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black-lake · 1 year

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astro observations 8

though most of us think we've learned everything about our own chart, yea we’ve seen it countless times, yet we're always learning new things because we go through experiences that activate and awaken certain parts we either forgot about or overlooked. I shared many of my personal experiences in this post of things I realized later or thought were insignificant.

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🎻 People with capricorn placements tend to be remembered fondly after their death. The type of artists that listening to their music takes you to a different era and makes you feel nostalgic to a time period you never existed in. They also can easily bring old trends, styles or music genres back to life. Signs that are also remembered after death are aquarius and pisces. I always notice it with those last three signs or degrees of these signs.

🎻 It is said that the moon matures at 24°, so I got a degree observation with that. If you have it at 24° or close to it, 23° or 22°, you may feel like you've experienced the full spectrum of emotions and matured so much in your early 20s. In your childhood and teenage years, you may remember dealing with emotions immaturely, possibly acting out with the negative traits of the moon sign. At 24, you feel more aware and in control of your emotions, like you ended a cycle. Your emotional intelligence becomes evident. The emotional world of these natives is almost entirely internal. They do best when they can deal with their emotions in solitude. They're seen as detached no matter how open they get. They keep people guessing what they're feeling and they tend to have a wise aura.

🎻 With moon at degrees from 25° to 29°, natives may feel like they need to share their emotions with either someone close or the world in general, or even through a hobby they have. They may want to be vocal and expressive about how they feel. They tend to be relatable and make others feel heard through just expressing themselves and being open. They may also experience some heartbreaks, making them stronger, braver and and more willing to share how they feel.

🎻 Moon at degrees from 0° to 21° tend to resonate very much with the sign of their moon degree. They might even be mistaken as having their moon in the the sign of that degree. They're seen as energetic and youthful. They often go through trials and errors in testing their emotional depth. They may have been adventurous growing up, experimenting with things and testing where they feel safest and most secure. They may cling into things, and can be codependent on others. They learn how to develop a sense of detachment as they reach their 20s.

^ if you have your moon at 0° to 21°, which I'm least familiar with cuz I don't meet many ppl with these degrees, please do tell me how it resonates with you and your experience with your moon.

🎻 I noticed that most iconic artists have significant uranus or neptune aspects in their chart, conjunction and oppositions with personal planets in particular. I associate these two planets with artistic abilities and talents. Both give visionary minds and expand the imagination. They are outer and generational planets, so whatever art these ppl create is impactful and undeniably timeless.

🎻 Your first love or just the person you first felt really intimately connected to may have placements or degrees of the sign of your 8th house. I have an 8th house in capricorn and my first love had a cap sun and stellium and an aqua stellium.

🎻 In my experience the 8th house is more important in relationships than the 7th. To me the 7th is about connections in general. Even though I have sag in the 7th and pluto right there, I obvs anticipated a significant relationship with a sag or something but it never happened lol. I end up having a casual and lighthearted connection with them, the traits they embody compliments my rising and it's an easy going connection that stays in the friend zone. Not with cap men, even if I want to be friends with them, there's tension that either drifts us apart fearing the friendship or it instantly develops to an intense relationship. It's because my 8th house is in capricorn, and my pluto and mars are both at 10°. So check the degrees too.

🎻 For the longest time I resonated with being way more plutonian than saturnian, because I don't have any capricorn placements or significant saturn aspects, but so many obvious plutonian aspects. But once saturn hit the highest point in my chart, conjuncting my mc, I realized how much this planet affected my life all along and I was oblivious. For instance, I have so many capricorn degrees and sun in the 10th. I was overlooking that I have capricorn in the 8th and 9th, which means saturn rules both houses, and it rules the 10th too since it's in aquarius plus at 22°. I also have a stellium in the 11th with saturn right at the cusp there, so it even influences the the house that is most active in my chart. Can't wait for saturn 11th transit 💀

🎻 Speaking of that, if you have sun in the 10th house, you probably try hard not to look or sound arrogant because people tend to think you're confident even if you're not. Whenever you speak people listen and others may hate on you for thinking you're better than them and you don't even know them lol. It's so hard to make friends with this but I don't hate it, because it gives me the strategic ways to be persuasive and get my way with authority figures. May apply to leo in the 10th or people with cap/leo mix (I bet y'all were called arrogant at least once lol).

🎻 As someone that is very influenced by pluto (square sun, trine venus, semi-sextile mars, conjunct chiron, opposite ascendant, quintile mc), I painfully understand how plutonians feel like their struggles are never rewarded, at least not the reward they anticipated. Yknow with saturn you go through hardship you learn this and that and you get tangible fucking results that you can fucking see. With pluto what is it again? your inner strength and eventual realization of "ta-daaa you went through it, you thought you couldn’t.. that's the reward". Plutonians out there waiting to be truly happy, truly loved, truly effing rich 💀 and get a damn break.

🎻 Another aspect I overlooked was mars opposite saturn, just because I have it at 10°, but I experienced every single thing related to this aspect. I feel like I learned so much about it the hard way and I wanted to do a post sharing what I learned with people that got mars-saturn harsh aspects. If you have it, your flow of energy may be a little off, not knowing when to STOP doing a task and when to start again. Being stubborn with your work wanting it to be done instantly and perfectly like your body is some type of machine taking orders, but saturn will put obstacles in your way until you learn patience and contentment. Can be harder to deal with if mars is in a fixed or cardinal sign.

🎻 With mars-saturn harsh aspects, you may feel the urge to act on your martian qualities but if you disregard what saturn is there for, you'll find yourself back at square one. It's about listening to your body and not ignoring your physical and mental exhaustions. Taking short breaks and organizing your time instead of giving up all together in rage. You're not running out of time if you do so, in fact pushing through too hard is what's a waste of time. It's not a wise use of energy because your work won't be as efficient and your perfectionist ass will redo it. If there's an absence of a healthy work-life balance, these natives can internalize a tremendous amount of anger that can be detrimental to their health.

🎻 I always laugh at capricorns saying that capricorn is a cursed sign because it's so true but also absolutely untrue at the same time. 💀 These natives need to understand certain life patterns, qualities and duties that once figured out unlocks so much success and tangible results that are long lasting. Cap placements especially sun and stelliums give me the sense that they inherited some of their ancestors qualities, if you believe in that, but they go through some hardships with the patterns that come with these qualities. They have a choice to cut the patterns that don't serve them, whether in behaviors or ways of thinking and utilise what they already have with persistence and strategy.

🎻 Well it's march already, who's excited for a little pluto break? It's finally leaving capricorn and entering aquarius on the 23rd and I can't wait tbh. It's like a more intense uranus in aquarius transit, yes we will see a new sense of freedom, some drastic changes, and some said authentic people popping up, new sources of income, new values that aren't necessarily money related, systems that aren't as controlling, maybe new communities or apps on the internet that are annoyingly trendy. But with pluto we will see the shadow side of all of that, so buckle up and get ready lol. It's a gradual change tho I don't expect much to happen this year, but we can always be shocked. Also side thought, if your kids are gonna have pluto in aquarius they may be even brattier and harder to control than pluto sag gen.

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halfagone · 3 months

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A Mandalorian Halfa Jedi?

I am thinking... about my Danny Phantom x Star Wars AU again. I mentioned this in the Haunting Heroes discord server, but imagine this:

Danny gets lost in the Star Wars universe, maybe they're part of the same universe, maybe not. We know that Earth technically exists there, so it's possible. Nonetheless, Danny gets lost and is eventually picked up by the Jedi. It is during the Clone Wars era, at the height of the war. Ectoplasm either functions the same as the Force out in larger space, or it easily passes off as the Force. Therefore, Danny is considered Force-sensitive and brought to the Jedi council.

He's far too old, older than even Anakin was, but he already displays some skill with the blade (thanks to his mom's training), and he's far too powerful with the Force to leave for the Sith or Dark Side users running about to find him. Those like Count Dooku or Asajj Ventress or whoever Dooku's master is (and, depending on the timeline, Maul and his brother Savage as well).

It's decided that Obi Wan should train him, since he did well with Anakin despite Anakin's older age for a youngling and lack of familiarity with Jedi customs and culture. As well as Obi Wan's own young age as a Padawan himself at the time. Surely, Obi Wan could whip him into shape and they need all the help they can get on the field.

Anakin does not like Danny at first. Not at all. He might have joked all he liked beforehand about Obi Wan getting another padawan, but seeing it happen is an entirely different experience. Danny gets along well with Obi Wan, with his dry, witty humor and his tendency for unorthodox strategy. Worse still, Ahsoka likes Danny. These two are peas in a pod, partners in crime. It feels like he's been forgotten and replaced and by someone seemingly better.

And then one day, when the 212th and the 501st are stationed together, he finds Danny shaking with night terrors, the Dark Side so strong in him Anakin is literally freezing from the cold. It's only then that he understands Danny a little bit better, and sees himself in this kid. Danny fights the Dark Side within him just like he does, and he never lets it consume him. Maybe for once, he can learn a little something from this kid too, and not let it overwhelm him.

And here is the part where I realized a golden opportunity:

What if the Jedi think Danny is a Mandalorian that was cast out for being Force-sensitive? Danny has an affinity for weapons beyond the blade, like cannons and guns and snipers. He talks about how his family taught him to use these weapons, that he's known this all his life. He talks about how his family wears suits all the time and hardly ever takes them off. He talks about always being afraid to reveal his powers to his parents, and how ultimately he ran away because of them.

Oh all the scenarios that could come out of this~

But now I'm also thinking about how strong Danny would feel in the Force. How much Danny could do on the battlefield because now he doesn't have to hold back. Droids might have more intelligence than a lot of sentients give them credit for, but if it's between the very alive, flesh and bone, clones of the Grand Republic Army and the Separatists' metal droids, Danny is absolutely going to be ruthless if it means the clones are safe.

Danny can literally control the weather. Imagine what happens when Danny creates an electrical storm for the first time to take down an enemy starship and the clones just look between themselves, whispering about how: "I didn't know Jedi could do that." "Is that how the Force works?" "Kriff if I know-"

And that's another thing! Clones! Danny would be absolutely appalled that so many clones were created and their freedom at the end of the Clones Wars is still up in the air.

It also ties beautifully with his love for space and now he's living the dream! Except space isn't what he thought it would be. And there are planets out here that have barbaric standards. It's the adventure of a lifetime! But there's a part of him that still wants to go home.

Just- all the possibilities and shenanigans this could bring. ✨

#danny phantom #danny phantom crossover #star wars crossover #halfagone rambles

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thought--bubble · 4 months

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In The Comfort of Our Chamber (One-Shot)

Aemond (Canon Era) X (Wife Reader)

Warnings After The Cut

Canon Aemond Master List

Full Master List

Banners by @arcielee

Warnings: mentions of murder (bye Luke!l), Dom Aemond, Spanking, dubcon(he doesn't get explicit consent), fingering, smut (I'm terrible at warnings trying to get better any suggestions please let me know)

(Story takes place after the death of Lucerys and before Blood & Cheese)

Your husband was never the joyful playful type. You had come to terms with this moons ago. He was, however, attentive. He always made sure that you were happy, well taken care of, and satisfied.

Prince Aemond Targaryen was known for his cool and stoic demeanor. The addition of the kinslayer title that had been recently added after the death of his nephew made him seem all the more formidable. To most that is, but not you.

You had tried to talk to him when he returned from storms end. He was wet, adrenaline pumping, and smelled of dragon. He did not, however, wish to talk to you about it. No, since that night, you had hardly seen or interacted with your husband at all.

He was either busy with council meetings or holed up with his brother, mother, and grandsire. You were getting more and more restless and feeling completely and utterly alone.

That's why when King Aegon had called the residents of the red keep to the throne room to announce the feast he was having in your husband's honor you could not help but scoff and roll your eyes.

This finally caught your husband's attention. He glared at you across the throne room while Aegon chattered on gleefully about his wonderful feast and how much wine would be there. You felt your husband's eye upon you but made it a point to look anywhere but at him.

When Aegon dismisses everyone from the throne room, you make haste out of the room, not sparing your husband a second glance.

You walk down the corridor, a feeling of satisfaction flowing through you. You finally got his attention, and you knew it. He will get his retribution. In fact you were looking forward to it.

