the moment they realized they would lose

This is life. People will screw you over. You’ll fight with your family. You’ll witness things that will change you forever. You’ll blame new lovers for things old lovers did. You’ll lose best friends you thought would always be there. You’ll come to realize that everyone has a past. You’ll cry, you’ll laugh, you’ll embarrass yourself. But then, you’ll find your very own moment when none of that matters; where you can sit back and realize that crap happens to the people who can handle it and that this is who you are, and that no one should want to change you, including yourself.
—  unknown 
phichit and yuuri headcanons

because i haven’t spoken of my love for phichit lately (even though i just wrote a fic ha)

  • Phichit was the first openly not-straight person Yuuri ever met
  • Phichit isn’t even sure what to call his sexuality and explained that, “It doesn’t really matter as long as you’re good to each other.”
  • their room in Detroit was decorated with posters of figure skaters
  • Phichit would put sticky notes with extremely suggestive comments on the Viktor posters and Yuuri angered the neighbors from shrieking so much
  • Phichit and Yuuri kissed once and it was probably in that moment when Yuuri realized, hey, it really doesn’t matter who it is
  • They never had romantic feelings for one another but their levels of bro are off the charts
  • Yuuri learned how to lose his personal space thanks to Phichit
  • Phichit often gave Yuuri’s feet and legs an intense deep massage after a tiring day
  • Phichit teases Yuuri about being unable to handle spice and heat that he swears is sprinkled in milk for Thai babies
  • Yuuri tried so hard to explain the beauty in the simplicity of traditional Japanese food; Phichit thinks it all tastes like plain rice. Except for katsudon and anything yoshoku. He laughs at “spicy” Japanese curry though.
  • Phichit dragged Yuuri into a gay club once. They’re not sure what happened but thank the gods they woke up in their apartment the next morning. Naked and in the same bed, but they swear nothing happened.
  • Phichit is envious of Yuuri’s relationship with Viktor. “I want my ice prince to sweep me off my skates, too.” Yuuri is not sure if Phichit has someone particular in mind.
  • Yuuri: “You’re already a prince so of course a prince will come for you.”
  • Phichit: “It’d be sexier if he was an enemy soldier.”
  • They whispered to each other the plot of Phichit’s fantasy love story over Facetime, with Viktor trying so hard to sleep in bed behind Yuuri.
  • Eventually Viktor joins in and asks Phichit straight up if the soldier is Seung-gil.
  • Yuuri has never heard Phichit screech like that before.

You know what will happen if Stiles dies? You wanna know? I will tell you anyway..

Scott would lose his best friend… Scott would lose someone that was always there for him, threw thick and thin… He will never get over it… After loosing Allison, he would think he could start over… And just when he did, Stiles would die.. Scott would be broken.. He would lose his brother.. After the funereal, Scott would act like he’s fine, while inside every vein, every bone, every inch of his body would hurt… He would sit in his room, looking at the photo of him and Stiles, remembering how much fun they had when they were kids.. How much they enjoyed their teen years… And he would realize that Stiles is gone… That would be a moment he broke… He lost Allison, Kira left, and now he lost Stiles… A person that supported him threw everything… Scott McCall would be broken…

Lydia would lose a guy she’s in love with… Just when they started of nicely, with all their kisses, hugs, he would die.. She would feel such an amount of emotional pain.. Because she lost her anchor.. Her emotional tether.. She lost so many people, Allison, Aiden, Jackson moved away, her grandma, and now Stiles.. When the funeral would end, she would be the last one that stayed behind.. With tears in her eyes, she send a kiss to his grave, leaving a single flower.. She would whisper ‘I love you’ and leave… Once she got home, she would sit on her bed, still in her black dress, gazing into the space, memories of him flying threw her mind.. And when she would remember how he would say he loves her, she would release such a strong scream of pain, and sorrow.. Her sobs would start and her body would shake… She lost everyone… She was broken..Lydia Martin was broken..

Malia would lose her first real boyfriend… The guy that she deeply cared about, and that cared about her… That made her feel like a normal human being.. After their break up, she was okay, because she knew he would still be there for her… But after he died, she would lose her mind… After the funereal she would run somewhere into the woods.. She would sit there, thinking about their relationship, their friendship… She would just sit on the ground crying, letting out strong sobs out of her chest… Everything around her, everything she would feel would hurt, because she lost her first boyfriend… One of her friends.. She would be broken… Malia Tate would be broken..

Liam would lose one of his role models.. He and Stiles would bicker a lot, but Liam would kill for him.. He never thought he was going to lose him.. Stiles was like an older brother to him.. Someone he would look up to.. And he would be gone… After the funereal, Liam would act cold and strong, but tears would come out no matter what.. He would hold Hayden in his arms, while she cried… He would hold his sobs, huge amount of pain, stabbing his chest.. Once he was alone, he would cry.. He would just let out everything that he held that day… Thinking about Stiles, and the way he protected him… He would be broken… Liam Dunbar would be broken…

Sheriff would lose his son… After his wife passed away, it was only Stiles and himself… But now he would be all alone… Sheriff would lose a person that made him stay alive… After the funereal, he would thank everyone who came, Lydia would throw her hands around him sobbing… He would hold her, like she’s his own, because now he lost him… He would come home, go into Stiles’ room and just look at the stuff he left behind.. His dream was to go to college.. To have kids.. Be someone… Yet now he couldn’t… Sheriff would finally left tears come, holding Stiles’ picture in his hands… He would be broken… Sheriff Stilinski would be broken…

Melissa would lose someone that was like another son to her… When she would hear the news, her breath stopped… Tears would run down her cheeks, thinking that she would never hear his sarcastic jokes, and laugh again… After the funereal, she would hug Scott in her arms, holding him while he cried… Her tears would flow easily, while she would whisper to Scott that everything would be okay… While she knew it wouldn’t.. Stiles that was there for her, that called her mom, that was caring about her, was gone.. She would be broken… Melissa McCall would be broken…

After they would send news to everyone (Isaac, Jackson, Derek, Kira, etc. ), everyone would come to Beacon Hills.. Mourning, they would say their words, holding each other in their arms, hoping the pain would pass..

Nothing would be the same… Beacon Hills would be dark that day, and everyone who said that it would be okay, secretly knew it wouldn’t..

That’s what would happen if Stiles Stilinski died…

You now wish he would die? Yeah, me neither…

Maybe. The moment Lydia told Stiles “I’m not leaving you!” he realized she was in love with him, too. She was risking her safety, she was refusing to leave his side because she returned his feelings. You see him pause for a moment, his expression change when he realizes it. After everything they’ve been through, he now knows she finally feels the same and she can’t lose him just as much as he can’t lose her. Maybe after everything that happened junior year, he when he started dating Malia, when he was trying his hardest to move on from Lydia because he thought she would never feel the same, maybe he thought all of that made Lydia think he got over his feelings for her (as if that was even possible). So, in that moment in the jeep, he knows he’s going to be taken, but he has to take care of Lydia. That’s always the most important thing to him. He has to make her know she’s wrong. He has to let her know how deeply his feelings are for. So he looks at her, he brings up everything. She was the first girl he ever danced with, the girl he had a crush on freshman year when she didn’t pay attention to him. Sophomore year, when she was just starting to notice. Junior year, when they were becoming so close and she was finally starting to feel something deeper than friendship for him. Junior year was an important mention, it’s when he started dating Malia and Lydia most likely assumed he moved on from his childhood crush. He tells her she saved his life. He tells her to remember he loves her. That line speaks so much volume. It says how he never moved on from her, how he never will. He has to make her know that he loves her before he’s taken. He wants her to hold on to that, remember it more than anything else because his love for her are the most real, valid things in the supernatural mess that is their lives.

