared out by next Friday. That left at least 18 hours that I could use to conk out if I wanted to wake up by about 9am tomorrow.

Unfortunately, or perhaps very fortunately, my plan was thrown away as soon as I saw Peter sitting on the stairs in front of the building, playing on his phone. “Did your ethics final finish up early? I thought you were supposed to be out by 4 at the earliest.”

“Kenobi cancelled it. Something about his nephew getting sick.”

“Well that leaves plenty of time for our must watch movie marathon we had planned a couple weeks ago.”

“Wasn’t that supposed to be during packing? So then if it gets far too cheesy, we could distract ourselves with loading up some of the boxes?”

“Yes, but I found out one of the ones I used to watch with my friends recently came back onto Netflix. And because I couldn’t find it literally anywhere else without having to pay an extravagant amount of money for one movie, we’re going to enjoy the experience of this movie without the need for literally anything else. Other than snacks.”

“Of course we would have snacks. Why was that ever in question?”

“With your appetite, it never should be.”

“Hey, you know that’s because of the spider bite.”

“Like you didn’t come over to my house and eat half of my snacks alongside your own when we were in middle school.”

“Well, sixth period P.E. for all three years causes a person to get a bit hungry after school.”

“And that doesn’t explain the time that we went to Build-A-Bear and you told me you wanted to eat a bear.”

“That was something I told you in confidence and something that I didn’t expect you to almost yell in front of your dorm.”

“Everyone deserves to know that you looked at a Gollum plushie and went, ‘That looks like it would be a good snack.’” “Were you like this before your chem final?” he asked. “Because I could have sworn the person I fell asleep next to was not out to kill me.”

“I was a different person then,” I stated while leading him into the building. “I cannot be expected to treat someone who decided to sit out here in 90 degree heat for 3 hours while I took my final nicely.”

He gasped dramatically, playing it up despite the fact that some of my neighbors were coming out to see what havoc we were causing today. “I have helped you study for countless tests and quizzes and even stayed up with you until 4am last night and this is how I am thanked? I shudder to call myself your boyfriend with such poor treatment.”

The Bridgerton marathon shortly before finals kicked into full swing seemed to have done something to him. But honestly, as long as we didn’t get another complaint regarding our arguments prior to the time that we made it upstairs, it would be fine. “And what do you say to the hours that I spent reviewing vocabulary with you for a final you didn’t even take?”

“I thought I had the final until I went to Kenobi’s room and saw the note posted on his door. And when I went to text you, I saw that your final had already started and decided against trying to distract you.”

“Well you should have distracted me anyways. Why wouldn’t I have wanted a text from you? After all, it wasn’t like that final was particularly important, I would have passed the class either way. Plus, you’re far more important than some stupid chem final that is only vaguely relevant to my degree.”

“I’m sure Windu would agree with that assessment.”

“Windu has a stick up his ass. Which I can finally say in front of other people because I’m finally out of that fucking class.” It still hadn’t entirely hit me that the school year was finally over, but the fact that I could hang out with Peter without needing to study or work on a project was beginning to cement it.

“True. I’m not looking forward to when I have to take him next year for organic.” He took a second before continuing, “Are we ever going to unlock your door or are you planning on watching it out here?”

“Right, that. I barely even noticed that we were here.” Which was surprising, however, this could easily be blamed on the sleep deprivation and the Peter’s distracting presence.

See the full post

27 notes - Posted June 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

so why is my heart broke?

tasm!peter parker x reader

warnings: angst, cursing (as always), and i think that's it

summary: you almost got hurt because of a fight between Spider-Man and the villain of the week. now Peter's trying to stop it from happening again

“I’m breaking up with you.”

“What?”

“I can’t keep putting you in danger like this,” Peter said.

“That doesn’t mean you break up with me, you dumbass.” You took a look at his face before continuing. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“Of course, I’m serious. I can’t see you get hurt again and again because I’m Spider-Man.”

“I get hurt once because I was somewhere the fight got to, and somehow this is what it results in? No, Peter, I refuse.”

“You can’t refuse,” he states, albeit with some confusion. “I’m breaking up with you.”

“Peter Motherfucker Parker, I refuse to let you break up with me.”

“I refuse to let you refuse to let me break up with you.”

“I wasn’t even involved in the fight before the villain of the week fucking crashed into the cafe I was picking up coffee from. How could this have resulted from you being Spider-Man? If anyone else was fighting them, the same thing would have happened.”

“Everyone who I have loved while being Spider-Man has been hurt by this, and I refuse to let you be a victim of the Parker curse.”

“I will stay right here beside you to show you that there is no such thing. There is simply the fact that I love you Peter Parker, and I will not leave your side.”

“And it is because of that that I can’t let you stay. I can’t see you get hurt.”

“Well this is hurting me. I’m in love with you and you just want me to leave? I can’t Peter. I can’t see you getting banged up on TV and know that I can’t do anything to help. I can’t leave you.”

“But you should.”

“When has that ever decided what I was going to do? What we were going to do? Fuck what I should do,” I exclaimed.

“I can’t lose you. No matter how much this would hurt both of us, it would never compare to the pain of losing you.”

“And the same applies to you. Do you think I would be okay knowing that you had, that you had died out there, fighting an alien or some shit? I can barely handle the idea of breaking up with you and yet you want me to live knowing that you are out there risking your life every day without anyone on your side? No one there to patch you up when you get hurt? No one who knows what you’re going through every time you show up with bruises and cuts?”

“And what would happen to me if you weren’t there because of me? Because I can’t live without knowing that you were safe. No matter how difficult it is to leave you, there’s no option here where you’re safe. There’s never been one as soon as you chose me.”

“And I’m going to keep choosing you. I am always going to choose you, Peter. Despite all the dangers and slightly insane ideas, I love you.”

That seemed to cause the last remaining bits of fight left in him to dissipate. “I love you too. Despite your stubbornness.”

“Hey, I think that it’s warranted right now. You were about to lose the best thing in your life because you got scared of something that wasn’t your fault. Someone had to do something about it,” You retorted.

“I’m glad someone did.”

108 notes - Posted April 9, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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woozi · 2 years

Note

Hi!! Can I ask you if you have any advice on how to only colour one part of a gif? Like you did with your Jeonghan bday set? I have a hard time figuring it out ㅠㅠ

hey bestie!! it def is v challenging, i also find it quite difficult at times so don't feel too discouraged!

i think the way i'd go about it differs on a case to case basis, especially considering the color i'm going to be changing, but here's a very basic guide/a gist of how i do it <3

for me, the easiest colors to manipulate are blues and cyans so i'll be using scenes with them on this example!

this is my base gif

i usually do a preliminary coloring first majorly bc of the skin before adjusting/changing the color im trying to play with. here is how it currently looks like

and now we play with the colors!! go to your adjustments layer and select "selective color", the next panel should appear

you can try to slide the panels around to make sure you're augmenting the color that you want. i just like doing it because sometimes greens read as yellows, etc, hehe. now. what im trying to change here are cyans bc of cheol's background. the first thing i like doing is reducing the "shades" available by trying to make it one solid color. given that his background also has hints of blue in it, i first move the sliders around to my liking to achieve this.

now that i have a more cyan background, i can choose to repeat that step to make it more solid, but in this case i'm satisfied so i wont do that lmao 😭 now i boost the cyan itself to make it more vibrant. more vibrant colors are easier to change later on!

now for the fun part!! we use hue/saturation to finally change the colors. since i'm changing cyans, i'm going to select cyan and just move the slider to the color i want. in this case that's red!

and there you have it! you can also move the saturation and lightness sliders to augment the color to your liking. here are other color examples and their equivalent sliders too (just bc i enjoyed making this lmao)

you can always do more coloring on top of it too in case the skin got messed up, hehe. hope that made sense! sorry its a little all over the place my brain just got fried from class fdjfdjfdj if you have more questions don't hesitate to ask, i'd be more than glad to answer them <33 hope this helps!!

#anon #y.ask #y.tutorial #didnt proofread this so i hope it still makes sense i'll go back to it later jfdfkf

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csperspectives · 2 years

Text

NORTON SIMON MUSEUM EXPERIENCE

written: 1 july, 2022 - 13 august 2022

museum visit: 27 june, 2022

i live in the los angeles county, and it was my first time visiting the norton simon museum located in pasadena, california.

why did it have to take my years to visit a museum that is nearby?

i could have had the opportunity to visit in high school, but i never really found the time and chance to. i do not want this museum visit to be "now that i am an art history major" i will visit. the primary reason for this visit is to get a feel of what it is like walking and being fully immersed in art. with that being said, wanting to work at a museum is something i want to do for the rest of my life (and possibly teach at the end of my career.) getting to choose art being on display or personally picking up the art from another museum is something that will bring me joy.

i will briefly talk about my museum experience before i fully submerge myself in the art. here are a couple of reasons to visit the norton simon museum.

the staff is super friendly, and they will talk to you about art.

they have more van gogh paintings than the getty.

even though they are smaller than other museums, this will give you a chance to become more intimate with the art. it makes them more enjoyable as you walk through and get to know them (the art work) more.

you can take your time to sit down and listen to the mini lectures posted on their website about the artwork. (of course, i took advantage of this.)

people are fully immersed in art. (although, there were some people who took a lot of pictures. i was one of those people because i was trying to capture the immense details of the painting(s).)

although i went on a super hot day, i did peak outside the garden area. (i believe that it is their garden area, fact check me if i am wrong.) they had many sculptures on display; however, i did not get a chance to view the info.

it is a given that you would look at the paintings and read the description that goes along with it (because that is what i did.) however, i started noticing the little details that some people might look over.

let me present the main question.

why did i take a picture of some of the artwork and its fine details?

there are some things that captivated me at first glance, and i needed to talk about it. i found a lot of interesting things that other people should see. i know that some people who have a difficult time traveling or cannot necessarily come to california will not be able to view the art work displayed at the norton simon museum. hopefully, through this entry, it will be a way to read about some of the artwork displayed (as well as my thoughts, opinions, and experiences.)

with that being said, let's take a walk with the paintings.

--------------

i don't want to pull the "as an art history major," but i do not quite wrap my head around this specific artist and era. "as an art history major," i learned about van gogh. however, the question i have is whether or not is an impressionist, expressionist, post-impressionist painter, or what era of art did he fit in.

(google is a great search engine to find out about van gogh's past.) let me just tell you a little bit to start talking about one of his paintings. he was a famous painter during his time, but i am glad to know that he had personal issues and got help, entering an asylum where he continued to paint his surroundings.

while he was a patient in the saint-paul-de-mausole asylum, he painted

the mulberry tree in october of 1889.

my first initial thought about the painting was its brushwork. when you look at the painting as a whole, you are able to depict the tree and its background. (the asylum must have had a beautiful scenery for van gogh to paint something simple but with great intentions of beauty and detail.) the tree is the focal point; with multiple shades of yellow as it corresponds with the field and blue sky. the way you would be able to separate the sections apart is by the brush strokes. van gogh's brush strokes give the painting so much texture. if i had the opportunity to hold the paintings, i would be amazed that i am able to feel the painting's texture. the paint on the canvas is thick, and i would imagine it would take weeks to dry. although, van gogh was able to blend the colors on the canvas while it was still wet, creating the different shades and colors.

i took a close up shot of the painting to focus on the brush strokes. this part of the close up shot is in the middle of the tree, where the tree bark starts creating branches and producing leaves.

as you can see in the painting, van gogh's brush strokes are short and provide texture while his longer strokes blend with the other colors on the canvas. one great example of his long brush stroke is the blending of blue, orange, and black. in this specific part of the painting, i would assume that he painted the yellow leaves first before adding the black tree branch. when you follow the black brush stoke, it follows the orange leaves. he does something similar with the blue. (pointing out the obvious, the background is blue,) but during this (i would assume) he globs a good amount of paint on his brush, and then adds it to the canvas. this is why this section has more prominent blue blending in well with the black and orange.

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IMPRESSIONISM! the norton simon has a variety of impressionist paintings. what a coincidence to talk about impressionism because my last entry was on impressionism.

at least i know this painting was done by impressionist artist.

the view of berneval by camille pissarro

just by looking at it, it is a landscape painting filled with many greens, mini houses, and white clouds. by reading the description of the painting, we can get a feel of where or what berneval actually is. berneval consists of a hotel and many houses throughout the landscape where people will come for food and such. however, there are people who habit the area in chalets. at first glance, i would say the painting is comfortable. it feels familiar and something i would hang in my office (if i had one.)

as i mentioned earlier, this painting feels familiar because of what pissarro saw in his everyday life. i would say this painting emphasizes impressionism because of the short, thin brush strokes that pissarro creates, and the landscape being the main composition of the painting. (click here to see my breakdown of what impressionism is in my last entry.)

now, i just want to talk about his signature on the painting. it is on the bottom right corner, and you can clearly see it with black ink. it doesn't seem like anything special but adding the year this was produced gives the art historian an easier way to find out when this was painted. either way, even if we did not get the year this was produced, art historians would probably connect the pieces together and found out when this was painted.

--------------

oh god, here is the next painting (and artist) i will be talking about.

i really did not want to talk about claude monet, but he has many pieces at the norton simon, and you cannot seem to get rid of him. (technically, not technically, claude monet is one of the founding fathers of impressionism.)

let's propose a question.

why did i choose to talk about this specific painting and not any of his other paintings?

simple. the first thing that attracted me to this painting is the boar located on the left side of the painting.

monet drew the boat beautifully, and he included writing on the boat as well. could this be the boat's name or number? not only that, but the tiny figures in the boat stand out as well. although we cannot see the shadows, we can definitely see what each figure is doing on the boat.

immediately to the right of the boat, we can see a gray colored object. i could assume that this is a fish or maybe a shark the human figures are trying to reel in. unless the gray object is a large net string with ropes on the end to catch the fish.

there is another boat located in the middle of the painting with four figures rowing. this boat also has a tag.

i noticed that both boats start with HOI, but they have different numbers for the endings. let's propose another question.

is there any significant meaning with the tags on the boat?

since i refuse to look anything up for this painting, i am not completely sure if there is any significant meaning with the tags; however, people do name their boats, and i would justify that as the name. unless, monet was trying to do something fancy and wrote whatever he wanted.

i guess we can focus on this painting as a whole. even though it is casted off to the side, the white pigeons are still prominent figures just as the people on the boat. they clearly contrast the gray clouds.

looking at this painting, i immediately think that these people are going sailing or boating before it rains. (although i am not familiar with the history during this time, i would like to come up with a story for this painting.) these people are not far off the shore, but just enough where they know that they will be able to catch fish or any seafood. it is like when you go to the beach, you will see boats far off in the distance (that is what i think monet was trying to capture.)

another interpretation of this could be the leisure time of the people. boating and rowing is a hobby, but as for the men fishing, i would assume that they will sell what they caught at the market.

my review and interpretation for the painting is short, because i feel like i talk about monet too much.

--------------

the next painting i am about to reference is by a women. this is also an impressionist painting that i always learn about. she also has another painting i like as well, but it is not located at the norton simon.

this painting was produced in 1874 and majority of the painters were male. i will give you a great example, and i actually talked about their paintings. claude monet (whom i can never seem to get rid of), camille pissaro, and edgar degas.

BUT. we cannot forget about berthe morisot.

one of her paintings located at the norton simon is....

in the villa at the seaside, painted in 1874.

this painting has three prominent figures, the mom, her child, and another figure ascending the stairs. the description of the painting did mention that these three figures are at the beach. more so, they are in a villa which identifies their middle-class position.

i appreciate the color in the painting. the first color i notice is the beautiful and "clear" ocean. (keeping in mind that this is the year 1874, there is not a lot of pollution; therefore, the ocean is clean and clear.) normally when we think about the ocean color, we would say it is blue. however, morisot did not use a blue color. instead she used a middle blue-green color, and its shades that changes the atmosphere of the painting.

what do i mean by this?

i think that the reason why she uses the middle blue-green color is because of the clouds. (there is a little science? allow me to explain.) the ocean is blue because the ocean would absorb and scatter the red part of the light spectrum. although, we would usually say the ocean is blue because is it the reflection of the sky. in the painting, the clouds cover up most of the painting only leaving a small part of the sky to shine through; that is why i think the ocean is a middle blue-green color.

(i could be wrong because i am not provided with a month, but i think it was painted during the fall or winter.)

here is one thing i did not know about the painting. the description states, "it was during this trip that morisot became engaged to manet's brother.." this fragment sentence led me to look at the painting once more to see the mother's figure's head shaded. the description also states that the women has a veil. (i did not notice this throughout the times i learned about this painting, but i can always learn something new everyday.)

now let's talk about the figure ascending up the stairs. although she is not painted in detail, we can see her holding an umbrella and wearing a long gown. there is only so much i can say about her, but one of my inferences is that she is most likely the mother / grandmother.

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daumier. daumier. daumier. his name sounds very familiar. when i looked him up on google, i immediately know why his name sounds familiar. he is the artist of rue transnonain (one of the first works of art that i learned by him.)

BUT! i am not going to be talking about that artwork. i will be talking about...

saltimbanques resting (top) (1870) and study of saltimbanques resting (bottom) (1865-66).

to me, saltimbanques resting is an example of a family struggling to survive in france. there are a couple of things i noticed in this painting. i would assume that it is three generations, the grandfather, father, and son. another thing i noticed is the feeling of despair that radiates off the painting. i feel sorry, and i wish i can do something to help them.

little history lesson. i think daumier is presenting a message to us. although i am unsure what it is. before i even looked up anything about this painting. i felt like something must be happening during this year. low and behold, it is the franco-prussian war.

this painting makes more sense, and people usually struggle the most. the economy is down, and everything goes into a depressive and distressful state.

now back to the painting. reading the painting from left to right, let's talk a little about the light source and the son.

daumier purposely did not show where the light source is coming from; however, he did show how the light cast through the room and onto the figures. i will only say this much about the light source and slowly incorporate it to the next parts as i talk about the son, father, grandfather, and the painting as a whole.

the son is in a white shirt; however, it is not the whitest nor the cleanest, and this may be because they do not have the sufficient funds.

the mysterious light source is hitting the son't back and hiding his face. we cannot see what his emotions are or how he feels, but his body language is telling me this much. he is looking down at the end of the table, slightly crouching his back so that he focal point is not really on him. there could be numerous reasons why his body is presented that way. the lack of food on the table suggests that his grandfather and father are conversing with him, and his father must be pointing something on the table.

we have to keep in mind that daumier painted this during the 1870s, and men are still the breadwinner of families. the son is there to listen and understand what is happening, and how things should be done.

it is a deep red color that daumier uses for the father. he is in the center, which can mean a couple of things. the first one is his importance to the painting. (still keeping in mind that this is the 1870s,) he could be the sole provider of the family, and he is talking about his plans with his son and father. but due to his expression, i think that he may be telling them some bad news.

i am getting off topic. let's propose an open-ended question.

why did daumier choose to black out half of the father's face.