You made it a point to retire to your private chambers early and take supper there as well. You were just patiently waiting for that hard knock upon your apartment door, but as dinner came and went and then night began to fall, and there was still no knock, you began to feel helpless. If he did not come to see you when you irritated him, when would he come? Would he ever come?

You sit before the hearth, these thoughts rattling around in your brain when you finally decide to go to sleep. You rise from your chair and make your way toward the bed chamber, feeling completely and utterly defeated.

Just as you open the door to the bedchamber, you hear it. That familiar knock. That I'm very annoyed come answer this door immediately knock. A satisfied smirk ghosts across your face as you head to the apartment door.

You make sure to wipe any trace of a smile off of your face before opening the door.

"My prince," you greet him as you open the door.

"Has it been so long that we are now to refer to each other with such formalities?" He asks stoicly, as he enters.

"It has been...... some time, " you make sure to avoid directly answering his question. This is something that drives him insane so you have made it a permanent piece of your tool box that you take out whenever your husband gets closed off or too cold.

He gives you a pointed look and walks further into your chambers with his arms tucked behind his back.

"Your behavior in the throne room...." he turns back to look at you again.

"I know not of what you speak." You walk past him further into the room and pour yourself some wine.

You hold up the wine and look at him.

"No, thank you," he says while looking at you with a curious eye. You take a sip of your wine eyes peering at him over the rim of your goblet.

"So...... what is it exactly that you were hoping to achieve with your earlier behavior?" He says as he steps closer to you.

"As I said. I know not of what behavior you are referring to, " you say, feigning innocence.

"Hmmmmm," he clicks his tongue as he circles you.

You continue to sip your wine and keep your eyes trained on him as he paces slowly.

"Is it attention you so desire my love?" He doesn't stop circling you but slows down to a pace where he is barely moving as he looks into your eyes, waiting for a response.

"Of course not," you swirl your wine in your goblet, watching the liquid slosh around.

"Hmmmmm," he stops directly behind you. Slowly clicking his tongue. He presses himself to your back and slides his hand over your throat while tilting your head up and your ear towards his mouth. "And you wouldn't lie to me of course?"

You feel a jolt of electricity shooting through your body at the closeness. The heat of his breath tickles your ear and causes the tiny hairs on the back of your neck to stand on end.

"N-no, of course not" your voice is strained

"Tsk, tsk, you know there will have to be a punishment for being dishonest with your lord husband?" He rubs his nose against the shell of your ear.

He keeps one hand on your throat as he snakes the other around your body, removing the goblet from your hand and placing it down on the table behind him.

"Now the question at this moment..." he pulls your body flush against his tightening the grip on your throat just slightly while the other hand lays flat against your stomach, pushing your body harder against his.

"Is what punishment suits your behavior?"

You take in an unsteady breath as you can feel your heart beginning to pump so hard you feel blood rushing through your ears

"Hmmmm?" He nibbles at the side of your neck as he tightens his grip just a little bit more.

The hand on your stomach slowly slides to the side of your hip, where he starts rucking up the skirts of your gown.

"This kind of disrespect can not go unanswered." he shoves you forward with just a thrust of his hips bending you over the serving table in front of you knocking the half full container of wine to the floor.

His hand grasps the back of your head, pushing your face into the table.

"I really am quite busy as of late, darling. I need you to be the good little wife I know you can be" he slowly pulls the skirts of your dress up and over your backside.

He tugs your small clothes down to your knees and rubs his hand gently over your left ass cheek.

"Now, I'm going to need you to apologize for your behavior in the throne room." he continues gently caressing your bum.

"I-i don't know what behavior you speak of," your voice is trembling with anticipation.

He clicks his tongue in disapproval three times before landing a harsh smack on your left ass cheek before he caresses it again.

"Do you want to try that again, darling?" He lands another slap on your already stinging ass.

You bite your lower lip, trying not to give him the satisfaction of you yelling out.

He slides his hand between your legs and prods your entrance with his finger.

"Silly girl," he clicks his tongue. "This is a punishment I've hardly started, and you're already gushing for me"

He gathers some of your slick on his finger and brings it up to your pearl. He rubs in a circular motion once, twice, and then brings his hand back, bringing a slap to your heat.

At this, you lose your resolve and moan out loud.

"Ahhh..... that's my good girl. " he leans over you and whispers in your ear as he slides one long slender finger inside of you.

"Now apologize, and I'll give you what you crave." he pumps his finger in and out of you, and then suddenly halts.

"I'm sorry, love, so sorry." You blurt out pathetically while rolling your hips towards him, desperate for more friction.

He continues sliding through your folds while unlacing his breaches.

"How sorry? Hmmm?"

"Very very sorry, so very sorry" you push your backside towards him.

"I did not say you could move darling," he pushes you forward. "I'm not quite sure if I have forgiven you yet," he pushes his breeches and underclothes down just enough to free his length as he starts pumping himself to full hardness his other hand leisurely running his fingers over your pearl making you twitch.

You release a frustrated sigh. "Please, please"

"Oh how I love it when you beg" he moves his hand and replaces it with his cock rubbing the tip against your entrance.

"Please, my love, please!" The desperation is apparent in your voice. All self-respect is gone, and you will give this man anything he wants at this point, and he knows it.

"Tell me you need it" he growls as he slowly starts to push into you.

"I need it I need it" you cry out

"And if I denied you?" He snickers as he pushes in just a little bit more.

"I would die" you dig into the table with your fingernails.

"Oh well, we can't have that now, can we?" He grabs your hips and slams the rest of his cock into you causing you to scream out.

He reaches his hand around the side of your face and hooks his finger on your cheek, pulling your head back.

"You" thrust "will" thrust "not" thrust "disrespect" thrust "me" thrust "again"

"Is that understood?" You nod your head drool dribbling down your chin.

He brings his other hand around to your pearl and rubs in fast circular strokes.

"Use your words, my love" he says through grunts as he slams into you repeatedly the loud smack of skin on skin permeating the room

"I promise, I promise," you manage to gargle out, his finger, still stretching your cheek.

"Good girl, good girl," he quickens his pace, rubbing at your pearl without mercy and you clench around him impossibly tight.

You both hit your peak in unison, your legs buckling beneath you as you completely lose yourself to the sensation.

He stays in place for a minute as he regulates his breathing before pulling out of you and pulling your skirts back down and patting them flat.

He clears his throat "well I'm glad we've got that sorted, now make sure you remember what you promised me"

You dumbly nod your head cheek resting on the table.

You know what you promised him, and you know you should keep that promise, but how can he expect you to behave when you know the punishment that awaits you in the comfort of your chambers?

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n3xii · 10 months

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Next phase in your friendship/social life

Hello guys! I haven't made a pac in a while because I recently started a new job, but I finally got the chance to do a reading for yall! Today's reading is about the next era in your friendship/social life. Choose an image that resonates with you and don't take the reading too seriously if it doesn't resonate!

Pile one

I think its possible that this pile may be stumbling upon a new friendship as a whole, I see a new relationship is forming on the basis of pure excitement and happiness. This friendship is new, you don't know this person or you haven't connected before, however i'm being shown that they still feel familiar to you. This is because there a deep connection where you feel like you both know one another in depth already, this friendship has so much emotional and sentimental potiential, you will feel at home with this person. On a subconcious level you already know them and will feel a burst of energy with this person in your life. I see that you both bring a sense of stability in each other's life because both or one of you struggles with their identity and knowing how to sort out the intenral choas and confusion. This friendship will bring more clarity to yall and help you deal with inner conflict, yall may help each other with this often. You will help each other sort out what's aligned with each others purpose and values as well as walking away from what's not for you.

Pile two

For this pile I'm actually seeing that there has be a loss/falling out in a friendship OR you feel that you're missing out when it comes to this area of your life. Either way, you feel stuck in this situation and no matter what you do you still feel frustrated with the lack of movement and stagnation happening in this area if life. I'm seeing you guys develop a more nurturing, compassionate relationship with yourself in place of a friendship. I'm seeing that at the nkment, you look at yourself as the glass half full, you don't feel comfortable with whi you are or even know yourself that well, because of this you're being moved in the direction of fulfilling yourself before relying on a friendship to being you that sense of connection. You're being guided to find gratitude for yourself by doing some intenral soul searching. The next phase in this area of life is focused on you trying to find confort in your own company, because I'm seeing that your mind can be very tormenting. Anxiety, insomnia, overthinking issues. Basically what I'm seeing here is that you must learn to enjoy your own company before expecting other people to, as well as you learning to nurture yourself when it comes to anxiety or overthinking

Pile three

This pile will be leaving a friendship or situation behind as it was toxic or perhaps a betrayal was happening. I'm definetly seeing a cycle in relationship coming to an end, whatever narrative or pattern of behavior that kept repeating is being cut out from your life. This new phase will be very dynamic, you may be balancing several relationships at once and attracting future lovers towards you that start as friends at first. I am seeing a message that you will be balancing out unequal/unfair friendhips in this new phase because you wont be tolerating people who expect you to play several roles at once, or peoole who dont partipate on their end of the friendship. You want a give and take, where the energy is balanced and fair instead if one-sided. You're also glowing and people want to be around you in this nee era as well, especially after detaching from something that was hurtful or toxic , your energy is becoming more magnetic and more repellant towards people who are selfish

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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 10 months

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what happened in switzerland?

mick schumacher x singer!f!reader

fc: gracie abrams bc i have no self control

britishvogue posted...

liked by ynofficial, alexachung and 231,926 others

britishvogue: Singer y/n l/n recently attended a music festival in Australia after her break from social media and the public eye. In an interview conducted by a fan, she explained how she was excited to see what the future has in store and is looking forward to releasing new music after an inspiring trip to Switzerland this Winter.

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fan1: FINALLY MOTHER HAS RETURNED

fan2: get this woman a grammy immediately

fan3: pls she's so cute 😭

fan4: at this point i genuinely think i'm in love with her

fan5: this is amazing and all but i'm wondering why switzerland?

fan6: switzerland is actually very beautiful so it makes sense that she was inspired when she visited

fan7: fr like switzerland in the winter???? cold but GORGEOUS

liked by alyahcs, alexachung and 791,193 others

ynofficial: i feel like it'd be weird to ignore the fact that i kind of went offline for about a year and a half (and i only just found out that virtually nobody had seen me either) so i'm letting you guys know that i'm alive, well, happy, and writing again - and i'm so excited to announce that a new single, 'happy endings', will be released at midnight tonight!

also, have some (2) pictures from the last 18 months, photographed in my new happy place 🥰

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fan8: YOU LOOK SO HAPPY IM SO EXCITED

fan9: happy endings will either destroy my mental health or leave me a sobbing mess on the bathroom floor (wrong, it'll do both)

fan10: switzerland is officially on my bucket list of countries to visit

ynofficial: good girl👍👍👍👍

fan10: imdead 🧎🧎

fan11: i'm 🫶 so 🫶 proud 🫶 of 🫶 you 🫶

ynofficial: STOP YOU'RE MAKING ME BLUSH

georgerussell63: looking forward to hearing it!

liked by ynofficial

mickschumacher has posted to their story...

liked by mclaren, lissiemackintosh and 360,184 others

mercedesamgf1: it's official: the boys are all in their 'happy endings' eras! 🥳

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fan12: came for the driving update, left knowing we can stan the merc boys

fan13: AS THEY BLOODY WELL SHOULD BE

fan14: idk bout you but mick is cheesing a little too hard at that question 😏

fan15: i thought that too, but he probably just has a little crush, bless his soul 🥰

fan16: i wasn't convinced but after i saw lewis likes her music, i listened to her recent single and omg it's actually incredible

fan17: is this the same y/n that mick posted about the other day?

fan18: yes!

liked by ynofficial, phildunster and 483,188 others

mercedesamgf1: familiar faces in the garage. fabioquatararo, tomholland2013 and ynofficial are attending the race on behalf of us (by popular demand 😉)

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fan19: i hope the drivers begged them to invite ynofficial 😞

mercedesamgf1: who says they didn't? 🤔

fan20: I BET IT WAS MICK

fan21: GIVE ME A TOM AND Y/N INTERACTION I'M BEGGING YOU

fan22: tom??? fabio is a literal motogp wc 😭

fan23: scraping for crumbs of y/n rn GIVE US EVERYTHING YOU HAVE

mercedesamgf1: 🫡

liked by estebanocon, connor_swindells and 519,312 others

ynofficial: thank you mercedesamgf1, this weekend has been INSANE!!! also, a massive shout out to mickschumacher for being the best tour guide 😁

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fan24: ok panic over *mops up forehead* 😌

fan25: aw i was kinda hoping they were dating, they'd be cute together 🥲

fan26: this^

fan27: the way they both looked like they were having fun 😊

fan28: PLS HIS FACE IT'S TOO CUTE AHHSDJF

fan29: omg she did a hot lap BABE WHO WAS THE DRIVER

ynofficial: mickshumacher!

fan30: oh. my. god.

mercedesamgf1: content coming soon 😉

fan31: i'm dying someone send helllllpppppp

fan32: why am i fighting the urge to squeal after that merc comment

fan33: no bc same that emoji defo implies something

mickshumacher: had an awesome time with you this weekend ☺️

liked by ynofficial

fan34: shooting his shot

fan35: yk what, i'd probably do the same

liked by landonorris, stephbohrer and 591,374 others

mickschumacher: austria 😁

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fan36: hmm yeah they're probably dating let's be honest

fan37: but he was only her tour guide and it's kind of natural that he'd get photos of her, esp considering she was invited as a merc guest?

fan38: true but when has mick ever done that before?

fan37: i'm just saying, the last thing we want to do is assume things bc there's a perfectly reasonable excuse as to why they've been spending time together

fan39: FUCKING BROAD SHOULDERS 🫠🫠

fan40: i just know y/n took that 😭

fan41: kay but all those photos are just so cute

fan42: right???

callum_ilott: 🤨

liked by danielricciardo, kaitlyndever and 691,320 others

ynofficial: my new album 'STAYING AT SEB'S' is out next week and i'm so excited for you all to finally hear it!