The Difference

Note to self
Don’t lose the color in your veins
Beauty doesn’t equal pain
Take your life back today
Live for all the right reasons

Note to self
Don’t lose the sparkle in your eyes
There’s a rainbow after the tears you cry
I wish that you would realize
You’re anything but ordinary

Nothing is more self-destructive
Than pretending to be happy
When everything inside you is
Screaming that you’re not
Each and every moment in time
Can be the heartbeat of a bucket list
Love yourself and never give in
Neither will be easy
But soon, you won’t be able to tell the difference

Note to self
Don’t lose the truth in your smile
Letting a demon steal it would be vile
Take your pride back today
You don’t owe anyone an explanation

Note to self
Don’t lose the universe in your heart
It’s better to grow with broken parts
I hope you’ll be reminded
That true love is never one-sided

I know you have dreams
It’s never too late
To bring them to life
You want to be seen
To find your place in the world
To find a home
These dreams didn’t die
They’ve lived inside you all along
Time and trying are the same

I grew tired of losing people I thought would stay forever. So I expected the worst and never bothered shutting the door. I told myself that if they didn’t leave tomorrow it would surely be the following day or sometime soon. But then I realized, how can you enjoy the moment when you keep looking for the end?
—  Yeah, people do leave but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t enjoy them while you can - Jess Amelia


• Tracer will propose on a whim. She’ll be at a park with you or on a Ferris wheel, and she’ll randomly ask you to marry her.

• She wouldn’t exactly realize what it meant until later, and she’d freak out because she hadn’t planned it.

• She would definitely lose the ring before she proposed, and she’d have everyone help her find it.


• It’s all about tradition for this cowboy. He believes in a short and simple proposal, no grand gesture that overshines the moment.

• He’d take you for a walk and drop down on one knee, reciting a speech he had memorized too many times. There are a few hiccups, and he almost drops the ring.

• McCree almost doesn’t believe it when you agree to marry him. He won’t cry, but he’ll hold you for the rest of the night.


• Zarya wouldn’t put too much into a proposal, but she’ll definitely make you feel special.

• It’ll be snowing, and she’ll take you to a nice, private spot away from everyone. All the land will be white when she proposes.

• She won’t get on one knee, but she’ll sneak the ring onto your finger. When you notice, she’ll smile and act innocent until you say something


• He will definitely make a playlist to celebrate the moment. That includes some of the cheesiest music he can make.

• He wants it to be a grand time, and he wants you to remember it until the end of your days. He’ll take you to some big restaurant, making sure no one else is there, and he’ll have a band play the music.

• There will probably be fireworks.

anonymous asked:

The only thing more heartbreaking than being a SaTzu shipper, is being a JiTzu shipper (or any other Jihyo ship tbh). Any of their moments are simply overlooked. But if another ship were to do the same, the fandom would go nuts. As a Jihyo Stan (and JiTzu shipper), I am sad. :(

omg yes this !!! I don’t know why people seem to be sleeping on all the Jihyo ships when they are so pure and soft. any cheap moment of a more popular ship will have people practically losing their heads but Jihyo ships are just overlooked for some reason. I know how you feel, I love Jihyo ships so much (especially Jitzu)!! I never realized how much until I received an ask today asking about my top 3 jihyo ships and I realized that though my first is always Jitzu, the second and third positions are always shifting around lmao my life is a mess

but!! it is true that Jihyo seems to be the least shipped out of twice. even on aff most stories have the other 8 paired off and then Jihyo alone as the “mother figure keeping her gays in order” lmao.

🗣👏 #StopSleepingOnJihyoShips2k17 👏🗣

Originally posted by otwicepairing

Originally posted by jihyosjagi

Originally posted by jihyosjagi

Originally posted by misamo

Originally posted by jihyosjagi

dinner with us

Characters: Reader x Jackson (single mother! AU)

Word Count: 1.7k

Prompt AU: I asked you to babysit one time and now my child keeps asking when you will spend time with them again – Single Parent AU

AN: Okay…so this one is my longest and yet I feel like not a lot happened? Like I feel like I could go further on this, maybe do a separate one where they have the date night? Would anybody be interested in that?

Prompt Rules // Prompt List

Originally posted by defwang

Just take a deep breath, close your eyes, and when you open them again you will be calm.

The mantra that you had been using since the birth of your son was truly starting to lose its luster. After the third time repeating this, the splitting pain in your temple still going strong, you realized that today just wasn’t going to be a calm day at all. You knew from the moment you went to wake up your five-year-old son that the morning definitely wasn’t going to be calm.

Chulsoon had never been an easy child to wake up, but this morning it appeared that he was going to make that task extra hard. “Chulsoon, wake up sweetheart, you know that you have school today,” you said as you started walking around his room, kicking stray toys out of the way as you started going through his closet to pick out what he could wear to school that day. All you got in return was a drawn out whine as your little lump of a son turned over in bed, completely ignoring your request to him. “Chulsoon,” you scolded as you laid out the clothes.

“I expect you awake, dressed, and down at the kitchen table to eat breakfast in the next five minutes,” you said, trying to be as stern as possible. When your son emerged ten minutes later, his shirt backwards, and tears streaming down his face “I don’t’ want to go to school today,” he’ had whined, you knew that today was also going to be a late day. The poor child whines and dribbled all through breakfast, barely able to even eat more than five spoonful’s of cereal before you’d had to scoop him up and get his shoes on so you could drive him.

“C’mon sweetheart, help mommy out a little bit, I need to go to work today as well,” you say as your son flops himself on the floor after his shoes had been tied. Your neatly fixed hair was already starting to look disheveled as you tapped your foot, purse in one hand, Chulsoon’s backpack in the other. “Chulsoon now,” you scolded again, watching as he drug himself a few feet and then defeated managed to get on his two feet and get into the car.

It amazed you though that after the first five minutes of the drive he seemed to be in much higher spirits. “Mommy,” you heard him call from the backseat, his face directed outside though as he watched all of the buildings pass by. “Yes baby?” you asked, as you concentrated on the traffic ahead of you. “When is Jackson going to come back over and see me?” the question no longer surprised you. About three weeks ago you had asked a coworker of yours to watch him. Your usual babysitter had bailed on you and you had an extremely important work meeting that you needed to attend. Usually you would have been extremely picky with who was with your son, but you knew the coworker pretty well and trusted him. Plus, he’d met Chulsoon before in the past and they’d hit it off back then as well. Only now after he’d spent an entire evening with your son, he couldn’t’ seem to stop talking about him. “Chulsoon you know that Jackson is very busy with his own work as well.”

Looking into the rearview mirror, you could have sworn that you saw a few tears gathering up in your little boy’s eyes again, your own heart clenching a little. “But, I’ll make sure I talk to him today. Maybe he can come by this weekend,” and within an instant you had your smiling boy back.

Raising Chulsoon as a single mother had been one of the most trying times of your entire life. His father had passed away when you were five months pregnant, leaving you alone in Korea, pregnant, and a soon to be single mother that would be raising her child alone. Thankfully Chulsoon’s father’s family had been accepting of the pregnancy, and even after the death of their son, Chulsoon’s grandparents on his father’s side had helped tremendously. They supported you in the first few months after his birth, giving you time not only to grieve for your lost love, but to learn how to raise and take care of your new one. Once you were on your two feet they also helped you greatly financially, and you knew that you would always have a debt to pay to them for what they had down. For the time being they were just happy to be part of their grandson’s life, being able to see their son live on in him. And that was exactly what it was like having Chulsoon, who looked so strikingly similar to his father. After five years though, you had come to peace with knowing that your lost love was gone, and the idea of moving on and meeting someone who could love you and Chulsoon was always in the back of your mind.

When you had first met Jackson about a year ago in the office, you had to admit that he was strikingly handsome. While you worked the front desk and made sure that everything was put away and filed nicely for the company you worked for, Jackson was actually one of the music engineers that worked with various artists at the music company. Despite what many thought, your paths ran across one another quite often. You relayed any messages that he got, you delivered his mail and packages, and every day he appeared for work, he would stop by your desk and makes sure to sit and talk for a while; it was your routine.