(i am excited to talk about the next part.) the mysterious light source does it once again. we can only see half of his face, while the other half is completely dark. he looks cery similar to the man in another one of daumier's paintings (rue transnonian). (i can talk about this in another entry.)

(could this possibly be an addition or story sequence that we may or may not know about? and do these two paintings go together?)

i cannot specifically answer the question, because i do not know what daumier was thinking while painting this.

lastly (but not the last thing we will be talking about) is the grandfather. he seems to be the only one that is the "brightest" in the room. what i mean by this is the color of his clothes. it is gray but seems to be the cleanest, and the light source hits him well that we can see him and his facial expressions clearly.

i possibly think that he is the focal point because of the way the light source hits him, the color of his clothing, and how he fits in the painting. the enigmatic light source hits him and completely displays his body. daumier did not do this with the other two figures. however, similar to the father, only half of his face is shown.

i do not want to say this because some people might get the wrong impression, but i think there is a triangle. a better term or phrase for this would be "the golden rule of three."it is not that noticeable like some paintings during the renaissance, but i think it is there.

just to try and prove my point, i will be adding it.

if you think about it, these three figures can represent the holy trinity. the father, the son, and the holy spirit.

why do i think of this to be the holy trinity?

the first obvious answer is the father and the son. they are both clearly shown in the painting. ALTHOUGH, i did mention the grandfather. this is where i start to question about the holy trinity. i mentioned that the grandfather is in gray / white, and usually when i think of the holy spirit, i would think of a literal white spirit.

i also did mention that the grandfather is the brightest one in the room SINCE the unknown light source is clearly shining on him. this could possibly be another reasoning i have towards this painting to be a figure or (hidden meaning) of the holy trinity.

i will let your mind wander now and if you want to debate, that's fine as well.

i described a lot of details in the painting. i am going to cut to the chase with the study of saltimbanques resting.

it is not as detailed as saltimbanques resting; however, i would assume that this was a quick "sketch" of what he actually wanted to paint. the study of painting lacks a lot of details but it does get to the point of the painting across.

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it is out of curiosity why i talk about the next artist. born in illinois, richard hunit (i would say) is an interesting man.

back in the 1950s, he used "direct-metal" sculpting. (this is the first time i have ever heard something like that.) to give a brief definition, it is a manipulation of material rather than carving or casting.

not only did this intrigue me, but he also had lithographs. i've only studied a couple of lithographs during my time, but to see this type of lithograph fascinated me.

when i think of lithographs, i think of the crystal palace in london, england. (i donot know if there is a black and white lithograph of the crystal palace because in my text book it was shown in color.)

in the description, it states how lithographs complimented him as a sculptor.

what peaked my interest is how his lithographs are named "untitled" or "details." however, when it came to details, each detail had a roman numeral. i would suggest that the roman numerals on the "details" would be in a specific order.

richard hunt's lithographs are very unique. i have never seen anything like it before, and i feel like it changes the way of art.

i do not want to get anything wrong, so i will be proposing a question.

lithographs were created in 1965, what would his exact era be?

i will not be pinpointing anything though. however, i do not want to think this fits with abstract expressionism nor pop part. i think it would fit (please note i use the term could loosely) in arte povera. however, the only problem with that is the type of material he used to compose the lithographs.

when you stare at the lithographs, pay attention to all of the fine details. the lines on his lithographs are very sharp and concentrated. before i even read the description of richard hunt, i honestly thought they were mere sketches and drawings.

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let me propose a personal question.

does spanish baroque art come in second place in my life?

i believe in my last entry, i briefly spoke about italian baroque (of course, this is the focus i want to get into.) in a way, spanish baroque does come close; however, i don't find it as attractive as italian baroque.

is it because of the paintings or what?

there is a feeling i got when i started to learn about italian baroque art that made me know "this is the focus and specialty i want to get into."

but nevertheless, i will bring up spanish baroque because the noron simon does have a good amount of spanish baroque paintings on display.

painted in 1633: still life with lemons, oranges, and a rose by francisco de zurbaran

(this painting reminds me of still life with game fowl by juan sánchez cotán.)

everything about this painting screams spanish baroque.

[a little flashback. in my intro to world art class, i met a person who specializes in capturing the spanish baroque art. yes, i did say capturing. instead of painting it, he does it all with a camera. he is currently a professor or for a better term, a faculty member at the school a currently attend.]

anyways, back to the painting.

of course i took close up shots, who would i be without them?

i do want to get into this one detail of the painting: the cracks. i am not sure what the correct terminology, but for better explanation i am talking about the wear and tear of the painting. if you were to zoom into the photo, you can see the cracks which i believe makes it a timeless painting.

back to the bigger picture. in classic spanish baroque, the colors of the lemon, orange, and rose are enhance an bright behind ab black background. saying that makes it sound like i am stereotyping this painting as spanish baroque, but that is not what i am trying to convery (even though this is a spanish baroque painting.)

we have to keep in mind that even though this is a spanish baroque painting, it is right after the renaissance era. the golden rule of three is prevalent in the painting. you have three things to focus on.

(i like to call it the golden rule of three.)

i do want to talk about the orange because i believe they are freshly picked. i believe this because the leaves and branches are present and attached to the orange.

it is interesting to note the title of this painting is with lemons, oranges, and a rose rather than the tea cup.

after quickly skimming through the description of the painting. it did mention that the three objects in this painting do represent the holy trinity, (once again, the golden rule of three.)

the cup is bigger than the rose yet the title of the painting is with lemon, orange, and rose. i do heavily question that.

the whole painting itself feels so realistic.

i don't know what more to say, so i am cutting it short.

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i have never seen a painting like this before. it is a spanish baroque or at least i think it is (fact check me if i am wrong, i still refuse to look anything up.) but i think i am right because artemisia gentileschi (an italian baroque painter) also painted her version of this.

painted in 1655 by bartolomé esteban murillo, the birth of st. john the baptist.

there are so many things happening in the painting. let's take a walk.

on the right corner of the painting, there is a dog. this is pretty much a known thing in art history, but when a dog is painted, it is a sign of loyalty.

i still refuse to google anything about this painting, so from here on, i will be making major inferences.

i will start in the back, where the lady is on the bed being treated by a servant. i am not sure if i am seeing things, but there could be another figure to the servant. it looks like a ghost or a shadow? (i could be wrong or right, although i am not quite sure.) the female on the bed looks very concerning because she could be very sick or on her death bed.

now that we are slowly getting to the focus of the painting, there is something important that i have to bring up. this goes for both spanish and italian baroque. the major contrast between light and dark, also known as chiaroscuro. this technique was used throughout the renaissance and baroque period.

how does chiaroscuro apply to this painting?

chiaroscuro is a well known in baroque style art. (my favorite painter, carravaggio uses this technique, and i praise him for it.) as you can see, the painting clearly depicts st. john being surrounded by the light source while everything else is dark; a very present contrast/

the picture shown above (i did take it at the museum) seems to be bright, but in reality, there are dark parts in the painting.

as i continue to talk a little more about chiaroscuro, i will slowly shift to talk ing about the painting as a whole.

st. john is in the hands of the midwife, and we can clearly see that it is st. john because of the name of the painting, and the yellow halo on his head. he is being cared for by multiple midwives while some of them talk to a male.

i will make a vague but educated guess that this man is from the church, and that he is there because he heard a calling from jesus.

i shall call forth the angels whoa re located on the upper part of the painting. they are there to welcome st. john into the world. they are also another light source that is presented in the painting.

i just want to pay attention to the details of the midwives' clothing. it looks very realistic, and that we are seeing this scene happen.

there could be more things about this painting, but since i refuse to look anything up; i will settle with these thoughts.

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as i finish this entry off, i want to talk about one more painting. it is very detailed, and it has something to tell me.

painted in 1735, interior of st. peters, rome by giovanni paolo pannini

it is actually quite difficult where to start because there is just so much going on in the painting (details and stuff.) although i do not know the main reason why this was painted, i can make inferences and educational guesses.

although there is something i want to talk about first.

there is the one thing i looked up, but i did not google it. instead, i looked it up in my past notes. i learned about this specific piece in the painting when i took intro to world art II. before i get off topic, dead center in the middle is this beautiful bronze (yes, i said bronze) baldacchino.

how did i know what the painting was, or more specifically, where this painting is located?

the magic (or for better term, understanding) of context clues.

although i have never visited st. peter's (i would like to someday), there is also so much information that i can get from the year of the painting, the name of the painting, and the clothes that the figures are wearing.

(if you do not know anything about the painting, it is best to look at the description next to the painting.)

from the description, i gained the information of who the commissioner is (cardinal melchior de polignac of france,) and where he is in the painting.

considering the painting (with the amount of figures it has) it is no surprise that the commissioner (or patron? is that a synonym for commissioner) is painted in the painting. (a lot of patrons like to do this.) not only that, but the description states that the commissioner is in red. there is (i believe) two figures in red; however, my suggestion is the commissioner is surrounded by a cluster of people.

(i have never been inside st. peters, but i have seen numerous photos when i studied it.)

the details in this painting are preciser and intricate. if you were to zoom into the painting (picture provided above) you will see all of the sculptures cared on top of the arches. i am not sure if they are attached or carved into the walls.

(i would suggest that the columns attached to the walls have corinthian style columns.) normally when you see corinthian, they are located outside. however, i think the reason why they are inside is because they are use as a decorative purpose, since they is attached to the walls.

these sculptures remind me of the greek and / or roman era. (although, even to this day; there is always some sort of reference to the greek and roman era.)

they remind me of michelangelo, more precisely the figures that he paints and sculpts. to me, i would say that these figures carved into the walls are renaissance. i just remembered that st. peters is a renaissance architecture piece.

please forgive me as i am not familiar with architecture terms. although, i was briefly taught how to read a (plan?), is that the correct terminology to use? i apologize once more.

as i mentioned earlier, i will be using context clues to talk about the painting.

the renaissance era was during the 15th and 16th century (1400s-1500s.) this painting was produced in 1735, by an italian painter.

(i am thinking about this on the top of my head. i won't say that this painting is baroque because of the nature of the painting. (it just does not fit into the baroque style era, although, who am i to judge? i am still learning.)

[context clues] let's propose a question,

the era that follows after the baroque is rococo, could this be part of the rococo era?

i haven't fully studied the rococo period in depth, but from what i can remember, it was a period of the rich. they spent their money lavishly and did not really care. the artists during this time did not really appreciate nature; while everyone else primarily focused on wealth and being in an artificial world. (this is what i literally remember from the rococo period.)

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although i did not talk about all of the paintings, i talked about the ones that stood out to me the most.

they also had a lot of abstract and expressionism paintings (and a version of the annunciation painting; however, i always seem to study it from a variety of it from different artists.)

anyways if you do have the time and opportunity, go visit the norton simon museum.

signing of: jhanella mae

all photos were taken by me and are located at the norton simon museum in pasadena, california.

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will-o-theforce · 2 months

Text

E. Willow presents

The Pokémon Series: Part 1

Under the cut: Vaporeon, Pikachu, Sylveon, Umbreon, Jolteon, Delcatty, Mismagius, Eevee

*There are signature inconsistencies in early works

Vaporeon

My first attempt at Pokémon art. I know nothing of the games or the anime, so this was an interesting challenge in trying to make those lines and edges as clean as possible.

The background design, done entirely with posca pens, was inspired by those “how to draw water” videos you see on TikTok.

Pikachu

Not my favourite. Pikachu is adorable, but not particularly challenging. This piece also presents a plethora of rookie mistakes that I’m not proud of, but I maintain that they’ve been helpful in developing a more consistent technique

Sylveon

She is my everything and I’ll love her for all eternity. An incredible challenge! Not only did I make so many mistakes that I had to fix, but consistently mixing all those different shades of pink that stood out from one another induced an entirely new level of rage for me.

This was when I really started leaning into the idea of really abstract background designs. My research showed Sylveon is a peaceful type Pokémon, who has attacks, but prefers to stay largely nonviolent, and I wanted this to show. I wanted to call to the movement of her body in the lines, and also really allow her to pop with the bubbles filling up those big empty spaces.

Umbreon

Screaming crying throwing up. So cute! But also a huge pain in my ass! Do you know how hard it is to find a full body pose reference for this little dude? SO HARD! I also think literally all of his attacks are ugly, but I found this one card that had these little stars and some white lightning lines, so I thought that’d be an awesome concept to explore, especially with bringing those background designs to the foreground.

I think he could’ve popped more if the background had been maybe yellow or red to highlight those colour points on his body, but I think he works like this.

Jolteon

YES. He is beauty, he is grace, the very visible mistake corrections are slapping me in the face. The lovely thing about acrylic is that them mistakes are SEEN. I still love him though. I think his line art would’ve been the most difficult with all those sharp points.

Jolteon is when I decided to be very conscious of posing and placement. With the others, you can see some deliberate choices, but not all of the previous paintings were this carefully thought out. I like the idea of having the determined attack pose, or with the peaceful ones, a flowing pose with lots of movement implications. Movement is one of my favourite things to display in my more abstract designs. Here it’s very prominent in the step forward sparking out and back.

Delcatty

I wanted to try something with the clean border. I think as a whole, I like the painted edges more because the bright white border tends to highlight those empty spaces rather than letting the empty spaces bring out the figure.

This was my fastest attempt, having been started and completed within about 3 hours including drying time. I think the background should have been a shade darker to allow for those purple motifs in Delcatty to really pop, but there’s also something kind of satisfying about the way parts of the figure blend into the background.

I was so lost on how to display Delcatty’s attack, so I decided to use those movement lines and bubbles extending out from the front to make it seem as though her shout is a power in itself. Almost like you’d see in manga or comic when a character is all caps-ing. I also liked the idea of adding individual movement lines to the tail, because my cat has a tail that flickers and moves a lot when he’s vocal.

Mismagius

Again with the border, but something about it worked here that didn’t with Delcatty, and I think it’s because of how filled up the space is. I saw the eye motif on one of Mismagius’ cards while I was researching and thought it’d be such a cool addition, and the way it brings attention to her actual eyes is an awesome bonus.

Colour theory kicked my ass with this one. You see those black shadows on the hat and one of her limbs? That shit is violet. But because of the background being that super deep plum violet, it comes out almost black. You have to shine a light on it to see the purple.

This one was a 3am crash course in How Badly Do I Wanna Screw My Sleep Schedule. It’s bad yall.

Eevee

This was a commissioned piece and is definitely my favourite of the bunch. The browns just really work together, and I love the honey colour of his eyes. I also love the almost front-facing determined pose with the movement lines and dots going up from the back and following the curve of the tail. I’m also quite happy with how the top left space doesn’t feel like “empty space” even though there’s nothing there. It brings more attention to Eevee himself without overcrowding or leaving it too empty. A good balance.

I also finally figured out my signature with this one, so hooray for me!

#my artwork #painting #art study #traditional art #pokemon #pokémon fanart #eevee #eeveelution #sylveon #umbreon #jolteon #vaporeon #delcatty #mismagius #pikachu #fanart #acrylic #posca pens #colour block

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radiant-reid · 2 years

Text

The Private Eye

Read Pt 1 here

Summary: Spencer gets even closer to a famous actress, and starts a relationship no one believes or knows exists A/n: I just want to say a very quick thank you to all of you amazing people who loved part 1 🤍 and I added this request in

the reader is like a really famous singer in a long term relationship with spencer but they’ve kept it a secret even from the team and maybe garcia is a huge fan and finds out somehow like maybe she does like a livestream or something from spencer’s apartment she recognizes the background

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Fluff)

Content Warning: mentioning of stalking (in part 1)

Word Count: 4.7k

Masterlist Navigation

When he first asked Y/n, Spencer hadn't thought about what it would entail. He lacked knowledge about where to take someone on a date, and it was made more difficult by the fact her life was so extravagant anyway.

Nothing he could think of was good enough for her. Everything was either too tacky, too dull, or too nerdy. Y/n had told him she'd be in New York, and they should have their date in DC. It should have made things easy for him, being in the city he lived in, but it wasn't.

Once he'd sat with the problem for long enough, he decided he needed some outside help from the BAU's resident ladies man.

"Morgan, I need some advice," Spencer complained, sitting down at his desk. He'd picked a time when Prentiss and JJ weren't there.

It wasn't a common occurrence, Spencer asking for help, and he was already embarrassed about it. Morgan looked up from his desk, realizing something was wrong with his concerned expression. "What's up?" He asked.

"Where do you take, uh, girls, like, on dates?" He managed to get out before blushing bright red.

"Who are you taking on a date?" Morgan asked in reply, an amused smirk playing on his lips, close to chuckling.

Spencer rolled his eyes at the teasing tone, wishing he'd just used Google, even if it meant Penelope would know. "Just someone," Spencer replied ambiguously, smiling as he thought about her.

"Nuh-uh, pretty boy. I've got to know if I'm going to help you." Morgan said, shaking his head and swinging back in his chair as he twirled his pen around his finger. "Ohhh, is it that girl from LA? Y/n?"

Attempting a lie wasn't an option when his face was such a dead giveaway. "Yes." He mumbled, eyes on his lap.

"Wow... I did not think..." Morgan said, shaking his head in disbelief. Spencer found it difficult not to be offended, sending a glare at Morgan to convey his point. "Okay, fair enough. What does she like?"

It only occurred to him then that he knew all about her deepest insecurities, but he had no idea what her favorite color was. He could see it being red- full of love, passion, strength, and magnetic energy- or pink- sweet, playful, and inspirational- or yellow- bright, hope, and just like sunshine. The problem was there were too many options.

"I, uh, I don't really know," Spencer answered, biting his lip as he replayed every word she spoke to him. He knew she was a perfectionist who was addicted to praise and needed more and more each day to feel okay, but he didn't know what her favorite thing to do was.

"Okay, well, pick something that you like," Morgan suggested, quickly retracting his recommendation. "Not something super nerdy, though."

Spencer wasn't sure why she couldn't both be into nerdy things and incredibly beautiful, but he didn't comment on it. "I think I might have an idea." He decided, slightly smiling.

"Let me know how it goes?" Morgan requested, but Spencer could tell he didn't fully believe it was happening. He just wished his friend would do a better job of hiding it.

Even though Spencer hadn't been on any bad dates in his life- mainly due to the fact he'd barely been on any- he had never been more scared.

"Your hair looks fine." He heard the comment coming from Alex as he tried to fix it while sitting at his desk. He could feel that it wasn't sitting right, and it was definitely making him feel uncomfortable.

Still, her kind smile made him feel a little bit better. "Are you sure?" He asked, trusting her to give him a proper answer.

"Yes, Spencer, you look charming." She assured him, flashing him a gentle smile. He returned it with a tight-lipped, unsure smile. "Go have fun, don't think about work, and be young."

