Charlie, trying to cheer Adam up: Hey I know Hell can be a bit much, and we do have bad stuff happen to us but it’s not all bad! There’s parts of Hell that are just so different, and it can be amazing. And hey, your son Cain is here! He’s actually kind of a big deal, the very first overlord and all. He’s retired now and is the leader of the biblical settlement outside of pentagram city if you want to……Adam?

Sinner Adam, staring down at Charlie with wide eyes because Heaven told him all his kids chose to be reincarnated because the winner and sinner system hadn’t been set up yet until when Adam died: Cain’s here?

Vaggie, going ice cold from surprise as she sees desperation on Adam’s face for the first time: Oh shit he was human underneath all that asshole

homecoming

hazel callahan x fem! reader.

summary; loving her was a sin, but if there was a hell, you’d go with her.

cw; +18 content, minors dni!, we’re in the 80s!, both reader and hazel are 18!!, inspired by homecoming from ethel cain, homophobia, angst, pining, both reader and hazel being in love, kissing, crying, hair pulling, mentions of the bible, god and hell, fingering (r! receiving)…

you’re staring at her, and she can’t be more beautiful. it hurts. everything about it hurts. her suit matches her beautiful eyes, and her hair looks so soft you just want to dip her fingers in and tug. tug her closer. until there is no distance in between the two of you. until you can breathe from her lips, until nothing else exists.

but you can’t. and it just breaks you apart like a porcelain doll smashed against the floor.

her name is just as beautiful as her. hazel. like the spring, like the earth and the green. and just like the season, she brings butterflies to your stomach, makes goosebumps bloom like flowers on your skin. and she’s so warm…

she’s a sin. but such a pretty one… maybe they all are. would it make a difference? everything else evaporated as she takes your hand, like the blood in your veins. you want the blue in her eyes to bathe you clean.

“dance with me?” she asks, as if you could resist, as if you weren’t on her knees and begging for her to a god that forbid this sickening love that drenches your bones.

and you nod, ‘cause there are no words you could muster. not when she’s this close, when her fingers are laced in between yours and her cologne is suffocating you.

you’re more patient now than you ever have been.

her smile is blinding, and you can just follow her to the mass of teenagers dancing in the middle of the room, even when your heart is about to burst out of your chest and your stomach is tying in knots.

you’re more brave now that you ever have been.

her hands are on your waist, and your arms are around her neck. and you’re dancing, slow. you feel like one of those princesses in the fairytales your mom would read you when you were just a mere kid, with glass heels and satin fluffy dresses, in between the arms of a prince. you wanted to smash the crystal below your feet and break it to pieces, dance bare feet on the remains of the happily ever after that you won’t get.

“you look beautiful.” she whispers, and your cheeks redden. your heart flips, and you wish this weren’t the way it all goes, but you can’t help but say it back.

“you too.” you stare into her eyes, shying when she smiles, pulling you closer against her chest. you swore you could feel the quickened heartbeat of her heart. hazel fears you do.

you could feel her breath on your neck, through your homecoming dress before she speaks again.

“can i tell you a secret?” you nodded, your soul blooming in a field of flowers when she spoke those four words against your ear. “i’m desperate for you.”

and even though you felt complete, you couldn’t help but want to push her away, punch her in the face. ‘cause your love was so big. you wanted it to be her problem too.

there, just inches away from her, from her plushy reddish lips…four left feet in a room, always all over her. why had you had to fall in love with her?

and you both knew this was how it goes. you both get too close ’til you fucking explode.

you only tugged her closer, burying your face on her neck to hide your blushing, your nerves, but mostly your fear. you couldn’t look her in the eyes, into this sin.

“don’t look now but everyone’s staring at us weird.” she said, and your breath hitched.

“is it just me or there’s no air in here?” you could feel your chest tighten, millions of eyes on you.

but you’d take it all. stand there and bleed under the knives their eyes sent you if that meant you could stay in between her arms just one more minute, one more second.

“just breathe. i’m right here.” she promised, holding you tight.

everyone was watching you. you couldn’t breath.

“can’t we just leave?” you muttered, and she nodded. you wanted to run away with her, run to where no one would know you, would see you.

she took your hand, and you followed as you two left the prom, the hallways of your high school felt sickeningly cold, yet she kept you warm, hand on hand.

it was all a blur as you two ran through them, eyes on the back of her head, on her flowy soft black hair, and before you knew you were inside the bathrooms, your back against the cold tiles as she looked into your eyes.

“tell me i shouldn’t.” she whispered against your lips, one of her hands cupping your cheek. your eyes met her lips.

your fist tightened on the jacket of her suit, knuckles turning white as you leaned closer to her, until your lips were hers and hers yours. you closed your eyes, relishing on this love that you were gifted, this cursed love that you couldn’t scape.

tears were soaking your eyes, ruining the makeup your mother had helped you put on. you were gutted. your hands found her hair, tugging. you wanted to hurt her. break her just like she had broken you.

“i wish you were a boy…” you muttered in a sob, and hazel’s eyes fell. she silently kissed you again. and you let her. they said love hurt, and you were ready to die for it.

the kiss only got deeper, so deep you were drowning. you wished there was no god. no heaven. no hell.

“i love you.” she muttered against your neck, softly kissing it, pressing you harder against the wall.

“don’t.” you begged. “please, don’t.”

“i’m sorry. i’ll go to hell for it. but i do.” tears were brimming her eyes as well.

you kissed her to quiet her. you needed her to hush it all. to not speak up this forbidden love that hung in between the two of you.

her tongue pushed inside your mouth and you moaned.

“please, hazel. make me forget…” you pleaded, starred eyes staring into her soul, and her shaky warm hands crept under the skirt of your dress, pushing aside your panties to feel how wet you’ve become for her. you cried out when you felt her fingers dive in between your slick folds, her fingertips tracing soft circles against your clit. you pulled on her hair, making her grunt.

“you’re so beautiful…” she repeated, if she could she would say it over and over again until she’d lose her voice. a whimper fell from your parted and swollen lips when she pushed her middle finger inside you, fucking you slowly. it was as if she were trying to make love to you. to convince you that this was no sin. just love.

you could believe her.

“i love you.” you cried on her shoulder, your hips pushing against her touch. “i love you so much it hurts.” she kissed your cheek, your forehead and your lips.

she hushed you, her free hand coming to softly brush your hair as she added a second finger, curling them and making you moan. “just focus on me, alright? just me, sweet girl. i’m right here, baby.” she kissed you once again, painfully slow and sweet. you could feel yourself rotting in it, vanishing as your orgasm approached, whimpers and whines being swallowed by hazel as she worked you towards it.

“hazel…” you called out for her.

“i know. i know. just let go for me, princess, let go.” you cried out as it hit you, your hips sputtering and your chest rising in a deep breath. you whole body shook at its intensity, and hazel made sure to help you ride it until it became too much for you. she pulled her fingers out of you just to push them into her mouth to taste you. you were heaven on her tongue.

you needed a taste.

and as you kissed her, holding her close to your heart, you whispered.

“if there’s a hell, i will go with you.”

and that’s a promise no god could break.

-

a/n; relatable

Fighting Fire With Fire Part Three:

Pharmakon And The LK8-4167 Licence Plate

(read parts one and two here)

This really has been the season of licence plates for me. I’ve written about the resurrection symbolism around the XH6-S781 and the LC6M187 licence plates. Today I want to expand on the licence plate LK8-4167 that we first saw in 5x10 WHAWGO. A brilliant Bethyler back in the ancient times of Early Team Delusional discovered that it could potentially refer to the Bible verse Luke 8, which happend to tell a story of resurrection (If anyone remembers the name of the person who discovered this, let me know so I can give them proper credit).

Then, when 6x10 A New World rolled around, we saw the same licence plate again, which I wrote about in this post from a few weeks ago.

There’s actually a third car with this particular license plate. It appears in 6x6 Always Accountable, and the scene and episode in which it appears is full of resurrection symbolism. Let’s dive in!

I first wrote about the LK8-4167 license plate in this post from 2020. It’s old and somewhat dated, but it’s also fairly thorough, check it out for the basics of the three/tree/trunk symbolism.

The licence plate first came on to TD’s radar after 5x9 WHAWGO. Obviously, 5x9 was the first episode after Beth had been shot at Grady, and it was also the last episode Beth appeared in, as she appeared in Tyreese’s fever dream before he died.

WHAWGO was an episode where the audience needed to pay attention. One can argue that TPTB intentionally tried to trick the audience from the get-go, for starters, it opened with someone digging a grave. Everyone assumed it was Beth’s grave, as her “death” had been the last thing we saw in the episode prior. Then came the plot twist, when it turned out to be Tyreese’s grave. We still don’t know if/where/when/how Beth was buried, we learned from Talking Dead that 17 days had passed between 5x8 Coda and 5x9 WHAWGO, but we know nothing of what transpired in those days.

The lack of a funeral for Beth, and an outright fake “trick” funeral intended to lure us into believing she had been buried has emerged as one of the most pressing unanswered questions for Team Delusional. Was she buried? If so, where? When? And if not, why?

Glenn explained the rules back in season one: "We bury the ones we love, and burn the rest". Through the years we've seen an enormous focus on getting people, and at times animals like goats and sometimes even baseball bats, a proper burial.

But not Beth. Why not? TD has questions.

As the group struggled to save Tyreese in WHAWGO, we could hear Beth’s voice singing Struggling Man in the backround. We watch them reach the cluster of cars where they were parked, and we see this female walker in a car. Interstingly, we see this scene paralleled in 6X6 Always Accountable, where a walker was trapped in a car in a similar way:

And while we hear Beth/Emily singing Struggling Man in the background, we see Rick deliver this line, which is a callback to when Beth sang the Tom Waits classic "Hold On" at the prison back in season 3:

There’s something strange about how they all reacted with fear and horror to the cluster of cars, it's as though something had happened that inflicted some kind of shared trauma associated with walkers in cars on them.

