#edit: scratch that fuck it we ball
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A/N: yeah I wrote half of this when I went to see a live show… (shoutout to gho/st file/s!) Non edited/proofread bleh it just my rambling anyways
MDNI
Getting fucked dumb by a bigger man. In mass, size, and length. By the time their cock enters you, you’re already halfway to being a drooling and mindless mess. He needed to prep you thoroughly before you could take his cock, he didn’t want to hurt you after all.
“Oh? What’s that? You think you can take me with no prep?”
“Oh, little one, maybe we can try that tomorrow. For now, just lay back against me and let me stretch you out on my fingers.”
“Yes, I know they’re so big, aren’t they? Bet you never reached this deep in your own before.” “Bet those boys before couldn’t even dream of reaching this deep with their dicks, huh? I’ll show you what a real man is made of soon enough, darling.. “
You find purchase by holding on to his biceps while he fingers you, your arousal coating his palm while he smacks it against your puffy clit. The wet squelching noises made you try to cover your face and ears in embarrassment. But he couldn’t have that, oh no, no…
His free hand will pinch in your cheeks if you try to hide any of those sweet noises he loves. Scolding you gently for being embarrassed as his fingers plunged in faster and faster. If you still feel like fighting and escaping his hold on you. He’ll take it a step deeper, shoving two fingers in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. He doesn’t care if you drool or even try to bite down on him. As long as you keep on making those cute and sweet whimpers and moans unhindered.
You scratch and claw at his biceps as he flexes under your hands. Your pitiful attempts at damaging him barely did a dent to his muscular form. His mouth next to your ear, hot, heavy, laced with desire and need. Your pussy pulling in his fingers, sucking them in so sloppily.
“Fuck, maybe this slutty pussy can take me already. Look at how she’s crying out for me.”
Once he pulls one, two, maybe even three orgasms from just his fingers, your body quivering and twitching, only held down by his big encompassing arm around your waist. Depending on the mood he would pull out a small vibrartor bullet pressing down on your abused swollen clit, ignoring your cries to stop and attempts to push his hands away. His free hand trapping your wrists together, forcing your thighs to go over his own thick ones, spreading you out fully for his assault. Letting the vibrartor roam around your lips, just teasing you for a bit, he loves watching you twitch and struggle, licking the tears from your cheeks as he prods the bullet against your clit until the bed sheet underneath gets completely soaked.
If he doesn't care for toys or is feeling a bit hungry that day, he would kneel down on the bed but keep his back straight, his height still towering over you even in this position as he flips you upside down. Throwing your legs over his broad shoulders as he delves down for his feast. HIs fat tongue lapping at your juices like a starved dog, his arm squeezing at your soft chest and waist, sometimes yanking you back up to crash into his mouth when you slip a bit. Sucking and rolling his tongue and mouth over your sensitive little nub unless your cries become voiceless and your head gets dizzy from the position.
Then when you’re finally in that dumb state, nothing but incoherent babbles spilling from your lips, your body too exhausted to fight back. Turned into nothing but a toy for him to ram his cock into, He’ll pick you up once more, bringing your legs together and locking them in under one bicep. The other arm around your neck, not choking but pushing your head back so he can whisper filth in your ear as he lowers you down on his length. Your pussy so weak and wet, still struggles to fit him in all fully. Whines still come out when he’s halfway in, your breath gets hitch in your throat when he fully bottoms out. When he starts rutting into you, his balls slapping against your ass heavily with each bounce, he’ll press a hand down on the bulge protruding in your stomach.
“Full enough yet, love?”
“Pussy still so fucking tight, gotta train her better.”
“Oh, little one, you’re nothing but a toy for me to fuck, aren’t cha?”
“So pliant, you’ll let me do whatever I want to you, right? Cause you love this cock so much..”
#toji smut#konig smut#softy talks to you (·•᷄ࡇ•᷅ ) (•᷄ •᷅ ;)#softy write#kidd smut#one piece smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#simon riley smut#uhh who else is huge#zoro smut#softy spice#idk tag ur fav huge man
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first official post of my own thoughts bc I’ve decided to let myself be deranged on here..
the cod boys with a chubby partner who finally works up the nerve to attempt to send a nude!! this is so self indulgent y’all😭
PSA: !! I’m probably a horrible writer pls forgive me !!
My Masterlist🌱
Reader x John Price, Reader x Simon Ghost Riley, Reader x Johnny Soap MacTavish, Reader x Kyle Gaz Garrick
Random Headcanons: Edition 1
Warnings: NSFW
(mention of erections, nudes, inappropriate voice recordings, probably poor workplace behavior lmao)
Price
y’all have to be careful with our old man!! you might give him a heart attack :((
imagine he’s just in his office, bored out of his mind filling out his routine paperwork. Keeps dozing off, doesn’t feel like getting up to get more coffee. Practically praying for some kind of distraction or crisis to present itself. Suddenly he gets a text from you!! You know he gets bored at work so you try to send him little things that he’ll look at throughout the day, funny videos, a pretty tree you saw, etc.