Steadying his breathing, Spencer nodded, picking up his things from his desk. Alex gave him a supportive thumbs-up before he walked out the glass doors.

Leaving the FBI building anytime before 6 wasn't something he usually did, but that night, he had somewhere to be. And someone to be with, and, truthfully, he was feeling excited about it. Nervous, but more in anticipation than worrying that something could go wrong like he'd finally let himself believe this was really happening.

"Where are you rushing off to, Spence?" JJ asked, standing next to him when he pressed the elevator button.

"Oh, uh, n-nowhere." He lied through his teeth, guiltily clearing his throat. JJ, obviously, didn't believe him, flashing him a frown until he told her the truth. "A date." He mumbled, biting his bottom lip while fidgeting with the strap of his satchel.

JJ's eyebrows raised up in surprise, wide eyes asking him if he was serious. "With who?" She questioned, staring at him while they stepped into the elevator.

Spencer considered waiting until they reached the parking floor and running away, but there were too many floors in between, and the elevator really wasn't going fast enough.

Desperately, he stuttered out a reply. "Y/n. Y/n L/n."

JJ chuckled slightly at that. "Her new TV show or a movie she's in?" When Spencer couldn't do anything but frown, she went on to explain. "I mean, I know you kissed, but, no offense, Spence, you're not going out with someone like her."

A classic 'no offense' statement that was, on every level, offensive. Choosing to not get mad about it, Spencer just shrugged. "I'll tell you on Monday."

Once again, JJ laughed like she'd said something funny. "Okay. See you then." She waved, getting into her car.

Spencer sighed, knowing he'd never be able to talk about his dating life with the team like they talked about theirs. After a moment, his mood changed, thinking about the night planned ahead.

His heart rate only picked up more and more as he drove to Y/n's hotel, parking conveniently outside before walking into the lobby to find her. Even more than he fixed his hair, he had the sudden urge to fix his tie.

All his concerns melted away when he saw Y/n. In a short, shinny silver dress with her hair gently curled. She didn't give him a chance to be awkward about how he should greet her. She hugged him, she actually hugged him, and he could feel his heart fluttering in his chest as he momentarily froze. Like he noted last time, she smelt incredible, and he worried if it was weird to think.

When she pulled back, she leaned up to place a kiss on his cheek, grinning when he went bright red. "Hey, Spence." She greeted him, trying to mask her own nerves.

It was rare that she went on a date with someone who wasn't verified on Instagram. Much less someone who wasn't on social media because she had looked him up a hundred times. The little she did learn was that he was received a lot of well-deserved praise.

"H-hi." Spencer stuttered out, trying not to blush too much, but it was difficult when she was standing so close to him. He then remembered their phone calls and how they could talk for hours without awkwardness. That was the side of him he wanted her to see. "How are you? How was New York?"

"Fantastic," Y/n answered both questions. "I've got lots to fill you in on, though."

Spencer couldn't help but smile at the fact she wanted to share details of her life with him. "Okay, should we go then?" He offered.

Glancing over his shoulder, Y/n grimaced. "If you're ready to face that." That was the media storm already forming outside, clamoring of fans and flashing cameras of the paparazzi. It was crazy, something Spencer couldn't fathom. "I'm really sorry-"

"It's okay," Spencer assured her, noticing how her face flooded with guilt. "But we should probably get out before it gets worse, right?" He didn't know what he was talking about, but his support counted for a lot.

"Yeah." Y/n nodded, mentally preparing. "Keep your head down and covered, don't answer questions, and walk fast." She quickly briefed him, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the doors.

Spencer followed Y/n, listening to the constant flow of questions and screaming of fans, before opening the car door for her and quickly driving out of there.

A little more hesitantly, Y/n reached out to hold one of his hands. Her heart rate was racing, from a mix of rushing out of the hotel, the thrill of her fans, but, mainly, holding Spencer's hand.

"Crazy, right?" She noticed his frazzled expression.

Disoriented, he nodded. "Yeah, definitely." He mumbled, trying to get his head back in the game.

"You might be on the front cover of a magazine in the near future," Y/n warned him, slightly worried it would mess with his FBI career. If there was a silver lining to Spencer, it was that the team might finally believe him. When he did say anything, she steered the conversation to what was most important. "So, where are we going?"

Once again, he was nervous, hoping she liked what he was about to say. "The Smithsonian American Art Museum."

"Oh my gosh!" Y/n exclaimed.

Spencer snuck a glance at her, worried it wasn't a positive reaction. "Is that a good oh my gosh or a bad oh my gosh? Because we can-"

She squeezed his hand, immediately getting him to shut up. "Good. So good. I've always wanted to go." She assured him, excitement in her voice. "I've never even been to DC, though, so you could take me anywhere, and I'd be thrilled."

"Really?" Spencer asked, peeking at her again. "You've never been to DC?"

Shaking her head, she answered. "Nope, I was sick when the 8th-grade field trip happened."

"I was 4 or 5 years younger than everyone else," Spencer remembered, watching her again when she laughed. Their date was going better than he could have ever imagined.

When her laugher died off, she admired his side profile. "You truly are remarkable." She couldn't help but let the compliment slip out, shyly smiling afterward.

His blushing was so endearing, and it made her want to compliment her for the rest of time. "T-thank you."

"You're welcome." She replied.

Like it was perfectly timed, they arrived at the art gallery. Chivalrously, he walked around to open her door, adoring the way she smiled at him for a small gesture. Next, he grabbed the picnic basket he had previously packed, more confidently taking her hand.

Y/n was bouncing up and down when he knocked on the front door of a famous museum- something he still couldn't comprehend- and waited for the security guard to open the door. Her estimation of Spencer's impressiveness grew when the security guard didn't even ask for ID to let him in.

Once he took her through to the gallery, she stood there astounded for a few moments. Slyly, Spencer grinned at the fact he could dazzle her after how many unbelievable experiences she'd had.

"This is... wow." She finally managed to mumble out in complete awe.

"Mhm." Spencer agreed, more enamored by her than the renowned artworks. "Stunning."

Once she finally snapped out of it, they kept walking around slowly, so Spencer had enough time to spit facts out about every piece of art hanging on the walls.

"Is this okay?" He wondered after a while, noticing he'd been doing the vast majority of the talking. She was too polite to stop him if it wasn't, and he knew he wasn't good at reading social queues.

"Spencer, this is the best date I've ever been on." She reassured him, stepping so close to him that their feet were almost touching. "And, please, don't stop talking."

With a slight smile, he continued for a while. "Do you want to eat?" He offered, realizing they'd been there longer than he thought when he glanced at his watch.

"Sure." Y/n agreed, noticing the bench behind them.

Once again, she found herself impressed by Spencer, that time, regarding how much he had managed to fit in the picnic basket. Spencer unpacked it between where they sat.

Her eyes widened, and her heart lighted in her chest when she saw what he'd packed. "Gummy bears, you remembered." Was it possible to be in love with someone so soon? Maybe, especially when he remembered what she picked from her snack fridge the first time they hung out alone- even if she was being stalked.

"Of course, I remembered." He said tenderly. How could he not remember, and often replay, every second of the time they spent together? "How's Judge?"

"Doing much better now his walker isn't using him to stalk me." She joked, going back to humor like he had first profiled.

Spencer's face dropped, recalling the bit of the story he left out when he thought about her before falling asleep. "How are you doing?"

"Good." She genuinely answered, thinking about how much heeling she'd done in the last month. "I can sleep a whole night now."

Tapping her foot with his, he let her know he was there for her. "I'm really proud of you."

"Thank you," Y/n replied, feeling comforted under his gaze. "I'm so grateful for your team."

Huffing out a chuckle, Spencer smirked at her. "I have actually heard that." He mentioned, waiting for a confused look from her to explain. "Garcia, you know, the member of our team back at Quantico, made me watch a couple of interviews about it."

Covering her face to hide the heat in her cheeks, Y/n cringed. "That's awkward. I'm sorry."

"Not at all," Spencer reassured her, steering the conversation somewhere else. "Here, try this." He offered her half of a sandwich he'd packed.

Y/n moaned when she bit into it. "You're an incredible cook." She commented. Spencer wasn't going to tell her about the failed attempts he'd had trying to make them the perfect dinner, so he just thanked her.

Once they finished dinner and dessert, they kept walking around the gallery, with no regard for their commitments tomorrow or anything going on outside the four walls of the museum. There was nothing either of them wanted other than to spend as much undivided time together as possible.

The cynic in her kept waiting for him to screw up, or not be perfect, for a second, but he didn't. He was clever, funny, adorable, and so honest. She knew he already had the prettiest smile, but, up close, his eyes were gorgeous, too, and, of course, his to-die-for jawline. Everything about him made her see how easy it would be to fall in love with him.

Spencer knew she could be genuine from their time together in LA, and he admired it then, but he also knew she was incredibly vulnerable and was possibly only spilling her secrets because she was sad. His surprise came when she was so open with him, not giving him the chance to put her on a pedestal.

Their pace was slow, but Spencer physically stopped moving in front of one painting. "What's the story here?" She asked, knowing there would be one.

"Nothing particularly interesting historically." He answered, much to her surprise. "But it's my mom's favorite."

"I knew she was smart because, I mean, look at you, but I think she's even smarter now." She commented, soft at how much he adored his mom.

Spencer wasn't looking at her when he spoke that time. "It just makes me feel... I don't know, optimistic like there's still so much good in the world."

Never had someone been so raw with her, and it made her want every moment of his time. To just listen to him talk, anything to see the world from his eyes.

"I didn't know they still made people like you." Y/n absentmindedly commented, hyper-aware of how close they were, when he turned back to look at her.

There was confusion on Spencer's face, mixed with the fondness in his eyes, which he unintentionally had by looking at her. "What does that mean?" He prompted her to explain.

"People that look at art." She tried to describe, finding it difficult to put him into words. It made her realize how far gone she was for him. "You just look at it differently than most people, like you're learning? I can't explain it, but you look at art like there's something enormously deep that's worth seeing." She stumbled over the words, going onto her own ramble that he found adorable. "You actually look at everything like that." She realized.

Spencer was grinning like an idiot before he realized she wasn't watching him, more interested in her shoes all of a sudden. Confidently, he let a finger under her chin move her head up.

"You're worth seeing so profoundly." He whispered, trying to determine how he'd gone without feeling so light for so long.

Softly, she smiled, focused on his lips all of a sudden. Mutually, they leaned in, closing the gap as they kissed in front of art in a museum. It was so unbelievable, both the date and the kiss, that Y/n couldn't have ever imagined it. The kiss, much less rushed than the last time, was passionate, and it made everything inside her warm.

It always seemed like a myth that your lips could tingle after a kiss, and Y/n assumed the pool incident only made it seem that way because of how much was going on, but her whole body tingled when they pulled away. There was no background noise composed of stalkers and murder, it was just the two of them, and everything felt calm.

"You're so beautiful," Spencer commented, ready to give her a million compliments when he noticed the way she blushed, unable to hide her smile.

Eventually, after Y/n insisted they leave post-it notes for people to see the next day, they made their way back to her hotel in the early hours of the morning.

After a few more quick kisses, neither of them really wanted to leave the other, they finally parted. Spencer had never felt so carefree, not worrying about the fact he had to wake up for his alarm when he fell asleep at 2. For once in his life, he felt he was acting his age.

She called him the following morning, too, about to step on a jet back to LA, but she wanted to thank him again.

The grin plastered on Spencer's face on Monday would have shown the team something had happened once he left uncharacteristically early had they not been reading a TMZ article.

"That could be him." Penelope tried to argue her point, zooming in on a detail of the man papped with Y/n L/n in DC. They had all been trying to analyze it quietly when neither Hotch nor Spencer had arrived. Penelope firmly believed Spencer was the actress' date, citing the pool kiss as evidence, but she was alone in her belief.

"Baby girl, come on." Morgan shook his head, not believing his colleague was the mystery guy half the world was talking about. "You really think he spends his spare time dating celebrities?"

JJ laughed at that, momentarily looking up from her file. "More like reading Russian literature."

"Exactly." Morgan backed her up. "There's just no way. Don't show it to him, though, because I think he genuinely liked her."

"Don't tell who what?" Spencer asked, knowing they were very obviously talking about him. Playing dumb, he sat down at his desk, waiting for an answer.

Penelope turned off the iPad, not letting him see the picture. "Nothing." She lied, breathing a sigh of relief when Spencer didn't push it.

Alex looked up from her work, having gone mostly unnoticed by the younger agents. "How was your weekend, Reid?" She was asking genuinely, trying to not seem so excited about getting an answer.

He smiled at being included in an office secret, knowing the rest of the team assumed it was an inconspicuous, typical question. "Perfect."

It took 5 months before the team spoke about Y/n again.

Spencer on the jet back to DC had become a rare occurrence. The team discovered the pattern: if a case was anywhere on the west coast, he'd ask Hotch for a few days off. Upon asking about his whereabouts, Spencer gave them a routine answer, to see his girlfriend. They decided that explanation meant he was too embarrassed to tell them about whatever foreign language film festival, geeky convention, or serial killer seminar he was really going to because how could Spencer have a girlfriend and not tell them?

He was happier, though they could all see that and on his phone an uncharacteristic amount.

Their lack of meddling in his life halted when Penelope was scrolling through Instagram and came across something too familiar to be a coincidence.

She was almost running when she pushed open the glass doors of the bullpen, ready for the truth. Morgan noticed the frazzled expression on her face, immediately worried something grave involving their safety had happened. "What's wrong, Garcia?" He asked, not wasting any time on a pet name.

"Oh, no, it's not bad." She quickly assured the whole team, who were now focused on what had caused so much urgency. "Round table room, now." She commanded, leading the way up the stairs.

Exchanging confused looks and shrugs, the team followed, taking their seats around the table while they waited for some form of news. With a few taps on the remote, the iPad screen was projected for them all to see.

"What are you doing looking at Y/n's Instagram?" JJ asked, frowning as she looked at the post she'd seen that morning.

It was a video of her singing while the mysterious boyfriend the world still couldn't identify played the piano. Which still didn't give the team any clue about what made it newsworthy.

Next to her, Spencer was sipping his coffee, trying to hide his smirk as he remembered the video being taken and the several kisses he and Y/n shared afterward. Something he'd become accustomed to on lazy Sundays when she was in DC.

"That's you." Penelope accused, pointing at Spencer. He had to gulp as to not spit out his mouthful of liquid all over the table. His reddened cheeks were always a giveaway. "Those are your hands, and that's your piano which means this was shot in your apartment. Which also means you're her boyfriend." Morgan had to slow her down before she continued without taking a breath.

Every pair of eyes in the room remained on Spencer. "Yes." He answered like it was a question. "You should work for the FBI or something." He joked, not getting a single laugh.

"Why was she singing in your apartment?" JJ asked, eyeing him suspiciously. She and Morgan shared a glance, realizing they'd possibly been wrong half a year ago.

"Oh, she signed a record deal, so she was promoting herself as a singer." He answered the question with ease, completely missing the underlying appeal for information about their relationship.

Penelope scrolled through the social media page, showing all the evidence at once. "This is all about you. These photos are you." She told him like he didn't know.

"Yup." Spencer agreed, grinning more proudly at being shown off by his girlfriend. Even more so, that he'd been paraded to the world and his best friends hadn't recognized him. There had been so many times when Y/n was close to posting something that obviously showed his face, stopped by Spencer wanting to surprise the team, and here he was, at his moment.

His confession almost sent Penelope to the ER having a heart attack. JJ and Morgan were just as surprised, their pessimistic doubt turning into optimistic astonishment. Neither of them could find the words to express their shock or ask the questions overloading their brains.

"Would you like to meet her?" Spencer offered Penelope nonchalantly. "I was going to go back home to see her, but I can ask her to come to pick me up."

Momentary silence took over while Penelope tried to figure out what was happening was actually real life. "Yes, yes, yes!" She finally agreed. "She's, like, my favorite person ever."

"Yeah." Spencer agreed. "She's mine, too."

After a quick phone call, it was all arranged. When the time came, Spencer was waiting downstairs, trying to contain his excitement. It was silly, he knew, but he missed her in the day they'd been apart. Maybe more than he did when they were states apart.

"You okay?" He asked once he'd appropriately greeted her with multiple kisses.

Her face was drained of color, and she was holding his hand tighter than she usually did. "Nervous." She squeaked out an answer.

"Hey, you'll be fine," Spencer comforted her. "You've already met most of them."

Y/n huffed, hesitantly stepping into the elevator. "Yeah, that's sort of the problem. I mean, I was a victim then, and I don't want that to be the only thing they think of me."

Spencer shook his head. "They won't think of you like that." He assured her, noticing she didn't believe him. "I know because they don't think of me like that."

"Okay." She agreed, taking a deep breath like she did going to an audition.

Penelope was not so casually waiting right in front of the elevator. Her anticipation had been brewing since Spencer confirmed there would be a visitor.

Only a second after the couple had stepped out of the elevator, she stuck her hand out to greet Spencer's girlfriend and one of her favorite celebrities.

"Hi, I'm Penelope Garcia, but you can just call me Penelope or anything you like, really." She blurted out in a Spencer-like fashion.

Y/n smiled at her, dropping Spencer's hand to offer her a hug instead. "Y/n." She introduced herself, hating to put herself above other people by assuming they knew her. "It's nice to meet you. Spencer talks about you all the time."

"As he should." She laughed, right back to being herself.

After Penelope showed her the Batcave, they made their way back to the bullpen, where Y/n greeted and talked to Morgan, Rossi, and Blake.

JJ was packing her stuff at her desk when she noticed the three of them walking into the room. "Hey, Y/n, how are you?" She asked.

"Really good," Y/n answered, subconsciously squeezing Spencer's hand. "Oh, and I have to say, Henry is the cutest kid ever. He's in, like, every second photo Spence has." She mentioned, looking at him, who was still smiling at her.

Eventually, they all went home. Spencer was packing up his things while they talked about their days when Hotch came out of his office, noticing Y/n was there.

"Ms. L/n, how are you?" He asked, stopping to shake her hand.

"Y/n's fine." She assured him, still a lot intimidated by him. "I'm doing well, but I wanted to thank you."

Something told him that she wasn't just talking about them catching her stalker. "Of course," Hotch replied, smiling slightly at them before he left.

Noticing everyone on the floor was gone, Spencer pulled her in, resting his hands on her waist while he leaned in to kiss her. Kissing him, Y/n found, had never felt less passion-filled in the time they'd been dating.

"So that went well?" She asked, grinning up at him.

"How could it not?" Spencer replied. "When I have the best, most beautiful girlfriend in the world."

Y/n hitting him on the shoulder, doing the thing he adored when she blushed and giggled at the same time. "Stop it." She complained, contrasting the beaming smile on her face. "Although, I am going to be on the cover of Vogue."