We also saw that in the next episode 5x10 Them, where they came across a different cluster of cars along the road, and reacted as though it was the most frightful sight ever. It was in one of these cars Maggie found the blond, tied up walker, a walker that has been confirmed to be meant as a reference to Beth, in a scene that seemed to haunt Maggie to an almost unreasonable degree.

It doesn't quite add up. They were all seasoned survivers at this point, they had all seen, and neutralized, countless walkers. What was it about the walkers trapped in cars from WHAWGO and Them that stood out to them as particularly terrifying and traumatizing?

This could be a reference to another cornerstone TD belief. Had Beth been left in a car during a walker attack directly after the events of 5x8 Coda? Is that why she was so heavily surreounded by trunk symbolism? Was it foreshadowing?

And as they desperately tried to get their car unstuck from the mud, we saw the red vehicle with the LK8-4167 license plate.

When we seek out the corresponding verse in the Bible, we find a story about healing a girl and a resurrection. We’ve heard Beth’s voice singing Struggling Man up until this very moment.

"She is not dead but asleep".

However you might feel about it, it's hard to deny that the licence plate could refer to resurrection. And it's difficult to argue it was about Tyreese. We saw Tyreese get stabbed through the brain to prevent him from reanimating. And we saw him get buried. The symbolism was not about him.

It is much more likely that it was about the girl whose voice we heard in the background the whole time, the girl we never saw put down or buried, the girl who was also last seen in 5x9 WHAWGO. It’s more likely that it was about the girl who's been surrounded by all kinds of resurrection symbolism, and who's been closely paralleled with Rick, someone who now has died and resurrected twice.

The fact that there were human torsos (or simply "trunks") stored in the car is three/tree/trunk symbolism, which I’ve talked about elsewhere (such as here and here), and I won’t discuss that in this post.

But let's now return to the licence plate we saw in 6x6 Always Accountable. It's an interesting episode for many reasons, and it's also an episode in which we learn more on how TWDU uses the concept of "fighting fire with fire".

As Daryl, Sasha and Abraham finish operation Lead The Walkers Away, and are about to return home to Alexandria, they are suddenly attacked. As they speed up to outrun the gunfire, the become separated from each other. And it is during this car chase we see the third LK8-4167 licence plate:

Daryl takes a tumble right next to a Jeep Cherokee. I went into great detail on the resurrection symbolism around that, and how Jeep Cherokees and Cherokee Roses are synonymous, here.

He falls off his bike, injures his elbow but quickly gets back up on the horse. I'm not going to overstate the symbolism of that small detail, but it does constitute a representation of falling down (death) and getting back up (resurrection). On it's own it's merely a fun fact, rather than some super compelling evidence of resurrection symbolism, however it does fall in line with everything else we see, so I'll allow it. Let's agree it indicates resurrection symbolism at the very least. And it happened directly after we had seen the LK8-4167 license plate, that we now know represent resurrection.

Also, we did see a Jeep Cherokee at the end of 5x8 Coda, as Daryl carried Beth's seemingly lifeless body out of Grady Memorial, it's in the bottom left corner in this pic:

Keep the Jeep Cherokee in mind, because we'll return to it shortly.

Every Bethyler watching instantly knew that 6x6 Always Accoutable would be a treasure trove of Bethyl-coded symbolism the minute we saw this shot from after Daryl’s bike broke down:

He immediately tries to establish contact with Sasha and Abraham, but they’re out of radio reach. When they don’t respond he goes out in search of them.

He soon gets into trouble when Dwight, Sherry and Tina finds him and mistakes him for one of Negan’s Saviors. They tie him up and take him through a burnt forest that used to be their home, before it was overrun with walkers.

This is a good time to once again reflect on the meaning of pharmakon, a poison and a cure. Fighting fire with fire.

As they walk through the burnt forest, we get subtle clues pertaining to the fire symbolism through the dialogue:

Dwight and Sherry explains how they flooded the area with fuel, lit up a matchbook from the Sweetwater Beer Company, then the walkers "just walked right into the flames”.

Notice how Dwight and Sherry here reveal something crucial about how the wildfire virus affects the walkers? Walkers, meaning wandering undead corpses having succumbed to the wildfire virus, are hardwired to walk right into fire!

They are drawn to flames! This is quite iterally fighting wildfire with fire.

Then, it’s also important to note that the reference to "the Sweetwater" is a reference to the beer bottle in which Daryl placed a Cherokee Rose and gave to Carol in 2x4 Cherokee rose. Sweetwater is a brand of beer. The beer bottle he used was one from Sweetwater. And as I’ve explained here, ethanol/beer is the key to the cure, the antidote, the pharmakon.

And as we remember from season 3, Daryl placed a Cherokee Rose on Carol's empty grave, marking it as a scene for a future "resurrection", symbolism which was fulfilled when she was found alive in the tombs of the prison a few episodes later.

Daryl is eventually able to break free from Dwight and Sherry, and as he escapes into the woods, we see a walker with a Cherokee Rose on its back:

Again, this is the first Cherokee Rose we've seen since season 3, it's quite a significant moment, symbolism wise, because it's all about resurrection.

Then we turn our attention to Abraham and Sasha. They eventually end up near the same Jeep Cherokee, where they have a conversation about being left behind and having someone return for them. Again, TD has discussed these themes for years in relation to Beth and those 17 days post-Coda.

Many of us believe Beth was left behind in Atlanta, for reasons we don’t yet know. It’s significant that Abe and Sasha talk about these themes about being left behind and someone coming back next to the Jeep Cherokee.

This plays into the widely held TD belief that whatever it was that happened after Coda, it somehow involved getting overwhelmed by walkers, then placing Beth in the trunk of a car (foreshadowed in Still and Them), with every intention of returning to her, but then for some reason being prevented from doing so. And when they eventually did, perhaps she was "just gone".

Back to Daryl for a minute. Being who he is, he tries to make allies and friends out of Dwight and Sherry. This backfires on him as they betray him and steal his bike and his crossbow.

But Daryl is resourceful, and manages to find a truck full of fuel hidden under some greenery:

Please note the licence plate, PATTY002, on a truck labeled 002. I've discussed these numbers in countless other posts, so I won't elaborate on it here. However, it needs to be mentioned, because the symbolism around the 22/Morningstar/Lightbringer comes into play in a big way.

I'll just briefly mention that we could easily draw on the "one one" of Noah's t-shirt, we could interpret the 2 as in roman numerals II, which could also be read as the number 11, which again could be a reference to TWD 10x11 Morningstar.

We could also interpret the two 2's as the number 22, which I've written extencively about. Again it is a Morningstar reference, and it highlights the duality that we see around "pharmakon", in that both Christ and the Devil has been referred to as the Morningstar. Lucifer Morningstar. Lucifer means Lightbringer. The Devil and Christ. A poison and a cure. Fighting fire with fire.

Obviously, Sirius and Venus are both morning stars, in that they appear in the morning (and for the record, Venus is a planet, but was initially percieved to be two wandering stars, one that appeared at evening time and one that appeared in the morning)

And all of that suddenly comes into play, when Abraham finds a yellow Humvee with some serious rocket launchers, or should I say “light-bringers”, included.

And it's a good thing he did, because in 6x8 No Way Out, on their way home to Alexandria Safe Zone, they run into this group of unsavory characters; Negan's Saviors.

The Saviors demonstrate an atrocious lack of manners, and Daryl eventually teaches them a lesson, using one of Abraham's rocket launchers.

The symbolism here is interesting. The rocket launchers came from a yellow Humvee, something which brings our minds to the other yellow vehickles that's encompassed by the "yellow" symbolism. I wrote about it here.

And Daryl reached for one from the back of the 002 Patty002 fuel truck, which could be interpreted as part of the "one one" Morningstar symbolism, as well as the 22 Morningstar/Lightbringer symbolism.

But we learn more about how it relates to the pharmakon/fighting fire with fire symbolism once they reach Alexandria:

Alexandria Safe Zone, now completely overrun by a massive walker horde, is losing the battle against death. The undead outnumber and outcompete the living.

But Daryl has learned something from his encounter with Dwight and Sherry. He now knows that the walkers are drawn to flames, that the wildfire virus is attracted to fire. He arranges for the fuel to be poured into the lake, and then fires a rocket into it. The lake blows up in an inferno of flames, and as anticipated, the walkers walk right into the fire. Fire destructs the wildfire virus. Fighting fire with fire.

And above all, it’s very poignant Lightbringer/Morningstar symbolism. Daryl’s rocket launcher literally lights up the place.

The LK8-4167 licence plate is about resurrection. And resurrection in TWDU is associated with fire. We've seen that through the Sirius symbolism throughout the seasons. The Sirius symbolism revolves around Sirius The Dog Star, which returns to the sky one morning right before dawn, after having been gone for some time. Beth became inextricably linked with the Sirius symbolism after 4x13 Alone. The word "Sirius" comes from Greek "Seirios" and means "glowing, scorching.

Sirius The Dog Star returns one morning right before dawn... or shall we say sunrise?

An interesting detail is that while Daryl is out in the burnt forest with Dwight and Sherry, Sasha and Abraham seek temporary refuge inside the offices of a car insurance company called Sunrise Auto Insurance.

Remember Operation Cobalt, which included the decision to try to contain the spread of the wildfire virus by dropping napalm bombs on metropolitan areas all over the North American continent, likely killing hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of civilians. An alternative name for Operation Cobalt was the Sunset Protocol:

If "sunset" represents the end of humanity due to the wildfire virus itself, in addition to the use of napalm on civilians, through Operation Cobalt and the sunset protocols... could "sunrise" represent the opposite? A cure or an antidote. Pharmakon?

Both "sunrise" and "sunset" describes actions of the sun, which is a literal burning ball of gas. Fighting fire with fire.

And of course, there's this scene, in which we saw a "resurrection" of sorts, when the music box "came back to life" during a beautiful sunset after a particularly stormy night:

Sunrise heralds resurrection. Literally and metaphorically speaking.

Finally, a few words on things to potentially be exited about going foreward. In the TWD World Beyond coda, it was more than implied that the origin of the wildfire virus came out of a French lab. The grafitti on the wall translates to "the dead were born here".