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fan43: seb's? as in seb vettel's farm?

fan44: just how did you draw that conclusion????

fan43: bc she could be dating mick and seb owns a farm in switzerland and i'm pretty sure she knows daniel ricciardo through her manager who knows seb vettel. it's far-fetched but it's not impossible

fan45: if this is right...🤯

fan46: OMG I'M SO EXCITED I JUST SHIT MYSELF IN COSTCO

fan47: i'm gonna listen to this because i'm a massive fan of baby goats

ynofficial: omg i love that for you

fan48: is it a happy album or soul-crushingly depressing

ynofficial: 🤷

fan49: WHAT DOES THAT MEAN GIRLIE 💀

charles_leclerc: no bc i'm so excited

fan50: charles lmao

ynofficial: 🫶

liked by ynofficial, sebastianvettel and 691,186 others

mickshumacher: happy two years, sweetheart 💗 there's never been a day i haven't been in complete awe of your existence; i love and appreciate you everyday

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fan51: oh. em. acca. gee.

fan52: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

fan53: I SHIP IT. I SHIP IT SO HARD

fan54: babe calm down, they've sailed already

fan55: i'm crying pls the way she looks at him HAS ME BLUSHING

georgerussell63: congrats to the happy couple!

estebanocon: about time our dts gossip session came to light 🤣

danielricciardo: fucking finally 😁

lewishamilton: 💜

fan56: the support from the drivers is melting meeeee

liked by mercedesamgf1, laurawoodsy and 712,001 others

ynofficial: happy 2 years to my favourite person, the love of my life, the most adorable human being ever created, and my best friend. it's been a blast so far and i'm loving every second of it 🥰

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fan57: can i ask if mick is the inspiration for 'happy endings'?

ynofficial: he's actually the inspiration for the whole album

fan58: he's so golden retriever

sebastianvettel: i can confirm this is true

danielricciardo: hello??? seb??? look at my texts

fan59: ok he's hot

fan60: THE MOTORBIKE AND THE ARMS 😭🥵

fan61: she's out here creating thirst traps of her bf

fan62: honestly if he looked like mick, i think i would too

fan63: WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY 'STAYING AT SEB'S'??????

ynofficial: SEB VETTEL

charles_leclerc: 😲

estebanocon: 😲

lewishamilton: 😲

danielricciardo: 😲

landonorris: 😲

ynofficial: kay wtf

#mick schumacher social media au #f1 social media au #mick schumacher oneshot

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tbgkaru-woh · 3 months

Note

hi! i was just wondering what it is specifically that you dislike about wangxian? i'm kind of intrigued, because while i get how someone could find them boring, i've never really considered anything about their dynamic (and as you mentioned in response to a previous anon, their confession scene) particularly off putting. no pressure to answer this, and this is in no way hate towards you i'm just genuinely curious <3 (i love your art by the way it's gorgeous)

Thank you for the compliment! ♥ This is gonna get ranty so I will hide it below read more as not everyone has to deal with reading this, so proceed with caution :'D

Wangxian is the weakest WWX dynamic. On god, even if I'm not fond of Yanli, they have very loving relationship where they are protective of each other and gentle with each other in a harsh world. I don't ship WWX/JC but their story and complicated love of someone you grow up with and care for deeply but clash constantly with is more interesting than anything wangxian ever had. Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian clicked together so naturally, they are chaotic and are similiarly not too interested in being up to rules. Jin Zixuan and WWX had a potential of going from enemies to partners in crime, to become family and have each other's backs but JZX was cut short and WWX never really cared afterwards either. WWX with the wens took time to build up but his YLLZ farmer era was one of the best WWX's in the story. Damn, even Lan Xichen who's always amused with WWX's temperament and secretly has a drink with wwx and is altogether looser with the rules while still being lawful matches with him way more than LWJ where there's... nothing. They were smashed together for convenience and we were suppossed to just go with it cause they are the two main characters. LWJ feels like he was just made so WWX has a "hot stoic top" to fuck him and the rest of the characters are actually build with the story and therefore feel more natural

Wangxian don't feel like they are in love, not in the way the fans make them out to be into some romantic picture perfect angsty deserved lovestory. LWJ's personal space is constantly disrespected, he's punished constantly for WWX's mistakes, he constantly needs to be the one to adjust to how WWX is instead of the other way around and after all that, LWJ doesn't really /know/ WWX so his attraction feels very idealized. WWX is the bad boy that goes against the rules and LWJ wishes he could be that (or with that) but it's almost a childish infatuation from their Gusu days that never evolved into something more mature. And WWX? I can't see how he'd like LWJ as anything more than in a physical sense. Even their obnoxious "Back then I wanted to sleep with you" confession scene is purely physical. He doesn't really know LWJ or respects him, LWJ is just a familiar face in a world that is against WWX and he's a hot body that likes him. LWJ is an easy score in a way, he's a safe option. And it'd be SO interesting if they went into that, but instead it's played like the only true love (dont forget, they are meant to be as the ONLY gay pairing in MDZS which I find insane when everyone else has more chemistry and in the end gets shat on so wangxian can fuck in a bush. I mean, LWJ leaves LXC to be depressed and alone after everything LXC stands for and did? Fucking ridiculous.)

It tries to "subvert" tropes but ends up being more stereotypical than anything. WWX was almost meant as this jock-y rebellious hotshot but instead we got a quirky twink, early 2000s shonen protagonist and every yaoi's Uke I've been seeing since like 2008. Are they suppossed to be different because the "stoic white-coded" one is not the bottom? Is the bar this low? If anything, this ornament top is the most usual top, let's be real, LWJ barely has personality or growth or focus, he's there to fuck WWX.

This is a petty reason but MXTX's "wangxian is the only gay couple" everyone else being implied straight as if to highlight just how real their love is that they are gay in time period where it's frowned upon, even though Yi City and 3zun combinations had more chemistry than anyone is. Annoying. And so is the "Don't ship them with anyone else and don't switch their dynamics" that fuels some of the most obnoxious people in the fandom to go after fanwork creators that do/like things differently.

All in all Wangxian is THE face of danmei, they are the most known even outside of danmei circles and they are extremely mediocry written for that. I mean, fuck, you put straight couple in their place and I guarantee no one would like it, it has the depth of a high school hormone-riddled couple who have different classes and "only" get to see each other during breaks and make out during lunch with others at the table, idk it's so fucking annoying to me when I know there were better options, when WWX had so many interesting dynamics that got shat on in favor of bland ass ship and I'm tired of having to like it/tolerate it just because it's gay.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk, this was extremely healing 🤣

#hcs #hc #this is of course my subjective perception of it #i just can't believe this is the most popular couple #if it was less so or not the main one i wouldnt even mind them #also i'm fine with them as standalone characters #just not together.#i will still make them together as a scenery to MY ships cause it makes it feel more canon #but i definitely dont go out of my way to interact with that ship #which is fine #there's more than enough of it y'all dont need me

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theteasetwrites · 8 months

Text

Begin Again

Chapter 1: Aux Portes de la Mort

❧ Media: The Walking Dead: Daryl Dixon ❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 1 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: violence, blood & gore, scary situations, mentions of death ❧ Word Count: 7.6k

❧ In This Chapter: When you and Daryl awaken in an unknown land, far away from home, the world becomes twice as dangerous as it once was, with a whole new breed of dangers lurking around every corner. You have no choice but to begin again on a new mission: Get. Back. Home.

❧ A/N: IT'S HERE. I'm so excited to be writing for them again ugh it's been too long. I love this reader because she has all that history with Daryl from the first series so it's a real treat to keep all that in mind when I'm writing their scenes together. Also I am posting this before the premiere of the show. This chapter is based on the events of the sneak peek that was released on AMC+! So here ya go, the first chapter! Shoutout to Dahlia (@simpbyday) for helping me with the French translation for the title. She will be my official French language correspondent throughout this process. And if anyone else also knows French, I would love to get feedback on my usage of French throughout the series as well! <3

“Near death” did not mean much to you anymore.

You were either dead or alive, nothing in between. That’s how you felt about it now. There were few areas in life that were black and white to you, and that was one of them. If you were alive, you were alive. Maybe you’d be a little worse for wear, but you were alive. That was the important thing.

That’s what you told yourself, anyway. As a way to condition yourself, to be stronger. For Daryl. For Robin. For Wes. You had to be strong for them. Maybe that’s what got you into this mess.

No, Daryl did. Daryl got you into this: tied loosely to the back of a lifeboat, one foot missing a boot and hanging off the edge, dangling pitifully in the ocean as the small vessel drew you closer to the shore.

You might’ve stayed asleep if it weren’t for the splashing sound, followed by the familiar grunts and wheezes of gasping breath. You felt the rope across your hips pull in the other direction, where Daryl fought with the current to come back to the air. Through heavy eyes, crusted by a long sleep and sensitive to the bright light of what must’ve been mid-afternoon, you saw him struggle to lift the rope from his body as a wave pummeled him back down below the water.

Your throat burning, rendering you unable to so much as cry out his name, you freed yourself from the rope, sliding into the water. What happened next would fade into the obscurity of rumbling waves carrying your weak bodies closer to shore, until the feeling of ground underfoot welcomed you.

But that feeling was short-lived. As soon as your feet felt the sand, you were knocked down by another wave. Now you could only crawl, with what little strength you had left. Even Daryl, so very hearty and always physically stronger and more durable than yourself, began to stagger, falling less than gracefully to his knees just a few feet from you. There was no need for verbal recognition or even touch—you felt him there, crawling beside you, alive.

Now with only your feet still clinging to the sea, your arms gave out underneath you, like two pieces of boiled spaghetti, limp and sprawled out not far from Daryl, who lied with his face pressed against the sand, his wet hair shrouding any semblance of his visage.

Though you could hear his sharp breaths, his heavy pants that withdrew with high-pitched whimpers that sent a shiver down your spine, you could hardly tell if he was moving.

Momentarily frozen, you gathered all your strength to extend your arm across the sand. Your fingers stretched out to the fullest extent, crawling like a spider until finally you gripped his hand, entwining your fingers with his and shaking it roughly, urging him to move.

You had been near death enough to know that the worst thing to do was to stop moving. That was like accepting death, and wherever you were now, you weren’t going to face it without him.

Your movement brought him to life as he lifted his head, his sight first taking in his surroundings—a beach.

And not far in the distance, a small blue bucket.

You followed his gaze, which seemed transfixed on the object, partly buried by the wet sand that must’ve remained untouched for God only knows how long.

Having a near encyclopedic understanding of Daryl’s mind, you knew what he was thinking of—survival. There was water in that bucket. Sandy ocean water, but water nevertheless.