Spencer didn't exactly know what that meant, like a lot of Y/n's world, but he nodded anyway, eternally supportive and madly in love with her.

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 3 years

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Words: 8,347 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: the Greene farm Warnings: Language, violence, gore, attempted sexual assault, discussions of trauma, typical TWD A/N: This is Part 1 of the new miniseries! This should be 2 or 3 parts total, and it's kind of intense and a bit dark at certain points so heed the warnings ya'll. Summary: Y/N is considered quiet, standoffish, and even a bit odd by the group, but Daryl knows how much she does around camp to care for everyone. After a traumatic incident while searching for Sophia, Daryl starts to discover why Y/N is the way she is.

Your name: submit What is this?

The group was all sitting around the low campfire, eating some breakfast. The two Greene girls came out with baskets in hand. Beth approached Rick and held hers out. “We have some more eggs for you all. Our hens lay more than we can eat,” she said.

Rick gratefully accepted them with an earnest look and a nod. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”

“And some potatoes,” Maggie offered. Lori grabbed her basket.

“Really, you all are being so kind. If there’s anything we can do to help around the place just let us know,” she said.

Beth was looking off into the distance at you sitting alone, away from the group, your back to the farmstead. “What’s wrong with her?” she asked, without really thinking.

“Beth!” Maggie scolded her.

“Well, I—I just mean she never eats with ya’ll. She seems like she’s always off on her own,” Beth explained, a little sheepish from her sister’s scolding.

The rest of the group was looking your direction now too, many of them asking the same questions in their minds.

“C’mon, now. That’s enough,” Maggie said. “Daddy needs help with the laundry.”

The group watched them head back to the farmhouse and Shane was the next one to break the silence. “It’s a fair question,” he said, chuckling to himself wryly, glancing back over his shoulder at you before leaning in to grab another helping of breakfast. “She hasn’t exactly meshed into the fabric of the group, has she?”

“Shane, give it a rest,” Lori said sternly.

“No offense meant but I don’t think I’ve ever heard her say more than two words at a time,” Andrea said. “You can’t pretend like there isn’t something… odd there.”

Dale hummed. “Not that it’s really our business, but she’s never said anything about what happened to her before we found her out by the quarry. I’ve tried to ask her about her family, what she used to do before all this,” he shrugged vaguely. “Never got a thing out of her. That’s her right if she doesn’t want to talk about it, but it does seem a little strange.”

“That’s all I’m sayin’,” Shane said. “Somethin’ weird with that girl,” he trailed off.

Daryl stood up, annoyed. “Ya’ll are a buncha busy body gossips. If ya’d open your damn eyes for two seconds you’d realize she does more for this group than most of ya combined,” he growled. “She gathered that wood burnin’ in your fire right there. Them mushrooms mixed in with your damn eggs, who the hell ya think found those? Ya think they just magically appeared along with that stuff you’re usin’ to make tea every night?” He tossed his empty plate down on the grass and scoffed. “People who don’t trust easily usually got a damn good reason. ’M outta here.”

Shane watched him go in slight amusement, but most of the others looked a little ashamed of themselves. Daryl was right, of course. You did do a lot for the group. You just kept to yourself. You didn’t make a big show of bringing back some meat or foraged food. You never complained when Rick or Shane asked you to do something. You took more than your fair share of the night watches. And the fact that no one knew anything about your past, the fact that you didn’t talk much, didn’t need any explanation to Daryl. Based on his own background, he could guess there was a reason you were the way you were.

A short time later, Daryl noticed you gathering up your pack and grabbing your pistol and recurve bow. He wandered over as you were snapping your knife into its sheath at your hip. “Ya headin’ out to search again?” he asked softly. You and him seemed to be the only ones who hadn’t completely given up hope of finding Sophia. You simply nodded once.

“Alright,” Daryl drawled. “What’s your plan?” Asking a question that wasn’t a simple yes or no was always a toss-up with you. Half the time he’d get a short answer, half the time he wouldn’t.

“North side of the ridge,” you said. Your voice was always quiet and measured. The archer usually wished most people would talk less, but with you he always hoped to hear more. The little that you said was purposeful and deliberate. There was no idle bullshit.

He nudged his nose up in a nod at you. “Alright. I’ll start by that creek and work along the south side. We can be close by in case either of us gets into trouble with walkers,” he said.

You simply nodded again and gave him a long thoughtful look. You did that a lot. Daryl had the feeling there was a lot going on behind your eyes, but you never spoke any of it. Surprisingly, he never felt nervous or uncomfortable when you looked at him like that. He just hoped someday maybe you’d open up a little bit more. The next moment you had turned and were heading toward the tree line already. Daryl scrambled to gather his gear and set off after you.

He could see your figure ahead, disappearing into the brush and soon he couldn’t see or hear you at all. He set out along the south side of the ridge as planned, picking his way along the creek, scrutinizing every inch of ground and hoping for a shoeprint.

Along the north side you were doing the same. You frequently knelt to examine some little scrape in the litter or soil and as you went you filled the little cloth bag you carried with edible and medicinal plants, berries, and fungi. The day wore on with no sign of the little girl and your frustration and fear grew even as the sun reached its apex in the sky and started to drift back down toward the western horizon.

You turned and started picking a new path back, heading toward the farm now rather than away. The deepening shadows made detecting print or trail more difficult but you kept your focus sharp on the ground as you moved, your bow slung over your shoulder next to your quiver.

You were becoming tired when you noticed an impression in the mud. You knelt, one knee of your jeans sinking into the damp soil. It was a boot print, but certainly not left by Sophia. You stared at the detail of the sole impression and your brow drew down low immediately. You have everyone’s shoe designs memorized. It wasn’t one you recognized. Your eyes drifted up and you could see a worn trail through the underbrush and more prints, heavy in the mud. There were at least three men who had left this trail, and they weren’t walkers. The path was straight ahead with no stagger and you could tell they were picking their way through the underbrush. You crouched and started to follow the trail. You needed to get eyes on these people. They were awfully close to the farm… Close enough, certainly, to see the smoke rising from the chimney and your fire circles.

You ghosted through the woods following the trail, moving as silently as you could. You’d been on the path for probably ten minutes when you could hear careless, noisy movement ahead. You must have caught up with them. Your heart hammering in your chest, you stayed low and crept closer. As you moved around a partially downed tree you could finally see the shapes of two men ahead. They were scruffy and filthy, clearly living on the move in the woods. You needed a closer look. You wanted to see what kinds of weapons they had on them. If you could scout out the group, you could determine whether something needed to be done about them or not.

As you tried to shift to another patch of concealing cover, you didn’t notice your bow catching on a low hanging dead branch. By the time you felt the resistance it was too late. The whole branch pulled loose with a loud snapping sound as it bent and cracked other dried branches and twigs on its way down. The two men you had been watching spun immediately and had weapons raised, rifles pointed in your direction. You were swearing under your breath and instantly on your feet aiming your pistol right back.

“Well, shit! What the hell do we have here?” one of the men asked, shifting a little to get a better look at you. “You alone out here, sweetheart?”

You fell an immediate swell of anger and dread rising up in your chest.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” the second man asked, grinning and revealing teeth that were tobacco stained and yellow.

“What’s a fine little thing like you doing out here by yourself? Don’t you know it’s dangerous? There are all kinds of monsters in these woods,” the first man said, looking you up and down thoroughly. His companion laughed.

Fuck. This was bad. Why had you pushed your luck and crept in so closely? Now you were outnumbered and you knew there was at least one other man somewhere that you didn’t have eyes on.

Your chest was heaving with anxious breaths from the rush of adrenaline. The first man stepped a bit closer again and you responded by taking a measured step back, your pistol aimed squarely at his chest. Now what? Should you make a run for it? Would they shoot you? Based on the animalistic looks in their eyes you knew things could go very bad, very quickly if you couldn’t get the fuck out of there. Your mind was whirring.

Suddenly, you heard a stick crack behind you and you turned instinctively to see a third man now rushing you. He landed a fist into your jaw and your vision went black as you fell to the ground, holding onto your pistol as tightly as you could. The pain radiating from your jaw into your head was overwhelming. You blinked, willing the darkness to clear, but it lingered as you suddenly felt rough hands on you, rolling you over and ripping both your bow and rifle from your back.

You struggled blindly and managed to get yourself onto your back again as the darkness in your eyes faded instead to the outlines of blurred shapes. You could make out the shape of the man standing over you and you instinctively raised your pistol and squeezed several rounds which sounded like cracks of thunder in the close woods. You missed, the scene still foggy, and you immediately squeezed again and discharged another round but the man leapt down on you with a wild yell, knocking your arm to the side and pinning it into the ground. His weight pressed down on you and you were vaguely aware of an acrid smell filling your nostrils, causing bile to rise up in your throat. He pried your pistol from your hand and tossed it away into the brush.

You writhed beneath him, struggling to get clear of his grasp but he was much bigger than you and soon there was another set of hands on you. You were rolled onto your stomach again and your arms were pulled back behind you and held painfully tight.

“We got ourselves a wild cat here, boys!” one of the men laughed. “Get her up,” he ordered. You were pulled roughly onto your feet, still trying to blink away the remaining fuzziness in your eyes and struggling against your captor.

The first man, who seemed to be the leader, paced over, watching you with a look of satisfaction on his face as you still tried to fight loose. His rifle was now dropped casually by his side. He grabbed your chin cruelly and pulled it up so you looked right into his eyes. His fingers dug into the tender spot on your jaw where the other man had hit you. “Ain’t you a pretty little thing,” he murmured silkily.

You yanked your face from his grasp and he chuckled, glancing back at the other man standing just behind him. “She’s a good one,” he said, a sick smirk on his face. He looked back at you and his eyes roamed perversely over your body. “This’ll be fun.”

He turned violent and grabbed the front of your light cotton shirt, ripping it harshly down off one shoulder, tearing the breezy plaid fabric easily and popping off the first three buttons. The man holding you only tightened his grip. Your throat constricted so tightly it was hard to breathe. You felt like your heart was beating so hard that it would surely burst. You could feel everyone’s eyes on your newly bared skin. Next the leader withdrew a knife and pressed the point into the center of your chest just above your bra. You cringed at the feeling of the biting cold metal pricking your skin.

He stepped close into you and moved the knife up to your throat, pressing it to the side of your neck and drawing it lightly across your skin just enough to cut you. You winced and shut your eyes, trying to keep as still as possible with that blade to your throat and you soon felt a rivulet of warmth rolling down toward your collarbone. You opened your eyes as the knife left your throat and he slipped it under your exposed bra strap, rotating it and lifted up until the fabric started to separate along the sharp edge. Finally, it gave and the strap hung loosely down. He sucked in a hiss of breath through his teeth, his eyes hungry and crazed. “This will be a lot easier on you if you just cooperate. Then again… I like a woman with some fight in her,” he snarled. “Your choice.” His companions let out more appreciative laughter as fear twisted your stomach.

You felt yourself going numb. Suddenly, you couldn’t feel any pain anymore. You couldn’t feel the man’s hands pinning your arms back. You couldn’t feel the blood that was now running down your chest. Your eyes drifted to the leader’s cold, blue blade and then unfocused so the scene simply became a haze. And you suddenly realized that they hadn’t taken your knife. It was still in its sheath on your hip…

A short distance away, Daryl had been thinking that it was probably about time to call it a day and head back when he heard a series of loud gunshots. His body went rigid and he turned frantically, staring off into the brush. He strained his hearing to its limit. They’d definitely come from your direction. Abandoning any other thought, he sprung into motion, racing through the woods as fast as he could in the direction he thought the blasts had come from.

Back in camp, everyone else had heard the shots too. Shane turned and looked at Rick, his gaze intense.

“Were those gun shots?” Lori asked, fear in her voice.

“Yeah,” Rick said, rising to his feet and rushing to grab his gun from the stash of weapons in the RV. “Shane, T, Glenn, let’s go! The rest of you stay here!”

Hershel stepped out onto the porch and watched the group of men racing across the pasture toward the trees. He had a bad feeling in his gut. Maggie and Beth came out, the slamming screen door punctuating the piercing silence that fell after the shots.

Daryl smashed through the brush carelessly, his eyes scanning the ground for a trail, any trail, something to follow. Finally, his eyes locked on boot prints that were surely yours. He vaguely registered that there were much larger impressions in the soil too, several different boots much larger than yours. And they certainly weren’t from walkers.

“Son of a bitch,” he cursed under his breath. He froze and scanned the thick greenery. He strained his hearing again, listening for some sound, anything, to give him an idea of what was happening. Please don’t let me be too late, he thought frantically. He took off again but more cautiously, following the tracks you had clearly also discovered. Probably what had led you right into something…

Rick and the others were well into the trees now but Shane stopped everyone. “Rick, what the hell are we doin’ man? We don’t have a clue where Y/N and Daryl are. We can’t just go blindly crashing through here or we’re gonna end up in a bad spot too.”

Rick’s eyes frantically whirred over the seemingly endless tree trunks.

“Wait—I saw Y/N’s map yesterday. She had the whole thing sectioned out into search areas,” Glenn said. “Most of them were already crossed off.”

“Well, which ones weren’t?” Shane urged, checking to make sure there was a round chambered in his gun.

“Uhh—” Glenn’s mind raced. “I think—I think by that ridge, straight north of here. But I can’t be sure,” he trailed off.

Rick rubbed a hand over his face. They all listened for any sound, but the woods were oppressively silent now. “Shit…” he cursed under his breath.

“It’s the best we got,” T gasped, out of breath from the frenetic dash from camp.

Rick nodded. “Alright. Then we head north. Keep your heads on a swivel and your eyes peeled for any sign of Y/N or Daryl.”

Daryl moved as swiftly along the trail as he could. Suddenly, he spotted something lying on top of the litter out of the corner of his eye. Your pistol. Daryl grabbed it and the muzzle was still warm. Clearly, you’d been the one to fire at least some of those shots. “Fuck. Fuck…” He tucked it into his waistband and moved more cautiously now. His heart was pounding and sweat was pouring down his forehead. His knuckles were white on his crossbow. He rounded a downed tree and froze when he saw a dark shape on the ground ahead. His heart dropped into his stomach. Please don’t let it be Y/N… He was almost paralyzed with fear but he forced himself to take another couple steps. As he rounded the brush and straightened up, he knew it wasn’t you but his apprehension didn’t evaporate. It was a large man, clearly dead, completely covered in blood. The hair on the back of Daryl’s neck suddenly stood on end and he spun around, his crossbow up to his eye, ready to fire. But he dropped it involuntarily as he took in the scene before him, his jaw dropping partially open and his eyes narrowing as he tried to figure out what the fuck he was seeing.

You were standing there in front of him trembling from head to toe, your hands out in front of you with your knife clutched in one like it was a lifeline. Daryl could easily see the shakiness in your hands. You were completely covered in blood. Your clothing and skin were soaked in it, like you’d bathed in a crimson river. There was thick splatter on your face, neck, and chest. Your eyes were wide and fixed and you didn’t show any awareness that he was there in front of you. Daryl registered that your shirt was torn down from one shoulder and your bra strap had been cut. He didn’t need an explanation to know what the fuck had happened and rage swelled in his chest, stoking an intense fire. His eyes drifted down to two more bodies lying at your feet, each with uncountable stab wounds and one with his throat cut, his clothing drenched. The metallic smell of blood was in the air and Daryl could almost taste it on his tongue.

Still you showed no awareness that he was there. You seemed frozen, catatonic. He now registered that you had slash wounds through the fabric of your sleeves and cuts on your arms. Defensive wounds where you had blocked a knife attack. There was a purposeful cut partially up the hem of your jeans at the bottom, clearly from one of the men… It was nearly impossible to tell if you were hurt anywhere else because there was just so much blood…

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he murmured. “Y/N?” He took a cautious step toward you. “Y/N? Can ya hear me?”

Nothing. No reaction at all.

Just then Daryl heard the noise of several people in the woods nearby and he planted himself between you and the sound, raising his crossbow. “Ya better get the fuck outta here unless ya want an arrow between the eyes!” he roared.

Rick straightened up. That was Daryl. “Daryl?!”

Daryl gulped. “…Rick?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Shane, Glenn, and T! We’re comin’ to you! Are you alright?”

Daryl glanced back at you again. You were still just standing there shaking. “‘M fine. Wasn’t me who fired…” Daryl swung his pack off his back and dug inside it.

The men crashed through the underbrush and came into view, taking in the scene. “Oh my God.” The words spilled from Glenn’s lips. They were all glancing from the bloody bodies on the ground to your blood-soaked figure.

“Jesus Christ,” Shane uttered, pacing closer and bending to look at the slash wound in the one corpse’s neck. Daryl finally laid hands on his poncho and yanked it out of his bag. He turned to look at you and began approaching cautiously. “Y/N? It’s Daryl. Can ya hear me?”

Nothing.

Rick was slack-jawed as he looked at the scene. “Daryl… be careful,” he cautioned, eyeing the knife still gripped in your fist.

Daryl glanced back at him. “She ain’t gonna do nothin’ to me,” he drawled.

“Do you see this?” Glenn asked him urgently indicating the bodies. “This is insane. You don’t know that! She looks completely out of it, like she doesn’t even know we’re here!”

Daryl’s jaw clenched and he turned back to look at you again. “Don’t ya fuckin’ see her? She’s terrified. Look at her clothes. They were tryin’ to rape her,” he growled. “They deserve what they got.”

Shane straightened up from examining the bodies, glancing furtively over at you. “Maybe but… on the force, we’d call this ‘overkill’,” he said, backing up and exchanging a glance with Rick.

Daryl ignored him. “Y/N? It’s alright. You’re safe. Nobody is gonna hurt ya. Just lemme take your knife, okay?” There was no recognition on your face, your eyes still wide and fixed, until Daryl’s hand gently closed over yours and started to open your hand around the handle of your knife. He could feel you shaking beneath his fingers. “S’alright,” he said softly as your eyes landed on his face and then locked with his. Your brow drew down low, casting a shadow over the vaguely confused look on your face. As Daryl gently took your knife, he could see there was a very deep gash in your palm. It was bleeding heavily. He guessed it was either another defensive wound from you putting your hands up to stop one of the men’s knives or otherwise your hand, slick with blood, had slipped down onto your own blade when you’d been fighting them. “Glenn, get some gauze out of my pack and bring it over here,” he said. He spoke calmly and softly. He glanced back over at Glenn when he didn’t move from his slack-jawed frozen position. “Glenn. Gauze.” Glenn snapped himself out of it and went to Daryl’s bag. The archer gulped and draped his poncho over you, covering your ripped shirt. “S’alright,” he murmured again.

You didn’t take your eyes off his face. He wasn’t even sure if you realized the others were there. Glenn walked forward and handed Daryl the small roll of sterile gauze before backing up slowly. The look in your eyes was haunted and dazed and it left all of them feeling empty and concerned.