We now also know that the French created variant walkers, specifically designed to function as weapons. In TWDDD 1x12 L'ame Perdue, we saw Daryl cross paths with one of these variants called les brûlant, burners, due to their blood that burn like acid when it comes into contact with human skin.

We saw Daryl suffer a bad burn, and we saw how he was later treated with cauterization, a technique that involves burning the affected area with a red hot iron. The "cure" hides in plain sight; fighting fire with fire.

Isabel explains that cauterization is they best way to prevent burns from les brûlant from spreading. It's a small scene, but it is one of the first things we learn about how the virus has affected France, and more importantly, it is confirmation that the symbolism is the same across TWDU: fighting fire with fire. A burn from a burner/brûlant is healed with cauterization, fire... Again, we see fire as pharmakon, a poison and a cure.

@bookqueenrules recently made me aware of a yellow car that's been involved in filming of what appears to be large parts of season 2. I wonder if it could possibly be a Jeep Wrangler. That would be an interesting reference to the symbolism around Carol's Jeep Cherokee from season 1, and it ties in nicely with all the other yellow vehicles we've come across that has serious resurrection undertones to them.

Having said that, I'm no car expert, and it could easily be something else entirely, time will tell. But it is yellow, that's for sure, and therefore it's part of the yellow vehicle symbolism, Jeep or not.

(ETA: I think it might be a Land Rover, now that I’m looking at it. But like I said, I’m not an expert, it could be anything really)

These symbols, the fire symbolism, the yellow symbolism and the Jeep Cherokee/Cherokee Rose symbolism, they intersect in really powerful ways, and I'm super exited to see how this all continues in TWDDD season 2, The Book Of Carol. And the concept of pharmakon, a poison and a cure, exists on both sides of the Atlantic.

What does Reeca Smith look like? I tried looking up photos but nothing seems to come up..

I got a few asks about Reeca Smith so I thought I would combine them here <3, thank you guys for the questions !!

As for the first ask: sorry some of these are aren’t the best quality 😩 but all these pictures of Reeca in 1974 were taken from the documentary “Elvis: Heartbreaker” also called “Elvis’ Women” or “Loving Elvis” depending on the country where you are streaming it

Reeca is on the right in this group photo

And this is Reeca pictured with the Trans Am that Elvis purchased for her ⬇️

If you’re in the North America and unable to watch the documentary, here is a tutorial that I posted awhile back, it still works and I use this method myself !! ⬇️

Second ask: As for any intimacy, this is all that Reeca has said on the subject ⬇️

Since she didn't mention kissing or any other form of intimacy in her most recent interview, I'm assuming it wasn't something that played a major role in their relationship. She has stated that Elvis and her would mostly just talk, and that he especially enjoyed just reading the Bible to her. I think Reeca’s dynamic with Elvis was exactly the same as girls like Heidi, Frances, Gloria and Arlene. All of those girls have only ever talked about Elvis in high regards, and I think that really does speak volumes

However, although these girls don’t see themselves as victims, and while I do truly believe that Elvis never took advantage of them, it still doesn’t justify the kissing. Like you said this is obviously a very hard pill to swallow for any Elvis fan but it personally helps me to try to understand Elvis’ intentions and his mindset when he involved himself with those girls. And so when they all say that it was very innocent, I believe them, and I can honestly say without a doubt, that I think Elvis had good/pure intentions and that the situation wasn’t as black and white as some people try to make it seem

As for the third ask: In terms of Reeca overstating her importance, that very well could be possible, but to give her the benefit of the doubt, Elvis invited a lot of people on tour 😩 and they weren’t always girls that he was dating, for example Jeanne Lemay Dumas who was Linda’s friend and the Alden sisters (Ginger’s family)

If she was invited by Elvis like she says, that doesn‘t mean that Reeca would have been his main girl or anything like that on the tour, it’s likely that he still would have had either Sheila or Linda with him as his girlfriend. Also Reeca was good friends with Ricky Stanley who accompanied Elvis on tours, so that could have been another factor

Infact the very first day that Reeca hanged out with Elvis, Linda, Ricky and David Stanley accompanied them. And in that amazon documentary Linda acknowledged Reeca and also referred to her as one of Elvis’ “dalliances”, so she was at least aware of Reeca’s friendship/relationship with Elvis

** also I saw you mentioned Elvis possibly dating Maggie Smith and I got another ask about her that I am currently researching for (desperately trying to find a copy of this book written about her 😩) and so hopefully I will have more info on her by then

quote from Maggie (Magnolia) Smith 💗

but just from the little research I have done so far, it’s looking like it’s unlikely that they ever dated. Maggie Smith herself hasn’t said that she dated him, Marty Lacker said she was someone Elvis felt sorry for and therefore given a job, and Nurse Tish and Mary Jenkins also only referred to her as one of the maids/employees. Only Nancy Rooks has said that she dated Elvis so I’m still trying to figure out who is telling the truth 😭 like why would Nancy just make that up?

As for Elvis possibly wanting to pursue a serious relationship with Reeca, I don’t think he meant to do so until she was much older

Reeca said this about Elvis wanting a possible future with her ➡️ “He said ‘I know you’re are young but when you’re older, maybe in a couple years, maybe we can go places and have more of a relationship’”

I don’t believe their relationship ever became “serious”, especially since Reeca has never said that they formally dated. He only saw her September and November of 1974, and then for the last time in January of 1975. He was probably preoccupied with Sheila Ryan, Linda Thompson and Ann Pennington etc etc 🤧

I hope this helps anyone who wanted to know more about Reeca, I would love to hear what you guys think, or if you have any info yourself on Reeca or Maggie that you want to share 💗!!

Perspective's Sentence Starters; SOUR by Olivia Rodrigo (Part II)

ENOUGH FOR YOU

I wore makeup when we dated 'cause I thought you'd like me more.

Tried so hard to be everything that you liked.

I knew how you took your coffee and your favorite songs by heart.

I read all of your self-help books so you'd think that I was smart.

Stupid, emotional, obsessive little me.

I knew from the start this is exactly how you'd leave.

You found someonе more exciting, the nеxt second, you were gone.

You left me there cryin', wonderin' what I did wrong.

You always say I'm never satisfied, but I don't think that's true

All I ever wanted was to be enough for you.

Maybe I'm just not as interesting as the girls you had before.

You couldn't have cared less about someone who loved you more.

I'd say you broke my heart, but you broke much more than that,

I don't want your sympathy.

I just want myself back.

Don't you think I loved you too much to be used and discarded?

Don't you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing?

Don't tell me you're sorry.

Feel sorry for yourself.

Someday, I'll be everything to somebody else.

You'll be the one who's crying.

You say I'm never satisfied, but that's not me, it's you.

I don't think anything could ever be enough for you.

Nothing's enough for you.

HAPPIER

We broke up a month ago.

You know I know you've moved on, found someone new.

One more girl who brings out the better in you.

I thought my heart was detached.

Does she mean you forgot about me?

I hope you're happy, but not like how you were with me.

I'm selfish, I know.

I can't let you go

So find someone great, but don't find no one better.

I hope you're happy, but don't be happier.

Do you tell her she's the most beautiful girl you've ever seen?

An eternal love bullshit you know you'll never mean.

Remember when I believed you meant it when you said it first to me?

But she's beautiful, she looks kind.

She probably gives you butterflies.

I wish you all the best, really.

Say you love her, baby, just not like you loved me.

Think of me fondly when your hands are on her.

JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY

I kinda wanna throw my phone across the room.

All I see are girls too good to be true.

Wish I didn't care.

I know their beauty's not my lack.

It feels like that weight is on my back.

I can't let it go.

Comparison is killin' me slowly.

I think I think too much. 'bout kids who don't know me.

I'm so sick of myself

I'd rather be anyone else.

My jealousy started followin' me.

I see everyone gettin' all the things I want.

I'm happy for them, but then again, I'm not.

Oh god, I sound crazy.

Their win is not my loss.

I can't help gettin' caught up in it all.

All your friends are so cool.

Got a pretty face, a pretty boyfriend, too.

I wanna be you so bad and I don't even know you.

All I see is what I should be.

I'm losin' it.

FAVORITE CRIME

Know that I loved you so bad I let you treat me like that.

I was your willing accomplice, honey.

I watched as you fled the scene.

One heart broke, four hands bloody.

The things I did just so I could call you mine.

Well, I hope I was your favorite crime.

You used me as an alibi?

I crossed my heart as you crossed the line.

I defended you to all my friends.

Now every time a siren sounds, I wondеr if you're around.

You know that I'd do it all again.

It's bittersweet to think about the damage that we'd do.

I was goin' down, but I was doin' it with you.

I say that I hate you with a smile on my face.

Oh, look what we became.

Baby, you were mine

HOPE UR OK

I knew a boy once when I was small.

He played the drum in the marching band.

His parents cared more about the Bible than being good to their own child.

He wore long sleeves 'cause of his dad.

Somehow, we fell out of touch.

Hope he took his bad deal and made a royal flush.

Don't know if I'll see you again someday.

If you're out there, I hope that you're okay.

She raised her brothers on hеr own.

Her parents hated who shе loved.

She couldn't wait to go to college.

She was tired 'cause she was brought into a world where family was merely blood.

Does she know how proud I am she was created?

We don't talk much, but I just gotta say.

I miss you and I hope that you're okay.

Address the letters to the holes in my butterfly wings.

Nothing's forever.

Nothing is as good as it seems

I hope you know how proud I am you were created with the courage to unlearn all of their hatred.

But, god, I hope that you're happier today.

I love you.

I hope that you're okay.

I feel you'd have the best catholic!Jason todd ideas.

I do have a lot of thoughts about this! (and immediately my mind went to hot priest!Jason Todd so I guess it's time to re-read the priest comic...). I like the idea of Jason having an empty relationship with Catholicism the most, so I went with this one.

Maybe he was "raised" Catholic, but it was performative. It wasn't the, "we're a perfect example of what a Catholic family should be" pantomime, but a parasitic one. Exploitative. Meaningless and hollow except for what it could do for them. And maybe it looks good on paper for Child Protective Services.