But things had never quite left that routine, and for a while it felt like maybe nothing else was there between the two of you. Maybe he wasn’t into somebody who had a young child; or maybe he just wasn’t into you. The few other women that worked there disagreed heavily, saying he was secretly shy with that stuff and he needed time. But how much time were you willing to keep giving away?

Pulling up to the school, you parked and went around to Chulsoon’s side, unbuckling him from his car-seat and helping him out onto the sidewalk. “Goodbye sweetheart,” you say as you bend down and give him a kiss goodbye. “Remember to talk to Jackson!” your son instructs you as he turns and runs towards his classmates, you shaking your head slightly as you climb back into the car.

Another fifteen minutes and you were sitting in your receptionist chair, eyes on the front door as you greeted other employees and checked people in. Your head was down when he walked in but as soon as you heard his greeting, you knew who it was. “Miss [Y/N], you look lovely as always,” Jackson said, a bright smile on his face that instantly spread over to you, even as you ran your hand self-consciously through your messy hair. “Quit flattering yourself Jackson,” you say, a chuckle leaving your lips as you watch the mock hurt spread across his face, a hand going to his heart. “You turning away my genuine compliments kills me,” a laugh escaping his own lips as he leans casually on the counter in front of your desk.

“Any exciting plans this weekend?” you heard him ask, and while this question had been something that used to get your heart thumping, you couldn’t help but just give him a sad smile. The first time he’d ever posed that question you had been sure that he was going to ask you to do something. Of course that hadn’t happened, and now there you were however many months later, and he’d asked you that every single Friday leading up until that point. “Well…I did promise I’d do something for Chulsoon,” you say, leaning your chin on your hands as you look up at Jackson. His face immediately brightened at the mention of your son, your heart doing a quick skip at that as you nervously brushed your hair behind your ear. “He wanted me to ask you what you were doing this weekend.”

Jackson couldn’t help the bit of shock that went across his face as he looked at you. “What I’m doing?” he questioned, you nodding your head back at him. “He’s been talking about you ever since you watched him that one night and he really was hoping to see you again. I thought maybe if you weren’t busy you could come over Saturday and maybe have dinner with us?” you ask, biting your lip as you wait for his answer.

Of course you hoped more than anything that Jackson would say yes, because how on earth would you be able to calmly let Chulsoon know if he decided to decline you. Deep down though you were hoping that Jackson would say yes for your own sake as well. You couldn’t help but always feel like time was ticking for you. You weren’t as young as you used to be, and things were only going to get a lot crazier as Chulsoon got older and started joining more activities. After being a single mother for five years, you wanted nothing more than to just feel the intimacy of another human being. As badly as you wanted that person to be Jackson, you knew that you couldn’t keep simply hoping. Either one of you needed to act on this or you needed to move on.

Watching as Jackson leaned further onto the counter and smiled, you nearly let out a sigh of relief at his words. “I’d love to! Maybe I could come a little earlier and play with him, and then maybe stay a little later than dinner after he’s gone to bed and possibly…I don’t know spend some time with you,” his arm was rubbing the back of his neck as he said the last part, a small chuckle leaving his lips. Your own lips were pulling up into a large smile, your cheeks gaining just the slightest of color as you nodded your head in agreement.

“I think that would be lovely.”

“Perfect! Then I’ll be over at five on Saturday.” Jackson said as he slowly pushed himself away from the counter, slowly walking away while still facing you. “I can’t wait for it [Y/N].”

“I can’t either.” You reply, only allowing yourself the break into giggles when he was a safe distance away.

Maybe you were finally done waiting after all.

I Did This

A/N: Whoops wrote another HTTYD fanfic. I’m new to this and wasn’t even sure I’d do another after my last fanfic, but this was really enjoyable to write. Crazy how one little idea about some characters you love can develop into an entire thought out story. Anyway…

I was thinking about HTTYD 2 when Hiccup jokes around about how he shot Toothless down and Toothless had to get even (talking about this prosthetic). It’s actually a really sweet moment and I think it highlights some of the best parts of their relationship, but personally I felt like Hiccup would have had to have had some sort of a big realization or something to get to the point where he was comfortable joking about it. I was also thinking about how Stoick most likely blames himself for Hiccup losing his leg (hence the dialogue “I did this”) which would sort of be in line with Hiccup feeling guilty for handicapping Toothless, and I don’t believe we’ve ever really seen them talk about it. So this is a little story about a father and son coming to terms with what they’ve done and learning to move on.

Stoick the Vast stepped outside the Great Hall and headed home, trudging through the snow. He could have saved himself the trouble and flown on his dragon, but every once in awhile he elected to give his winged companion the day off, never fully wanting to completely give up doing things “the viking way”.

Nearing his house, he noticed the soft blaze of a fire coming from the inside. He lifted a curious eyebrow as he entered his home and was surprised to find his son, sitting on a chair in the front room, carving a small block of wood. Normally around this time Hiccup was either at the forge or out flying with Toothless and the other riders.

Hiccup greeted his father with a meek, “Hey dad,” still focused on slicing away at the wood in his hand. He sat rather unconventionally, his chest pressed against the backrest, his leg and prosthetic wrapping around what were supposed to the the back legs of the chair, and his elbows resting on the wooden beam that acted as the frame for the backrest.

“Evening son,” Stoick replied, “what are you doing home? Not that I’m unhappy to see you, of course.”

“We had a bit of a tough day, I figured Toothless could use a rest,” without looking he gestured with his knife to the Night Fury curled up next to the fire. Stoick walked over to the dragon and crouched down, petting his head as Toothless crooned at the comforting touch.

“Oh?” he asked, “what happened?”

“We blew through another tail fin,” answered his son, eyes still fixed on his small art project.

“Are you two okay? Did anyone get hurt?” Stoick inquired, a hint of concern in his voice. He knew it wasn’t a rare occurrence for the pair to lose a tail fin, so he wondered why this particular case would be so upsetting to the young viking.

“No-” Hiccup stopped to recount the events in his head, “…we had a rougher landing than preferred, but no, we’re okay. We’ve survived much worse.” Hiccup sighed as thin curls of wood fell to the floor.

Stoick had had enough dancing around the issue.

“Alright son, out with it.”

Hiccup’s eyes finally tore away from his activity and he looked up at his father, but his hands didn’t seem to get the message and continued on with the carving. As a result, he ever so slightly misplaced the blade, giving himself a small but stinging slice on the inside of the thumb on his right hand.

“Ahhhh Thor” he hissed, placing his craft supplies on the table next to him and moving his mouth to meet the opening in his hand from where blood was starting to fall.

Stoick retrieved a cloth from a stool in the far corner of the room and offered it to his son.

“Thanks,” Hiccup said, accepting the cloth and pressing it to his small wound.

The Hooligan Chief took a chair and planted it, sitting down to come face to face with his boy.

“Now, hows about you tell your father what’s bothering you,” he proposed.

Hiccup looked back at the semi-carved wood on the table with slightly panicked eyes, realizing he had just lost his excuse for being untalkative and distracted. Stoick’s eyes followed the trail taken by his son’s and he noticed the wooden block was beginning to take the shape of a Monstrous Nightmare, probably to add to the collection he had been working on of wooden figures of the dragons he and his friends had learned about.

Hiccup resigned his gaze to the cloth in his hand, paying way more attention than necessary to an “injury” of that degree.

“Really dad, it’s nothing. I already told you, we just ruined a tail fin,” he uttered, hopeful that this would be enough of an explanation for his father. Of course, it wasn’t.

Stoick looked unamused. “Hiccup, the two of you have gone through a dozen of those things and you have enough spares to fill Not-So-Silent Sven’s barn. Plus you’ve got all those special fancy ones in all the different colors. So there’s no way my boy is this beaten up about one ruined tail fin.”

Hiccup, giving in to the fact that his father and chief would not be letting this go anytime soon, hung his head in surrender.