Daryl opened your hand flat and your eyes drifted down to watch him wrap the bandage over the wound on your palm. You couldn’t feel it. You couldn’t really feel anything, except Daryl’s hands on yours.

Shane turned to Rick. “Rick, what the hell are we gonna do about this? We can’t just waltz her back into camp covered in blood. You don’t want the others seein’ this… Carl? Lori? Or Hershel. Look at her. She looks completely unstable. This might be enough for him to kick us out right now.” He looked back at you over his shoulder.

Rick sighed heavily. “So, we’ll get her cleaned up first.”

Daryl was keeping one ear on the conversation going on behind him. “She needs stitches on this hand,” he drawled. “And who knows how else she’s hurt. Can’t see a damn thing on her right now. And since ya’ll are more worried about yourselves than her, I’ll take care of it. Why don’t ya just get the hell outta here,” Daryl growled.

Glenn stepped forward. “We are worried about her. But you have to admit that this is—this is—” He didn’t even know what word to use. Daryl just stared at him. You were hugging your arms around yourself now, still shaking. Your eyes were downcast, staring unseeing at the ground.

“Listen, I don’t give a shit what ya do. I’m gettin’ her outta here and taken care of.” He hastily shouldered his pack and his crossbow.

“Just—Daryl,” Rick started, pinching the bridge of his nose, the situation weighing on him heavily. “Clean her up a bit before you take her to Hershel to be looked over.”

The archer eyed him through a narrow glare for a moment before he nodded. He turned back to you, your frame swallowed up in his poncho. “C’mon. Let’s get ya home,” he said gently. Your eyes snapped up to his face again and you allowed him to lead you back toward the farmstead.

He picked a path carefully and finally the two of you broke out from the edge of the forest. The others back in the camp were staring at the tree line, wracked with nerves. Lori straightened up as she recognized movement. “Dale—someone just stepped out.”

Dale, standing on the RV, raised his binoculars to his eyes. “Oh my,” slipped from his lips.

“What? Who is it?” Carol asked anxiously.

“I think it’s Y/N and Daryl,” Dale said. “I can’t quite tell properly, but I think something is wrong with Y/N.” He squinted into the binoculars again. “My God. Her jeans are covered in blood and it—it looks like there’s blood on her neck, her face…”

Carol pressed a hand over her mouth. “Is she hurt?” she asked anxiously. “Was she bit?”

Dale shook his head, lowering the binoculars again. “They’re too far. I can’t tell what’s going on.”

Daryl looked up to see everyone standing almost in a line watching the two of you as you started across the field. He gulped and then put a hand lightly on your back, nervous and unsure of how you would react to the contact. He guided you toward his camp which was closest and was set apart from everyone else’s.

“C’mon and sit down, alright. We’re just gonna clean ya up a bit and then take ya to Hershel.” The look in your eyes was worrying him immensely but you sat down on a round of wood pulled up near the fire ring. He anxiously chewed on his bottom lip, trying to figure out how he could reassure you. “Hey. S’alright. You’re safe.”

You met his blue eyes and he finally saw some sense of relief in them. His stomach flipped at the way they softened and he nodded. He took in the sight of you in his poncho again and realized you’d need something else to wear to go see Hershel that wasn’t half ripped off you. “I’m gonna, uhh—” he cleared his throat nervously. “I’ll put a clean shirt out on my cot for ya. Ya can change in in my tent and then we’ll just clean ya up a bit, alright?” He knew better than to wait for a response and climbed to his feet and disappeared into his tent to set the clothes out. He dug around in his duffel bag until he found one that was still folded tightly, definitely clean, and he set it out for you. You watched the handsome archer reemerge from inside his tent and nod his head toward it. “Alright. Go ahead. I’ll just be right out here.”

He watched you get up and disappear, zipping the door behind you. He paced in front of the fire circle, rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip thoughtfully as the image of you standing there in the woods, frozen, absolutely soaked in blood with your shirt half torn surged forward in his mind and he felt another sickening swell of anger. Jesus. Things could have gone so bad with those men… and they were fucking lucky they were already dead when he got there.

The soft rustling of the tent fabric interrupted his thoughts and you stepped out in his long-sleeved flannel, looking a bit dazed still but more grounded. He nudged his nose up in a nod. “C’mon and sit down,” he said, gesturing to the round of wood again. You sank down on it. Daryl grabbed a bucket of clean water that had been warming in the sun all day. He grabbed a cloth from inside his tent and caught sight of your bloody and torn shirt discarded on the floor, feeling another tight twist between his lungs, like someone had tugged a knot there.

You watched him kneel down in front of you and sink the cloth into the bucket of water, wringing it out before bringing it close to your face. He hesitated short of touching you. “S’this alright?” he drawled.

You gave him a questioning look but finally nodded, just one slight tip of your chin. You closed your eyes as the fabric came in contact with your cheek and Daryl started wiping away the blood. The cloth stained crimson quickly. He cleaned the splatters from across your forehead and your nose and the spots on the other side of your face. With the red stains gone, Daryl could see the shadow of a deep bruise along the side of your jaw. Without thinking he gently clasped your chin and turned your head so he could examine it, a heavy shadow falling over his blue eyes. He sunk the cloth back into the bucket of water and wrung it out again, this time pressing it to the side of your neck.

Despite how gentle he was being, you involuntarily sucked in a sharp hiss of air through your teeth as the cloth found the cut on the side of your neck from the leader’s knife. Your eyes blinked open through your wince.

“Sorry,” Daryl drawled, pulling back to look at the wound. “Jesus… Those assholes had a knife to your neck?” he asked. It was rhetorical and he didn’t expect an answer. He wiped at the blood spatter and you closed your eyes again, trying to breathe deeply and still the trembling you still felt wracking through you. Daryl could hear a shaky quality in your breathing. Soon, your face and neck were clean and Daryl turned his attention to your hands. Your eyes were still shut as he rinsed the cloth out again in the bucket. “Lemme see your hands,” he said softly. You found the deep gravel of his voice comforting.

Out of everyone in your group, you usually felt like Daryl was the only one who really saw you. You’d wanted to get to know him better, but held yourself back. He seemed to seek solitude like you did, and you didn’t want to force yourself into his world.

He took your hand, your palm resting against his, and he swept the cloth lightly over the back of it and down each finger. The sensation sent goosebumps rising on your skin and you glanced up at the concerned and intent expression on his face curiously. You couldn’t even remember the last time anyone had shown you so much attention and care. He took your other hand in his now, the one with gauze around it and the deep gash in your palm. He rubbed the blood from the back of each finger and then flipped it over in his hand. He frowned as he noticed that your blood had soaked through the bandage. “Probably need stitches on this one,” he murmured softly. The cloth tickled over the underside of each finger now, sweeping off the ends. “Alright. Push up them sleeves,” he said, dunking the cloth into the bucket again for what felt like the hundredth time.

“What?” He was startled by your voice and his eyes snapped up to look at you.

He straightened up, one of his eyebrows quirking down at the question. “Ya had a buncha cuts on your arms. We need to clean ‘em up and check ‘em. See if ya need stitches anywhere else.”

You shook your head.

He gave you a questioning look for a long moment and chewed on his bottom lip. “Alright. Ya can do it. I’ll just go tell Hershel you’re on your way in, alright?”

You stared at him for another long moment as he set the cloth on the edge of the bucket, whose water was now stained a dark pink. You glanced up as he climbed to his feet and nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “C’mon up when you’re done and we’ll get that hand taken care of.”

Daryl started over toward the farmhouse and as he approached Carol rushed up to him. “What happened?” she urged him. “Are you okay? Is Y/N?”

He stopped, his hand on one hip. He glanced back out toward the trees and saw the rest of the group making their way back toward camp across the field. “‘M fine,” he drawled. “Y/N ran into some men out there when we were searchin’.”

“Men? What men? What happened? Is she alright?”

Daryl chewed his bottom lip and shrugged vaguely. “I don’t know how to—how to answer that,” he said truthfully.

Confusion muddled Carol’s expression and she glanced in the direction of you over at Daryl’s camp. “Well, what happened?” she asked again.

Daryl looked at her seriously and shrugged vaguely. “Y/N killed ‘em. Didn’t have no choice.” He continued his path up to the house and bounded up the porch steps, knocking on the front door. Carol stared after him, a bit shocked. Maggie answered, looking worried.

“Were those gun shots earlier?” she asked.

Daryl nodded. “Mhm… Hey, can your dad take a look at Y/N?”

“Of course. What happened?” she asked, holding the screen door open so he could step inside.

Hershel was there in an instant. “Daryl. What happened? We heard those shots.”

“Y/N and I were out lookin’ for Sophia. There were some men. She—she ran into some trouble.”

Hershel took a deep breath and nodded. “Is she alright?”

“I think she needs stitches in her hand. She took a good hit to her jaw too. Might have a concussion. I dunno,” he said. He anxiously chewed on his bottom lip again. “I know she’s got some cuts on her arms, defensive wounds, but she wouldn’t let me look at ‘em. Got a cut on her neck.”

“Oh my God,” Maggie said, her hand flying up to her mouth.

“What happened to the men?” Hershel asked.

Daryl quit chewing the side of his thumbnail. “Dead,” he said, watching the old farmer’s reaction closely, but the man’s face was blank. He simply nodded.

“I’ll get my kit. Have her come on in.”

Daryl headed back onto the porch to see how you were doing and you were on your way over. His eyes caught on the dark splatters and stains of blood on your jeans and the slit at the bottom. His stomach twisted. Maybe he should have had you change clothes completely… You were trying to ignore the eyes on you as you made your way over to the house.

Andrea and Lori exchanged a look at the state of your clothes.

“Come on in here and sit down,” Hershel said kindly. “Let’s take a look at that hand.” You offered up your gauze-wrapped hand and Hershel laid it out on the table, unwrapping the already blood-soaked bandage and taking a look at the deep gash. “Pretty deep cut here. Definitely need stitches.” He grabbed a needle from his kit and pricked the end of each of your fingers. They all twitched in response. “You can feel that?” You nodded. “Good. Looks like we dodged any nerve damage. Much deeper and you would have needed major surgery for a cut tendon and who knows what else. Maggie, dear, would you get the sutures set up while I clean this off?”

Nerve damage. Cut tendon. Daryl shifted uncomfortably in his spot leaned up against the wall. You hardly seemed to react to the news at all.

Hershel swabbed at your hand and you shut your eyes against the bite of the alcohol. “Now, Daryl tells me you took a good hit to the jaw. I’m just gonna check it and make sure nothing is broken.” He palpated both sides of your face, across your cheekbones and up your jawline. “Just a bit swollen,” he said. “Did you lose sight when you were hit?” he asked you, grabbing a small pen light and checking the dilation response of each of your pupils. You gulped and nodded. “Do you remember your name?” he asked you. You nodded again. “I need you to answer my questions verbally. I’m interested in your answers but also your speech.”

“My name’s Y/N.”

“When is your birthday?” Hershel asked.

You stared at him. “No one here knows my birthday. How will you know if I’m right or not?”

A small smile grew on Hershel’s face. “I’d say your speech and cognition are fine. Probably a mild concussion though with your eyesight blacking out. You’ll need to take it easy the next few days, rest and fluids, and let me know if you develop any new symptoms like vomiting or nausea, confusion, a worsening headache. Understand?”

You nodded again. “Yes. I understand.”

“Sutures are ready,” Maggie said.

Hershel put on a pair of clean gloves and prepared. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything to numb you,” he said, propping your hand up on a towel so he could see it better.

“It’s alright. I would have told you to save it anyway,” you said. Daryl straightened up from his place against the wall and came to stand next to you. You could feel his eyes on your face.

“You’re one tough cookie,” Hershel said. “Let’s get this taken care of.” You hardly flinched as he passed the needle through…

Outside, Rick and the others were just arriving back at camp. Everyone gathered around and seemed to read on their faces that they were all unsettled.

“Rick,” Lori said, grabbing him into a hug. “What happened? We saw Daryl and Y/N come back. Her jeans were covered in blood.”

Rick looked down at her. “Nothing to worry about. It’s been taken care of.”

“Well, what was it?” Lori pressed him, her eyes still a bit wide and fearful.

Carol spoke up. “Daryl said she ran into some men and they’re—she killed them.”

Glenn and T were avoiding everyone’s eyes while Shane let out a frustrated sigh and paced away from the group, disagreeing with Rick still about the decision not to tell everyone you had clearly gone slasher on those assholes. Provoked or justified or not, Shane felt like that was something everyone should know. He’d gone far enough to describe you as a serial killer before Rick had stood him down. Rick nodded and looked at his wife and then at Andrea and Dale. “Y/N was attacked and she dealt with it. Hershel is gonna patch her up and there’s nothing to worry about.

“What if there are more of those men?” Carol asked fearfully.

“We only ever saw three different boot prints out there,” T reassured her. “But we’ll keep watch like we always do. We’ll be fine.”

Everyone still looked uneasy, but settled back into their tasks. Lori was about to go fetch some more water when Shane grabbed her arm and tugged her around the side of the SUV. She gave him a stern look and pulled her arm from his grasp.

“What?” she snapped at him, a bit unkindly.

“Rick ain’t tellin’ you everythin’,” he said.

Lori just stared Shane with a guarded expression. “I trust my husband. And you used to, too.”

“Yeah, well… What happened out there today? It should concern everyone.” His expression was dark and Lori felt her sense of unease grow.

Shane rubbed a hand over the stubble on his face. “Y/N just—” Shane let out a sigh that had the edge of a growl to it.

“What are you talking about?” Lori pressed him in an undertone. “Are we in danger?”

Shane straightened up and pressed his lips into a thin line briefly before meeting her eyes. “Honestly? I don’t know. But I’m not taking my eyes off that girl.”

Inside, Hershel tied off the final stitch and snipped the suture. “All done.” He applied a layer of antibacterial ointment and wrapped your hand in a fresh dressing. “Try to keep it dry. And I mean it,” he gave you a pointed look, “take it easy for a few days. Daryl, you hold her to that. Anything else you need me to look at? Your arms? Daryl said—” You shook your head no. “Alright.”

The archer straightened up as you climbed to your feet. “Thank you,” you murmured to Hershel.

Daryl held the door for you and you cringed at how everyone’s eyes were on you immediately as you stepped out onto the porch. You avoided them and started heading in the direction of your camp. Daryl was still in step beside you and you hazarded a glance in his direction.

He could read a question in your eyes. “I’ll keep ya company for a bit if that’s alright... Besides, ya should be restin’ and somebody needs to make sure ya take care of yourself.” You didn’t say anything, but that also wasn’t a refusal. Daryl could tell you were still reeling a bit, and he wanted to be there just in case.

You arrived at your separate camp area and watched as Daryl immediately went and stirred up the coals in the fire, adding more wood and soon having a nice blaze going. You headed for your tent and glanced back over your shoulder at him. “Just gonna change,” you said softly. He nodded and went about heating something for you to eat along with water for tea. He was sure you had collected more ingredients and remembered that your bag was still sitting at his camp. He jogged to grab it and brought it back along with your bloodied and torn shirt, not sure what else to do with it. When he got back, you were sitting by the fire in clean and comfortable clothes, his shirt resting over your lap. You held it out to him as he dropped your pack beside you.

“Thanks,” he murmured. The fabric was still warm from your body. “Dunno what ya wanna do with this,” he said, holding yours out in turn.

You stared at it for a long moment before your fingers closed on it and Daryl watched as you immediately tossed it into the fire. In a moment, it was only ashes and embers. He sank down beside you and felt you studying him. He turned and met your eyes and was surprised when you spoke. “You aren’t afraid of me now? Like the others?” you asked softly.

“Nah. Why would I be?”

Your striking eyes focused back on the crackling campfire and the embers dancing upward on the warm torrent of air. “You saw what I did. Why wouldn’t you be?”

Daryl peered at you curiously for a long moment. “Ya were only protectin’ yourself. Can’t say I wouldn’t have done worse if I’d been there,” he drawled, and you could hear anger in the tension in his voice.

“I blacked out,” you said suddenly.

“When they hit ya? Ya, yer gonna have a good bruise tomorrow.”

“That’s not what I mean.” You cradled your injured hand absently in the other. “The last thing I remember was the one starting to cut my jeans and then—then I was just covered in blood and they were all dead. And next thing I know you were taking my knife from me.” You shut your eyes for a moment. “I don’t remember anything else.”

Daryl considered the regretful expression on your face. “Don’t matter. Yer safe. That’s what counts. Those men? They had it comin’.”

You looked up at him in surprise and he simply nodded and then grabbed a mug and filled it with hot water for you. You accepted it and dug into your bag, pulling out the small sack of foraged herbs from the day. You dropped a few berries and leaves into your mug and cradled it with your uninjured hand.

It was nearly sunset and the quality of the light was cooling, oranges turning to reds and then fading into deep purples and inky blues. You allowed yourself to frequently study the archer as he shoved a bowl of reheated stew into your hands or added more wood to the fire. You felt surprisingly at ease with him there and he didn’t seem at all bothered by the passing of so much silence. Maybe the concussion just had you slightly numb, but you didn’t think so.

“You aren’t going to ask me?” you finally said.

Daryl looked over at you and he felt a stirring in his chest at the way the firelight was catching the shine and colors in your hair and the soft shape of your lips. “Ask ya what?”

“How I—Why I—” You didn’t even know how to phrase it really.

Daryl watched you struggled for a moment. “Ain’t none of my business. But if ya wanted to talk about it, I’ll listen. Not gonna lie and say I haven’t wondered about what came before ya were with the group.”

You had been on the verge of speaking it but suddenly lost your nerve and sipped at your tea again. Daryl watched you withdrawing again and rubbed a hand a bit nervously over the back of his neck. Darkness had fallen completely now. “Well, I’ll leave ya alone. Yer probably sick of me anyway,” he drawled. “Get some rest, alright?” Daryl had climbed to his feet and started to head in the direction of his own tent but your voice froze him.

“It’s not that I want to be alone all the time…” Daryl could hear the crackling of the fire in the silence that followed. “It’s just that alone usually feels safer.”

He glanced back at you, turning partially. “Ya. I know the feelin’,” he said gently, pacing back.

You looked up at him and something about your expression, your wide eyes, went straight to his core. “Stay,” you said quietly. “Please.” You chewed on your bottom lip for a moment. “Being with you feels safer…” you admitted, timidly.

Daryl felt an ache in his chest and nodded. He grabbed a seat beside you again and puzzled over this unprecedented turn of events.