Maybe there's a cross on the wall but was picked up at a yard sale, and is covered in dust. A ratty bible is on the table, but when you look closer, you realise it's missing pages and scribbled in. Circular holes are burned into the cover (the same ones found all along the old couch, in blankets. Mattresses). They don't pray, but they go to church when they serve food. Saves money on groceries, doesn't it? So, why not. Jason sat at the back (and maybe he tried to listen, to pay attention) while his mum nodded off in the pew, and made fun of the whole thing, at all the rich people in their Sunday Best, only to smile at the priest when he came to greet them.

Some Catholic schools serve their students lunch and snacks, and all you have to do to be admitted it is get baptised. His mum might have dragged him to the church to do so because it meant she didn't have to spend money on feeding him lunch every day. Maybe the only time he ever really ate a whole meal was during school. It cuts the cost of clothes, too, since most Catholic schools require a uniform.

I like the idea of Jason trying to be religious. Maybe he prays during dinner one night but his dad mocks him for it. He never does it in front of them again.

Jason grows up in this limbo where his parents exploit it for their own gain, but he wants to believe. And maybe he does. But it doesn't last long. Not when at school they teach him about gods infinite mercy. How he knows all. But if that's true, how come he never answers Jason's prayers late at night with his pillow muffling his cries? How come he's ignored? I like the idea of a crisis of faith because it can be absolutely devastating even when you don't really believe in all the nonsense.

His parents use it against him. Why would god leave me with a ungrateful kid like you? His mum throws the cross at him and he watches it shatter on the floor. Nothing happens. He wonders if that means something.

And then he sees the divide. There's a difference between being a poor Catholic and a rich one. Maybe it infuriates him, drives him away from it.

He stops being religious as he grows up. Beings to resent it. Maybe he still wears a cross around his neck, a small gold chain bought at a pawn shop for $5 because it's a habit. Sometimes religion can be an addiction, too.

It never really comes up. It was an aspect of his upbringing the same way finding his mum slouched over on the couch was. Just there. Habitual, almost.

And then he dies.

And then he comes back.

Another crisis of faith that doesn't really go anywhere. Maybe he's too jaded to the idea of a higher power, or maybe he's scared. Terrified. I'd like for him to adopt the same parasitic relationship with Catholicism as his parents did. He goes to church because he thinks he should feel bad about what he does. He sits in the last pew at the back, bows his head. And nothing. Nothing. He just thinks about all the times he wept at night until he couldn't cry anymore. All the desperate prayers that went unanswered.

Maybe it wasn't god who brought him back, after all; but you can't have one without the other. And maybe a part of him is beginning to wonder if there's even a difference between the two.

I like the idea of him struggling with guilt over his deeds as the Red Hood but I don't think he really feels it, and I think that hurts him more than anything. There is an absence of guilt and maybe some trickle-down toxicity. maybe he goes to church because he thinks he should not because he wants to but he sits in the pew and he doesn't pray and he definitely doesn't ask for forgiveness because there's nothing to forgive. But in some twisted way, it makes him feel better for not feeling guilty and so. He goes.

Questioning his faith that might not have ever really been there is something I really like talking about. I think there's more to it than just Catholic guilt.

Gonna spam your inbox with these get ready :) for the fandom questions 30 & 43 and for the fic writer questions 17 & 24

sonny these questions are HARD

ask game || ask 1

30: what inspires you to write?

everything and nothing ngl ideas come to my head whenever the hell they want which sometimes is very rarely. but One thing i can say for sure inspired me in general was a little life by hanya yanagihara. yeah i will not shut up about this book. i feel like my writing style actually changed so much after reading it and sometimes i just go back to the book and read some random pages for inspiration because i love how hanya writes

43: is there anyone in your fandom who really inspires you?

not in particular actually... i do admire the creators in this fandom in general and i've read very very good works (yours included btw!!), but there's no one particular person that is inspiring in the sense that my work reflects something that i've taken away from theirs like i explained in the previous question. but there are moments where i read a fic or a comment and i feel a burst of motivation to write lol

17: if you could give your fledgling author self any advice, what would it be?

alas i am not one of those people who have been writing since young for some reason, even though i have historically enjoyed writing compositions and fiction assignments for school. i didn't even think i could write and a year ago i would NEVER have thought i could write a multi-chaptered fic. idk if it's because i got more time/motivation after i graduated from high school but that's only when i really started getting ideas and inspiration after reading or watching something. so advice for my younger self would be uhhh:

just Write. sometimes i'll think i don't have an idea or i won't be able to write a scene in the way i want, but once i actually start it just happens naturally!! like half the metaphors i come up with are just me saying shit i made up on the spot and sometimes it makes sense

write down anything you come up with even if it's just a word or a setting. i have certain phrases in my good omens fics that i pulled from random lines i wrote down like three years ago because i liked how they sounded. and other times i look back at my notes from a week ago and i have no idea what i meant by it but at least it's funny (once i just wrote "swivel chair" in my notes and to this day i don't remember why)

24: have you ever become an expert on something you previously knew nothing about, in order to better a scene or a story?

omg i'm so boring but not really LMAOO i think it's because when i come up with fic ideas that i actually want to write, it's mostly about exploring relationships and how relationships and a character's history affects them as people (it's the sociologist in me). so plot isn't really my thing—which is why i never thought i would be able to write multi-chaptered fics because i used to write short reflective pieces. even for transitional heart taxidermy, the plot i came up with was secondary to what i wanted to write about which was crowley and aziraphale's relationship lmao

at most i'll go back and really analyse the source material to make sure i get the facts right. like dialogue and scenes and layouts etc. for the bible fic i... read the bible lol to see diction and pacing and how the verses were formatted. and for blood in my eyes i joined the discord to find a layout of aziraphale's bookshop for Accuracy

The Gospel Hall

Growing up I was burdened by many alternative points of view. As a young child, I was introduced to Christian religion which meant I was required to attend ‘meetings’ at least once a week. However, the Christian religion that my family subscribed to was highly unusual, and in my opinion — as well as many others— fairly cult-like. The gospel hall is unlike any other Christian-based faith I have ever witnessed. Referencing only the Bible and no other texts, many of the rules or lifestyles you must follow are directly derived from the canon of the New Testament. Women have their place, they must dress modestly and in nice clothing—but not too fancy— women must cover their heads while in meetings, and they must sit quietly in respect for their husbands and god. Women are not allowed to speak during prayer and cannot preach during ministry meetings. I was taught that I could not have sex until marriage, women must obey their husbands, women must have long hair, no tattoos/piercings, no swearing, no drinking/drugs, no parties that are not church-sanctioned, and that I must auspiciously adhere to the 10 commandments. On top of this during the meeting, there is a square of chairs which is spaced and facing the offerings of the blood and body of Christ, however, if you have not been baptized by the elders of the church after giving testimony of belief, and subsequently accepted into the assembly by the elders, then you must sit outside of the square and simply listen and watch. This is what I experienced every Sunday from the ages of 3-12. My parents, and grandparents were in the assembly but my sister and I were not, therefore, we sat alone. After my mother passed everything changed, my father stopped attending but our grandparents encouraged us to attend. From the ages of 8-12 after my mother passed I continued to go. Furthermore, I believed what they told me and wanted to live my Christian life as best I could. However, the pressure of this lifestyle greatly impacted me, as I was scared I would go to hell and never see my mother again if I didn’t go. As I aged the rules of the gospel hall made me question if what I was taught was realistic. I cried at night because I couldn’t blindly believe in everything I was being told and therefore, I was going to hell. I told my father how I felt, he told me ‘you do not have to attend the hall if you do not want to’. he also expressed to me that my belief system did not have to align with his, my grandparent’s or anyone else’s. After this, I stopped going and to this day my grandparents tell me I need to prepare myself for judgment. This is what I was taught growing up, and for so long I judged others because they did not believe in the same ideals. This has shaped the person I am today, from this I have become accepting and understanding of others belief systems. Why force something on another individual simply because it is what you believe to be true? The judgment from my family and individuals around me compelled me to act in ways that for many years I did not completely agree with. It wasn’t until my father told me what he did that I began to act freely and as I wanted to. If this had never happened I would’ve been stuck as I was for years to come, for all I know nothing may have changed. I am so glad I was able to form my own belief systems and live my life as I do today. Many people are forced to conform, never truly living their life as they please and never feeling like they had a way out. My father encourages me to this day to form my own opinions and disregard others if they only have their own best interest at heart. I wish everyone had this experience in life but the sad reality is I was lucky to have such support.

An overdue apology (Step dad au)

Hook desperately hoped Tink's friends wouldn't recognize him, Tink wanted to know more about her life back when she was a fairy and unfortunately that meant talking to her friends. He didn't mind her talking to them alone but for some reason she wanted him to go with her. He never wanted to shrink into nothing more than when all her friends at once looked at him either shocked, confused or angry.

"I was told you knew me?" Tink asked hesitantly. When they saw her they all swarmed Tink their expressions changing to pure joy at seeing their friend again. Well all of them except for Zarina who eyed Hook with suspicion. "So...may I go now?" Hook asked Tink, trying desperately to get away. "No I need you to translate, I have no idea what they're saying." Tink said and her friends from another life looked disappointed.

"Of course..." Hook sighed frustrated. "What did you do to them?" Tink asked bluntly sensing the tension. "Well...that's a list longer than the bible, but to give you an idea I did try to drown one of them." Hook said bracing himself for Tink's response. "James...Why the hell would you do that?" She asked like a true disappointed mother who already knew the answer.

Hook felt his soul snap in half as his love looked at him like he was the world's biggest moron. It was a look she had given him multiple times and he never got used to it. "Well that's a long story-" Hook started. "No no wouldn't wanna inconvenience you would we?" Tink sassed putting a hand on her hip.

Deciding to stop delaying the inevitable Hook took a deep breath and turned to the fairies visibly struggling. "I'm sorry." Hook said through gritted teeth. "Say that again, this time spit out your pride so you don't choke on it." Tink said glaring daggers at him. "I'm Sorry for all the horrible things I've done. I may not like most of you but you didn't deserve the multitude of murder attempts and stupid schemes I was being....a moron." He said much to the amusement of the fairies before him. It was worse knowing he deserved it.