But this time? Oh lord. He opens his messages from you and he sees your image with the blurred setting? With the caption ‘just in case you’re having a slow day.. don’t let anyone else see, okay?’
Of course our old man is scratching his beard, trying to guess what it is. He thinks on it for a moment, but ultimately gives up.. he opens it and goddamn. It’s your pretty little self perched on the bathroom counter of your shared apartment.. naked. Suddenly another text comes through, an apology. ‘I’m going to delete that- it looks really bad, I’m sorry’
He just about slips out of his chair with how fast he’s texting you ‘Don’t you dare.’
Ghost
Ghost? Ghost is a different story. You don’t have to worry about his heart- you have to worry about yours. The second you send him something like that? Sweetheart, there’s no stopping what he’ll do after the fact :]
He’s had a rough day, having to train some stupid ass recruits (his words, not mine). He’s already annoyed- someone took the last packet of tea from the kitchen area, he got caught on a nail turning a corner and his shirt ripped.. it’s not our baby’s day, y’all :((
He goes up onto the roof to get away from everything before he punches a whole in a wall- or in another person. He gets up top, sitting with his back to the ledge as he lights up a smoke. Grunting and grumbling to himself about everything that happened today, just thinking about being able to go home. Suddenly he gets a message from you. He sighs softly out of relief, and mumbles to himself ‘thank fuck.’
He opens the message, seeing a few little paragraphs about your day. You know he can’t text much during work, but you send him updates and he reads them at night whenever he can’t fall asleep. That way he still feels like he’s with you/talking to you while you get a good nights rest <3
He’s scrolling through the paragraphs, deciding to read a few to calm him down. He gets to the very top.. and he drops his smoke on himself., dropping his phone too. He quickly curses, brushing it off and stamping it out. He picks up his phone and.. the screen is broken. He’s so pissed off, poor baby. He manages to open his phone and see the picture through all of the cracks. He’s cursing to himself at how he can’t see the full picture. Suddenly he’s on his feet, heading down the stairs as fast as he can, ready to go home and make you recreate that photo..
Soap
We all know Soap is a menace. He probably sends you nudes (with your consent, of course) every few days. He’ll be trying on clothes and feeling himself? Who wouldn’t want to see a cute naked picture of him in the mirror. This definitely isn’t his first ball game, be sure of that ;)
Johnny has been having an alright day, mainly doing his duties nonchalantly, per usual. He manages to finish early and decides to hang out with some of the boys today, he knew you wouldn’t mind. Goes into the rec room where everyone was relaxing, playing pool, watching sports. He grabs a drink out of the mini fridge and kicks back on the couch, Ghost on his right, Alejandro on his left.
Between you and Johnny, you were definitely the more level headed one in the relationship. You knew that if you texted him throughout the day, he would get distracted and not get any work done, solely wanting to focus on you (just like a puppy, istg). He had texted you letting you know that he would be staying a little late today. You were always nice about it when he did that.. but today you felt a little needy, deciding to tease him a little.
He suddenly gets a text from you. Ghost and Ale, as nosy as ever, happen to be glancing at his phone screen when he opens his messages to a picture of a naked you on your knees, on your shared bed in front of a mirror, with the caption ‘that’s okay Johnny. just miss you, is all’. Johnny practically chokes on his drink, immediately slamming his phone against his chest, hoping Ghost and Ale didn’t see. He can already feel himself getting hard, and Ghost and Ale just chuckle. ‘Might want to get on home, Johnny’ they tease
Gaz
sweet, sweet baby Gaz. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t overly accustomed to sending nudes either!! In my mind he’s just the perfect gentleman, never initiating something like that unless you bring it up first :3
Gaz is outside, helping unload cargo from one of the trucks, just a usual shipment of supplies. He’s sweating his ass off, tired and ready for the day to end. He takes a break, sitting on a case of cargo for a moment and pulling out his phone. He sees a few messages from you and he smiles to himself, loving that you think of him throughout the day. He decides to go into the bathroom to get cleaned up. He walks in, grabbing a few paper towels to wipe some of his sweat off with as he opens his phone. First he sees a voice message, and he holds it up to his ear as he leans against a sink, ready to listen to his sweet love’s voice.