You seemed to come to some decision suddenly and looked over at him intensely. He caught your eyes briefly and then watched as you pushed up your right sleeve. At first all he saw were the knife cuts, crimson against your skin, but you turned your forearm toward him in the firelight. “This is what I didn’t want you to see,” you said. You gulped. You’d never told anyone, never shown anyone, literally never talked about what had happened to you since you got out. You’d vowed that you would just move on, but the longer you suffered in silence the worse it seemed to get, until you felt like it would consume you. And then today, with those men, you’d just completely lost it. It had triggered something, a memory or maybe more like a nightmare, and when you came to you were bathed in blood and didn’t even recognize yourself, couldn’t believe what you’d done. Enough was enough. Maybe if you spoke it, admitted it, dealt with it in some way… maybe it’d get easier.

Daryl stared at a scar on your forearm. It looked like a brand and the skin was still slightly pink, showing that it wasn’t that old. It was four numbers. 1048.

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

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avatar-of-procrastination · 2 years

Text

A Lemony Trail (Deke Shaw x reader)

*gif not mine*

The heavy atmosphere of the headquarters was getting too much. Everyone was on edge with all rhe jumping throigh time. And then there were the people who were stuck in the past a.k.a you and Deke. Your closest friend on whom you had a crush on. But you saw the way he looked at Daisy and realised you'd lost him. Pushing him out of you mind was difficult when he's the only one who knows the real you.

Sighing from your spot on the couch, you looked up at Daisy talking to Jemma. She looked oddly familiar. You shook off the feeling and decided to turn in for the night and headed to your room.

You opened the door to a surprise. There was a bright yellow lemon on the bed. Raising an eyebrow at the appearance of the fruit, you walked out and headed to the kitchen. There too lay a lemon on the counter. Looking aroimd and finiding nobody confused you even further. Thinking it was some prank one of the agents pulled,you retreat back to your room only to find more lemons in varous places. Deciding to tell about this strange appearance of lemons, you walk to the gym to tell the one friend you'd managed to make. Daisy.

As you entered the room of agents, you spotted Deke sniffing on a lemon and realisation strick you immediately.

"So it was you!"

"Heh... Uh I mean. What?? What are you talking about? I didnt put lemons anywhere!"

"I never said anything about lemons doofus."

Deke blushed at your reply. He knew he messed up but hoped you'd get the hint. You did not.

"Whats up with that?" You asked him.

Deke lost his charm and stuttered, "Uh.. its uh nothing I uh.. just wanted to prank you?"

Rolling your eyes at his childish behaviour and playfully pushed him and headed to back to your room. As you turned the corner, you bumped into Mack and Coulson.

"Well damn. He did it. Congratulations!" Mack said to you, pointing at the lemon in your hand.

Raising an eyebrow at the man in front of you, you asked, "Congratulations? For what?"

The two men looked at each other in confusion. What exactly did they mean by congartulations? All deke did was put lemons everywhere. Oh.

Quickly realising what had been happening, you rushed back to the room and spotted Deke sitting on a cpuch, disheartened. You ran upto him and quickly hugged him from behind.

"You couldve just told me."

"Wh-what are you talking about?"

"The lemons."

Deke blushed heavily and turned away. You turned his head towards you and leaned forward. Your lips met briefly, testing the waters, before he pushed onto you forcefully. When you broke apart, you could hear Daisy cheering in the background.

"Finally!"

#aos #daisy johnson #jemma simmons #agents of shield #deke shaw #deke shaw x reader #deke x reader #marvel #Mack #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.

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narcissisticmf · 3 years

Text

"It's so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone."

– John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent

1998 | dean winchester x fem!reader

description: it's the year 1998, y/n y/l/n is nineteen years old. she's known the winchester family her entire life. growing up a hunter was difficult enough, but when she loses her father to the yellow eyed demon, she resorts to finding the winchesters for help.

trigger warnings: blood, gore, graphic violence, trauma, mentions of depression, etc. read at your own risk.

word count: 4.5k

December 27, 1998

Lawrence, Kansas

Holding the pen between your index and thumb, you scribbled within the lines of the opened journal of which rested against the kitchen table. Your deep eyes gazed upon the words of which you wrote, nearly unable to make sense of your writing due to how sloppy it was. Your gaze transfixed upon the opened book beside your journal; an old book of Greek lore. There'd been a trail of missing persons – in a town a few hours north of Lawrence – that all fit the same background; no father, single and a virgin. You'd been on a case with your father, but he made you focus on the research rather than physically hunting.

Pehaps he didn't want you to get hurt, but you had an undeniable amount of adrenaline at times while working on these cases. All you desired was to get off your chair and fight alongside with your father. He wouldn't have it that way and you knew better than to argue with him about it.

"Something feeds off their purity," You muttered gently, tracing your bottom lip with the opposite end of the pen. Your eyes squinted gently as you examined the book. You took your fingers and traced over the slightly crumpled texture of the paper. Turning the page, your eyes gazed upon an image of a scaly looking creature. Its mouth was opened wide as firey breaths were directed towards a young person stood before it with nothing but a shield and a sword.

You dropped the pen and scrambled out of your seat, scurrying towards the phone against the wall. You took it and quickly dialed the number of the motel your father was staying at, while on the case. Placing the phone against your ear, you waited as it began to ring. Your hands shook softly at what you had just discovered. Not even the oldest hunters would have suspected such a thing.

"Yeah?" Answered a deep, gravely tone.

"Dad, it's a dragon," You released in a single breath.

"What?" He ran his palm down his face, in disbelief at your discovery.

"It's a dragon that's behind the kidnapping. They feed off purity, Dad. It says so right in the book," You allowed the phone to rest between your ear and shoulder as you reached over to grab the book. The curly wire against the wall phone made this a bit difficult.

"Enough, Y/N!" He snapped through the phone. "Every hunter knows that dragons don't exist."

"But, Dad–" You were cut off.

"No, Y/N. Find something else, it's not a dragon," His voice darkened.

You released a gentle sigh, "Yes, sir."

Removing the phone from your ear, you placed it back against the wall. Your plump lips glossed from the dim lights of your small home. You were a prisoner inside the walls of a place you should've called safe. All you did was the research. You sat in the same chair day after day doing more and more research.

You tossed the book of Greek lore back onto the table. A subtle bang flooded the first floor of the house. You frustratedly took your hands to your face, rubbing your tired eyes slowly. You needed rest, you craved it. It would be no longer than twenty minutes, you tried to reassure yourself as you trudged your way to the living room. You slowly pressed your bum against the couch and leaned your head back against the arm of it, while your legs laid out before you, taking up all the cushions.

Slowly, your eyes fluttered closed.

Despite the dark sight you had on the inside of your eyelids, a figure before you was shaped and engraved into your view. A darker figure of someone staring over you, as if they were watching you sleep. You stirred uncomfortably, in deep desire to sleep peacefully. It was useless, for you couldn't drift with the feeling of someone watching you.

Fluttering your eyes opened, you gazed up at the ceiling watching as a dark figure was sprawled out against the stippled material of the ceiling clung to a body. Your eyes squinted as you noticed the dark figure had a thin line of blood along its chest. The red matter slipped from the cut and fell upon your forehead. You flinched softly and sat up, taking your finger and swiping the blood off. You brought your hand back down and examined the plasma upon your finger.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you looked up once more and the site of your father upon the ceiling filled your view. Your glossy lips parted as you stared up at him, stuck to the ceiling as though he were a starfish against a rock.

Before you could process anything else, your teary eyes found the body against the ceiling spread into flames. The entire living room lit up with fire and smoke. You pushed yourself off the couch and rushed to the kitchen table, grabbing the Greek lore book and your journal.

The flames surrounded you, as though it trapped you inside, not desire to let you leave. You coughed harshly and found your tears fallen from your eyes rapidly, staining your cheeks. The burning wood of the furniture was lifted by the smoke, implanting the ashes against your cheeks. You took your arm and covered your mouth and nose as best as you could.

Your body was growing weak as you clung the journal and book to your chest. You ran quickly and found a route to the front door. Taking all the strength you had left in your limbs, you rushed to the door and swung it open, jumping off the porch and to the front lawn. You tripped while getting up and ran to the curb, noticing fire trucks were down the street. You thanked your lucky stars you had caring neighbors.

Taking your arm down, you watched as the fire trucks headed in your direction. You hugged your journal and book tightly as the men rushed out of the vehicles with the hoses attached to the back of it. Your cheeks were stained with ash and hot tears. Your eyes were glazed with a glossy veneer as more tears trickled down your face.

"I'm sorry, Dad.." You released a soft whisper, feeling your legs weaken as you sat against the curb, hugging your books as they gave you some form of comfort.

Blue lights flashed out of the corners of your eyes, to your left. You slowly picked your head up and watched as police cars were headed for your, once put-together, home. The flames had died down as the firefighters continued to spray the house with the hose.

You watched as policemen exited their vehicles to step forth to the scene. Releasing a gentle sigh, you flickered your eyes up and watched two men walk towards you.

"What's your name, miss?" Questioned one of the officers as you stood before them, still hugging your books to your chest.

Your bloodshot teary eyes looked up at them, "Y/N.. Y/L/N."

"Miss. Y/L/N, how old are you?" He followed up.

"Nineteen," You whispered.

"Who else lived in this house with you?"

"My dad."

The questioning seemed as though it took forever, you couldn't help but revisit the last thing you and your father spoke about before he was found against your ceiling, up in flames. You chewed against your plump bottom lip as more hot tears slipped from your eyes and fell down along your cheeks.

"Miss?" The officer placed a hand against your shoulder, pulling you from your thoughts.

"Yes?" You parted your glossy lips.

"Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?"

You took a moment and found your deep colored eyes transfixed upon your feet. You were in nothing but a sweatshirt, leggings and some busted up sneakers. You thought over about where you could possibly go. After debating about it within your head, you glanced up at the officer and nodded slowly.

Four Hours Later

Lincoln, Nebraska

Before exiting the taxi, you slipped the driver a crumpled hundred dollar bill. He took it and gave you a soft nod with a thin smile. You slipped out of the car and slung your bag over your shoulder. A few pairs of clothes that didn't get ruined were shoved into it along with a new toothbrush and some deodorant, your journal and Greek lore book as well.

The tires of the taxi squeaked as the driver sped off, leaving you in the parking lot of a motel. You looked around, in an attempt to figure out which motel they'd be in. A clean looking 1967 Chevy Impala was parked outside room ninety-three. You took your weakened legs and walked towards the room. As you stood before the door, you knocked gently. Your knuckles shook as you prayed that it was the right room.

A subtle creak was heard as the door slowly opened. You stared at a brunette boy with soft round cheeks. He was eye-level with you, maybe an inch or two taller. "Hey, Sammy," Your lips curved into a soft smile as more tears slipped from your eyes.

"Y/N? What are you doing here? Are you okay?" He questioned slowly, noticing your troubled state.

As you were about to speak, your deep colored eyes shifted up to glance behind Sam. Met with the familiar evergreen eyes, you almost lost your balance, but gripped onto the doorframe before you'd be able to trip.

Your vision faded into pitch black as your fingers slipped from their grip upon the doorframe.

A cold compress was felt against your forehead, causing you to softly shift against the mattress of which your body was implanted upon. You slowly peeled your eyes opened and gazed up to find the same evergreen eyes you saw before.

"Hey, sweetheart.." His voice was soft as he gently pressed a cold cloth to your forehead. Your eyes bounced around the room and soon found their way back to him.

"Dean," You breathed out and slowly sat up.

"Whoa, Y/N, take it easy, yeah? You bumped your head pretty hard," He whispered and slowly laid you back down against the pillows. You nodded gently and eased your body against the soft bed.

"So, what happened, Y/N? How'd you know we were here?" Sam's voice was heard as you turned your head, seeing that he sat against the edge of the second bed.

"Dad's dead," You whispered, your throat ran dry at the realization. "It was the same kind of thing as your mom.." You spoke softly, knowing that the subject was still sensitive to talk about with the Winchester family. "The whole house went up in flames.. I nearly couldn't get out," You breathed out.

Sam and Dean exchanged worried and saddened expressions. Both of them glanced back at you as if to reassure you that everything would be okay with just their eyes.

"Hey.. where is John anyway?" You asked softly, while Dean continued to pat the cold, damo cloth against the side of your cheek.

"He's working on a case, he says we're getting closer to finding out what killed Mom.. and your dad," Dean whispered the last part and laid his emerald eyes upon you. Your gaze locked with his for a few moments.

"My dad mentioned you guys were here a couple days ago, so when the cops asked me if I had a place to go tonight, I immediately thought of you guys," You whispered gently, your eyes bounced from Dean to Sam.

The sound of the front door opening caused the three of you to turn your heads and meet with John Winchester, father of Sam and Dean. His eyes looked immediately to you as you were laid against the bed. You slowly sat up against the headboard of the bed and looked at John, noticing how exhausted he looked.

"Y/N, what are you doing here?" He asked, releasing a soft breath. He removed his jacket and tossed it onto a chair by the table.

"Shawn's dead, Dad," Sam answered for you, his voice was slightly shaky.

"Y/N thinks it was something from the thing that killed Mom," Dean spoke gently, not wanting to create more tension.

"I'm sorry for your dad, Y/N.. Shawn was an excellent hunter," John spoke softly and took a seat against the edge of the bed that Sam was on. You released a gentle breath and nodded softly.

"The flames were everywhere," You whispered, tears blurring your vision. You let them slip from your eyes and stain your soft cheeks. You looked up to John and found that his gaze was soft, you knew he empathized with you.

"We'll figure something out, Y/N. We'll find that yellow-eyes son of a bitch and get rid of him, okay?" John mentioned softly. You nodded your head and felt Dean drape an arm around your shoulders. "For now, go clean up and we'll take you to Bobby's tomorrow. You'll stay with him," John pushed himself off the bed and looked down upon you and Dean.

"But, Dad, why can't Y/N stay with us? She's really good at research and–" Sam was cut off by a stern look from John.

"It's too dangerous for her now. For all we know yellow eyes could be after her next," John spoke firmly, making Sam retreat.

"Yes, sir," The youngest Winchester nodded slowly.

"Go clean up, kid," John turned to you with a softening expression. "Dean, give her a pair of your pajamas," He spoke and Dean nodded, taking the cold damp cloth in his palm and scurrying to his bag to find a pair of pajamas for you to wear.

"Thank you, John," You whispered softly and pushed yourself off the bed. John placed a hand against your shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly.

"You're family, kid. We look after our own," John offered a gentle, thin smile. You nodded and peeled from his grasp, escaping to the bathroom.

Before you could get inside, Dean walked up behind you and handed you one of his t-shirts and a pair of flannel pajama pants. You took them into your hands and offered him a soft smile.

"Thanks, Dean," You whispered and felt your fingers graze against his as he handed you the clothing.

"You're welcome, Y/N," He whispered softly and let you escape into the motel room's bathroom.

After your shower, you stepped out onto a couple towels upon the floor. You stretched your hand to grab a towel along the small hook againsg the wall and begun to dry your body. The ash hd been washed off along with the other bits and pieces of debris against your body. You felt refreshed. You quickly brushed your teeth and after completely drying off, you changed into the pajamas that Dean let you borrow. They smelled just like him and you couldn't help but notice how they loosely draped around your body.

They didn't cling to you like your own clothes did, but that's what you liked how them. It felt like they protected you as Dean always did when you would spend time with him. Despite being the same age, Dean always made sure to look after you. He always looked out for Sam as well, mostly because John made Dean grow up rather too fast.

After combing your hair, you exited the bathroom and found Sam and Dean watching TV while John was nowhere to be seen. Soup was cooking in a little pot upon the small stove inside the room.

"Hey, sweetheart, feeling better?" Dean turned to look at you softly, his emerald eyes were so warm and made your body heat up.

You shrugged lightly, "I'm physically okay, mentally.. I'm not so sure."

Sam turned to look at you with a gentle gaze, "We saved some soup for you, Y/N." You offered a soft smile to Sam and thanked him before making your way to the small pot over the stove. You removed the lips gently and placed it upon the counter.

You felt a presence behind you as you reached into the cabinet, stood upon your tip toes. Struggling to read for a bowl, you felt the presence behind you slowly reach up, his arm grazing against yours as he grabbed a bowl for you. You smiled softly and turned around to face him. You were met with Dean, softly grinning at you with his glossy lips enclosed together.

"Thanks, Deanie," You spoke the nickname you gave him when you were younger. As you leaned your lower back against the counter, he stood before you with a soft, comforting smile.

"Y/N/N, I'm really sorry about your dad and I'm sorry you're gonna be stuck at Bobby's for a while, not that it's a bad thing, I just wish you could be here with me where I know you'll be safe," Dean released in a soft breath.

"I'll be fine at Bobby's, Dean. Trust me, I'll do some research there and whatever I find, I'll give you or Sam a call," You softly spoke and let your hand run up to his cheek. You took your thumb and caressed beneath his eye slowly, watching as he leaned into your touch; his eyes closed.

"Can you give us a call even if it's not about research?" You heard Sam's soft voice from behind Dean, making you slowly retreat your hand back to your side. Dean opened his eyes and turned to look at Sam who looked over the back of the couch. The sound of the TV muffled in the background.

"Of course, Sammy," You nodded gently. The youngest Winchester curved his lips into a smile as he turned his head back to the TV.

Dean looked back at you and parted his lips slowly. You took the opportunity and snuck your around his torso, burying yourself into his chest. His arms loosely wrapped around your shoulders as he pulled you tightly in. A few tears slipped from your eyes and ran down your cheeks as you buried yourself deeper into his embrace.

You felt Dean's lips gently press against the top of your head as you pulled back to look up at him. Your bodies were still entangled together. "I'm right here, Deanie, I'm always right here," You whispered and watched as he looked down at you with a soft grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Asleep against the couch, you stirred when you felt a cool draft hit your bare toes. Subtle static came from the TV along with the aroma of dirty laundry. You shifted and clung the blanket around your body tightly in an attempt to keep yourself warm. Slowly, you felt your body had had enough sleep and your eyes fluttered open. You found your gaze was locked upon the TV. It had been turned on. You slowly sat up and rubbed your tired eyes, they'd been puffy and red from the mourning of your dad.

"Morning, Y/N," Sam gave you a soft grin as he sat against his bed with a new pair of clothes upon his body.

"Good morning, Sam," You mumbled, sleepily and turned your head to gaze at the clock beneath the TV. It read nine thirty-eight. You released a gentle sigh and pushed yourself off the couch, making your way towards Sam. "Where's John and Dean?" You asked and sat beside him, your hair stuck out in all the wrong places with a couple knots in the back.

"They went to get breakfast and fuel for the Impala," He replied flatly.

You nodded softly and gazed at the TV. A cartoon you were unfamiliar with played upon the screen. The door to the motel room opened and in came John and Dean, with a couple plastic bags in their hands.

"Morning, Y/N," John gave a soft smile.

"Good morning, sweetheart," Dean offered you a soft smile and nudged your shoulder as he placed down the plastic bags upon the small table beside the window.