All you could think of, though, was how familiar that little bucket was. Robin had one just like it. Last time you’d taken her and Wes to Oceanside, they played on the beach for hours, making sandcastles with her little bucket and shovel that she’d gotten for her seventh birthday last May. Somehow she’d convinced Daryl to let her bury him under the sand. You had the Polaroids to prove it somewhere in one of the pockets of your vest, if they hadn’t been lost to sea.

The memory faded quickly, as he pulled you up, still holding your hand. At least now he was moving, dragging you and himself towards the bucket.

He’d let go of your hand to pick it up, digging out as much sand as he could before handing it to you. Without a word, you brought the rim of the bucket to your lips, taking just a few sips, despite the painful drought in your throat.

Daryl took the rest, downing the sandy saltwater like it was the nectar of life, and here, at the gates of death, it was.

When the water was gone, he let the pail fall back to its final resting place. You couldn’t bring yourself to even raise your head. You could only watch it fall, the bright blue plastic taking you back to a time that seemed so far away now, to a world you wished you’d never left.

But Daryl, ever the pragmatist, always planning the next move, was already narrowing his eyes, looking around for the answer to that burning question that lingered between the two of you—where the hell are we?

You could’ve looked at that little bucket forever, if he hadn’t tugged on your hand, not unlike how you’d done so to his just minutes ago.

“C’mon.”

The further the two of you walked, slowly, limping, the more you began to take note of your surroundings, without too much thought of the complete and utter shit you two were both in. For all the differences between you, you both knew one thing was true—there was no point in dwelling on how you got here, the only thing that mattered was getting back home. That was the unspoken truth.

As you walked further, the sand beneath your feet turned into concrete. Some kind of parking structure, or what once was. You passed the rotting, rusted shells of cars, their windows smashed and their hoods lifted, no doubt due to survivors looking for parts to salvage. A clump of neglected bicycles leaned against a graffitied pole. Like most graffiti, you couldn’t make out what it said.

Passing a small overgrown boat, you spotted a signpost not too far away. You walked ahead of Daryl, all too eager to see what it said. The letters were faded, but you could make out the arrows, meaning it would point you in whatever direction you needed to go in. That was all you needed now: direction. Some delusionally hopeful part of you, deep down, wanted to believe the sign would display the word “HOME” with an arrow accompanying it, leading the way without confusion or ambiguity.

But of course, you knew that was impossible. Still, you did not anticipate what you saw.

Squinting your tired eyes, your weakened legs slowed to a halt as the sign’s lettering came into view. Your heart sank as you stepped back, almost terrified of what you read. But you backed against Daryl’s chest, which caught you before you could lose your balance from the shock of the realization.

You could not read the sign.

Pla… place de… ste?

Port de… Martegues?

… Cimetiere?

Shit.

Some kind of port city, somewhere in France.

That’s what you decided upon, in the silence of your heavy thoughts as you walked together aimlessly, still not speaking. How could you speak to him? What was there to say? You had no hope now. It was gone, and usually, that was the only thing that kept you talking in times like these.

And Daryl, he could go hours without speaking, if he had nothing to say.

He, too, was at a loss for words. After all, he knew he’d gotten you into this. He knew none of this would’ve happened if he’d just… It didn’t matter now, though. What mattered was getting home.

But you weren’t safe here.

You always knew that the whole world must’ve fallen, of course. When everything happened, the world went dark. France was no exception. The state of the place was proof enough. In this old city, with cobblestone streets littered in the abandoned remnants of a once prosperous civilization, every corner you turned was the same—empty, ruined, overgrown.

By some instinct, you both walked along a path just on the edge of a canal that seemed to run through the city. Perhaps it was just a gut feeling, or perhaps the both of you knew to stay close to the water, on the off chance that you’d find some kind of seafaring vessel. Though you still couldn’t shake the taste of saltwater, you knew that the only way you could get back home was to get back on the water. That was your priority.

Sure enough, you came upon a boat, moored at the edge of the path, floating upon the water, and looking as though it had been there for centuries.

Just outside the boat on the cobblestone path, it looked as though someone had set up camp, once upon a time. Whoever had been there, though, they were long gone. As you passed a desiccated corpse, completely barren of flesh with a long fisherman’s spear skewered through its head, you wondered if this body had once held the poor soul of the boat’s former occupant. You didn’t wonder for long, though, as these days, you’d seen enough dead bodies to almost completely desensitize you from any human curiosity. Now, it was just a bag of bones.

Approaching the stern of the vessel, Daryl went into the cabin first, his sights set on the wine bottles perched on a wooden shelf, in the hopes that maybe they’d contain some water. He picked them up one by one, shaking them. Nothing at all.

You busied yourself, rummaging through a bag you found hanging from a nail near the door. Your hand gripped on some long, cylindrical plastic, ribbed and seemingly filled with liquid.

“Daryl.”

You held the water bottle out towards him as he turned around. You hadn’t caught a good glimpse of his face yet, until now.

The skin of his face and neck were reddened terribly by the sun, but that didn’t worry you as much. It was the scarlet red cut stretching diagonally over his forehead, and the paleness of his lips, dry and dehydrated. The saltwater you both drank earlier only made the thirst more potent.

Deciding he needed the water more than you, you pressed the bottle to his chest, despite his brief protest that he gave with only a knowing look on his face, as if to say: You drink first.

You returned the look, but with more conviction as you shoved the bottle harder now, as if to say: No. Drink.

Reluctantly, he did, drinking less than half before handing it back to you, with the same force you applied when giving it to him, and the same stern, protective look: Drink.

You took the rest of the water, wincing at the aged taste. But you drank it down slowly, steadily, the cooling liquid coating your barren throat.

Lost in the brief relief it gave you, you hadn’t noticed Daryl’s continued russling as he pillaged the tiny boat cabin, looking for anything and everything that could somehow be useful.

As you used your long, torn sleeve to wipe away the dripping water from your chin, you were startled by the sudden sound of a man’s voice, not Daryl’s.

With a flinch, you turned around to see Daryl, sitting at the small dining table, holding a tape recorder.

“Nineteen months at sea,” said the man’s garbled voice, with an accent you deemed to be Irish. “Hoping to stay ahead of this thing.”

On the table before him was a map of Europe, and a photo of a family. There was a man that must’ve been the owner of the voice you listened to now. Beside him was a woman, his wife, Daryl assumed, because on her lap was a little girl, holding a large stuffed penguin, about half the size of her. She couldn’t have been older than Robin, he thought.

They looked happy, all smiles. Somewhere in one of his pockets, he was sure he had a picture that looked almost exactly the same, only with his family—Robin, Wes, Dog, you. He quickly willed the thought away, though. If he kept thinking about it, he was sure he’d break down, when at this point, what he needed to be the most was strong.

“Circled Spain,” the voice continued. “Nowhere safe… We’ll try Marseille next. Maybe the south of France is good… There’s got to be a safe place somewhere.”

You were sure you’d uttered that phrase once. Maybe around the same time he did. Just goes to show how much this world changes you, which was saying something—you always believed the world hadn’t changed you nearly as much as it changed everyone else. But you knew now that there was no safe place in this world, except in the arms of the ones you loved. And even then, that was only a metaphor. But you had to believe it, to convince yourself it was true. Otherwise, you were no different than the dead.

Night was closing in. There was no more time to waste.

Still without hardly more than a one-word sentence exchanged between you, you got to work setting up a night’s worth of camp, while Daryl speared a fish in the canal. Just one was all the energy he had, but it was more than enough for the both of you. A white fish of decent size, which Daryl cooked over the makeshift barbecue near the boat.

Sitting on the boat, you got a lantern working, providing just enough light to see what you were doing as you tried to filter the muddy canal water through the mesh lining of a jacket you’d found inside the boat. Across the way, you’d glimpse at Daryl, now draped in a tarp he’d fashioned into a poncho, in only the way Daryl could even think of doing.

His tired face was illuminated by the fire over which he cooked the fish, turning it over with a small knife until it was cooked through. You wondered what on Earth was going on in his head, if he was as frightened as you were, if he had any hope left.

You didn’t have much hope anymore. Not now.

In this world, you’d found that your hope had been tested constantly, but only a handful of times did it try you like this. When the farm fell, when you lost the prison, when the Saviors took Daryl…

But you always got it back. You always found your strength again.

You weren’t sure if you could get it back this time.

Still, you had Daryl. If you were alone, in a strange place, thousands of miles from home, you were sure you would’ve given up by now. But he was here.

The silence between you persisted into the night, as you sat across from each other, under the dark blanket of the night sky, eating the charred fish straight off the bone, with only the dim flickering light of the lantern just barely lighting your faces.

When the silence became unbearable, Daryl had pulled the tape recorder from his pocket, playing it again, as if he found comfort in the man’s voice, despite the ultimate tragedy that must’ve occurred.

“Sue had a heart attack.” You could only assume that was the name of his wife, the woman in the photograph. “I had to… take care of it.”

You’d heard stories like that before, of someone having to put down their loved one before or, God forbid, after they turned, but it would never cease to send a shiver down your spine. The thought of having to do that to Daryl… It was a nightmare you’d had more than once.

“Our tenth anniversary would’ve been in June… Holly keeps crying. She wants her mum back.”

That was when you stopped eating, a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“She wants things the way they were.”

You swallowed hard in an attempt to suck down the lump forming in your throat.

“She wants to go home.”

“Turn it off.”

The sudden sternness in your voice nearly surprised him, or maybe it was just how many words you spoke at once.

He grabbed the recorder and turned it off with a sharp click, restoring the heavy silence that lingered like a thick fog between you.

Daryl watched intently as you hugged your legs against your chest, your eyes downcast and glued to the worn and torn stuffed penguin, buried underneath some ropes and an empty old fuel tank. You recognized it from the photo.

He could read the look on your face, and the thoughts that he knew were flying through your head at a thousand miles an hour. He knew that you were thinking about home, about your family. Still, he couldn’t shake this discomfort. This quiet.

For all the years he’d known you, he’d never gone this long with such silence between the two of you. Of course, he’d been separated from you before for much longer, but together? You were hardly ever at a loss for words. He couldn’t remember the last time you were like this, but he didn’t like it. Funny, Daryl was always the quieter one, the one who more often than not needed to be coaxed into talking. He always preferred the quiet, but this was unbearable.

He needed to hear your voice, now more than ever. He needed your hope.

“You haven’t said more than three words since we got here.”

Washed up here, your mind corrected.

He leaned forward stiffly, still eying you, despite your gaze still transfixed on the once pristine stuffed animal.

Several painful moments passed. Daryl couldn’t take it anymore. He’d beg for you to speak, to say anything to him. All he wanted was to hear you.

“Please.” His voice was low, soft. It was always like that with you, but something about it now seemed more desperate. “Please say somethin’.”

Finally, you raised your head slowly, meeting his silvery blue eyes, visible through several loose strands of hair that framed his face. If you were in better spirits, you might’ve smiled, just seeing his face, despite how badly he was in need of a good shower. You were sure you looked rather filthy yourself.

But you couldn’t smile. You couldn’t even imagine such a thing. The last time you smiled seemed so far away, you could hardly even remember it.

“What do you want me to say?” Your voice was shaky, hoarse, tired. He’d been with you through Hell and back, and back again, and yet he’d never heard your voice so defeated, so… lost.

“I don’t know,” he replied simply, still holding your gaze. Now, you both stared intently, as if battling to see who could dare to look away first. “I just…” As he trailed off, his eyes sank in defeat. He’d lost the battle. “I’m sorry.”

With a sniffle, you replied. “What are you sorry for?”

It took him several moments to speak, as he tried to compose himself. If he opened his mouth too soon, he might start crying, and despite how much you encouraged him to be vulnerable, to not neglect his emotions around you, he could never fully let himself cry in front of you without feeling that ingrained sense of failure and inadequacy, like he wasn’t the strong man you needed, no matter how many times you reminded him of how strong he was.

“For gettin’ you into this.”

Your lip quivered, your eyes softened.

He continued, “If I hadn’t asked you to go with me—”

“Then you’d be sitting here, across the world, alone, and I’d be in Alexandria worried sick about you.”

“But you’d be safe,” he said, an almost imperceptible shake in his voice as he was reminded of the danger you were now mired in, all thanks to him.

“How many times have I told you… I’m safest when I’m with you.”