Tink's expression softened a bit and she patted his back. "Proud of ya big guy." Tink said as Hook planted his face firmly in his hand embarrassed. "It's about time." Zarina said clearly not convinced he was on their side. "So he's a nice pirate now?" Silvermist asked excited.

"I still don't trust you but it was pretty funny watching you try to be sincere." Vidia said Smugly. Hook suddenly felt a familiar competitiveness brew up in him. They wanted him to be nice? He'd be the nicest damn person they ever met. He may not be seeking revenge anymore but he'd be damned if he was gonna fold to a few fairies. He was already accepted by the lost boys and even Peter pan! He'd show them how nice he could be! Tink suddenly felt as though something stupid was coming in the near future, unsure of what it is as she decided to just try and gather information about what happened.

Authors note: thanks for enjoying this odd series of one shot fanfics! It's not over yet or anything I just wanted to thank you guys. I plan on doing more in the future involving Neverland and maybe even bring Wendy in with time travel shenanigans.

🌷🌼🌺🌴🍂💧 for cathy!!!!

Black. Cathy never really got the opportunity to be picky, and the bitterness did her good, so she’s told. Like a little jolt of discomfort to down the rest of it. Her second addiction. And she wouldn’t want to ruin the purity of it with cream and sugar. A crucible isn’t a crucible if you make it easier on yourself, and Cathy takes that approach in every aspect of life. It’s exhausting. And she could use a bit of sweetness, if only someone would grant it to her.

Cathy’s so so fiercely personal and so cathartic and there’s just so much abt her that feels so relieving. The first OC I ever made to represent the emotions and feelings I was afraid of in myself, to grapple with the stuff that was ugly and scary and daunting to make it into something I could safely explore and discuss. Cathy was freeing to create. It was like exhaling a deep breath, letting out all the stuff that was bottled up. Every time I write her, whenever she comes back to the forefront of my thoughts, it’s this visceral and awful and beautiful thing. Perfectly bittersweet. She represents a part of my life that’s gone by nowadays, that I can’t go back to, but in recent days that pain and nostalgic longing hitting me has struck me as something that’s just… more of what Cathy already was. She’s not easy to write or to interact with or to explore, her stories cross into a lot of very rough territory, but in the face of all of that she’s meant to be a lesson that that traumatized, unsightly part of me that I was once ashamed of isn’t something to hide and doesn’t make me unlovable. Cathy doesn’t have to hide herself and live a fake life as an idealized, super cute and adorable girl, she can be loved for who she is in her rawest form. She’s still worthy of love. And that means I am too.

Cathy never got especially close with her mom or dad, and she was an only child. As far as that goes, it was her mother she saw the most of. As the patriarch of the house and a man deeply in touch with God, Cathy’s father often had better things to do than look after a sinful child and correct her every behavior. That was the job of the mother of the house, the nurturing presence and the sharp hand of judgment. Most of the abuse came at her mother’s hand, for that reason. But so did the sparse moments of mercy, kindness and love. Cathy felt love from her mother more often, just by seeing more of her. And so Cathy spent most of her time trying to impress and satisfy her mother, to receive that affection from her. And maybe she’s still trying, long after it stopped mattering.

Cathy’s relationship to other people is definitely more than a little twisted. As a kid she read books, but she couldn’t watch TV and she didn’t have any friends. She’s deeply familiar with the Bible, of course. She feels an odd kinship with Isaac. But she’d never admit to that. For a long time Cathy’s favorite person was probably the nebulous idea of the woman whose name she took for herself, who wrote the book about cats that she couldn’t read. But she’s expanded her horizons since then. She likes Dr Ishimoto, in an aspirational sort of way. She likes Ogura, in a maybe-familial sort of way. And she likes her teammates, once she meets them, hesitant though she may be to admit that. She’s not entirely sure what liking people means, or what it means to love them, but she definitely has people she doesn’t want to see go. And that’s good enough for her.

Angry music. Not too loud, not yelling and screaming and blasting on a guitar for the sake of conveying force. Quiet anger. Gentle and beautiful and terrifying anger. Songs that make her angry, that rile her up, that upset her just to hear. Spiteful, vengeful, hostile music, written with a clear and deeply personal vendetta. She can feel it in her bones, and it communicates to her in a way nothing else does, in a way words alone can’t. It’s almost therapeutic, if not occasionally antithetical to that purpose.

Cathy is… guilty. And she’s accepted that the guilt she carries is never going to fade. She’s always going to be a monster, and she’s always going to have wasted the potential for a life. She’s mad at her parents, but she’s mad at her friends and herself and the world and everyone. She wants to wipe everything away, an awful supernova that resets the world to zero. She wants to be the demon that ruins the world, to be the monster her parents always saw her as. To embrace her role as a devil and do the devil’s work. She wants the world to burn and a new world to grow from its ashes. Cathy’s wish is an apocalypse, a punishment, it’s Revelations. She’s convinced the only way to cure the world is to destroy it. And it’s going to take a lot to convince her otherwise.

survey #044

“love becomes a symptom of the cure”

What would you want to say to your latest ex-boyfriend/ex-girlfriend? I have no desire to speak to her ever again. Do you have any phobias? I have quite a lot, honestly. What’s the song that reminds you of your special someone? "I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire" by The Ink Spots. Do you believe in the phrase “If it’s meant to be, it will be”? Nope. Who do you want to marry? Girt, one day. Name your last ex-boyfriend/ex-girlfriend. Sara. Are you ready for kids now? HELL no, the last thing I need to be right now is a parent. When was the last time you prayed? It's been years since I've prayed and will never do it again. Have you ever witnessed an extreme act of animal cruelty? Not that I remember, thank god. Have you ever actually woken up screaming because of a nightmare? COUNTLESS times. That's how I wake myself out of my nightmares a lot. Do you have any siblings in college right now? No. Do you believe that the world will actually end? "The world" as in life on Planet Earth, yes. That's inevitable in the infinite stretch of time. Who is your favorite actor/actress? I don't really have one. Have you ever lied about your name? No. Have you ever felt guilty after doing something sexual? Yes, as a teenager. Have you ever made out in a car? It's possible, but I don't think I have. Do your parents know if you’re having sex? Well, my mom is aware we're not exactly waiting on anything and that if circumstances were right, we would. I haven't really decided if I'll tell my mom when we do start to considering it's our business, but at the same time I know she'd WANT to know just because she's my mom and she's already told me she stresses the fuck out if we're simply behind closed doors. I feel like keeping her in the dark would just stress her out more, so... idk. We'll see. As for my dad, I would NOT share this sort of info with him. I don't live with him and barely even see/talk to him, so it seems like a very strange thing to share. Have you ever lied about your sexual past? No. I DID used to say I wasn't a virgin, but that's because I truly believed I wasn't for a long time. It's complicated and I don't feel like trying to explain why. What do you order at Chick-fil-a? I order nothing there because I refuse to put money in the pockets of a horribly homophobic and transphobic CEO. Their sandwiches are delicious, but still not worth it. What is your favorite font at the moment? OF those all computers have, I like Garamond. Favorite drink at Starbucks? I don't go there. How many real bf/gf have you had? Three. Do you like '80s music? I do, especially classic rock and metal! Do you like homework? Of course I don't. I never even morally agreed with it being given to do. Something you would buy a friend as a gift? Well, he's way more than a friend, but hopefully this year for his birthday I would really like to get a little figure or statue custom-made of Girt's Final Fantasy XIV character. FFXIV is like Girt's WoW in my world, but he's put even more effort into it than me with WoW, and holy shit I know he would LOVE it. Do you like Star Wars? No. Girt and I once watched the first three together and totally didn't get the hype. Have you read the entire Bible before? No. Have you had sex with more than 5 people this month? HUNNY I haven't had sex with even one, slow down lmfao. What’s your mother’s favorite color? Hm... good question. I WANT to say some shade of purple. If you could have any pet right now, what would it be? Female Grammastola pulchra/Brazilian black tarantula. Would you spend a whole night with the last person you kissed? Those are my absolute favorite nights. Do you hate the last person you kissed? I absolutely fucking love him. Which of your friends is the most likely to get pregnant right now? ... I don't exactly keep track of my friends' sex lives or BC methods they use. Do you know anybody who was abused? Yes. Do you believe teenagers can be in love and stay in love? I DARE a motherfucker to say I wasn't in love with Jason just because I was a teenager. Teens can absolutely fall and remain in love. Honestly, have you ever eaten raw cookie dough? Well duh. What are you currently listening to? "Cyberhex" by Motionless In White. Have you ever made someone so mad that they broke something? No. Where do you think your best friend is right now? At home. We were gonna hang out today, but he's not feeling too hot so is resting. Would you take a dirty picture of yourself for someone you are dating? Ha, not with this body. What’s preventing your current boyfriend/girlfriend from going back to their ex? Well, he says that he loves me and I fully believe him, and she also hurt him pretty badly by cheating. Has anyone you’ve slept with ever given you an STD? No. Does the last song you listened to remind you of anyone? GIRT. Does your last ex have a job? She might, idk. What would you do if you found out your most recent ex was in a relationship? Be happy for her. If there was a large spider in the room, what would you say? I dunno, depends where it's at and if it's moving, I guess. I'd like to think I would say hi to it and get a cup or something to take it outside, although I do still have some clinging arachnophobia so would be nervous if it was a big one. Have you ever skipped school just because you were tired? Yep. Your last ex says they never even liked you, you say? ......... I'd honestly rather not share because my immediate prepared response was mean lmao. When was the last time you saw your father? A couple days ago at my nephew's bday party. It was good to see him. Do you want to see somebody right now? I do want to see Girt really badly. Have you ever been given a rose? Yes. How long were you with your last boyfriend? Like two weeks. That relationship was a waste of time. What do you like most about the song you are listening to/last listened to? The lyrics are fantastic. What would you do if you saw a guy hit a girl? My instinctive response is to yell at and confront the guy, fuck how afraid I am of men. Try hitting me too and I'm breaking his wrist. Have you ever gambled? No, never will. Would you ever go a week without showering? ... I've done that. It's fucking disgusting but that's what depression + showering being excruciating and a falling hazard did to me. Thank god I finally have a fucking shower chair so it's way less of an ordeal. Would you ever date someone with a different skin color than you? Yep, no hesitation. Do you want your last ex to be happy, even if it means not being with you? I sure do. Although, this question makes it sound like I want to be with her, which I don't. Have you taken someone's virginity? No. How many people of the opposite sex do you fully trust? One. Are you going out with the last person you kissed? Yes. Who was the last person you danced with? Sara. Did you hug/kiss one of your parents today? No. Favorite Taylor Swift song? I'll probably always enjoy "Love Story." Have you ever cried because you were so happy? Yup. Amazing feeling. Have you ever kissed someone that was high? No. If you were kicked out of your current residence, whom would you call? Girt or Dad, idk. Are there framed pictures from your parents' wedding in your house? Uh no, they're divorced and should be. I actually don't remember if they HAD a wedding; they might have just done the paperwork, idk. Is there someone you want back in your life right this moment? I'll probably always wish Megan was back in my life. Name the first person you can think of that you know that has a tattoo? My sister. What’s on your wrists right now? A tattoo, actually. Is there anyone you would seriously punch right now if you had the chance? I'd break my uncle's jaw if you stood him in front of me. What do the majority of people in your life call you? Britt. Would you rather sleep with someone else, or alone? I'd rather sleep with Girt. Do you have a secret that no one knows but you? Yes. Favorite song? I have an unearthly adoration for "Zick Zack" by Rammstein lmao. Do you want a church wedding? I fucking refuse to get married in a church or even with Bible-based vows. Religion will have NO ties to my goddamn wedding, like I absolutely refuse. Have you ever been famous? Nah. Have you ever been skinny dipping? No, but tbh I would if I was more confident with my body to live out my forest-dwelling fae woman fantasy. :') Have you ever been in a position of authority? Uh, only in online spaces, but nothing truly impressive. Been/am the admin of two RP forums, I'm also the primary admin at the Silent Hill wiki these days, I've been a guild leader in WoW before, and uhhh... that's it I think. Can you roll your "R"s? NO and it's annoying because it's a big part of sounding convincingly German, haha. I THINK I used to be able to do it when I studied it in school, but not anymore. How fast can you run? I am 95% sure I CAN'T run because of how weak my legs are. I can barely walk; my knees would almost certainly give out the moment downward weight hits them. Do you ignore people when you’re mad/upset with them? I admittedly do do that sometimes, primarily if I feel like being silent is the wiser option over saying what's on my mind. Have you ever cried uncontrollably on a boy’s shoulder before? Yes. Reading this question really made me remember when we had to put our dog Dale down... Jason came with us and once we left the building, f just broke down into him. Dale being euthanized was one of my earliest and definitely first thorough encounter with death of someone I loved. I will never, ever fucking forget his legs giving out and Ashley absolutely shattering, just screaming how she wanted him back. Fuck that day. Has more than one person ever told you they’re in love with you? Yes. Has your boyfriend/girlfriend ever stayed up with you all night? Ha, we almost stayed up all night one night. Could you use some sleep right now? Ugh, yes, at least it feels like it. I've been sleeping a lot and am just always tired these days... Damn, I miss being manic lmfao.