"Morning," You replied to them both with a soft grin.

"Here, Y/N/N," Dean reached into one of the bags and grabbed a warm breakfast sandwich. He tossed it towards you and you caught it within your hands.

"Thanks, Dean," You smiled softly.

"Thank Hector Aframian," Dean sent you a wink as he slipped the fraudulent credit card into his wallet and in his backpocket. You chuckled softly and rolled your eyes as you unraveled the sandwich from the foil it came in. You began to eat at your sandwich as John, Dean and Sam started to pack up their belongings.

You took the time to change in the bathroom into your own pair of clothes that you managed to get from your burnt down home. There'd been a couple articles of clothing that survived, so you took them into your possession.

After changing, you returned the pajamas back to Dean, who smiled and took them back into his bag. You felt your face heat up at his grin.

"Need help getting anything to the car, John?" You asked as you slung your bag over your shoulder in a pair of jeans and a loose, baggy t-shirt.

"Just get yourself in the Impala, kid," John offered a softly smile and ruffled your hair. You chuckled and nodded lightly. You stepped out of the motel room and headed towards the Impala with the Winchesters behind you.

In the backseat, beside Sam, you gazed out the window as the world passed. You felt almost like a burden to John for having him go through much trouble to get you somewhere safe. You knew he did it out of the kindness of his character, but you were unsure if this got in the way of him trying to find the demon that killed Mary and your dad.

You leaned your head against the seat and attempted to rest for a while. The drive was about three and a half hours. With that time, you attempted to get as much sleep as you could. You had a feeling that Bobby wouldn't make you stay for free, perhaps he'd have you help out at the Singer Salvage Yard.

While the ride was long, you were able to sleep respectively and soon awakened when the gravel against the tires of the Impala rumbled the body of the car. You slowly stirred and blinked twice as you lifted your head up. You rubbed your eyes slowly and looked around, noticing the salvage auto parts were around the front. Bobby's house was towards the back. You gently yawned as John pulled into the back, parking the Impala in place beside Bobby's car.

When John and Dean started to exit the car, you did as well, grabbing your back and slinging it over your shoulder. You watched as Dean walked around the front of the car to make his way towards you.

Bobby exited the front of his house and walked along the gravel towards John. The two grown men hugged and spoke for a moment while you, Dean and Sam stood together beside the Impala.

"You'll be okay, sweetheart?" Dean asked softly, looking down at you.

"I'll be fine, Dean," You whispered and nudged his side with your elbow playfully. He softly grinned and gave you a warm hug. You snuck your arms around his torso as he clung around your shoulders.

You felt Sam hug you from behind. You released a soft giggle and pulled from Dean, turning to face Sam. "Take care of the old man, okay?" You chuckled softly towards Sam, inference to Dean.

Sam smiled lightly and nodded. "Call us as soon as you can, Y/N," He mentioned.

"And if you need anything, we'll be here," Dean added. You looked between the two brothers and smiled softly.

"What would I do without you boys, hm?" You offered a grin and pulled them both into a hug. They returned the favor.

The Winchesters treated you like one of their own and that's what you loved most about them. Family was their safe place and you were a member of their family despite no blood relation. You grew up with them and the fact that most days you woke up and it being life or death made you all the more closer with them.

Once you pulled back from them, you caressed Dean's cheek and offered a small smile. He softly grinned and leaned into your touch as he always did. When you slowly pulled back, Dean gazed at you warmly.

"Hey, girl," Bobby's redneck voice was heard from behind you. You turned and offered a soft grin as he stood on the other side of the Impala. You walked around the back of it and hugged Bobby from the side as he rubbed your arm softly, in a fatherly manner. "Sorry to hear about your dad, kiddo.. was a hell of a hunter that one," He mentioned and pulled back.

"I'll have to keep his legacy going," You brought your chin up and watched as Bobby nodded slowly.

"Well, why don't you come on in? I've got a room for you upstairs and some old clothes of Karen's in a box in the attic you can look through if you want," Bobby spoke while looking down at you.

"Thanks, Bobby," You whispered gently, knowing the topic of his wife was a sensitive subject.

"Well, Y/N, we'll keep in touch, yeah?" John mentioned as he looked at you.

"Of course and if you guys need any research done, gimme a call and I'd be happy to," You offered them a warm grin. Your warm eyes found Dean's as he gazed at you, his expression looked both distressed and worried.

"Sure thing, kid," John nodded and pulled you into a warm hug. You returned it and felt him squeeze you before he pulled back and patted your shoulder softly. "Alright, come on, boys," John looked to his sons who continued to watch you with an forced grin.

"Bye, Dean. Bye, Sam," You waved slowly and watched as they waved back while getting into the Impala.

You and Bobby stood upon the gravel as you watched the Impala rumbled due to the engine starting. Bobby's arms crossed over his chest as yours were down at your sides. Dean's gaze was locked with yours as you found his while the Impala turned around and exited the salvage yard. You could see Sam's head turned to look at you through the back window of the car.

Bobby patted your back gently, "C'mon, girl. We got work to do."

a/n: hi!! so i really wanted to write this on my wattpad (narcissistiches), but i really don't know if this idea has potential or if it'll go anywhere so i'm posting this here in hopes of you guys giving feedback, maybe?? i hope you guys enjoyed this and that you want more! i'm planning to rewrite the first season with this little plotline! anyway, thank you for reading! be safe and treat people with kindness. — angelina.

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agirlwhoisaphantom · 3 years

Text

Our Yellow - Dad!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Baby Barnes's birthday is around the corner, and planning has been a bit stressful. But at the end of the day, everything goes to plan

Word Count: 3800

Warnings: Fluff, slight teasing

Author's Note: I would like to thank my lovely friend for making me write this. It was so much fun writing it. I'm a bit sad that these parts came to an end. I hope you all love this 3 part one shot as much as I did.

Part One: Turning Page

Part Two: To Build a Home

March 12, the day baby Barnes entered the world. Who would have thought baby Barnes would be born around Bucky’s birthday? Such a beautiful little boy with the same ocean blue eyes and brown hair that Bucky had. Leo was practically Bucky’s mini; they were both inseparable.

Bucky was always excited to go home, especially after long meetings and missions. He was always happy because he knew that his two bundles of joy would be there waiting for him. There would be days where he would arrive late at night, and he wanted to spend time with you and Leo, but he truly didn’t mind because he would catch you holding Leo in your arms fast asleep.

Crazy to think that it had been eight years that Bucky had met you. Suppose you were to ask him if he ever saw himself having a family of his own. He would rapidly answer no, but fast forward years later, who thought that he would have a family of his own with the girl he loved the most.

When you first met Bucky, it was an instant click. Your relationship with him rapidly increased. He was the most handsome guy you have ever met. Meanwhile, you were the most beautiful girl he ever laid his eyes on. You both weren’t ashamed of admitting to each other the feelings you both had for one another.

He wanted to know your story as much as you wanted to know his. It was difficult for you to tell him about the things you have been through, thinking that he would run away at any moment, but instead, he stayed and listened to all your demons. When he first asked you to listen to his story, he was unsure if he should. But you stayed and listened to every word he had to say; he appreciated you so much for not getting up and leaving.

It was nerve-racking for the rest of the Avengers to find out about your relationship with Bucky. You weren’t sure how they would react to you dating him. But when they noticed that you both had smiles on your face, your aura was radiant yellow, and there was nothing but pure happiness. They all knew that this was something you both deserved, especially after a long period of sadness you two had experienced.

Out of everyone, Steve was the happiest. He hadn’t seen his best friend be happy like this in such a long time. But now that you were in Bucky’s life, Steve was grateful. Steve was able to witness seeing Bucky get the happiness that he has always deserved.

There would be days where Bucky stayed up longer than you and Leo. Seeing you hold Leo in your arms brought him peace. He wishes he could go back in time to 2016 when Bucky was on the run in Bucharest and let that Bucky know that life does get better, and eventually, he will smile again and find the peace he is searching for.

---------------------------------------------

A dream is a wish your heart makes

When you're fast asleep

In dreams you will lose your heartaches

Whatever you wish for, you keep

Have faith in your dreams, and someday

Walking down the hallway, Bucky was able to hear you sing Leo a lullaby. He tried to walk as quietly as he could, so he didn’t interrupt you nor try to wake him up. Leaning up against the door frame, he continued to listen to you singing and watched as you hold Leo in your arms. Your fingers were running through his hair, softly singing into his ear.

Your rainbow will come smiling through

No matter how your heart is grieving

If you keep on believing

The dream that you wish will come true

Leo was asleep in your arms. As you get up, Bucky gets near you. "Doll, I got him." he whispers gently, trying not to wake him up. You carefully hand him over to Bucky. Carrying Leo in his arms to his toddler bed, his little hand reaches out and holds one of his metal fingers as the rest of Bucky's hand rests against Leo's stomach. Placing him down onto his bed, Leo was fast asleep, but with a strong grip, he didn't want to let go of Bucky's metal finger. Bucky gently wiggles the finger out of his grip, making sure he didn't wake up.

You grab Bucky's hand and start quietly getting out of Leo's room. Gently closing the door, you pull Bucky towards the kitchen. He stops you from walking by rapidly pulling you in towards him and placing his hands around your waist. Leaning in forward to give you a brief kiss on your lips, "have I ever told you that you are the most beautiful, amazing mother" he smiles as he rubs his nose against yours.

You quietly chuckle and nod to his response "yes, honey. You tell me that every day," placing your hands on both his cheeks, "and you are a great daddy" you have a smirk on your face and slightly winked.

Without hesitation, his lips were pressed back to yours. His lips were warm and smooth as they brushed against your own. Your lips were parting to let his tongue explore your mouth and your tongue, feeling the pure pleasure of exploring his mouth. Even though you were craving more, you need to pull away. Pulling away, you place your index finger on his lips. "As much as we want more, we have work to do."

Leaning in forward, he moves your hair to the side, pressing his lips on your cheek and gently kissing you from your cheek to your ear, taking a nibble of it. "Do we have to? Tomorrow we can wake up early and work on it," he whispers in your ear and moving his lips from your ear to your neck.

"Yes, we have to, Bucky. I want his fifth birthday to be perfect" these types of kisses you were receiving were your weakness. It was hard for you to say no to him whenever he would tease you like this. "Please, can we work on this" your voice got soft and gentle.

Bucky stops nibbling on your neck and gives out a small grunt. "Fine, but we are waking up late" he places his hand on the back of your head and pulls you in so he can give you a brief forehead kiss.

Letting go of his embrace and turning around, your back was now facing Bucky as you walked towards the kitchen. You flipped your hair and softly chuckled "see, I can get whatever I want," you whispered loudly enough so Bucky could still hear you.

With his right hand, he slaps your ass. The slap was hard that it was a bit loud. If it weren't for the television noise in the background, you would have been worried if that would have woken up Leo.

Bucky places both of his hands on your waist, pulling you towards him. Leaning in forward, "Just you wait till Sunday, Darling, you'll be paying for every little tease you have done for the past week," he whispers into your ear, "okay, bunny." once again but this time gently slapping your ass.

1:35 AM

Blue or Red? Dinosaurs or Cars? Cake or Cupcakes? How many cups of coffee have you taken? Was Bucky already falling asleep? Even though the party was in two days, you wanted to make sure it perfect. As you turn the pages of your planning book, you notice the amount of crossing and pasting you have done for the past couple of days. The moment you thought you were almost done planning, ten other things were thrown at you.

It wasn't a big deal for everyone else besides you. You were worried that Leo wouldn't have any good memories to look back at when he was older. As you stare at the planner, your heart accelerates, hands get shaky as you wrap your arms around you.

Bucky noticed that you were slowly experiencing a panic attack. He gets up fast from the chair causes it to fall onto the ground. He turns your chair so that you can face him. Kneeling in front of you, "Doll, give me your hands" without a second thought, you agreed to give him your hands. "No matter what, Doll, Leo is going to love the party we are planning for him" he looks at you in your eyes; meanwhile, you were staring at how his thumbs moved against your skin. "Even if it's Cars that are Dinosaurs or Cars that are Dinosaurs. He is going to love it and create as many memories as possible" A soft chuckle escapes his mouth.

You take a big breath as you were slowly calming down. Bucky places his hand on your cheek and softly moves his thumb against your skin. "We should go to bed, it's nearly 2 in the morning, and we both are tired. We can work on this tomorrow," he says in a soft, gentle voice. He was right, it was already late, and you both needed some reason.

As soon as you both start walking to the bedroom, you can feel Bucky placing his arm on your back and his metal arm by your calves. He wanted to carry you to bed. You place your arms around his shoulders. He lifts you, now carrying you in a bridal position. He gives you a brief kiss on your forehead as you place your head on his shoulder.

He notices that you were sleeping in his arms. Bucky gently places you on the bed, covering you with the duvet. He goes back to the kitchen, grabs your planner, and starts adding and crossing things from your list. He works on it for an hour, finishing the last details. "Let's go to sleep, baby, please," you mumbled in your sleep, making it hard for him to hear you.

-------------------------------------------------

Five

“Dad, you are going to lose.”

Four

“I’m definitely not losing.”

Three

“My car is the fastest. You have a slow car.”

Two

“Are you sure about that, sport?” Bucky reaches Leo’s stomach and starts tickling him.

One

Leo tries to push Bucky’s hands. He was laughing uncontrollably. “Stop, Dad. You are cheating”

Zero

“And the Race Begins” Bucky was loud enough that you could hear him from the kitchen.

The cars go around the track two maybe three times. Laughter is shared between Leo and Bucky. Leo's car was in 1st place. Meanwhile, Bucky's car was in 2nd place. "I'm catching up" he had a small smirk on his face.

Leo had a concerned look, eyebrows knitting together and his lower lip forward "nope, no, you are not, dad." he chuckles a little.

Bucky's car was now in first place; meanwhile, Leo's was in second "ah. I'm ahead" there was a bit of excitement in his voice. "And dad pulls in, near to the finish line" Bucky was like a little kid all over again. He always made sure that Leo had a fun time whenever he was home.

Leo looks at Bucky with a concentrated look, squinting his eyes nearly shut. "oh, no," he shakes his head, keeping his eyes concentrated on Bucky. Moving his focus to the track, "I'm in the lead! I'm in the lead!" he screams in excitement. "See, I told you, dad, you have a slow car."

With the two cars close to one another. Leo's car crashes into Bucky's. "I'm the winner!" he gets up in excitement and jumps around. "I'm the winner, dad" he starts running around Bucky and the track. Bucky stops him from running around, picks him up, and places him on his back in a firearm position. He has a strong hold of him as he gets up and spins him around.

You were able to hear Leo's screams and laughter. This didn't feel real to you. It all felt like a dream. Hearing them laugh and have a great time brought you joy. As you finish making lunch, you can still hear them.

Bucky kneels so Leo can get down. As soon as Leo is down, he runs to his toy box and gets an unfinished paper snake that he and Bucky started making a few days ago, as well as painting materials. His little hands full of items, walking towards Bucky he would drop the items one by one and get every little piece he dropped "oops, dad, the snake, doesn't want to stay in place. It keeps falling," he pouts as he waddles with the materials, trying to balance himself.

"Throw the snake, and I'll catch it. Just bring the paint." he gently shouts at him. Leo throws the paper snake at him. Bucky inspects the snake, and he notices that it is nearly done. "Leo, we are almost done with this snake."

Leo forms a frown on his face. "It's not a snake, dad, it's a cobra," with a slight grin on his face "be careful, cause I'm going to make it bite you" a small evil giggle escapes his mouth. He gets the snake near Bucky's hand, making a slither noise as it gets near him "ahhh, dad, it bit you" he looks up at Bucky. "Ummm… now…umm… you are infected" he does the same evil giggle from earlier.

"oh no, ouch. Am I going to- "Bucky lays on the floor as he pretends that he just got poisoned.

Leo shakes him gently "dad, wake up, I found the medicine" he shakes him harder, trying to wake him up. Meanwhile, Bucky is trying his best to hold in his laughter. Leo gets up and jumps onto Bucky's torso. This takes his breath away, making him grunt slightly due to how hard Leo jumped. "yay! You are alive. We have to hurry. We don't have much time left" Leo had a concerned look on his face as he tried to 'save' his dad.

Once you finished placing the plates on the table, you decide you wanted to see what Bucky and Leo were doing. Leaning up against the door frame, you see Leo and Bucky sitting down on the floor, surrounded by art supplies and papers everywhere. It had seemed as if an art supply store had exploded.

"The medicine comes from the cobra's guts" He takes the rubber piece of the paper snake and pulls it out.

"Argh," both screamed at each other as they pulled the rubber band out.

Seeing them being goofs and not give a care in the world made you chuckle. This got Bucky's and Leo's attention, and they both wondered for how long you've been standing there. Bucky points at you with the biggest smile on his face.

"Oh, hi, mom. We killed the snake look." Leo rapidly gets the rubber band and throws it at you "now mom has all the guts," He and Bucky scream as the rubber band was launched at you.

Bucky gets up and runs towards you "oh no, we have to save her too" He picks you up and spins you around. Meanwhile, Leo was still screaming about the guts all over you in the background. "I love you, Mrs. Barnes" while he is still spinning you around, he pressed his lips against yours.

"Ewwww, mom, dad."

This made you and Bucky chuckle. Bucky, let's go of you and tackles Leo onto the pillows behind him.

---------------------------------------

Leo’s 5th birthday.

Who would think of thought that your little munchkin was going to be Five already, it feels like just yesterday you were changing his diapers. Being able to witness his first word, his first baby steps, his first anything. Made every cry worth it. Especially having such an amazing man by your side, helping each other every step of the way.

As you comb Leo’s hair, these thoughts go through your mind. He was your little man and seeing him grow every day made you sad yet so happy. “Mommy, I want the red shirt with cars on it” Leo interrupts your thoughts. A smile forms on your face, and you did a soft nose scrunch. Leo was always so independent, but he never hesitated to ask for help if he needed it.

Meanwhile, Sam, Steve, and Bucky were outside in the backyard trying to finish decorating the backyard. Bucky looks around. He wanted everything perfect.

Once you were done helping Leo get ready, he runs towards the backyard. He notices that Steve and Sam were there, and without hesitation, he ran towards Steve. He both loved his uncles and would get very excited whenever they were around.

Steve notices Leo running towards him. He lifts him and spins him around. “It’s my monkey’s birthday today.” Leo was practically screaming into Steve’s ear.

Letting Leo down, he was dizzy from all the spinning Steve had just done. He waddles, trying to keep his balance on his way towards Sam. Before he could make it, he falls. Just in time, Sam catches him. “Woah, be careful, champ” Leo couldn’t help but giggle at the fact he had just fallen.

“Hey, where is my hug?” Bucky reaches out his arms towards the direction that Leo is in.