That thought was nice, but it still could never completely alleviate Daryl’s worries.

And there was another reason he wished he hadn’t asked you to come along.

“But you’d be with the kids.”

Your eyes sank as though they were anchored to the floor of this decrepit old boat. He knew that would get you, you were sure. He knew that, besides him, you loved your children more than anything else, and being so far away from them, lost with no immediate hope of seeing them again, was crushing you.

A silence befell you, and Daryl felt like he lost you again. God, all he wanted was to hear you. Your voice was the most comfort he could have right now, just to know you were near.

Now Daryl looked down, focused on the mud caked around his brown boots. He raised his hands to his face as he huffed.

“Shit,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

You weren’t angry. Just sad.

With a sniffle, you looked back up. He still sat with his head in his hands, until he lifted his eyes above his fingers just enough to see you.

“It’s okay,” you said, your voice a cracking whisper.

“Nah,” he said abruptly. “Nothin’s okay.”

Daryl always had that bad habit of blaming everything on himself. You knew it well. It frustrated you—his inability to give himself any credit and his tendency to dwell on his flaws instead of celebrating his accomplishments. Granted, one of the many traits you admired about your husband was his humility, but sometimes, you wished he would consider the things he’d done right instead of all the things he did wrong.

You raised yourself to your feet, crossing the boat to sit beside him. He did not look your way or pay you much attention, still lost in his thoughts. Still, you carefully, slowly, wrapped your arm around his waist and his shoulders, holding him.

He was stiff, but under your touch, he slowly began to soften, as he always did. It was then he had realized how long it seemed he’d gone without your touch like this. You’d been with him the whole time, but survival did not allow for many moments of pure, gentle intimacy between two lovers.

“We’re alive,” you whispered. As you leaned against him, you pressed a small, but firm, kiss to his cheek. “We’re together.”

Without a word, he gave you a knowing glance. He narrowed his eyes almost suspiciously, while he chewed his bottom lip in deep thought. He didn’t need to say anything for you to know what he was thinking.

You smiled. “One of us has to be the positive one. We can’t get anything done if we’re both sitting around feeling sorry for ourselves.”

“Yeah… I know.”

“It’s shitty,” you said. “This is a shitty situation… Maybe the worst situation we’ve been in, but we’re going to get back home.”

Though you spoke with conviction, you weren’t entirely sure that you really believed the words you spoke. It was hard to believe. It was hard to believe you were here in the first place. Nevertheless, you’d die trying to get back home, to see your children again, to watch them grow.

There was no way in Hell you were going to sit back and do nothing.

To your relief, Daryl’s hand found yours, curling around it and squeezing it tight. He nodded, then raised your hand to his lips.

“Yeah. We will.”

You smiled as you roamed his face, finding comfort in the familiarity. In this world of uncertainty, this new world where neither of you belonged, you found safety in each other—you saw Alexandria in his face. All the memories. It was like a photo album, everything flashed before your eyes. You saw Robin, Wes, Aaron, Lydia, Maggie, Michonne, Rick… everyone. Everyone you loved, alive or dead, all in him.

And in you, he felt the same, but not only that. He saw everything beautiful and pure in this world, everything worth protecting and keeping alive. As you held him, he held your face, his thumbs moving gently over the apples of your cheeks.

Your face was worn, tired, with a few knicks and scratches scattered about over your usually smooth and unblemished skin, but nothing could distract from the perfection of your features that he knew and adored so well.

And you, you couldn’t help but eye that nasty cut on his forehead. You swept away the stray pieces of hair that obscured the cut, then huffed. Though you had already washed the cut with water, you were itching to find a real first aid kit to prevent infection. The one on the boat was cleaned out, and whatever first aid kit you had brought with you was in a bag lost at sea.

“S’fine,” he said, knowing full well what you were thinking. “M’fine.”

“It’s just… I don’t like it.”

He smiled. “I know.”

“We’ll find something to help it. If I could get my hands on some calendula or even some marshmallow…”

That thought prompted you to look around, the darkness of the empty waterway in the desolate, ruined city. Even if you could find some herbs with healing properties here, you wouldn’t know where to start looking.

The south of France wasn’t exactly the same as Virginia in terms of flora and fauna.

“First thing we gotta find is a way back,” he replied.

“We could fix up this boat.” Daryl’s mechanic expertise started and stopped with cars and motorcycles, but you figured a boat couldn’t be much different.

“Nah. Engine’s shot, and I dunno the first thing ‘bout how boats work, anyway.”

“Well… We’ll just have to find another way. There have to be people somewhere.”

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow as he chewed the last of his fish. “You remember what happened the last time we asked a bunch of strangers for help?”

Ah, yes—the Commonwealth.

At least that turned out in your favor, eventually. It took almost a year of turmoil, but in the end, it was worth it.

“Daryl, I don’t see any way out of this without some help. Besides, we haven’t seen any walkers yet… Maybe France is faring better?”

“Or maybe they’re all dead.”

“Stop it. That’s not true.” You held his cheek and turned his face towards you. “You know it’s not true… It can’t be.”

The rest of that night passed slowly, quietly. Maybe it was out of habit, or just his need to be aware of his and your surroundings at all times, but Daryl spent a good fifteen minutes checking out the general vicinity, scanning the perimeter around the little boat on which you busied yourself by fashioning a bed of sorts out of pieces of seats and blankets.

Daryl returned not long after he left, with a curious trinket in his hands: a Barbie doll.

You looked up at him from the makeshift bed. He took the liberty of posing the little blonde doll, sitting her atop the small dining table with her arm raised as if she were waving. Her hair was only slightly mangled, but you knew many tricks when it came to freshening up Barbie dolls and making them good as new for Robin, and sometimes Wes, to play with.

“Only you could find a Barbie doll in France,” you said.

“It’s not just any Barbie doll,” he said, sitting himself down beside you with a huff. Gravity forced his body to the bed. Well, bed was a generous term for the dismantled chair covered with blankets. “It’s a veterinarian.”

You studied the doll closer from a distance. Indeed, she had a little white doctor’s coat and a pink stethoscope. You would’ve thought she was actually a doctor Barbie, but only a trained, professional eye like Daryl’s would spy the light pink paw print pattern on her lab coat. Thus, she was distinctly a veterinarian, to be sure.

A smile spread across your face as you laid back, snuggling close to his side. He smelled faintly like fish, but you were certain that you didn’t smell so great either.

“She’ll love it,” you whispered. There was no question who you could possibly be talking about. “I’ll keep it in my bag until we get home.”

Daryl couldn’t respond verbally. He could only chew his bottom lip as his arm snaked underneath your side and wrapped around to stroke your shoulder with his hand. Perhaps that was the ultimate reason he took the doll—as a way to further motivate both of you to live long enough to see your family again. And you would. He’d make sure of it. He knew it. He had to.

At length, you spoke again.

“It’s clear?”

He nodded. “Yeah. No walkers, no people… No nothin’.”

That was good. If Daryl felt it was safe enough for the both of you to sleep tonight, that was a victory in your book.

“Tomorrow,” you began, “we should start heading north, towards Paris.”

Daryl’s lip twitched into a slight smile as he began to close his eyes, still holding you. Sometimes, you hardly noticed he was holding you. A long time ago, it had become second nature, so habitual that him holding you in bed at night was a feeling you couldn’t quite sleep without.

“Paris?”

“Yeah… There could be people there. Biggest city, biggest population.”

“Yeah, biggest population of walkers.”

You sighed. “Well, I don’t know then. You got any bright ideas, Einstein?”

He raised his eyebrow as he looked at you, with only one eye open, the other squeezed shut as his nose scrunched up and he made a faux scowl. It was almost enough to make you laugh.

He chewed his bottom lip, deep in thought. “How about west?” he asked. “Least we can head that way first, see if we find anyone or anything. Best to stay as far away from the city as possible.”

“You're right,” you replied, resting your head upon his chest. Somehow, it was always much more comfortable than a pillow, despite its relative firmness. “You're always right.”

“Not always,” he said lowly, his fingers finding the ends of your hair and twirling around them as if by instinct.

“Yeah… Not always.”

“Pfft…”

“What?”

“Jus’... Can’t believe where we are right now.”

You nodded in agreement, but you could tell where this line of thinking was going—this negativity that sometimes clouded Daryl’s almost unwavering hope. That was where you came in, though your hope was in serious question, too.

“Well, you did promise you’d take me on a vacation.”

He scoffed again, but it was almost a laugh. Almost.

“France wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“Me neither,” you said. A few beats of silence, then you added, “I would’ve preferred Italy.”

Three days had passed, all of which were spent hiking through ruins and desolate hills. Daryl used the long fishing spear from the boat as a kind of walking stick, and a weapon, along with whatever else he scavenged from Marseille. You’d found a few good knives, but nothing to quite balance out the slight limp you’d woken up with when you washed ashore.

No encounters with walkers, you’d noted, though you’d seen some wandering in the distance, ambling aimlessly through deserted stretches of wilderness. At certain points, you feared you might’ve been walking at the same pace as the rotting corpses, but they were far enough, and none of them seemed as fast as some of the climbers you’d seen.

Wilderness eventually faded into a somewhat industrialized town, much further away from the coast you’d started from.

It was small, but a good place to stop off for the night, you’d hoped.

Wandering through the small alleyways, littered with debris and overgrown vegetation, you came upon a large building, something like a warehouse turned into what appeared to be a supermarket. At least, that’s what you gathered from the signage, despite its unknown language.

Oh, how you wished you’d taken French instead of Spanish in high school now.

Daryl entered first, quietly opening the creaking door. The general protocol when entering new, unknown buildings had always been the same: be quiet (silent if possible). Although, if there were any walkers in there, odds are, they could smell you before you’d even say a word.

Still, you felt Daryl’s hand tap your shoulder lightly. He signaled to you, signing the phrase, “Me left, you right,” as he mouthed the words.

You always hated splitting up, but you signed back, “Be careful.”

Connie and Kelly would’ve been proud, you were sure.

The two of you split up, Daryl searching the leftmost side of the building, you the right.

As you examined the place, you took note of its state. It was abandoned, of course, but it was one of those places that had been left alone since the very beginning. It looked as though there had been a farmer’s market here, with long tables and booths with once meticulously laid out displays of crafts and homemade wares. Surely, whatever fresh produce had been here had long since deteriorated into nothingness, but there was always the chance of coming across dry foods. Grains and legumes and the like. Those were the ideals.

If fortune favored you, you could even find some dried herbs or medicinal plants to use on Daryl’s cut, but that was a longshot.

Still, you kept a lookout, your mind, and your stomach, much more focused on finding food than on scoping the place out for walkers. From across the way, you heard a small thud that made you flinch. Your eyes followed the sound—Daryl had set down his bag rather carelessly.

Eyes wide, you looked at him. He seemed entranced by a jar he was in the process of opening, only to smell its contents and put it back. Feeling your gaze on him, he looked up at you.

“You OK?” he signed, mouthing the words.

You sighed quietly, recovering from the startle. “Yeah.” With much more emphasis, exacerbated by the firmness with which you moved your hands, you once again signed, “BE CAREFUL.”

“OK,” he signed back, his face bordering on slightly annoyed with your protectiveness.

But another thud quickly drew your attention, though this one was not from Daryl, who also turned to locate the source of the ruckus.

You could only see a faint movement that was rather close to the ground, as though an animal was stirring, but as the familiar groans and wheezes started, you knew what it was.

Much to your surprise, Daryl seemed stunned for a moment, standing rather still as he simply watched the walker crawl out from underneath a pile of rubbish. As for you, you gripped the handle of your knife, removing it from its holder on your belt. But you were much further from him, and where there was one walker, there were, more often not, much more.

Suddenly, more walkers seemed to awaken from their slumber. Sleepers, you’d grown to call them. In your fascination with the habits of walkers, you’d begun taking note of how they seemed to have their own mode of hibernation during times of inactivity.

From what you could see, about eight or so of them had emerged from the far left, somewhere behind the produce stands, and were heading towards Daryl. You had the luckier draw, with only three or four setting their sights, and their gnashing, rotten teeth, on you.

No need for signing anymore. Dinner was officially served, and tonight, fresh American meat was on the menu.

“You got it?!” you called out to Daryl, raising your knife as the nearest walker limped towards you, its skull just barely clinging to the remainder of petrified flesh that hung loosely from its face.