Oh I don’t think I could actually tell you the exact moment that I realised we were done. It wasn’t made up of a single moment any more than a person is made up of a single interest, it felt more like a thousand thousand tiny things that cascaded into an avalanche under which the relationship got buried. No headstone, just a casualty of the climb. Maybe one day somewhere in the future what remains of us together will be dug up and discovered by some impartial observer and they’ll realise that we were never going to work out “long term”. Whatever that means.

I imagine that at some point in the cold future I’ll reflect on what happened, much as I am doing as I sit here now and wonder why I didn’t try harder to save us. Instead I’ll ache for the cold, detached feeling I was once so willing and able to hide behind, nothing is quite as easy as it used to be it seems.

I sit here, 20 something years old and think back on the last few years, wondering to myself in my loneliest moments “how will I ever survive a lifetime of this? of remembering people for far longer than I have ever known them? And in these moments I feel like I’m shattering into shards of longing and regret and lust and rage. Forever waiting, I suspect, for someone to pick up my pieces and tell me that I am worthy of living, that I am worthy of love and to know in that moment that they meant every word. Much as you once did. But it does no good to dwell on such things, there are people to fuck and music to listen to in the meantime.

I remember when we each bought a bible and told each other that we would read them and that we’d annotate the bits we found hilarious and send them to each other. We never did of course it was just another promise made, another for the pile of things that slowly became our relationship and I think of you every time I see that bible on my shelf. Even though I don’t believe a word of what it preaches it doesn’t seem to matter when it connects me to you through time like that. The barrier of passing time dissolves and I’m sat in my bedroom in 2020 texting you that the bible arrived with butterflies in my stomach waiting on your response.

I read a little while ago that the face you have in your current life is the face of the person you loved most in your previous life. When I look at myself in the mirror I often wonder what kind of person could love someone like me, with all my failures of character and my blatant self loathing that seems to seep into every facet of my life and slowly degrade each aspect of it like the rot that eats away at the house. But then I eat something and drink some water and go outside in the sun and am reminded that I am young and learning to live. Maybe I am not an irredeemable monster with an evil heart, maybe I just haven’t learned to love myself yet, to see my positive aspects, perhaps one day I’ll see myself in a mirror and say to myself “hey, you did great, everything will be okay”. I desperately hope that one day I will be that person and my hope extends to you too.

What’s really crazy about that particular stretch of my life is that most of the time I am convinced I was in love with myself and the moment I was in and not the girl. I was doing well at my first job, finally getting attention from girls, had money, discovering new music all the time, things were great. Kind of a clash with the supposed “national spirit” at the time, Covid 19 was fucking England hard at this point. I didn’t care, I was in a bubble of drinking and sex and music and thinking I might be falling in love with a girl while I was in the middle of sex with a girl I had just met at a party I was invited to last minute by a girl I worked with who also had a thing for me. I felt incredible.

Tell me you love me and watch it break me. Tell me anyway and build me anew from the broken pieces of me that are left behind, with any luck you’ll leave the worst parts of me shattered on the floor.

What’s really maddening about being alive so far is that for all the methods of communication mankind has devised over the last however many decades and centuries, there is no way to communicate all of yourself to another person.

You can’t just open yourself up and say this is what I am, take your time and learn me so that one day you might appreciate the full picture.

You just share bits and pieces of yourself with countless people over your life but in the end I don’t think you can ever truly know a person.

In fact I don’t even think it will be possible to truly know yourself by the end of your life let alone in time to actually make use of this knowledge.

Inside you are infinite, endlessly complicated and flawed, ruined in so many moments by so many things and yet still moving forward, running headlong toward whatever it is you think will finally let you say “ I understand myself now”.

I don’t know anything for certain. My brain just tries to convince me every day that understanding isn’t worth striving for.

The true battle, my true battle, is to continue onward and carry the weight of my infinite self into a future that might just be better than what has come before. To be a true warrior, to fight a battle that’s worthwhile, win or lose.

What do I do with all this leftover knowledge I have of you? When I see something I know would make you laugh, or make you excited for the future? Do I just hold onto it? Let it rest in my head with all the other things I’ve learned but no longer have use for? I wonder if I’ll forget eventually. Part of me hopes I will, but the braver part of me hopes that I am strong enough to carry it with me, to remember you even though you aren’t mine anymore. I hope you’re doing well in your new life but I hope that I never hear a word about it.

Diane said that there are people in your life that help you become the person you end up being and that you can be grateful for them, even if they were never meant to be in your life forever. I like that sentiment, it’s comforting.

That show has saved me a few times now.

I miss people when they leave. I often wonder what they’re up to, hopefully they aren’t as confused as I am about things, it’d be nice to if someone in this world had some clear idea of what they are doing. Even if I doubt it’ll ever be me.

No love, of anything, however brief is a waste.

Do anything that makes life a little more bearable, so long as you aren’t harming someone else in the process.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for you to have forgotten something and left it in my life so that when you remember and come back to claim it, you look around and realise that this might not be so bad a place to live after all, maybe we were just twenty back then.

I don’t know, maybe it would just be nice to be remembered fondly by someone, a warm thought instead of a bitter memory.

You know sometimes when I feel shitty about myself I pretend i’m someone else, someone confident and bold and unashamed of being themselves. It helps a lot, makes things way fucking easier to deal with sometimes.

What I hate most about myself is my ability to convince myself of anything. It has led me to some of the best decisions I have ever made, it’s made me more confident than I have ever been. It is the sole reason that I can talk myself out of being sad and more often than not it is what makes me sad in the first place. My mind is an unreliable narrator and a perfectly objective judge of every situation, discerning when it is doing which thing is where my trouble usually begins.

There is very little left of me that I recognise.

I get the feeling that everything in life is a celebration of living.

This comic is called Galatians 4:16 due to many reasons. I had (and still do) have a rocky relationship with both religion and God. I was once a believer and a strong one too. 

The first panel is of me with the galaxy as my face (which is a common theme in this comic) as I still have agnostic views. The galaxy bubble represents how I have a lot of space in my mind and how I allowed his figure to fill up my head with what I believed was true  where I strongly believed I was chosen by God simply because I was able to see and talk to Him. The second panel shows how I would pray constantly, begging to hear something from him, until I one day heard his voice. I remember praying “why my brother” and hearing him say “because it’s you, Nathalie. You are the reason why” and I believed it ever since. After I heard him talk for the first time, we would talk all night when it was my bedtime. I remember being so young, but filled with joy whenever it was time for bed because that meant useless conversations with God. And we would talk and talk until I fell asleep. He stook with me, but when I woke up he’d disappear. After years of talking, I slowly found myself discovering myself more. I would slowly stop praying and stop going to church frequently. I could tell it made him angry. But I still lived my life. Until the day after Valentines, I attempted. I remember praying asking for help, but I did not get a response. “Should I do it? Answer me, please?”. Instead, I had a full blown psychosis episode and attempted. After that attempt, I never heard from God for a while. I remember praying in the hospital bed, praying in my room at the mental hospital, constantly reading the bible, still believing I was the chosen one, because that’s what He said, right? 