“It’s not just one ruined tail fin, Dad, it’s all the ruined tail fins. Including… including the one Toothless was born with. The one I destroyed.” He buried his face in his arms which were now crossed, balancing on the top of the backrest.

Stoick looked over at Toothless’s tail fin, the one Hiccup had made for him, finally understanding what was happening in his son’s head. He sighed.

“I know what you’re feeling son.”

Hiccup didn’t budge. “Yeah? How so?” a muffled voice asked in a fairly sarcastic manner. Stoick sighed once more.

Recognizing the genuine distress in his father’s reply, or lack thereof, he shifted his head so that his chin rested on his wrist and he could give a look that silently asked what on Odin’s Earth are you talking about? Stoick glanced guiltily at the metal leg attached to his son’s knee. For a quick moment he lowered his vision to the ground, looking ashamed, before returning to Hiccup’s eyes. The boy gave a look of confusion, the skin between his brows crinkled.

“Wha… What? You didn’t do this,” he raised his prosthetic, gesturing to it with his hands, putting it on display.

“Yes son, I did,” Stoick continued, “if I had just trusted you, been more open to listening to you…” he trailed off for a moment, replaying in his head the times he had all but shunned his very own boy, all for being different. He gave yet another sigh and resumed, “If I had been a better man, a better father, I wouldn’t have taken Toothless away from you, I wouldn’t have rushed so hastily into battle with the Red Death, and you wouldn’t have lost your leg.”

Hiccup stared in disbelief. He supposed that technically his father was right, but he had never once blamed him for his handicap… if he even thought of it as a handicap.

He began to counter, “Well… that’s not really.. I mean-”

“Hiccup,” The chief interrupted, feebly raising his hand to signal the boy to let him speak, “I’ve been living with that fact for almost as long as you’ve been living with the fact that you hurt Toothless,” Hiccup winced and flashed a protective look at his dragon who was still contently lounging next to the flames, his head bobbing up and down in unison with the dancing cinders, “and over time I’ve learned something. We can’t torture ourselves for all of the mistakes we’ve made in the past. At the time I thought I was doing the right thing, I thought I was protecting Berk, I thought I was…” his eyes travelled back down to the ground, “I thought I was protecting you,” he said, hushed, and Hiccup could detect a slight crack in his mighty father’s voice.

“And you, son, you thought you were doing the right thing by taking down a dragon. A Night Fury no less. That’s what we did back then… that’s what we thought we had to do. No one knew any better. But you opened your eyes, you learned, and you showed us all, vikings and dragons, the kind of life we could be living. You changed everything son, for the better. You’re a hero to your people, you’re a hero to your friends, you’re a hero to me, but most importantly…” He placed a hand on Hiccup’s shoulder, and Hiccup, whose face had become parallel with the ground in slight embarrassment, blinked his eyes upward to meet his father’s.

“Most importantly, you’re a hero to Toothless.” Stoick was met with a wide-eyed puzzled look, and took a moment to figure out how to put his sentiment into words.

“Yes, you took his tail fin, there’s no getting around that,” Stoick tightened his grip on his son’s shoulder as he saw regret creep back into green eyes.

“However,” he interjected, before the sadness could overtake Hiccup once again, “you gave him even more. You gave him a family, a place to call home, protection, and the best friend any viking or dragon could ever wish to have: you.” He poked the index finger of his free hand into the boy’s chest.

“The two of you are connected, you’re a part of each other, and there is nothing stronger than that bond. The hurt and shame may never fully go away son, I know mine won’t, but you have to remember that the love that dragon has for you is much more powerful than any of that. Do you think Toothless resents you? Do you think he regrets meeting you or harbors any ill will toward you? Truly, do you?”

Hiccup looked at Toothless, who responded to his rider’s look of remorse with one of trust and adoration, throwing in a playful noise for good measure. The corners of Hiccup’s mouth pulled upwards.

“No,” he confessed, “no, I don’t think he does.”

“Good. Now any time you’re feeling guilty remember all the good you’ve done since then. All vikings make mistakes, but it’s the greatest vikings who own up to those mistakes and work hard to do better going forward, and son, you are the greatest viking I’ve ever known.” With that statement Hiccup turned his attention from his dragon to his father with quite possibly the happiest eyes Stoick had ever seen his son give him.

“Thanks Dad,” those were the only words the young dragon rider could seem to find at the moment.

Stoick smiled softly, the outer corners of his eyes wrinkled from years of doing things “the viking way”. His son had given new meaning to that term.

“Now, get out of here and stop feeling sorry for yourself,” he half-teased, “Go find Astrid, or conjure up some crazy contraption in the forge, or something.”

Hiccup bolted up and Stoick could see that his son’s light had been restored.

“Come on, bud!” Hiccup ran toward the door, waving at Toothless to join him. The Night Fury jumped up in elation, shook his head excitedly, and ran after the boy who had given him everything.

The pair flew up into a wide open sky and the door to the Chief’s hut swung shut. Stoick smiled to himself and picked up the wooden block and knife that had been left behind, intent on finishing what his son had started. As he sculpted the Monstrous Nightmare’s wing, he sang,

“Wellllll I’ve got my wood and I’ve got my knife and I work real hard it’s the Berk Chief’s life
I’m a viking through and throughhhh”

On Ron Weasley (again)

I’ve wanted to do this for a while, this just sort of pushed me.

Okay, remember that time in first year when Ron beat the chess set? ‘Course you do. 

So I know we all love talking about how smart he is, but it was more than that. 

See he said “Once I make my move, the queen will take me. That leaves you free to check the king” and if you were actually playing a match and noticed that, you wouldn’t have moved your queen to take the piece, because that would mean ultimately losing the game. Which means he realized the true depth of it: The game was not designed to keep you out; it was designed to kill.

And guess what? This twelve-year old still went forward knowing it was probably his last moments on earth.

Ronald Bilius Weasley everyone

Let’s Talk About Failure- And The Number One Thing I Did to Lose My SD

     I know it isn’t as much fun as talking about the gifts but sometimes I think it’s more important. Let’s talk about failures. Let’s talk about that moment you realized everything wasn’t okay and your paycheck had walked away. Let’s talk about what happens next.
     It would be very easy for me to discuss why this was the CatDog’s fault and I did nothing wrong. It wouldn’t be a lie. I didn’t do anything that my conscience regrets. But this isn’t about conscience. This isn’t about him. This is about me. A businesswoman. Some women view sugaring as simply another form of dating. I don’t. For me, this is business. This is how I will launch my creative business. With that in mind, I see things a little differently. Even if I can claim innocence, there’s still a lesson to be learned. There’s still a chance for me to analyze my own behavior and see how I can improve. How I can make my business better.
     And that was the main problem wasn’t it? I forgot this was a business. I behaved as if I was on a date with a 25 year old man who knew he didn’t have much to offer instead of a significantly older man whose ego had been stroked so often that he believed he possessed far more charm than he actually did. 

    I forgot I was an oasis. My job is to become the perfect woman for him or as close to the perfect woman as my personality will allow. My job is to be his respite- to learn him and understand him better than he understands himself and for a few hours a week to give him an opportunity to just be. Be the self he thinks he is. Be the self that he wants to be. This is not a difficult task. I no longer keep company with men who are a trial to me. But it’s easy for me to forget. 