Leo giggles a little and forms a frown on his face. “No, dad. You get a hug later” He wraps his arms around Sam and sticks his tongue out to Bucky.

“Ha, sucker. He loves me more” Sam raises his eyebrows and has a small smirk on his face.

Bucky crosses his arms and rolls his eyes. He walks towards Leo and grabs him, placing him on his right shoulder. Leo gently kicks and punches Bucky to let him down. As soon as Bucky was near the bouncing house, he throws Leo onto it. Leo was scared at first, but he knew deep down Bucky wouldn’t do anything to harm him. As soon Leo felt his body fall into the bouncy house, he bursts into laughter, so as Bucky.

Hours pass by, and everyone was here. Leo was playing with the rest of the kids, running around the whole backyard. Peter was chasing them with a water gun, getting them all wet. Leo and Peter were practically soaked. Bucky, Steve, and Sam were sitting together side by side. Leo decides to walk behind them and spray them with the water gun. After he did that, he runs towards Peter, hiding and giggling.

Sam got up immediately and grabbed the water gun that was on the table, spraying him. Bucky and Steve stayed seated as they both knew that Sam was going to go after Leo. After all, he did mess with Sam.

The moment Leo noticed the cake that Wanda was bringing. He runs towards the table, nearly almost tripping himself to get there. You sit on Leo’s left meanwhile Bucky sits on his right.

Happy Birthday to you

Happy Birthday Dear Leo

Bucky leans into whispers into Leo’s ear, “what did you wish for, champ?”

Leo looks at Bucky with a confused look. “I’m not telling you,” he shakes his head.

As Leo tries getting a bite from his cake, Bucky pushes his head onto it. Leaving Leo’s face full of cake. Without hesitation, Leo grabs the piece that his face landed on and shoves it onto Bucky’s face, rubbing it all over. Now Bucky and Leo were covered with blue and white frosting.

As you stare around, you notice Wanda staring at you with a ‘really’ expression on her face. You shrugged and a lopsided grin formed on your face. “I’m so sorry, Wanda,” you expressed using your lips. As you turn around to face Leo and Bucky, the cake was gone, not because everyone took a piece but because Bucky and Leo were covered in it. You were unsure if you should feel upset or just laugh at the fact that for the next few days, their faces were going to be stained.

Luckily, you had cupcakes in the fridge in case if this were to happen. You take a napkin and start wiping Leo’s face, hands, and clothes. You used the whole roll of paper towels on him. As soon as you went inside, you noticed Bucky trying to clean himself up. You get near him sliding your finger against his cheek grabbing a piece of cake. He turns around and looks at you. Meanwhile, you lick your finger seductively as you winked.

You turn around, Bucky grabs your hand and pulls you towards him. You were now able to see the smudges of icing on his face. He leans in forward to kiss you, but instead of kissing you, he rubs his face against yours. You had a smirk on your face as you rolled your eyes. He grabs your face, and with his tongue, he licks you from your chin to your nose to your forehead. Trying to remove as much frosting he just put on your face. “Hmm, that tasted good” there is a small pause as he licks your cheek. “I can’t wait for later tonight,” he whispers into your ear.

-------------------------------------------

It was already nighttime. Leo crashed on the couch holding his new favorite Iron Man Plush that Tony decided to gift him. Bucky picks him up and cradles him in his arms.

You decide to put on music, so time goes by faster, and you can finally finish semi-cleaning.

Yes, you're lovely, with your smile so warm

And your cheeks so soft

There is nothing for me but to love you

And the way you look tonight

You start feeling the music, and you close your eyes for a sec. Bucky leans on the entrance of the living room, watching you as you sway to the music with a smile on his face. He comes up from behind, wraps his arms around your waist, and starts swaying with you. You both were in sync. “I’m the luckiest person on this planet. Having you by my side has been a blessing, doll,” He whispers into your ear. He turns you around, and you were now facing him. You had a smile, and your eyes sparkled as the light hit your face “god, I can’t get over how beautiful you are” He leans in to kiss you.

You put your head on his chest, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. and you both continue to dance to the music “Bucky?” you pause for a minute listening to the music. “I think it’s time.”

“Are you sure, doll?” his voice gets soft. You look up towards him and give him a nod. “Okay, but this time let’s make our princess” He turns his head and softly kisses your head.

#dad!bucky #bucky barnes one shot #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #the winter solider #bucky barnes x you #marvel fluff #marvel x you #marvel x reader #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier fanfic #fluff #dilf!bucky

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hanyohime · 4 years

Text

Rainbow Pearls & Kagome 🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈

So I've been reading similar theories on Twitter and I have similar questions about the pearls in the show.

Did Kagome create these pearls all Midoriko style (shit I hope not) or did Root Head make them in an attempt to seal Kagomes powers away? Where are they, how did they get there, what abilities do they have that make them so special?

This is my perspective on the info:

So there's 7 colours, 7 pearls, and 7 presumably missing characters (Sorry Jaken doesn't make that cut).

I believe each time they (the new crew) find a pearl they find a missing character and or memories that will piece together what happened on the night of the fire, which may also be a key into fixing the past.

But WHAT about these memories will bring these characters back? What abilities do these pearls have that help this journey along?? That's what I don't get about the show yet. The YouTube channel Axlebeats had some good background knowledge on Japanese themes, as well as a video about the pearls, their colours and colour symbolism. Anywho...

I think that in an attempt to protect her friends and loved ones from being absorbed by Root Head (Neno Kuni) Kagome sealed herself, Shippo, Miroku, Sango, Rin, Sesshomaru, and Inuyasha into these pearls.

Kagomes's spiritual powers must be stronger now, I bet her years of training has helped her gain interesting miko knowledge and powers. Many of the priestesses in the OG Inuyasha had abilities in sealing living beings or power into objects. I believe Kagome has the power to seal things as well, such as individuals into pearls.

I also have this idea that the pearls were something that were already in existence. Something not fully created by Kagome, but they became the Rainbow Pearls because they were only objects available for Kagome to bind everyone to. Or maybe they were the Rainbow Pearls before her possessing them? Not sure.

Where did they come from? I have a cute thought about it.

Maybe they were a gift from Inuyasha? A shell with rouge has been seen before in the series. Much like the one his mother Izaioy had passed down to him, the one he had gifted to Kikyo, Inuyasha set out to recreate it. Unfortunately his mother's rouge shell was destroyed by Naraku when he attacked Kikyo before she sealed Inuyasha to the tree.

To tie in the shell and pearls with Moroha is a theory that Inuyasha brings Moroha along on his little quest to make the shell. Maybe she is the one that picked up or is given the pearls while her father searches for the prefect shell. Perhaps Moroha brings them back with her as her own gift to her mother.

I believe Moroha has a pearl and the rouge now. I have read in some translations of Moroha that: when she puts on her lipstick that is carried in a shell with a red pearl, she turns into the 'Crimson Night Demon of National Destruction' and acts very wildly.

If the pearls have abilities I think that the one she has pertains to strength. She's so young and only 1/4 demon, to be able to fend for yourself at such a young age without strength would be difficult, but I like to think besides having the pearl, she may have been supported a little by someone. Like maybe Kaede from time to time, or one intriguing theory I read was Koga helping raise Moroha. It was pointed out that her clothes are similar in style to the wolf demon tribe. How amazing would that be for Inuyasha to find out he is now indebted to his sworn rival for helping raise his only daughter.

Anyways... whatever happens at the end of the night of the fire, I strongly feel that Moroha will be left with the robe of the fire rat, the shell and a pearl... the only things left behind of her parents.

What if Moroha is carrying her father around and doesn't even realize it!? So when she uses the rouge it gives her a boost in some kind of power that makes her fight with great strength? Maybe it boosts her demonic energy? So with that I believe Inuyasha is the Red pearl.

At the same time we know that pearls have been used in the show before to seal away secret passages and presumably memories/visions like the black pearl in Inuyasha's eye. Which was created by Hosenki, an oyster demon who had the power to create magical jewels. He has long passed but his son remains, however he is in training and would not reach the level of his father for another 100 years, or so he told the OG crew.

But that wouldn't mean he wasn't creating pearls for practice! Maybe Hosenki Jr. made the rainbow pearls and they were entrusted or maybe even made for Kagome? For what? I'm not sure. Like always never 100% sold on my own theories but for series continuity this makes sense. Where else would they get magical pearls?

Something that I noted and alot of others have noticed this too, is that there seems to be a certain color scheme with the show. They're some of the commonly used Japanese main colours, but I'm more so focusing on the colours they pair with characters. The new Inuyasha cafe's that have opened up in Japan have shown particular colours for products that make me feel like they are important and have some kind of meaning behind it.

These are coasters in the cafe, I know it seems silly but the colours match exactly with the Rainbow Pearls! Look at how they are all within a circle compared to other merchandise photos.

So in going with this color matching theory, what if Hisui has his Father! Miroku's colour is blue on the cafe coaster and the largest bead (or pearl?) on Hisui's left arm appears to be light blue in colour. It would make more sense that, if it is one of the pearls, it'd be Miroku because the prayer beads are more of a symbol for him rather than Sango.

If I'm going based on the colors of the Final Act intro, Sango's colour are also represented as blue, but I'm pretty sure when it comes to these pearls, her colour is going to be the coral pearl.

I'm just guessing but if I had to match the other colors with characters then it would be Green for Kagome, Orange for Shippo, Yellow for Rin and Grey/Silver? for Sesshomaru.

It's that or Green for Jaken?? I have this other scary theory that Kagome sealed everyone away and then didn't have the energy left to fight of Root Head so her only option was to seal it and herself into the Sacred Tree/Time tunnel. This would make sense why Inuyasha is looking to the tree in the promo poster because she may be trapped in there. Or! Maybe some of the pearls are lost in different times in history and the girls go looking for them, that would correspond with the teaser that they will be time traveling as a group. It would also explain why some characters seem to be completely missing.

Thats all I have for now!

Nov 2020: For those messaging me to debunk these theories, I posted this the day before the first episode aired, chill out...

#inuyasha #hanyo no yashahime #half demon princess yashahime #towa higurashi #setsuna #kagome higurashi #demon slayer #sesshomaru #moroha #kagome #miroku x sango #shippo #jaken inuyasha #yashahime: princess half demon #yashahime #yashahimeprincesshalfdemon #hanyou #hanyou no yashahime: sengoku otogizoushi #yashahime theory

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 4 years

Text

Sex Tape

Pairings: Johnny Depp x Reader

Request: “ If you take requests, would you consider doing johnny reaction to like theirs sex tape getting leaked? Reader may also be a celebrity or not. Whatever you prefer “ - @fanficshitandother

Warnings: Mentions of sex but no actual smut

Word Count: 1800

A/N: Sorry this one is so short. I was having a harder time writing it than I thought I would. I hope you enjoy!

__________________________________

Shit.

You knew this was a bad idea when he suggested it but no. He just had to have this video “for when he was away filming.” It always ended like this, though, right? It always started out as fun and games until bam! Celebrity sex tape leaked!

The gossip talk show video that your best friend had sent you was still playing on your phone and you watched in silent horror as the red haired woman talked about your sex life to her male counterpart as if she had any actual right to have an opinion. In the top corner was a picture of you and Johnny at the red carpet for the premier of the Crimes of Grindelwald, his arm around your waist and both of you smiling for the paparazzi pictures. “Okay, guys. You are going to want to hear this,” She started, clasping her absurdly long acrylic-clad fingers together and holding onto her knees, “So there has been yet another sex tape leaked and I want you to guess who’s it is.” She looked over to her co-host. He had a push broom mustache that was bleached blonde to match his hair.

The man hummed before waving his hand, which also donned long yellow acrylics, “I swear, Laurel, if this is another Kardashian or Paris Hilton tape, I’m gonna scream. That’s such old news.”

“Actually, it’s someone that I certainly didn’t expect. Johnny Depp and his wife, Y/N L/N.” She dropped the news and the co-star’s mouth dropped.

“Are you serious? Like Jack Sparrow, Sweeney Todd, Willy Wonka, Johnny Depp?” He asked in total shock, “I didn’t expect that either! But you know what? I feel like he’d be really good in bed.”

He and Laurel both laughed, “You’re so bad!” She squealed, hitting him with the paper notes in her hand, “But, between you and me,” She leaned in, as if she was telling an actual secret that wasn’t being broadcast on the internet, “I did see it.”

“And?”

“It was pretty hot, I can’t lie. That Y/N is a very lucky girl indeed.” The pair giggled like a pair of school girls.

You were absolutely mortified. How did this happen? How many people had seen it? Who had seen it? Oh God… all you could imagine was your family stumbling across the video or, debatably worse, Johnny’s kids. This had to be one of the worst moments of your life.

You turned off the video and quickly dialed your husband. “Hello, love.” He greeted cheerily on the other end. The faint sound of cars passing in the background told you he was probably driving home from the meeting he had been at.

“Did you see it? Did you hear it?” You asked frantically.

“What?” He asked, confused.

“The video! The video got leaked!” You ran your fingers through your hair messily, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor.

“What video?” He questioned, not sounding like he fully understood what had happened, but then you could almost feel the weight of realization falling on him, “Wait, our video?”

“Yes! Our video!” You were yelling at this point, not at him but at the situation and thankfully he understood that.

“Okay, okay. We’ll- Hang on my manager is calling. Probably to tell me about it. I’ll be home in five minutes. I love you.” He signed off your call quickly before hanging up without giving you the chance to respond.

While you waited for him to get there, you spiraled down the rabbit hole that was the tabloids and social media. Your phone buzzed off the charts as everyone from your sister to Helena Bonham Carter called you to ask if you were okay. Of course, you weren’t. But it was one phone call from a former college roommate, Sheila, had really gotten your blood boiling.

“It’s okay! If anything, this is just going to make you more famous! Look at all the other celebs who’ve had their sex tapes leaked. They’re like, super famous.” Sheila sounded more excited than she should have, which certainly made you question her motives behind calling you in the first place. Since marrying Johnny, you’d had the unfortunate displeasure of having to cut a few people off from your past who had randomly called you up after years of little to no contact, asking more favors in the movie industry, money, or even just for the clout of saying they knew you. There really was such a downside to this whole marrying famous person thing that nobody ever really talked about - not that you would take it back, though, of course. You loved Johnny more than anything.

Still, when the words left her mouth, you felt a flash of anger swell up, “Contrary to what a lot of people might believe, being famous actually kind of sucks,” You spat angrily, “And call me crazy, but I don’t exactly feel thrilled at knowing the whole world as access to a video of my naked ass!”

“At least it’s a good naked ass, though! Your boobs are looking pretty good too. Did you get them done?” She asked bluntly, still not a care to be heard in her voice. You swore you could almost detect a fake valley girl accent too.

Your mouth dropped open in disbelief at the words coming from her voice, “I can’t believe you.” Without giving her a chance to respond, you clicked the off button before flipping her off through the screen, though you knew she couldn’t see it. The audacity of some people.

The front door swung open, drawing your attention as Johnny hurried into the house, setting his bag down by the front door. “How bad is it?” You asked, knowing his manager must have told him the full extent.

“Do you want the truth?” Johnny saw as panic and humiliation swept across your face, knowing that perhaps that wasn’t the best way to break it to you that it was pretty bad. He stepped forward and wrapped you in his arms, “I told Harrison to take ‘em down. Whenever he found one, he said he’d get it deleted.

You sighed defeatedly, “That doesn’t stop the fact that a bunch of people already saw it.” Your arms wrapped around Johnny’s torso and you allowed your head to fall against his chest, trying to calm yourself with his scent- exotic spicy cologne and old books.

His large hand came to stroke through your hair, “That is true,” He conceded with a heavy breath, “But, it also means that fewer and fewer people will continue to see it.” There was a pause in which neither of you said anything, only took a few minutes to hold onto each other while you thought about the future now, “Y’know, I can’t help but feel like this is partly my fault. I shouldn’t have asked to make the video. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You shook your head in disagreement, “I agreed to do it too. It’s on both of us. In retrospect, we should have put it on an actual VHS tape or something that would be more difficult to get into the tabloid’s hands.”

You were tired of this - of this constant running from the vultures that prayed off your every misstep just to turn them against you and create headlining stories. You felt like you couldn’t even breathe without a scandal unless the media allowed it. You were just grateful that you happened to marry one of the most private actors in Hollywood, knowing that whatever pressure you felt, more public figures like Angelina Jolie had it much worse. Still, something inside you stirred, a decision that you’d stop living in fear.

Johnny pulled back and gave you that infamous cocked eyebrow look of wonder, one that you’d mostly seen him use as Jack Sparrow. Little did everyone know, it was a gesture he’d picked up on doing in real life as well. “Do we even have a VHS player anymore?”

You chuckled and buried your head back into his white shirt, “I don’t even know. I feel like there must be one laying around somewhere. And if not, I’ll go down to a pawn shop and pick one up just for you to use while filming.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” You leaned back, pulling on his shirt to bring him down closer to your level, “That if we’re going to be making you another one of these videos, it’s gonna be on something that stays only between us.”

Your husband nearly choked on air, “Another one? After what just happened?”

“Only if you want to and only if it stays on something physical like a CD or VHS that we can mutually agree to burn and destroy if anything happens.” You giggled and Johnny joined in with a low chuckle as well, “But… the video was leaked. We knew that was a risk when we made it. But, y’know what? I’m tired of living in fear of the paparazzi and public. They’ve already seen us fuck. There’s not much else we’ve got to lose.”

His dark eyes flashed with mischief before he took off in a light jog down the hall without a word. You followed him, “Where are you going?” You giggled, turning the corner to find him digging through your little Harry Potter closet under the stairs.

When he stood up, he shook his long hair out of his eyes messily and held up an old tape recorder that had to be at least twenty years old. Johnny swayed towards you, jokingly flirtatious as he spoke, “Well, Mrs. Depp, it would seem that you’re in luck because your husband likes to hoard old shit.”

The grey and black machine seemed to stare at you and some hesitation set in again but then you remembered what you’d said: I’m tired of living in fear… there’s not much else we’ve got to lose.

Johnny flicked open the side compartment and his eyes opened in surprise to find a tape still in there. He lifted it from the slide and looked it over, shocked to see that it appeared to be an unused blank tape, “Well, well, looks like we’re in luck.”

Biting your lip, you looked up at him with those eyes before grabbing his hand and running upstairs to your bedroom, dragging him along. “The world thinks they’ve seen us fuck. They only got a preview.”

“Only a preview? I thought we went pretty hard last time?” He countered with a low challenging laugh.

You turned around at the top of the stairs, one hand on the banister as you turned to face him. His body collided with yours, his hand reaching around the small of your back to steady the two of you and you arched your body into his, being sure to brush your body against his groin, “Oh, Johnny… we’re both throwing our backs out tonight.”

#Johnny Depp #johnny depp fanfic #John Shelby #johnny depp imagine #johnny depp imagines

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