But received nothing.

Not even a peep.

And I caught myself feeling guilty. And the cycle would start again where I tried to get his attention. And I’d feel guilty again. 

Until over the summer, I found myself in a healthy state of mind again. After my attempt I was diagnosed with Bipolar with Psychotic symptoms, OCD, depression, and more. It all started to make sense when I realized my OCD and psychosis played a huge role in how I viewed religion. The OCD symptoms where it feels like God was constantly watching me, judging my every move which then developed to the delusion that I was chosen and that I was meant to do something big in the world (thanks psychosis!). I remember getting better with medication and hearing his voice one night. He apologized, but instead of forgiving Him, I ignored him. And ever since, we haven’t had a conversation. I still struggle with the occasion guilt and “are you sure I am not the chosen one?” feelings, but they are so much easier to manage. They don’t fill my head with anxiety like they used to.    

Artist Statement:

I was inspired to talk about my OCD and Spiritual Psychosis because I want people to know what it actually is like to have these very detrimental mental health issues. I remember finding out what I had for the very first time and feeling like I was crazy because there are so many misconceptions of OCD and Psychosis that makes the issues seem less than what they actually are. OCD Is not about “perfection” and “straight” although that is a trait, does not mean that everyone has it. As for Psychosis, people think these people are “violent” and “weird” for seeing/hearing things that are not there or believing in something that is not true. 

I was inspired to put this comic on the internet because of Qahera. This artist puts their comics in the way I have mine set up and describes a little about the comic in the description. I really like this because it makes it easy to navigate and read. I was also inspired by Zahra’s Paradise, especially at the end where she is grieving the death of her son. I wanted something similar in the sense that I wanted the reader to feel the emotion. I added the one panel with mainly words about how I was feeling at the time. Adding a lot of text to one panel just shows how crowded my head felt when I would pray. 

This is not the original comic nor idea that I had when I was making this comic. I was originally going to have a sex superhero who was going to educate people on sex, kinks, and fetishes, however, as I was about to finish, I dropped my laptop and broke my screen. I was very upset at the fact that I had to restart again. And I dreaded it until last minute and now I am here posting this very late. I am glad that I got to get feedback on my last comic, but sad I could not get any for this comic. it is okay, though. I was able to do what I can in the time frame I was given. I learned that it is not okay to procrastinate, but it is okay to start over, even if it means again and again. I learned how to be patient and do things when I am in a better state of mind.

Kid Decrees: Praying For Excellence in School

Bright and Smart

I decree that I am a smart and bright person. I learn everything quickly and I can understand directions.

I declare nothing is too hard for me to learn when I apply myself to learn it. I declare that I am focused and connected in school and on all my assignments. I have the ability to get good grades and do well on tests.

I declare that I grasp the things being taught quickly and easily. I say that I have the knowledge and ability to complete new things with confidence. I do not fall behind or struggle to excel because the Lord has made me bright and smart!

Scripture

But we have the mind of Christ (1 Corinthians 2:16 NKJV).

Word of Encouragement

When the Bible says we have the mind of Christ, it means we have the same kinds of thoughts that Jesus does. We believe like Jesus believes and we do what He would do. Having the mind of Christ also means our mental abilities are sharp. It means we can trust that the Lord will give us a bright and smart mind so we can learn successfully. Don’t let anyone ever tell you that you can’t learn something.

Sometimes people say unkind things and try to make us believe we aren’t smart enough to do certain things. If anyone ever says something like that to you, you just remind yourself what God says about you! God believes you are smart. He made your mind and He made you, so He already knows you have amazing skills inside you. He gave you a good mind with the ability to learn and understand things.

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Of course, we need to make ourselves focus and be disciplined to learn too. If we work hard then we can know that the Lord will help us learn, understand, and do well! Everyone feels good when they do well, don’t they? Of course, God is always there to help you. Remember every day that the Lord has made you a bright and very smart person!

Successful in School

I decree that I do well in school. I have the ability to learn quickly, complete my assignments, and pass tests.

I say that I will receive awards and extra points. I have creative ideas from the Lord.

I declare that I am successful in school with others. I have favor with the teachers, my friends and peers, and everyone I meet.

I declare that I will not be bullied, pushed around, or disliked in Jesus’ Name.

I say that in school I am protected by God’s heavenly angels who watch over me and that no harm or evil can befall me or my school.

I say my days at school are good days, not bad days.

I decree that I have a good school year, this year and every year!

Scripture

The Lord will guarantee a blessing on everything you do (Deuteronomy 28:8).

Word of Encouragement

School days are meant to be good days, but they can often be filled with challenges. Trying to finish assignments, pass a test, and also manage friendships can be a lot to do sometimes! Some years are harder than others depending on who your teachers are, what friends you meet, and what classes you have to take. But God doesn’t want your time at school to be difficult. In fact, He promises that everything you do will be blessed by Him. The Bible verse above reminds us that the Lord will guarantee a blessing on everything you do.

Sometimes days at school may not feel blessed because we don’t know about this promise. Consider what can happen if you will begin each day declaring that God will bless everything you need to do that day. Even if you know there are challenging things to face that day, start saying God will guarantee His blessing. Then watch God get in the middle of everything in front of you. God wants you to be blessed at school and to know that He is with you to make it happen. Declare that you are successful in school!

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𝐝𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐬

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: father paul hill x gn!reader | 965

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: through the wall, father paul had to stop himself from snorting. he’d been a priest a long time, much longer than most, and heard several hundred confessions through the years, but never anything involving daffodils. never anything so emotional about daffodils. he collected himself.

“while i appreciate your honesty,” he started, “that’s not technically a sin.”

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fluff, out of context bible verses, reader cries

“Forgive me Father for I have sinned. It’s been three months since my last confession.”

There was a pause. A familiar hum in the air as a confession was anticipating. The sting of sin of the tip of your tongue fizzled through the wall partition.

“You see Father,” you paused and collected yourself. “I lost my daffodils. I planted the bulbs correctly and watered them as I was meant to. But I forgot to cover them. It was the crows. They dug up my bulbs and ruined them, so they won’t ever grow now. I failed, Father.”

Through the wall, Father Paul had to stop himself from snorting. He’d been a priest a long time, much longer than most, and heard several hundred confessions through the years, but never anything involving daffodils. Never anything so emotional about daffodils. He collected himself.

“While I appreciate your honesty,” he started, “that’s not technically a sin.”

He heard a deep inhale through the wall. “But I feel so terrible.” This response was heavily spoken, like a towel drenched in water. It meant something as it hung in the air between the two of you.

Paul fidgeted in his seat and figured out his response. “It’s perfectly natural to feel upset over losing something. It’s a shame you didn’t get to see your daffodils bloom, I’m sure they’d have been beautiful, but it’s nothing to confess over. You haven’t sinned, child.”

A sob filled the air. An inhale of air so passionate it had its own life. It became a person standing in that box with you, caving you into the uncomfortable wooden bench you sat on. This inhale watched as you cried messily into your hands. You didn’t have a tissue. The tears going down your face were instead collected with your hands.

“I failed Father! I wanted them so badly, but I failed! I always cover my flowers overnight, always, always. I don’t understand why I forgot this time and I don’t understand why those wretched birds had to destroy those bulbs!”

There was a tickle in the back of Paul’s head which told him that this reaction was about more than the bulbs, but he pushed it back. You needed help for the daffodils now. He wouldn’t dig deeper (unlike those crows).

A piece of fabric poked through one of the holes in the wicker divider between the two of you. It pushed through and tried to wiggle further. You took the small amount of fabric between your index finger and thumb and pulled. More fabric same through. The whistle of friction between the fabric and wicker filled the air. It was a handkerchief, grey after many years of use with blue thread around its border.

“It’s clean. You sounded like you needed it.” Was Father Paul’s explanation.

“Thank you.”

Paul tried to order his thoughts. Many wouldn’t think it, but he was a man of improvisation. His sermons were usually off the top of his head. He was blessed enough to know the bible back to front (and blessed again to have been reunited with his memory) so utilising the verse which suited his rambles was a stroke of luck, of inspiration. Bev Keane would have a stroke to know this. To know that not every sermon was meticulously planned out, but she still clung to every word.

Blind faith was a mystery. Even Moreso to a man who bled words at random.

“I don’t think you failed. I think you were just up against nature.” He spoke surely, grasping each word with a firm hand and praying you did the same. He knew how much what he said now would matter. He hoped you’d hold them close. “Sometimes we forget that nature is everything around us. It’s the grass, the ocean, and the sky. The bulbs you planted and loved were a part of nature, as are the birds. Nature has its cycles which we must follow because we can’t change them, no matter how much it upsets us. Yes, the crows destroyed your daffodils, but you also fed the crows. You helped nature without intending to and that’s equally lovely.

“Even if things did not go the way you intended, God will not let your efforts be in vain. Replant the daffodils, and maybe leave something out for the crows, it’ll be beautiful like the first try.”

You hesitate. His words ring true, and you know they’re right, Father Paul is hardly a man who is often found incorrect, but you can’t help the small tingle of anxiety in the pit of your stomach and the centre of your chest.

“But what if I fail again?”

“Failure is a part of who we are, it’s a part of our nature. The same as the birds and the bulbs we will often fail. James 1:3 says, ‘For you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.’ Have faith and you will be rewarded, not just faith in the Lord, but faith in yourself and nature. I’m sure you’ll be rewarded the most beautiful daffodils in the spring.”

There’s a security in his words. As if he knows without a doubt that what he says will come to fruition. He puts these words into existence and commands them to be true and loyal. It’s calming, these words are a warm hand on your back, pushing you to try again.

You sniff and wipe the remaining tears from your cheeks. “Thank you Father. I’ll try again.”

He smiles, and though you cannot see it, you can feel it.

“You’re welcome. You need not ask for forgiveness, only strength from the Lord. I look forward to seeing your flowers.”