     I forgot they’re all casually racist but don’t believe they are. Ignorance is bliss and they live in blissful white privilege paradise. I know this. I do. I know it so well that I assume they’re all racist until they prove otherwise. With that in mind, why in hell would I discuss white privilege so vehemently? I’ve quietly but firmly ended conversations regarding race relations in America before without offending anyone. What happened that night?
     I forgot sex wasn’t enough. Beauty isn’t enough. Brains isn’t enough. It’s the consistent and continual combination of the three in a way that best seduces the man in question that matter. One alone isn’t going to hold him for long. Sure the sex will send him back to you briefly but if you think for one second that you’re the only one taking vinegar baths, drinking cranberry juice, and working on your gag reflex, you’re sorely mistaken. If you think you’re the only one properly laying down some eyebrows and blending foundation, you’re sorely mistaken. If you think you’re the only one knocking a penis to the back of your throat- well. You know that’s just silly. Sex is the easiest thing to replace at the end of a relationship. Beauty is next. Intelligence is last. Be smart enough to never forget that.
     I forgot you can lose your job at any moment. It’s odd that I forgot that as it’s the second time in two months I’ve learned that lesson in the vanilla and sugar worlds. There is a reason why I now hoard every bit of cash that crosses my palm like a squirrel stocking for winter. It can end at any moment. It can end when you think everything is going so well. You have to consistently be ready. Luckily for me, I finally learned the lesson that one daddy isn’t enough and had several dates lined up. But-
     I forgot the protocol. Every other time I’ve wanted to leave a job, no one knew but me- until I turned in my two weeks notice. I quietly searched for and secured another job. I signed an employment agreement. I had a start date. Then I handed in my two weeks. If this was a job too, why hadn’t I followed the same protocol? Why would I deprive myself of money?
     I’ll say it again. I forgot this was a business. I run a service based business and all service based businesses are at the mercy of their customers until they’ve built a customer base large enough and steady enough that one poor experience, one loss doesn’t really matter. I’m not there yet. I don’t know enough about what I’m doing yet. With that in mind, every customer matters. Does every customer matter to such a degree that I’ll compromise myself or my morals in a way that I find repugnant? No. I’ll let a man go and not feel regretful about it. Does this mean that I can show up and behave any way I please and my customer is just supposed to accept it? Some of them will. For reasons I don’t yet understand and that probably have very little to do with me. But I don’t want the precariousness that comes with one man or two. I want the security that comes with two or three men with a possible in the wings.

The intercutting of Snow in labor and the Evil Queen’s carriage making its way towards them is brilliant.

But not as brilliant as Ginnifer Goodwin’s acting in the moment where Snow realizes that she can’t go through the wardrobe with Emma now.

And while I have never shied away from critiquing Snowing’s parenting of Emma, I honestly don’t think they had a choice here.  Yes, they make too much of the fact that she’s the Savior, and sometimes I feel like they lose sight of their daughter in their need to have her be the Savior.  But I think they would have sent her through the wardrobe no matter what.  Because the place Rumple described to them was so hellish that they couldn’t let their daughter suffer like that.  So while they hoped that she would be able to come back and save them, they were going to send her through whether she did or not because they really were trying to give her her best chance.


lose yourself to the sweltering. participate in classes that tell you nothing about the world or yourself, just long-dead poets you yourself can never emulate accurately. drown yourself out in lo-fi and wavering heat. remember how little you matter in the grand scheme of things and how at any moment you could drown a bottle of medicine and it would do no damage to your body, which is something you lost a long time ago. dream of blue-gray children that took an icepick to your fragile heart. walk around with empty eyes and realize you’re not frowning, but you can’t smile either. you are passive. never learn how to distinguish between a cry for help and a plea bargain. sit in your room and stare at the fan, like a frog in boiling water.

i was kinda gullible at some times like if someone told me something as a joke i’d be like “really??” and then i’d realize Wait hold on a moment

i really liked reading and playing video games with edd and the others but i was honestly pretty bad i’d always lose shdhcsx but i tried my best and i would have lots of fun

i never really got angry but there’d be times i would get irritated and >:/ but i would get over it within minutes bc i didnt exactly hold grudges and i had a lot of love in my heart

and like!! i loved being affectionate and i was really confident at times and i loved cheering up people and making them happy

Time - Erik Durm ft. Marco Reus

Time doesn’t love you anymore

“Marcooooo!” I sang, launching myself into my brother’s arms.

“Siiiiiiis!” Marco sang back, equally enthusiastic with a huge grin on his face, catching me and spinning me around. “Jesus, you’ve gotten so heavy now,” he joked, finally setting me down.

I punched his shoulder playfully, rolling my eyes. 5 years since I’d seen my brother and he was still his dorky self.

Marco had never gotten along with our dad, and so the moment he’d been signed by Dortmund he’d left us. He’d tried to contact me, but Dad had always found a way to dodge his letters and phone calls, too afraid that he would lose me too.

But then after he’d realised time wasn’t on my side, he himself had tracked down Marco for me. After months of Skype calls and texts, I’d finally been able to fly out to see him. And so here I was in Dortmund, at Brackel and finally reunited with my brother. For as long as I could be, of course.

“Come on, let me introduce you to the team,” Marco announced, putting his arm around my shoulder and walking me out to the pitch, where a bunch of men stood in black and yellow.

The blue eyes were the first thing I saw, the air around me becoming thick and electric as I found it difficult to breathe. It was like a slap to the face, a face I hadn’t seen in 4 years, a face that haunted my dreams and was the root of my solitude right there in front of me.

Erik Durm’s eyebrows frowned over his deep-set eyes, his pink lips parted in shock as he too recognised me. Nostalgia hit me like a ton of bricks, the park around me disappearing as our last moments together ran their course through my mind.

“You’re making a mistake- Come on, Y/N, think about this,” he begged me, as I grabbed the few items of mine that had taken a place in his home.

“Erik, just don’t-” I managed to say, holding it together in front of him.

He grabbed hold of my hands, pinning them to my sides and stopping me.

“I’m not letting you leave like this. If this is about your brother, we can talk about it, I’m not him, I won’t leave you-”

“This isn’t about him, Erik. I just can’t do this with you, not now, not ever,” I spoke, shaking with the contained sorrow inside of me. My need for him battling with my love for him.

“Y/N, come on, we were going so well, I don’t understand-” he spoke helplessly as I pushed him away, making my way towards the door.

“That’s exactly the thing - you don’t understand, Erik. So the sooner you get it through your head that this is over, the better it’ll be for you.” I announced, not even once taking a final look at him before walking out of his life.

“Y/N? Were you even listening?” Marco’s voice sounded, bringing me back down to earth.

I looked up at him and forced a smile upon his frown, turning to look at the Borussia Dortmund boys.

“It’s nice to meet you all - Marco talks a lot about you!”

And yet somehow he’d failed to mention there was a player who went by the name of Erik Durm in his club. Wonderful.

I avoided Erik’s hard gaze on me, keeping my eyes glued either to the grass or to Marco as I sat in the bleachers, watching them all train. After 30 minutes of suicide drills, Klopp finally gave them a time out.

“Wow, tough life,” I laughed as Marco dramatically sighed and dropped onto the bench beside me, pretending to fall on me. “You smell bad, get awayyyy!”

“Aww, but I love youuuu,” Marco teased.

I squealed as his pulled me into his sweaty arms, purposely rubbing his head against my cheek as I groaned and swatted him away. Finally getting rid of him only to be met with Erik standing in front of me.

My grin faltered, my heart racing at the sight of him. Clad in shorts and a black Dortmund tank that displayed his muscular arms, Erik Durm was everything that a girl could ever ask for. And at that moment, his blue eyes were full of betrayal and hurt as he looked at me.


My name fell off his lips with a malicious caress and had we been alone, I would’ve pushed him on to the grass right there and made sure he never uttered any other girl’s name ever again. But I held it together.


“I didn’t know that Marco was your brother.” He spoke, a fake smile plastered on his face.

“I didn’t know that Marco was your teammate,” I replied, not bothering to return it.

My palms were sweaty and my heart was racing because I didn’t want to have this conversation with him. I didn’t want to answer any of his questions because I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold it together. Not that he would even care, but I wasn’t ready for neither him nor Marco to find out the real reason behind my rash decisions.

“Um - is there something I’m missing here?” Marco asked.

I tore my gaze away from Erik to look at my brother, sighing.