He hesitated for a moment, worrying you. Daryl seemed off his game when it came to fighting walkers. Perhaps it was because he was still frazzled by the strangeness of your situation, or perhaps, God forbid, he was more worse for wear than he wanted you to know. After all, Daryl did have a tendency to downplay his injuries or his illnesses, a habit which frustrated you perhaps beyond any other quirk he had, because this was the most dangerous to his health.

But you couldn’t think of that now. Not when there were walkers snapping at you, and even more at your husband.

“Yeah!” he finally called back as he got a grip on his spear.

He set his focus on the first walker that had risen, which began slowly limping towards him. From behind him, though, was another walker, making quicker progress. He turned briefly, skewering the walker’s head with the sharpened point of the spear. He followed that with a kick to the walker’s abdomen, removing it quickly from the weapon.

On the other side of the place, you drove your knife into the nearest walker’s skull, but not without the usual splash of blood that came spurting out afterwards.

This spurt, though, was no ordinary one.

As you tugged the blade from its skull, you noticed a stinging sound, like that of a singe. It came as the blood spattered over the floor, and continued as it poured from the walker’s head. You stepped back, brows furrowed as you watched the trail of blood seem to evaporate, but it left behind a cloud of… smoke.

In a way, it reminded you of a branding, how the hot iron had been embedded into your skin and eaten away at the flesh with a horrendous burn until an X was forever scarred into your back. Whatever was going on with that walker, if its blood had gotten anywhere near your skin, you were sure it would have a similar effect—an agonizing, flesh dissolving burn.

But you hadn’t any more time to think about the strange walker, as there was another one coming behind you.

Meanwhile, had just skewered another walker through the face, then pulled the spear out to fling the walker backwards and tumbling back against another one.

Stepping backwards, just about to turn around and face another batch of walkers, one lunged forward, reaching its hand out to grip Daryl’s forearm, but this was not any ordinary death grip.

Most walkers’ touches were cold, lifeless, but this? This… searing, stinging, agonizing sharpness that made him scream.

With one last kill, you turned towards him, your eyes wide and your mouth agape with the fear of the most profound variety. Daryl never screamed like that. At least, not when you were around. Suddenly, every nightmare and intrusive thought of Daryl being bitten assaulted your mind all at once.

All you could see was him struggling against a walker, whose grip on his forearm must’ve been so strong that even Daryl couldn’t immediately pry himself away.

But the walker’s grip really wasn’t that strong. No, its hand was simply stuck, with Daryl’s burning, melting flesh acting as a kind of glue.

As he tugged and yelled in frustrated pain, you quickly bounded across the room, taking down another walker on the way.

The closer you got, the more you saw it—the small swirl of smoke emerging from Daryl’s flesh as the walker’s hand seared the flesh of his arm.

Just before you could get to it, Daryl managed to rip himself free, stepping back a moment to briefly scowl at the strange burn.

Immediately, you came forward, plunging your knife into the walker’s head.

Daryl’s eyes flashed to meet yours, a simple exchange of breathless nods between you enough to suffice until the rest of the walkers were taken care of.

You looked around swiftly, and Daryl did the same. Six more walkers. Between the two of you, it would be light work. That is, if there were no more SNAFUs.

Daryl took the high ground, situating himself on a large wooden table to better approach the threat.

You kept on the floor, using one hand to pull the walkers toward you, the other to strike with your knife.

Once again, Daryl found himself with the unlucky situation. Underneath the table he’d taken defense at was another walker.

Plunging the end of his spear through the wood, he successfully impaled the walker’s head, but not without his spear getting stuck.

He tugged on the spear with all his strength, but the thing wouldn’t budge—the spear was lodged too deep in the walker’s skull, causing it to bang on the underside of the table with each attempt to tug it back up. In perhaps a less serious setting, the image might’ve been quite comical.

Daryl’s grunts combined with the repeated banging sound alerted you to the situation, and to the other walker coming closest to him.

You quickly charged the walker, finally taking it out with a swift but jagged movement. Meanwhile, Daryl had just freed his spear, and now moved to kill two more walkers in his path.

He was fast this time, killing them within hardly a second between each other. It was just enough time for him to turn around and see the very last walker coming towards you.

Without another second to even hesitate, you raised your knife, only for another one to fly into the side of the walker’s head, sending it falling to the ground at your feet.

Sometimes, Daryl’s flying knives startled you more than the walkers.

With a huff, you reached down, pulling the knife from the walker’s head. Just as you’d seen from the other one—a splash of burning, corrosive blood, a hissing sound as it hit the floor, and a small plume of smoke.

What the hell are you? you asked the corpse in your head.

But that wasn’t important now. You quickly turned your attention to Daryl, who pulled up the sleeve of his poncho to reveal the raw flesh of his burn.

Within a moment’s time, you were at his side, holding his arm as your eyes frantically took in the wound. In your confusion, and your fear, you looked up at him, all the color drained from your face. From what you knew of burns, this looked to be second degree, oozing redness and blisters already starting to form.

“We’ll bandage it up,” you said, nodding to yourself, as if to reassure both him and you. “We’ll clean it first… Some water and—and if I find some aloe…”

He caught your gaze, holding it for a good several moments of heavy silence.

“You ever seen a walker do that?” he asked, knowing full well that the answer was no.

You turned to investigate the last walker you’d killed—on the surface, not unlike any other walker you’d seen before, except you supposed he had a certain… je ne sais quoi, if you will.

“Maybe… it’s a French thing,” you replied. “I have no idea.”

Daryl let out a deep huff as he sat, still wincing at the unsightly burn on his arm.

You sat beside him, reaching into your satchel to procure a crinkly plastic bottle of water.

“Don’t,” he said lowly. “You need to drink that.”

Ignoring him, you dabbed several drops of water onto the clean rag you’d taken from the boat in Marseille. With Daryl always getting hurt somehow, you knew it was a good find.

He hissed between his teeth as you lightly cleaned the wound as best you could, but it still seemed to ooze.

It worried you, to say the least.

And Daryl… he only worried about what might happen to you if this thing was even more sinister than it looked.

“What if it’s—”

“It’s not,” you replied quickly. If you knew what he was going to say, you weren’t even going to let him speak the possibility into existence. “It’s not like a bite.”

“But what if it is.”

After all, what you knew of walkers was that their bites were deadly. What if their… burns were too?

But you refused to believe that.

“It’s not,” you said back. “We’ll patch it up. It’ll be fine.”

From the look on his face, he appeared not to believe that, his eyes clouded with fear and uncertainty the likes of which you’d almost never seen in him. Daryl didn’t fear death, though. He feared the thought of you being alone, in a world where the two of you needed each other more than anything.

Again, here you were, trying to lift his spirits despite the possibility of death lingering all around you, in this French supermarket that reeked of death and rotten flesh. But you weren’t just reassuring him, you were reassuring yourself.

“Hey.” Your hands cupped his cheeks, forcing his gaze to face yours. Your eyes were soft, but firm enough to remind him that, just as he would never let anything happen to you, you would never let anything happen to him. Your voice barely above a whisper, you spoke to him with the gentleness he knew and loved so well. The gentleness he’d needed all his life, and would need until the day he died, and after that, too. “Sweetheart… We’re alive.”

That was enough. It would have to be enough. Enough to begin again.

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter ➳

#begin again series #begin again #the walking dead #the walking dead: daryl dixon #daryl dixon #daryl dixon spin-off #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead: daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus fanfic #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x you

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onlycosmere · 1 month

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Brandon Sanderson: This [Isles of the Emberdark] is a book with dual narratives and one flashback sequence. Some of you may have read the flashback sequence already, because it is a short story that I wrote.

What I am doing is, I didn't want (it's more of a novelette) not having read that to be something that held you back from buying this book. So as I was thinking about it, I'm like, "What I should do is, I should revise that story and make it a flashback sequence to kind of bring us up to speed." What I plan to do in the book is have a little brief thing at the back that, if you've read the novelette, it points out some few small details I changed, so you can skip those flashback sequences, if that's something that appeals to you.

But I'm trying to perfect getting the balance right for everyone to be able to read the story, beginning to end, incorporating those flashbacks so that they are up to date on the things that happened before.

What is this book [Isles of the Emberdark]? Well, you might be able to find the word "emberdark" used somewhere in the previous books. It's been around for a little while. I've been imagining this place between populated parts of Shadesmar as a very interesting darkness to explore. And we are going to have a book that maybe looks at that a little bit.

It is a novelization of Sixth of the Dusk, but it includes that story as a flashback sequence. It takes place in the future era, space age of the cosmere. And it has a dual narrative between Starling and Dusk himself. So I hope that you guys will enjoy reading this.

That is what the book is. It's a lot of fun. My beta readers have really enjoyed it; I think you will, too.

That said, you either need to be okay with some of this being a little unfamiliar. Or, I'd recommend a little bit of reading in the Cosmere, just to kind of familiarize yourself with how the cosmere works and how some of the magics work. You won't need to know too much. This can stand on its own. It will explain everything that you need, and everything else is easter eggs.

But those easter eggs are becoming more and more prevalent, and a little more obvious than they used to be, shall we say.

#sixth of the dusk #emberdark #cosmere #brandon sanderson #cfsbf #long post #wob #ssp5

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theflyindutchwoman · 16 days

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Hey! How are you holding up? Just finished the episode and I haven't really recovered. I am sad, I am frustrated, I don't really know what's happening? I thought they were mature and Tim is so dumb right now, I can't even.

And Lucy? I can't even start to imagine what she's going through. She has been so badass for the 5 seasons and this season she just gets fail after fail and loss after loss and doesn't even get a good job storyline.

So sorry I didn't reply sooner but I first wanted to take a little step back in order to fully digest the episode. As much as the waiting is killing me, I actually appreciate the hiatus for that. I imagine your feelings may have changed a bit as well since then… or that was the impression I got from our different conversations here and there. How are you feeling now? A bit better or still frustrated?

I'm going to start with Lucy. I was rewatching the beginning of season 5 and this is hitting even harder now. Not because of the pining era. But because the narrative was already showing her isolation back then. I couldn't quite put my finger on why her storyline in season 6 felt so familiar but now I get it. This is merely the continuation.

As we all noticed, the scene of Tim breaking up with her had a very similar vibe to the one at the end of 5.02. But think back of when she went to Nyla for advice about going to UC school, when she was trying to confide to Aaron who was too caught up in his own drama to hear her… or when she spent hours locked in a freezer because no one realised she was missing - besides Tim, that is. And then, there was the whole Rosalind thing where Lucy had to push through her own trauma to help Chris deal with his and help Bailey stay calm. But no one ever took the time to ask her how she was doing with all of this (on screen). They all had good reasons, by the way, this isn't me trying to paint them as the bad guys. But this still has an eerie similarity to what is happening right now. Only there has been no payoff for any of this. Yet. It didn't seem to go anywhere. Until now. Same with her career : she nailed UC Academy, something that was supposed to help her standout come promotion time… She helped the FBI on a raid, she was asked to be the acting Watch Commander, she was told that the whole station had her back… And yet, none of this paid off either. Yet. So this is a great opportunity to finally connect all the dots that have been dropped for the past two seasons and give Lucy the amazing arc she deserves. I sincerely hope this will be the case.

As for Tim… Look, the reason why I didn't want a breakup (besides the fact that I dislike this trope so much), is that I was afraid that it would cheapen the whole "worth the effort / worth the risk" speech. You can't say that and leave at the first difficulty without downplaying the whole story. So I'm glad that the writers were able to find a way to circumvent that issue by showing Tim completely unravelling. Because this isn't about him thinking Lucy is not worth the effort or the risk… This is about him thinking HE is not worthy of her. And that changes everything. For me, at least. I still get the frustration. I still wish this storyline would have been done with them sticking together and trying to work through it. But I can understand his perspective, why he thought this would be better for her. And I can see how that could make them stronger in the end. So, just like with Lucy, I hope Tim's arc will be treated properly and carefully. I need to see the payoff, the progress… I need to see them heal. Separately and then, together. It's always hard to see where a story is going when it is still unfolding… But for now, I choose to remain optimistic and hopeful. Does that help you even a tiny bit?