You leave St. Patrick’s with his handkerchief clenched in your hands, rubbing slowly at the loved fabric.

Dutch van der Linde/reader, daddy kink, tickling

Here is prompt number 4 for kinktober this year!

Dutch van der Linde/fem!reader | daddy kink, tickling, possessiveness Rating: Explicit | WARNING for sexual harassment and manipulation by a minor character Word Count: ~3000

Joshua Barrow was a slimy, good for nothing outlaw. A regular gunslinger. He was unsavory, likely the worst man you had ever met.

And you were doing his laundry.

He had latched onto the gang like some sort of noxious parasite, worming his way into a bank job that Dutch had been setting up for the past several weeks. He had likely blackmailed Dutch and Hosea, threatening to reveal the location of camp to the law if they didn’t give him a cut of the profits.

His time with the gang would be ending soon, and everyone would be eternally grateful. He had been drinking all your booze, eating all your provisions, and dirtying every plate and rag for you and the girls to clean up after him.

You ran his trousers over the washboard, wiping sweat from your brow and trying to ignore the ache in your shoulders from hunching over the basin.

Barrow was leaned against a nearby wagon, watching you work. He spent hours each day following around you and the girls, making horrible remarks and letting his eyes linger for far too long.

You had become his favorite target, likely because you belonged to Dutch. Barrow seemed like just the type to find conquest in taking another man’s woman. You were nothing more to him than a game. He wanted to get under Dutch’s skin.

So you spent all your days brushing off his comments and trying to ignore his obsessive gaze. Dutch was far too busy planning the job for you to bother him, which meant Hosea, John, and Arthur were also constantly at his side. You had your own responsibilities to attend to: helping Susan and Pearson keep everyone fed and clothed was no easy feat.

The only time you got to spend with Dutch would be late at night. You would fall asleep almost immediately, exhausted from your work, while he would stay up by lantern light and read. You had hardly had a conversation in days.

But that was the nature of this life. You were used to being split up on jobs or hunting trips or too busy to see each other. It was something you both had known your whole lives.

Barrow just had a way of making you feel unclean and unsafe, even in your own camp surrounded by your own family. You had been plagued by fear, constantly checking over your shoulder to see if he was there. You wouldn’t even go down to the river to bathe unless Susan and Karen were with you, so afraid that he would follow you if you went anywhere alone.

And now you were washing this man’s clothes. He hadn’t stopped leering at you, clearly enjoying the view of you leaning into the wash basin just to clean his belongings. He flicked ash off the end of his cigarette and raised an eyebrow. “You’re quite the lady, aren’t you?”

You ignored him. The last thing you wanted was to play into his games. He was a manipulative wretch, and you wished that he would disappear forever.

“You cook, you clean, you sew… you suck cock. Is there anything you can’t do?” He shifted his weight, and you couldn’t help but track every motion out of the corner of your eye.

“You must be a mighty good fuck,” he didn’t relent. “Not every girl gets to warm the bed of the great Dutch van der Linde.” He cocked his head, pretending to think on it. “Or maybe they do? Who knows how many women he beds when he disappears. He is a sinner after all. Adultery is right there next to theft and murder in the bible.”

You were fuming, so angry your vision was white. Still, you couldn't take this man in a fight. He would kill you before you could sink your knife into him.

“Or maybe you’re the adulterer? What kind of whore hangs around this many outlaws and doesn’t sleep around? You probably give it up easy don’t you?” He was leaning in closer now, stepping forward to crouch just beside you. Your cheeks were hot and you were blinking back tears. He surely noticed.

“What about me?” he said, voice low. “Forget van der Linde. I could have you screaming on my cock.”

Someone cleared their throat nearby.

Dutch was standing just a few paces away, arms crossed and eyes burning. You didn’t think you had ever seen him this angry. Arthur and John were at his sides, hands resting on their revolvers.

Barrow immediately cowed. He turned too quick and stumbled back, falling on his ass. Dutch opened his arms to you and you ran to him, burying your face in his waistcoat as your tears fell freely. He said nothing, but you heard Barrow begging and pleading behind you. He squealed, and Arthur growled a threat.

“Come, darling,” Dutch lifted you easily. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

You heard the brush of the tent flap, the cool air inside. Dutch sat down and pulled you into his lap, cradling you as you cried.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered.

“Sorry?” Dutch sounded confused. “Sweetheart, what do you have to be sorry about?”

“It isn’t true… what he said… I would never-”

Dutch cut you off with a kiss. “I know.” He brushed your tears away with his thumb. “I should never have let him into camp. I should never have left you alone. He’s gone now. He’s never coming back.”

You nodded. “I tried to keep away. I didn’t want him following me. I promise…”

He held you as you broke down once more. You were glad to just be close to him for the first time in days. He must have felt the same because he simply waited as you worked through your tears, kissing your temple and whispering to you. “I’m sorry. I’m going to keep you safe.” Over and over again.

At last, you were all out of tears. Dutch adjusted you on his lap, kissing you deeply. “I’ve missed you,” he gazed at you with soft, gentle eyes.

“I’ve missed you too.”

“I miss your smile,” he rubbed his hands along your sides, down to your hips and back over your ribs.

You shrugged. You were still numb from crying, overwhelmed from everything that had happened.

Then Dutch poked your side, hard enough to make you squeal and nearly fall off his lap. You grabbed his shoulders to keep yourself stable. The jab was followed by a light brush of his fingertips, tickling you through your blouse until you were squirming and laughing.

“That’s more like it,” he said, not relenting in his assault. “Daddy just wants to see you happy.”

He threw you onto the bed, skimming his fingers over your side and stomach as you cried out with laughter. “Daddy! Stop it!” you howled.

You were helpless, pinned beneath him as he teased and tickled you. He showered you in kisses, doing anything he could to keep you smiling.

“Please!” you begged, squirming and kicking beneath him. It was no use, he overpowered you easily. You were sure the entire camp could hear you, but that was likely exactly what he wanted. You flushed in embarrassment. Usually you tried to keep quiet when you were in camp, saving your… louder activities for when you had a room to yourselves.

Dutch settled his full weight on you, his hips lined up perfectly with yours. You could feel his hard cock through his trousers. He kissed along your neck and jaw, fingers stilling so he could grab at your breast. You gasped and threw your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

“I love you,” he growled in between kisses. “Don’t you forget it.” He began pulling your clothes off, rougher than you would have liked considering you did most of the mending.

You knew he was still angry about what Barrow had said. The filthy snake had accomplished just what he wanted. You would never forget his words. Even though you knew they weren’t true, the hurt would always linger.

“Daddy,” you gasped. The buttons of his waistcoat gave you far too much trouble, but you didn’t stop until his shirt was open and you could run your palms over his broad chest.

“I’m going to make sure everyone knows who you belong to,” he pressed your thighs apart, settling back so he could kiss his way down your stomach. You fisted your hands into the linen as he began to eat you out. He clearly didn’t have a mind for patience today, and you bit back your cries as he dragged his tongue over your clit again and again.

“I want to hear you.” He lightly swatted your ass. The yelp you gave seemed to spur him on, and he spanked you again.

“Dutch!” you cried, and he rewarded you by slipping two fingers into your dripping pussy. You didn’t hold back your moans. Each sound seemed to spur him on, and he dragged his fingers over just the right spot again and again. You didn’t even have it in you to think about the rest of camp when he was fucking you on his fingers. His hands were larger than yours, and the stretch was always a surprise, but he seemed to know you better than you knew yourself. He could make you come harder than you ever managed on your own.

Your back arched off the bed, one hand flying up to grip the pillow beneath your head as the other reached for him. He laced the fingers of his free hand with yours. He didn’t stop even as you came, pushing you past your orgasm until you planted a foot on his chest and pushed him back.

He watched you with a smug, satisfied grin. His face was shining with your slick, and he stroked his cock with the hand that had just been inside you.

The sight managed to rile you back up from where you were panting and brainless on the bed. You reached for him, and he didn’t hesitate a moment.

He dragged you forward by your legs, putting one of your ankles on his shoulder so he could sink all the way into you on the first thrust. You moaned, high and needy, as he filled you.

“That’s right, Darling. Only I can make you feel this good.” He pulled your hips to him, driving his cock even deeper inside. “You’re so perfect for me. I love how you feel around my cock. You take me so well.”

He pulled out and slammed his hips back into yours, fucking you into the mattress with all of his strength. You couldn’t even form words, just babbling and whining with every thrust.

Dutch leaned forward, folding you in half with your legs still hooked over his shoulders. The new angle was blinding, the best you had ever felt, and you practically screamed at the sensation. His cock hit the perfect spot on every thrust, and he was close enough that you could drag him in for a kiss.

“I want you to come for me, sweetheart. I want you to come on my cock. Are you close?” He was panting against your skin, hands digging into your thighs as he held you to the mattress beneath him.

You nodded. “More,” you gasped. “Please.”

His thumb found your clit, circling slowly at first but quicker with each stroke. He never slowed the pace of his hips, and his cock was the best thing you had ever felt. You never wanted it to end.

The orgasm caught you by surprise, washing over you all at once. Your whole body shook, and you raked you nails over Dutch’s shoulder. “Daddy!” you screamed.

Dutch groaned and the rhythm of his hips stuttered as you tightened around him. He adjusted the angle once more as he began to chase his own end, rutting his hips against yours. His cock twitched inside you as he came, rocking against your pussy as he finished deep inside you. “Fuck,” he growled.

Both of you were still for a moment, basking in the rush and catching your breath. Dutch climbed off of you and tracked down a cloth to wipe both of you down with. You watched as he pulled his shirt and waistcoat back on. He picked up your clothes off the ground and set them on the bed next to you. Reluctantly, you got dressed and tried to comb your fingers through your hair.

Dutch was fastening his gunbelt, and you lightly tugged at the leather, question evident in your eyes. He grinned and pulled you in for a kiss. “I’ve got some loose ends to tie up.” He pulled the knife from his belt, inspecting the gleaming blade.

Barrow.

He noticed you staring at the blade, and offered it to you.

“Would you like to come?”