“Erik and I know each other…we were together, a long time ago.” I answered, praying that it wouldn’t change their relationship in any way.

Marco’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, not uttering a word as he looked at Erik.

“So you banged my sister?”

“Marco - it wasn’t like that at all,” I began to reason with him, placing a hand on his shoulder to stop him from getting up.

Erik shook his head, raising his hands up in defense.

“I had no idea she was your sister up until 30 minutes ago,” Erik defended himself.

“Did you break up with her? What the hell happened?” Marco spoke, turning to me. He was now stood up, his hands fisted at his sides.

“Marco, no! I ended it-” I managed to get out, my chest tightening. No, no, no this wasn’t happening. Not now.

“Wait - why?” Marco then asked, frowning.

I opened my mouth to answer but nothing came out, the world around me suddenly spinning. I knew all too well what was happening and reached my hand out to grab a hold of something - anything - but missed as everything suddenly went dark.

- - - - - - 


“Y/N open your eyes!”

“Everyone give her some space, let the medical team handle this.”

“Y/N, if you can hear us, give my finger a squeeze.”

So many different voices called out at once. It was way too bright when I opened my eyes and someone’s finger was shoved in my hand. I heard shouts of relief and blinked several times, faces above me coming into view.

“Thank God,” Marco sighed, the foreign finger leaving my hand, Marco pulling me up into a sitting position.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, giving him a reassuring smile, whilst I was filled with dread on the inside. I knew this was coming, but I’d never thought it would be so soon.

“Let the docs run some tests on you, maybe you’re anemic or something-” Marco began, but I shook my head.

“I’m fine, Marco, don’t worry about it.”

“You heard the girl, she’s fine. All of you go change now, training’s over for the day,” I heard Klopp announce, and was silently thankful.

I stood up as everyone walked off the field, only to find Erik standing there. His arms crossed over his chest, his jaw set firm, his eyes accusing.

- - - - - -

I stood in the pitch as I waited for Marco to return from getting changed. Upon hearing footsteps, I turned around to find him walking towards me.

“All set to go?” I asked, setting aside the dread in me to focus on the moments with my brother, determined I wasn’t going to let my bad luck ruin this for me.

Marco set his things down, crossing his arms.

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.” He replied.

“Th-there’s nothing going on.” I answered him, plastering a smile on my face.

“Bullshit. You’ve always been a shit liar, Y/N.”

“I’m not lying to you.”

“Then what are you hiding from me? Because I know there’s no way Dad just woke up one morning and decided to track me down for you. I know exactly how persuasive you are, and if you were able to you would’ve gotten him to do it long before.”

I swallowed back the lump in my throat, shaking my head and turning away from him so he wouldn’t see the tears that were threatening to spill over.

But of course he wouldn’t have any of that. He marched over and stood in front of me, tipping my chin up to meet his gaze.

“I’m your older brother - I can help, Y/N,” he tried to persuade me, his tone so much more softer now.

“You can’t, Marco. No one can - I-I’m dying, Marco.”

Marco shook his head, unbelieving.

“You- you’re exaggerating. You can’t just-”

“Marco - I have stage 4 leukemia.”

This time, it was he who needed something to hold on to.

He took a step back from me, shaking his head, his hands running over his face.



“No. You can’t- You don’t- This isn’t happening-”

“Marco, listen to me-”

“I just got you back Y/N! God dammit!” He roared, angrily kicking his duffel bag that went flying from the force of his kick.

I sighed, taking a hold of his hands and making him look at me.

“Marco, please, get a hold of yourself,” I told him, tears running down my cheeks. A sight that seemed to steady him as he sighed, shaking his head.

“How long have you known?” he asked me.

“4 years.”

“You-you hid this from me for 4 years?” he demanded, appalled.

“I thought I had time, it was at stage 3 and they thought that the chemo would work…”

“But it didn’t.”

“So I asked Dad to track you down. I just- I needed you back for whatever time I had left.”


I’d never seen my brother cry, yet at this point his eyes were red as he paced back and forth, listening to me.

“Is that why you and Erik ended?” he asked me, and I nodded.

“I couldn’t tell him. I didn’t want him to have to be with someone who was sick, Marco. So I decided it would be best if I left him,” I replied, closing my eyes shut.

“That wasn’t your decision to make, Y/N.” Erik’s voice called out from behind me.

Do you ever think about the moment that Han Solo realized just how much he cared for Luke? The moment he realized he didn’t want to lose him, would to anything in his power to save him?
I do. You can argue that he went back to the Death Star because it was the right thing to do, that Luke’s words got to him and I will agree with you any day of the week
But on Hoth? Running into the freezing cold, looking for a boy that may very well be dead if not worse and risking his life, most likely going straight to his death for some kid?
That’s not the Han Solo way.
When he was told Luke hadn’t come back I think that’s when it clicked for him. He couldn’t lose Luke. And because he’s a lucky bastard he saved both their lives.
Han Solo was scared that the moment he realized how much he cared for and loved Luke was the moment he may have lost him. I think about that a lot

Love Ever Lost

Beth Greene had always been so certain of at least one thing in her life: she understood the meaning of loss. She had seen her father beheaded directly in front of her. Spent months locked away from her family, only to lose herself to a bullet in her scalp moments after she had found them again. Yes, Beth Greene understood loss at its fullest.

It took kneeling on the cold, damp forest floor one night waiting for a death she would soon accept willingly to realize how damn wrong she was.

It would probably be more accurate to say that that night Beth finally understood loss because she discovered it’s levels. Like many, Beth had always mistaken loss to be one word-one emotion. Too soon, she learned the word had its own levels and depths and what each one would do to her.

Level One: Fight and Deny

Beth was living in at the end of times with flesh-eating zombies on her tail at most times of the day. Fear was essential to her now and an ever-present friend: it just so happened to be the friend you avoided like the plague. The friend that thought of you as their best friend, but was really the bane of your existence that you couldn’t get away from, but secretly needed to survive on the days when your true friends were vacant.

It was this friend she clung to as she sat in the metal container. Her hands were fighting solitarily to feebly quench the blood draining out of the gaping bullet hole in Daryl’s shoulder. The faded white sheet had long been stained red with blood from the gunshot wound. Daryl’s face was ghastly pale from blood loss. For the first time since knowing him, Beth saw weakness in his features and defeat. She wasn’t sure which scared her more.

“Daryl, I can’t get the bleeding to stop.” She said, pressing down tighter against the useless material.

“You ain’t gonna. Leave it be.” He muttered, between labored breaths. Beth looked around. No one moved to assist her. All of her companions–Michonne, Glenn and Rosita–seemed lost in their own world; their eyes would occasionally flit to one another, but then be downcast quickly. The fight was gone and it terrified her. Some time ago, she would have relished in this, as it would have been a perfect excuse to end her life without guilt. These people had taught her to fight though and she refused to give up.

“You a fighter or not?” She said, sinking down inches from Daryl’s face. She saw a tiny speck of movement near his eyes. “You made me a fighter, remember? Don’t fucking pussy out on me now!”

“Leave him be, Beth,” Michonne said, reaching her hand out to Beth’s. Beth snatched it away.

“Like hell. He ain’t dying today.” Beth said, not bothering to even look at the other woman. She kept her eyes on the injured archer and was pleased when his met hers with a dangerous glare. “You got something to say?”

“When’d you get such a mouth?” He said, sitting up straighter. The classic half-smirk he sent revived her.

“Probably had something to do with bad moonshine.” Beth said, softening at his teasing.

“Probably.” He agreed. Movement outside made everyone jump. “Beth,” Daryl began, all hint of sarcasm and humor gone instantly, “you’re wrong. I’m dying today, but you ain’t. None of you.” He said, cutting his eyes to each person in the container. “Ya’ll get a shot, you run. I’ll distract them and you will leave.” His eyes strayed to her and stayed there. “I took off and got you here, so I gotta get you out.”

“You didn’t make me follow you.” Michonne whispered. “We chose, not you.”