#thanks for the ask :) and again I apologise for not answering sooner!#ask & ye shall receive #the rookie #chenford #lucy chen #tim bradford

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pieroulette · 11 months

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𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒: 𝐌𝐘 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 | 𝟏𝟖+ | 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 | 𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐓𝟕 × 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

SUMMARY you couldn't believe how your life could turn out for the worse when you were force to take on the body of the wicked and sadistic daughter of a Duke who has countless of enemies ready to stomp on her once they had the very chance. Eyes seething with vengeance and walls like ears—you had no choice but to protect yourself; you either act like her and therefore risk your life even more or overturn people's perception on her and lay low behind the spotlight. Yet the era you were thrown into seems far more complicated than you think when you attracted more eyes than you planned to do so.

GENRE/WARNING reverse harem, comedy, royal au, romance, fluff, angst, time loop/time travel, politics, 18th century au, attempted tongue mutilation, profanity.

WORD COUNT — 5k

•{ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 ' 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐: 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 }•

"So.. you're telling me," hesitating in gesturing to yourself, "That I'm the daughter of a duke?" the maid nodded slowly, seemingly concerned. "And that I have two brothers.. who are currently out of town. And that I'm the only daughter." your mind fleet away as every word sank in your soul. "And it's the year 1816 right now?"

She nodded again.

And you scoffed terribly, brushing your forehead as you giggled almost like it's a joke. "Yah, who hired you?"

"T-the head took me in a few months ago, milady!"

"No bitch, I was asking who hired you? Which member recommended you to the theater?" You slapped the table repeatedly, "As far as I know, I have never seen you or anyone in my team! Wait—are you perhaps from another team?"

"H-huh, I do not understand what you are trying to imply, milady."

"Stop lying." You pointed your index finger to her face. "Quit acting, where's the freaking cameras? This must be a surprise test, huh?! Come out! I just got into an accident and you all are already giving me an exam for fuck's sake!"

"N-no!" she shrieked terribly much to your cringing face. "I— how- am I.. supposed to? Milady?!" hiccups emitted a couple of times, the girl unable to finish her sentences before suddenly weeping for the nth time, glueing her forehead on the floor

Your jaw dropped, frowning. "Stop calling me that! And h-hey! I haven't even say anything much yet and you're already crying? How much in the script did it actually tell you to cry this much?!"

"My apologies, miladyyy!" her whining cause you to close your ears in frustration, and the two maids behind the door had their head hanging so low it might snap as they pulled their fellow mate away, the familiar old lady from just now came instead, falling on her knees before you.

"Milady." Hanging her head low, she did, as she called out for you. "Perhaps, you don't recognise any one of us?"

"Do I look like I do?" You nonchalantly answered, raising your right leg on top of the chair.

That alone caused the Madame's eyes to ogle out, "Milady! That's very unladylike to sit! Please do not—"

"Excuse me? If you are trying to mould me into a—" swaying your hand in patterns, "Feminine, lovable, innocent wife for your boss. Then fucking quit it."

"Milady!" The Madame taken aback by you, proceeded to go outside, urging the maids to call upon someone. "Oh lord, what has happen to the lady that she had to utter such vile words!"

—♚—

Stress.

Indeed, the entire manor was engulfed with nothing but pure stress with your total switch of a personality—for the very reason of you barging the door without knocking, walking very unladylike, pushing yourself out the first floor's window to look out the garden, or even at worse cases which had their orbs ogling out terribly was when you pull up your gown with the reasons of it being tremendously hot, or when you plucked out the hair ornaments on your hair, or any accessories at sight.

“Lady (Name)... seems so different, doesn't she?” says the young servant as she pours a bucket of water on the marble floor.

“I like her a bit now, though.” the other replied.

“You sure about that?—” they both raise their head up to you standing afar with your head shooting outside the patterned holes of the walls. "The lady.. truly acts eccentric nowadays. I heard the doctor diagnosed with her mental problems."

"Don't tell me you're having such thoughts! Where did you even heard such baseless rumors? Keep that to yourself or else you'll earn it."

"Ugh, fine." The servant groaned to herself. "Honestly, I truly think the chandelier could've possibly damaged the lady's brain to the point she had a total switch of personality."

“Well, at least, we aren’t reprimanded as we used to.” The other replied. "Aren't you glad of it?"

Unknown to the wonders of this new, or atleast old world. A distant feeling consumed your heart as you could be the only one right here, right now. All alone by yourself—you've finally come into conclusion that you truly, were indeed, in the era of 1816.

What a fucking joke.

A teacup snapped into numerous pieces across the carpeted floor, dark brown contents splattered horrendously before the maid's horrific realisation, ultimately falling on her knees.

“I'm–m! I apologise! I deserve to die but no– no! Please I have a family to feed! Certainly they would fall into their demise upon my death, I greatly beg you young lady! Please!”

Baffled over her exaggerated and frantic reaction as if you were going to get her beheaded at any moment just because of a simple fallen teacup and its scattered leafy tea on the carpeted red floor. You laughed awkwardly, “It’s o-okay? It’s just a teacup afterall?”

"I-it's not! My lady, I greatly apologize!" She weep in pure agony, faint red dripping from her forehead as she slammed it repeatedly on the floor.

You stood there in slight shock at the desperate actions of the maid, why are they so beyond frightened of you? Did what you heard were actually true?

The young lady of this family, you heard—after a series of gathered information from what you've came to piece the puzzle together; the daughter of the duke was a one cunning and merciless lady, with an extreme intelligence surpassing of that the highest scholar in the country but one that had been deemed beneath the soil for the duke, her father—had ordered for it.

That she, a woman, shall only stay inside her home, and appease her soul by waiting for a hand in marriage. It's such an atrocious joke, really. How could you even wonder, some parents just don't deserve a child for they only deemed their child's existence as an investment. Not more than that.

The young lady also had a blast of short temper, judging by how the maids often whimper and tremble when you appear before them—acting as if their life was on the edge of the cliff every single time.

You overheard one of them that the lady had ordered for a public humiliation for one of the previous maids who dared to go up against her, stripping her off her dignity and letting men devour her like a dangling fresh meat.

She's like a ticking time bomb.

It had you a tad bit conflicted over what to feel with the lady, or whether to think of her as a completely wronged lady whose talents were gone to be drained by the father, or a spoiled brat using her power to trample on the weak.

Sighing as you watched the garden out the window, surely—it shouldn't be any of your concern right? Anything personal regarding the lady should be scrapped, and only what's necessary should be kept for you have to survive in her body with the infamous reputation she earned—till you're able to find a way back to your original life.

Tapping your chin as you brought yourself in a deep thought, you were contemplating over what to do. Right, your lips pulled up into a slight beaming smile that had the maids eyes widening in utter surprise, unable to process the eccentric sight before them.

"Get up, dear." The maid trembled slightly with your hands pulling her up in a gentle manner, "It's perfectly fine, such trivial mistakes had no need to waste such a tremendous energy upon. You may go now."

"Thank you, milady!" she held her head down before walking off but you had a bunch of curiosity you'd been dying to ask since awhile, and the maid seems the fairly perfect person to ask.

"Stop."

"Y-y-yes, milady?"

"I want you tell me about something-"

And that question was how the lady had got into an accident, since you overheard the passing maid that the lady had been in a coma for almost a month, and no one outside the manor was to be inform about it. That she had to be acclaimed as all well and safe. You furrowed your eyebrows, wondering how and why?

How did she got into one and why are they trying to keep it? Sure, the lady had such a bad temper and merciless indeed that she definitely would have plenty of souls desiring to get back on her while she's rendered unconscious. But surely, it ain't that serious? It isn't as if the young lady had a status as high as the princess or the queen.

Your curiosity were confirmed though as the young maid told you everything; that the lady had attended a noble event as she often did so her entire life, a daily occurrences for nobles like the prince and princesses, duke and duchesses and their children, royal officials and high status people to attend to. However on that fateful day, the lady had a dance with a prince and as they do so on the dance floor. The chandelier above the ceiling tragically fell on top of them; the lady and the prince.

It wreck a horrendous havoc in the ballroom and the guards immediately gathered before their unconscious bodies.

The rest was history, and only the young lady's father the Duke and a few royal officials had a knowledge about this tragic incident. Not even the young lady's brothers had any knowledge of it as they were currently out the state. They kept it a secret as to find the culprit, because once the news of the young lady and the prince being in a state of coma came out; the culprit certainly would come back.

Regarding the prince, no one had known how he is currently now. Only assuming that he, too, might still be in a coma just like you are.

The chandelier.. it sort of the same as the incident on the theater. How is this possible? Could this be a mere coincidence?

"That's all I can say, milady."

"Ah, I couldn't thank you enough." you rubbed her hand which causes her cheeks to flushed in both shock and embarrassment, her eyes beaming as she nodded frantically.

"You can count on me, milady!"

You've decided for now to go on easy on them, for now, that is. It's quite difficult to make a decision for this body that doesn't belong to you. But you'd have to ease up a little, and observe your surroundings by studying everyone's characters in this manor. By then, you'll definitely know what to do until you can think of a way to get back to your real life.

A few days had passed since then, and surprisingly they had called atleast a few private doctors the manor had, and yet they couldn't exactly tell what was wrong with you. You rolled your eyes, how could they? How could a doctor could possibly know that you were another soul, from the modern era in someone's body. Might as well call the shaman for this, but you ain't gonna risk that and possibly had yourself labeled as a witch.

Sighing, just why every door has terrible outcome behind them?

Apparently, after a series of failed attempts, the doctor simply assume that you might have an amnesia. Of course, they were skeptical as the chandelier didn't even collide against your damn head so how could you even? Trauma? Probably. That's why the doctor had asked for you to recuperate first and they'll return after a two weeks.

"We can never tell more than five people as it would surely start a rumour and possibly threaten the house of Solon, especially you, milady, has a significant position in the political affairs along with your father, the Duke."

"Losing a fragment of memories, is a fatal mistake. If by any chance it is proven, we had to keep it as a secret. We surely would help you regain your memories back by then, milady."

You could only nod and go along with them as you sipped through your teacup. What else have you to say? Your only one priority is to get back to your old life as soon as you can. Who cares what they are up to?

Somewhere in the manor's quarters—the news quickly reached the every and each person's ears, causing havoc and surprise onto everyone's faces.

"So it's due to the lady losing her memories, that she's treating us good now?"

"I didn't know that was possible!"

"Ha, we could use this to our own advantage."

—♚—

Over the course for the past few weeks, you brought a hell lot of papers with you, stacking them up in the library where you could see them easily.

A role.

Another role, the young lady; you studied the young lady's character by gaining as much as information you could gather by the maids and guards, or anything you could lay your eyes on, either by blatantly asking them or by sneaking in to their conversations.

Taking a deep breathe in, your eyes fluttered as it opens—the dust particles floating in the sun rays flew past your vision, the background gradually growing vague and blurry. Lifting your feet, and another one and so on through the entire room; imitating the lady's way of walking, and how she carries herself, how she talks, how she reacts, how she gaze at someone depending on who they are.

It wasn't perfect, for the information was tremendously limited. However, you had to do best with what you only have.

Somehow, you notice yourself growing somewhat petty and impatient in this body. You weren't entirely sure if it's a fragment of the lady's personality, or yours. It's just that, you tend to voice out without thinking much nowadays which kind of scares you.

Sighing tremendously like any other day you did as you sat on the bench in the center of the garden, where you've been seating yourself for quite awhile now to revise your plans but for some reasons which had you annoyed was another maid standing beside you. You tried to hushed her away before but she reasoned with you that she was assigned to look after you, for you still haven't recovered. How are you suppose to do it with her presence then?

"Look at me, I'm already walking!"

"But, milady. It's dangerous."

"Oh god, leave me alone." Standing up on your feet with these pair of heels drilling a hole on your sole, you lifted your gown, grabbing your heels much to the maid's utter shock and went on your way to the manor, completely bare feet. Thinking of what to eat for today before doing the rest of what you want to do in your room instead. Scrap the fresh air while revising your plans, seriously.

"Milady!" the maid held the need to ask for you to slow down as she gradually increase her speed after you who were obviously trying to evade her.

The sun must be plotting to burn you alive today, seriously. Sure, it was nice to live in such an extravagant, wealthy ass manor but it reminds you nothing but of your parents, totally irritating.

Hm?

You paused on your tracks when your peripheral vision caught sight of an intricate carriage pulling up in the entrance. Curiosity engulfed your foggy mind as you squint to take a good look of who's inside it.