“Because I went off half-cocked like some stupid asshole.” Daryl whispered. Beth hated the hoarseness of his voice. The pain had to be unbearable, not to mention the loss of his pride.

“None of us are getting out of this.” Glenn mumbled, almost as if he didn’t really care if they did. His nonchalant attitude of acceptance was harder for Beth to face than the certainty of her imminent death.

She had no time left to think on that though as the doors opened. She watched Daryl blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the sudden light. Whatever escape plan they could have formed was gone when they were hauled out to a line of kneeling people: people they knew. People who were their family.

“Mag…Maggie?” Beth’s eyes widened when she heard Glenn’s frantic declaration. Her pregnant sister was kneeling only feet away from her. If it was possible, Maggie looked worse than Daryl. Her lips were blue and she was shaking violently as she fought to keep her body upright. Something was clearly wrong. See his pregnant wife kneeling in evident pain seemed to revive Glenn and he fought against their captors as they forced him to his knees.

Suddenly, Daryl’s hand wrapped around Beth’s wrist, his blood staining her skin as he kept her from running to her sister’s aid. He gently pulled her down to the ground until she was kneeling between him and Rosita. Beth kept her focus on her sister. Maggie’s eyes stayed with Glenn who was leaning forward as far as he could, as if that simple movement would take him to his wife. Beth closed her eyes and willed them dry.

“Alright, looks like we got a full tent.” The man who had ordered Dwight to lock them up earlier said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s meet the man.”

Beth tried to stay calm as the man walked towards the RV. She almost succeeded, even as it opened, until she looked down the line.

Almost at the end of the line up, she saw a body literally quaking. It was shaking with no control as sweat poured down its face. It’s eyes darted in all directions like a rodent caught in a trap, unable to escape its grasp.

Beth couldn’t say she was ever more afraid than in the moment she realized Rick Grimes had been brought to his knees too.

Level Two: Cold Fear

“Pissing our pants yet?” The man said, smiling wide as he stepped out of the trailer. “Oh boy,” he continued, “do I have a feeling we’re getting close.” Beth knew in that moment that they were going to die that night. This man wouldn’t be reasoned with; he enjoyed taunting them. Over his shoulder, Beth could see he was carrying a baseball bat with wire wrapped around its fat end.

Beth kept her eyes downcast as the man began walking in slow turns around their semi-circle.”Yep. Gonna be pee-pee in the pants city here real soon. Which one of your pricks is the leader?” He asked, extending his hand to each of them. No one spoke.

“It’s this one,” called one of the men who surrounded them, pointing down to Rick. “He’s the guy.”

The man with the bat stepped directly in front of their leader. “Hi. You’re Rick, right?” He asked. “I’m Negan and I do not appreciate you killing my men. Also, when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people, you killed more of my people. Not cool…” Negan drawled, “not cool. You have no idea how not cool that shit is, but I think you’re going to be up to speed shortly.” Negan paused, “Yeah. You are so going to regret crossing me in a few minutes.” Beth couldn’t help the shudder that went through her as the man smiled down at Rick. “Yes you are.”

Beth chanced a look around her. They were surrounded by men and trees. There was not even an inch available to crawl through them. She tried to focus on the one-sided conversation Negan seemed to be having with Rick, but she got the impression he was speaking solely to hear his own voice and the shell of her family cowering before this man took her attention. It wasn’t until she saw Negan lazily swing his bat down towards Rick that her eyes focused on the father-like figure she had known for almost five years.

“Give me your shit or I will kill you.” Negan announced, smile ever-present. “Today was career day,” he continued, walking down the line towards her. Beth noticed Maggie was hunching over between Rick and Abraham; it was getting harder for her to stay kneeling with every minute. “We invested a lot so that you would know who I am and what I could do. You work for me now.” Negan declared, pointing his bat at Rick. “You have shit, you give it to me. That’s your job.” To her right, Daryl remained stone, emotionless to the insult. “Now I know that is a mighty big, nasty pill to swallow, but swallow it you most. Certainly. Will.” The man enjoyed the theatrics, Beth had to give him that. “…the word is out. You are not safe, not even close.” The man continued taunting them and Beth closed her eyes, fighting to remain calm.

When she opened her eyes, Negan had stepped back to address them all. “You don’t really think you were going to get out of this without being punished, did you?” Rick’s eyes stayed low, all resemblance of the prideful man she had known gone. “I don’t want to kill you people. Just want to make that clear from the get go. I want you to work for me. You can’t do that if you’re dead, can you? But,” Negan droned on, “ you killed my people–a whole damn lot of ‘em–more than I’m comfortable with and for that, you gonna pay.” Negan said, looking around the line up. “So now, I’m going to beat the holy hell out of one of you.” Suddenly, he began swinging the bat down and across his body as if he was in a circus, juggling. “This is Lucille and she is awesome.” He said, speaking of the bat as if it was a person he adored. “All this…all this is just so that we can pick out which one of you gets the honor.”

Beth realized then that not all of them would die tonight; only one. This would be a single execution; she may have just been given a reprieve, but she still felt like heaving, especially when Negan began taunting Carl. She had watched him grow from a young, shy boy with a crush to an almost man. To watch him be taunted sent her into a rage. She took a deep, steadying breath to keep herself on her knees. Her eyes shot open when the man addressed her sister next.

“Jesus,” Negan drawled, coming up to Maggie, “you look shity. Maybe I should just put you out of your misery right now.” He said, standing up with Lucille perched over his shoulder, ready to swing.

“No!” It was instantaneous. Beth jumped to her feet as Glenn dove for Maggie. Neither reached her. The man who had captured them tackled Glenn to the ground while another wrapped his arm around Beth’s middle, hauled her back and threw her down. Barely able to kneel, Daryl still managed to catch and steady her before her face hit the ground.

“Stop it!” Beth heard Maggie screaming as two more men stepped forward and began kicking Glenn. “Stop it!” She screamed, hysterically.

“Nope…nope.” She heard Negan mutter, shaking his head. “Get’em back in line.”

“No…” Glenn sobbed as Dwight dragged him away from his wife. Maggie’s body was now shaking with sobs.

“Don’t any of you do that again.” Negan said, never losing control. “I will shut that shit down. No exceptions.” He added, piercing each of them with a glare. “The first one’s free. It’s an emotional moment.” He stated, casually. “I get it,”  Negan added, smiling at Glenn.

Beth visibly shook at the evil of the man. He didn’t miss it. Suddenly his eyes found her for the first time and the smirk that followed caused her to shake again. He walked towards her, his bat swinging casually at his side like a pet on a leash. Beth felt Daryl twitch next to her; his hand was inches from hers, but he remained still.

“Well, you weren’t actually the first one, darling, were you?” He said, kneeling in front of her. Beth fought to keep her breathing even. “Shit, you do have some fine merchandise here, Rick.” Negan called out, quickly cutting his eyes to each woman in the line up before resting them on the blonde woman in front of him.

Beth stiffened at the insult, but stayed silent. She fought not to recoil when Negan brought the bat up to her face and gently ran it down her cheek, as if it were his fingers caressing her. It was pure instinct that made her to twist away when the wire scratched her at the base of her cheek. Her skin burned as a trickle of blood ran down onto her neck. She closed her eyes and tried to visualize a better time than this. She failed when she heard Negan cackle.

“You are a pretty one, sweetheart.” Negan said, his breath sickeningly clean against her. “Which one of these shitheads do you belong to?” He said, twirling a piece of her hair in his fingers. She stayed silent.

Negan stared at her a moment longer before standing suddenly. He looked around the group for a moment before pointing at Beth with Lucille. “Do I look stupid to any of you? You are not going to tell me that ain’t one of you pencil dicks not fucking that?” Not gonna tell me that.” He said, as the men around him sneered.

“Is it Jr. Rick over there?” He said, pointing Lucille down the line at Carl. Beth showed no emotion. “Nope.” Negan said, answering his own question. “You know what? I’m damn curious now.”  

Before she could move to avoid it, Beth felt herself hauled up by her hair and thrown in front of the group. She tried to make eye contact with Rick, but all she got was a pained, panicked glance before his eyes were darting around again. She refused to look in Daryl’s direction at all. It would be better that way; she was certain that the protector in him was struggling to remain still as Negan humiliated her.

“Who’s gonna claim her?” Negan yelled, throwing his hand up in a wide circle as if he was at a casino, calling for bets. The men jeered. No one moved. There wasn’t anyone to claim her. Negan was wrong; she belonged to no man in their family. Even as she said it, she waited for the confirmation that would certainly come soon to falsify her the thought. No words had been spoken to suggest it, but Beth knew the closest she came to having a partner was Daryl. Ever since the prison fall and their time alone, they had stayed within each other’s sight at all times. Only while she had been at Grady had she not been around Daryl; if she were being honest, he was one of the reasons she had kept walking and fighting her way back to her family after she had recovered from being shot. They had all thought her dead, but she had refused to give up. Finding them in Alexandria had been one of the happiest moments of her short life thus far. Daryl had literally fallen to his knees at sight of her standing at the gate. There was certainly a connection between them that neither tried to deny, but neither of them had pursued it either.

“Hmm…maybe he don’t love you, sweetheart?” He said, bending down to Beth’s level; he placed a hand gently on her shoulder as if to comfort her. Out of the corner of her eye, Beth saw Daryl stiffen. “Wanna find out?” Negan taunted. “I do.” He said, before reeling up and back handing her. The blow was fierce and it brought Beth forward. She hadn’t had chance to right herself before Negan’s boot had collided with her stomach and she rolled over to her back, clutching the wounded skin.

“Leave her alone,” Beth heard Carl yell from where he kneeled, his face pinched from frustration.

“Mother fucker!” She heard Daryl growl. Looking up, she saw him rush forward, barely rising from his knees in his need to get to her. His injury seemed forgotten in that moment.  

“Found him…I think!” Negan shouted before sending a solid kick to Daryl’s head.

“Leave her be.” Daryl grunted, his face in the dirt.

Negan seemed to ignore him. Instead, he walked around them both in a lazy circle, shaking his head. “This shit is interesting right here.” Beth kept her eyes on Daryl, refusing to make eye contact with the basterd. Quickly, Daryl righted himself so he was kneeling directly in front of her.

“Was I wrong, sweetheart?” Negan said, peering down at Beth again. “Who’s enjoying you these days? The kid or the wingless wonder here?” Beth’s fear elevated as she realized one of the two most important people in her life was going to die tonight and it was going to be her fault.

“It’s me,” Daryl drawled, rolling his eyes beside her. “She’s mine.” Beth looked up at Daryl and, even now, was surprised by the intensity of the gaze he fixed her with. Whatever charade they were engaged in with Negan, there was no hint of deception in the way he said those words. He meant what he said. Whether they had discovered what they were to one another was irrelevant; both knew that she was his. The realization sent Beth into a tailspin. Her breathing quickened until she was sucking in deep gulps of air just to breathe.

“She’s yours, alright,” Negan said, approvingly. “That is sheer panic, my friend,” He said, bending down close to Beth before turning to smile at Daryl. “You’re a lucky man, luckier than me.”

The men surrounding them all began to cackle; Beth saw Daryl’s eyes crease in confusion.

“Just curious,” Negan said, still smiling, “are you willing to part with her?” The man asked the question like she was a used car.

“Just kill me and get it over with,” Daryl said, irritated with the mind games.

“Suit yourself,” Negan said, raising Lucille again.

“Don’t..God…” Beth begged, dragging herself over to Daryl. “Don’t…please.” Beth begged, as tears streamed out and her breathing became rougher.

Daryl dragged her face to where she was forced to look him in the eyes, inches away. “Don’t you ever fucking beg for me.” He said intensely, before pushing her away. Out of nowhere, two men grabbed Beth by her legs and began dragging her away. She fought and screamed at the top of her lungs, her nails digging into the ground. The men, all of them, just laughed.

Level Three: Heartbreak of Nothing

“You know what? This isn’t fair.” Negan said, stopping Lucille in mid-air. “Get back in line.” He said, kicking Daryl away from him. “It’s not punishment if I kill you just have her, is it?”

Beth breathed a sigh of relief when Daryl almost fell to his knees beside her. “If I don’t pick her though, we are going to have to have this chat again.”

Negan was walking away as he said it, but somehow, in that moment, Beth knew.

“No!” The sound was animalistic as it tore itself out of her. As if he had been summoned, Negan raced down the line, swinging Lucille proper. The wooden atrocity made a sickening crack as it collided.

She felt Daryl catch her as she saw the blood seeping down the side of her face. Her vision was fading, but she looked at him still. She heard Maggie screaming, but looked to Daryl’s shimmering figure alone.

After all she’d been through, it infuriated Beth that she had been brought down by a man’s blow. As her vision rapidly darkened, Beth swore she heard a gun go off. Overwhelming that background noise though was Daryl’s voice, pleading.

“Don’t fucking do this again, Beth. Come on, girl!” He begged, his forehead falling down against hers.

As her vision went completely black, she wished she wasn’t.

Beth knew she wasn’t dead. Heaven wouldn’t smell like rubbing alcohol and blood, she hoped. She began to shake when she realized she was in a hospital room again. Grady. Her breathing picked up and she heard a machine going off. Her eyes refused to open though and it only accelerated her panic. She tried to sit up, but a wave of dizzying nausea pulled her back down. She felt tears slide down her cheeks and noticed a ferocious burning as they fell across her temple; It reminded her of when she was nine years old. She had fallen off her horse onto the gravel that led to the stables, scraping her knee. The burning had been fierce when the tears hit the open, bleeding skin.

Only when she felt a calloused hand gently grab her own did Beth realize that whether she was at Grady or not, she would be safe. She would be safe with that hand in hers, even if this was Hell. But, Beth knew she wasn’t dead. What she wanted to know was how she wasn’t dead.

“How?” She whispered, still unable to open her eyes.

“Dwight,” Daryl whispered, bringing her hand up to cradle it in both of his own. “He shot Negan after he hit you. It reminded him of what the man had done to his wife; he couldn’t stand with it, I guess.”

“Is he dead?” Beth whispered, moving her eyelids up slightly. She saw a bright light before shutting them again to avoid the pounding pain that had suddenly pulsed in her head.

Daryl stayed quiet, but the pressure in her hand told her Negan was alive.

“Rick let him live.” She induced.

“Said he’d serve as a reminder to stay who we are.” Daryl growled. It was clear in his voice just what he thought of Rick’s decision. “Don’t worry though. First chance I get, he’s mine.” The depth of hatred and rage with which Daryl spoke terrified her. She ignored the pulsing pain and forced her eyes open.

“Speaking of yours?” Beth said, focusing her eyes on him. He looked so much better than he had last time she’d seen him. His dark complexion hadn’t completely returned, but the pale look of near-death was gone. All to show of his gunshot wound was a bruised scar of purple, raised skin sewn shut with stitching. Daryl wouldn’t allow a cast on his arm, she was certain. He wouldn’t want to be contained by it.

“I meant what I said,” was the only reply Daryl offered. There would be no glorious declaration of love from him and Beth was certain there never would be. She also knew that Daryl would never be the one to make the first romantic gesture. He didn’t have it in him, which was why Beth used whatever strength she had left in that moment to encase her hand around his wrist and pull him down until his face was mere centimeters away.

That’s why she was beyond shocked when he grabbed her suddenly by the back of head and brought her lips to his. There was no gentleness in the kiss, even though his hand held her up gently. Raw need to prove she was still there flowed from him into her as he moved his lips against her. Apparently, Bet had been wrong to think him so shy.

She was okay with losing this game though.