"Milady!—ah!" The maid almost stumble on your back, gulping immensely down her throat as she almost sell her life for the day.

“Who’s.. that?”

The maid followed your line of vision, eyes widening at what met her sight. “Oh! That is Sir Noa!"

"N-noa?"

"Yes! Milady, that is the third son of the Solon family, young Marquess Noa. It is your younger brother, young lady.”

Your younger brother.. your younger brother? your younger brother—what?!

Wait-what? You let out a breath of gasp as the young tall man with humongous dark aura circulating over him—step one foot each closer and everything behind him grew smaller. His intimidating orbs softens into spring like gentle of the petals and his lips kisses his rosy cheeks as he continued to get closer, closer..

And closer.

“Young lady.”

His hair—as if a silk fabric of black and golden blond pouring altogether like a brewed tea to the quarters of a patterned teacup. Pouring down over to cover bits of his flattery eyelashes. His voice; just so much akin to his aura yet it seems like as if he intentionally softens his vocal chords to match your feeble form, yet still strong enough as if to acknowledge your presence.

“I’ve came home.”

"U-uh, welcome home?" you gave him a small smile, unsure if it's the right thing to do but still it won't hurt since he's supposedly the lady's younger brother, right? Fuck. You seriously have no idea, you forgot to ask the maid whether the lady and this boy are close enough.

Yet the first thought you had was, just how old the hell is this boy for him to be this tall?!

He cleared his throat. "I had to say that I missed you alot after horrendous months without being by your side, sister. How have you been doing?

You're about to cringe, he called you sister? What are you supposed to say, brother? I'm certainly doing fine, brother! Or, why are you even asking this, brother? Or, i've just went to—ugh! Just go along with it, seriously!

Shaking your head with a small smile forming on your lips, "I'm doing all well, brother."

His eyebrows knitted in utter confusion. Well shit, was that a wrong call?! "B-brother? Have you ever called me that?"

"U-uh-"

"Sir," the maid exclaimed a tad bit loud for your throbbing ears, "The lady are currently recuperating after falling into terrible sickness, I had to bring the lady to get her daily meds right now."

"Wait? Sickness?" Noa furrowed, the bright smile on his face dissipates as worry consumed his heart. "Milady, are you- no, I assume you don't feel any pain, now?"

"Y-yes, I rested alot, actually."

Noa was about to say something but held the need to do so, opting to brought his usual smile. "I was actually wondering if we could have a sparring session by noon like we always used to, but hearing such terrible news made me think that we could do that some other day."

Uh? S-sparring session? W-what is he saying? You stuttered as you ask him. "Sparring session?"

"May I be as bold as to get your permission again to hold a sparring session with you milady, as we often did? I've improved quite more than you think, milady."

What the fuck are you suppose to say? What in the sparring session is he saying? Swords? Fighting swords? And does he mean the real heavy words that the knights used?! The sword you used during theater are only made out of plastic, and was the only material you practice during lessons, so you couldn't imagine how the real swords would feel on your palms. It dawned on you on that one particular day that you tried to grab the real deal of a sword in an exhibition, and your wrist almost break in a half because of it!

What are you supposed to say now? Should I reject it? Should I take it? But he was asking for my permission! But keyword was freaking 'again'! It means the lady has never rejected her younger brother's request for sparring session! What should I do? You weep into your internal void.

"Sure." your tongue betrayed yourself, well goodbye to your life. The young man instantly had a smile so beaming it blinded your vision, saying a few more words before he soon took his leave, pressing a soft kiss on your hand before doing so.

"Oh, shit." you stood there, utterly frozen.

"Milady, you—yourself often went to sparring session with the guards whenever you had a slight change of mood, or when you need to take some fresh air. It was a usual hobby you and your younger brother often do together—what's wrong milady?"

"N-nothing, it's just the heat, I assume."

—♚—

A dinner with your supposedly younger brother for now turn out to be fairly serene, not that you'd expect it to be utter chaos but you were thinking that he would bombarded you with numerous questions, however you were beyond glad that it isn't the case. You took numerous glances at him taking a couple of sips from his teacup, as he thumbed through the pages of his book.

Noa, seems rather quiet than what his outer demeanour looks like—you'd expected him to atleast be bold or atleast a sharp tongue alike his piercing orbs. However, maybe it's too early to say. Plus, he probably has a different treatment towards each person. So were you actually right that he had a close relationship with his sister, the lady?

Time will only tell.

Ugh, this is trouble. You couldn't stop your hand from trembling pathetically even when you gripped it with the other as you walked side by side with Noa to the site where the sparring session will be held. You were about to cry over how scared you were and seriously, you actually thought that maybe you could pretend over how weak you are due to your sickness. Ha! That's it, that's definitely it. Play swords with him a little and then pretend you got hurt, fall to the ground, and faint! Perfect.

Determination blazes your orbs, as you stood before the young man who has now a pair of swords on his palms. With a bright grin on his face as he twirls the other onto his right hand, showcasing his talents to you. Huh, this kid. It's as if he's trying to show you how good he is in such an odd way. But that's normal isn't? A little kiddo proving his strength to his older siblings?

"Milady, here." the sword on his left palm caused you to sweat cold despite the scorching sun above the sky. You formed a smile awkwardly, wondering how you could even grab the sword.. Should you grab it with your two hands? But wouldn't that make it too obvious for the boy? You're dead either way, honestly.

Circling your fingers beneath the handle had you shutting your eyes tight, gripping it—afraid of what is about to happen.

"Sister?"

Your eyes shot open upon his voice calling out for you, concern adorning his sharp features. "Are you okay?"

"O-oh yes?" You forced a smile, "I am, no need-" Hold for a freaking second, what is this? Your widened orbs fell on the sword on your right hand, squinting at how oddly.. light it was. Like it wasn't heavy at all? Huh- oh my god?

Don't tell me that this is perhaps because of the lady's body? That she is probably capable of swordsmanship? Why have you never heard from the maids about the lady's skill in swordsmanship? Did they or did they knew about it? Either way, you had to find it out later. As your mind were currently amazed that you had never thought that you would gain her strength! How could you forget? It is your soul that currently hosts the lady's body.

You were beyond ecstatic to hold a light sword, amazed by your newly found ability, you tried to swing the sword in such a way that it feels like clouds. This is it. You could push through this and not risk your life before the lady's brother.

"Sister, that's not how you hold a sword."

Uh? Your eyes terribly widened, instantly holding yourself from playing with the sword any further. Alerted by his words, you were dumbfounded over what to answer.

A low, lighthearted giggle instead met your ears. "I didn't know that you, my sister, had the ability to joke?"

Shaking his head in amusement, "Everyday you intrigued me, sister." launching his sword up in the air, you prepared for his attack by dodging it slightly.

Your speed. That was new. Your vision fixated on every motion of Noa's tight grip on his sword as he prepares for another attack, somehow someway—his movement sort of felt like quite slow to you.

It's not that he's slow, it's that you could calculate his movement in a tremendous speed that you could dodge it easily. Amazement consumed your thoughts that this is truly the lady's ability. Pulling a slight smirk, you raised your sword and in an instant—it collided against Noa's, a total stare down occurs for a couple of seconds when you caught his eyebrows furrowing.

Huh?

He pulls away, stepping backward as he twirls his sword in his index finger.

"Why did you?"

Tilting his head sideways back and forth, he lets out a tiny scoff which had your stomach churning. "Nothing in particular, milady."

"Right- Agh!" you shut your eyes tight at his inhumane speed, beyond surprised at his impatience of not letting you finish your sentence. He's too strong, too much strong for you. Noa tightened his grip on his handle, pressing the blade's weight even harder on yours which causes your foot to lose it's footing, stumbling slightly but before you could prepare, you gasped at Noa raising his arm up in the air, launching the sword onto your face.

Is he trying to kill me?! Why is he getting faster each second?!

You pushed up your sword against his blade almost as fast as you, yet once again you were beneath the soil and he has the upper hand. You tried to counterattack against him but you yelp in pain when he suddenly pulls away once again, causing the blade to graze against your palms.

“Sister!?” Noa immediately get on his knees, his voice stuttering as he took your wounded hand in his. His lips blowing a breeze on your hand, causing you to frowned as you hissed at the slight pain. You observed him looking after you with the utmost care, as if you truly meant a lot to him, or the lady, apparently.

“Sister? May I ask you something?”

“Y-yes brother?” shit, that sounds too awkward for you to be honest. You could never get used to it.

"You're not her, aren't you?" A deathly silence occurs as he lifted his attention on you with his intense sharp upturned eyes that held infatuation awhile ago, but now a cold indifference inside.

You froze, “H-huh?”

Your maid's jaw dropped upon falling on your form, dropping the laundry basket she was holding as she strides off to you, “Milady! Are you okay?!”

Noa raises his palms at the approaching maid, "Stop right there."

H-how did he know? Your hand clutches the hem of your dress, your inner heart shaking vigorously as he took each step closer to you. Instinctively lowering your head down as his purplish and golden woven patterns on his collars came into view, the sunlight being covered by the growing grey dark clouds.

"The young lady ain’t this feeble and pathetic, weird isn’t?” his voice strikes your rampant heart cold and deep akin to the glint on his sword, wrapping his hand around your wrist, tightening it much to your growing pain. “She could never make such trivial mistake and yet, you did."

“Noa, what do you think you’re doing?!” You exclaimed, you tried to hold the lady's character and yet you can't help the way your heart was shivering to your core. How can you when this guy before you is just as much as his sister?! "Touching me without my permission like this is atrocious!"

They emitted a total intimidating aura, with those piercing orbs threatening to devour you alive. You had a slight wonder if he had the same infamous hobbies as his sister? Those eyes held downright blood lust inside it, you couldn't imagine how far he would go once he knew that you weren't the young lady. You couldn't even have the opportunity to study this man at all! You've failed!

"And you see, I've been observing you for quite awhile. The way you carry yourself, the way you turn and look at me—is nothing alike the young lady.”

How did he notice? How come?! You've studied the young lady's character very well, you imitated every single thing of her and yet he notice and are able to see through you. Wasn't there enough information? Have you made the wrong call?

A scoff of disbelief escapes his lips as his dragon eyes narrowed even further, “And you see, the young Lady has never called me by the name Noa when we're by ourselves together."

You tried to keep yourself still and firm as he keeps closing the distance dangerously between you both.

“She..” his voice turns into a feathery like brush against the edges of your lips, yet held a thousand prickly needles along the tip. “—calls me Riki.”

Your eyes widened horribly at his words. Well what in the actual fuck, congratulations, you're officially being sent into the coffin! How could you ever know of a nickname between siblings?!

His eyes sharp and intense, akin to dragons roaring thunders and fires mixing with thousands of swords bound to rip your flesh apart. He grabbed your wrist even tighter you could let out a yelp yet you held the need to do so as he pulled you closer, forcing you to look at his intense spiraling dark orbs.

“Who are you?”

What are you supposed to say now? This man is no fool. One word and he might, no—definitely he would rip your head apart for fooling him. After all, the lady's are deemed to be a wicked person, then how couldn't he as her younger brother turned out to be the same well?

Think, (Name)! Have your skill had truly gone to waste? Your palms supporting your torso had been trembling so much you swore you are about to faint.

“Huh? Am I seeing this right? Marquess Noa using such force against his older sister?” an unfamiliar face appeared in the distance, approaching you two. "That's quite un-gentleman of you, I fear."

You observed as Ni-ki’s eyes rolled in annoyance before he turned over his shoulder and it gave you a clear view to the person in question. “Perhaps, you shall keep your pathetic nose inside your quarters, shouldn’t you, General?”

Shrugging his shoulders, the man did. “I don’t know,” your rattled orbs fell upon a jet black slicked hair, faint smirk paired with those glowing grey orbs, a scabbard hanging down his hips as his overalls consists of intricate patterned jacket over his inner black shirt with few buttons off, exposing his well toned chest and neck adorned with gleaming jewels. “Maybe we shall ask you then, milady?”

Who the fuck is this other guy?! Why they keep appearing one after another?! Can't they give you a break?! You were beyond cornered as if your feet were on the scattering edge of the cliff with those two pair of orbs looking down at you—their intimidating and piercing aura threatening to consume you akin to an enormous eagle and a hissing black panther before you, who's only a mere tiny bouncing bunny.

Would this really be the end of your life?

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