The audio recording starts to play. He immediately freezes, his body tensing as he listens to you. He could hear a faint buzz in the background, accompanied by your soft noises, clearly enjoying yourself. He’s frozen in place, barely comprehending what he’s listening to. The short voice recording ends and he just pulls his phone down from his ear, dumbfounded as he can already feel an erection growing. You send another text, a picture of you with a towel, cleaning yourself up. ‘I hope you’re having a good day <3’ is all you send with it. Let’s just say, he went into one of the bathroom stalls and didn’t come out for a little while, making sure to send you back a similar message. ‘My day is so much better now, baby’ he texts back with his own recording
I hope you guys liked this!! Please give me feedback, it would mean the world. Let me know if you want me to make a continuation of these, or do a part 2 with more characters!! Happy holidays <3
#cod mw2#john price#captain price#price x reader#cod modern warfare#cod x reader#ghost#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#ghost x reader#ghost mw2#john soap mactavish#soap cod#soap mw2#soap x reader#soap call of duty#soap mctavish#kyle gaz garrick#gaz cod#gaz call of duty#mickeywrites#drabbles#new writers on tumblr#new writers corner#call of duty#minors dni#bad writing#18+ only#18+ blog#mickey’s thoughts
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Somebody To Love - Part 5
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 AO3
*Professor Farnsworth voice* Good news everyone! It is finished! There'll be one more part after this, I didn't need as many parts/chapters as I originally thought becasue I figured why can't I just have a high word count here? 😅 I should be able to have the final part out soon once I've completed the edits. 🥳🖤
Some tw's for this part: addict thoughts, talks of dieting, addiction recovery.
The delicacy with which Dustin and Max were handling him made Eddie feel like he’d been thrown into an alternate reality. They had the kid gloves on, treating him with so much care, like he was a temperamental ornament ready to shatter at any moment and honestly, he kind of appreciated it.
People often took one look at him and just assumed he was a tough as nails metalhead drug addict that would spit at them sooner than look at them and like… sometimes they weren’t that far off.
But he was still human with an infuriatingly soft core and that core was feeling very bruised right now.
He didn’t know exactly what they knew of everything, they were obviously much closer to Steve than they were to him, but he wasn’t really sure how close.
Still, it was nice that they weren’t automatically treating him like dirt for breaking Steve’s heart and then clumsily attempting to sellotape it back together with promises of proving it to him. Maybe that was Steve’s doing. Or maybe they were just more emotionally intelligent than he’d given them credit for.
Chrissy, however, had no such compunctions.
She waltzed into his house at ass o’clock in the morning and shoved a to-go coffee into his hands, knowing well he hadn’t slept a wink, she had been the one up with him on the phone for half the night after all.
“C’mon, Twinkie!” She slapped his ass hard. Way harder than was necessary, in his opinion. “Now’s not a time for moping, now’s a time for action!”
Eddie scowled at her and took a sip before coughing it up and shooting coffee straight out of his nose.
“Jesus fuck!” He gulped back air, barely able to get the words out through the scratching at his throat. “How many espresso shots are in this?!”
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.” Chrissy dismissed with a wave of her hand.
He had barely managed to get his breath back, standing in the middle of his house in just his ratty old Dragon Ball Z boxers with coffee dripping down his chest when his front door was thrown open with a bang and more people descended on him.
“What the fuck are you guys doing here?”
The Corroded Coffin boys strolled through his house, immediately descending on his kitchen and raiding his cabinets for whatever food Steve constantly kept his house stocked with.
“We heard you finally got your head out of your ass.” Jeff replied, through a mouthful of Honeycombs.
“Hey! Those are mine- Wait. You knew?”
“Dude, everyone knew.” Grant had commandeered his chocolate Yoo-Hoo, cracking the lid off easily.
Eddie felt his stomach drop. “Everyone?”
“Everyone.” Gareth emphasised, knowing exactly whose wrath Eddie was now fearing.
“Shit. Does he know? What happened yesterday?”
Chrissy nodded. “I called him. He’s in the air.”
“You fucking traitor!” He shouted, pointing his finger at her. “He’s going to kill me!”
She just waved her hand at him. “Go get dressed. We’ve got work to do.”
Eddie mumbled and grumbled but did as he was told, knocking back the rest of the poisonous coffee she had provided him. When he arrived back downstairs it was like walking into the middle of an intervention, even though he had started the process himself.
He was going to get off the drugs, he was going to stop drinking. He was no longer going to be sleeping around, obviously, but he was also going to go to a private medical clinic for a number of tests. Just to make sure he hadn’t picked anything up in between previous testing. He was going to keep smoking, because god-damn it he needed something.
The rest of that day was spent with Dustin, Chrissy and the Corroded Coffin boys scraping through every square inch of his house, searching for his various stashes of drugs and alcohol while Max watched him like a hawk.
Chrissy pulled away some pills taped to the bottom of a decorative pot that sat on top of one of his upper cabinets and Eddie was pretty sure he’d never seen that pot in his life before. Never even looked at it, let alone hid shit using it. It was the ugliest fucking pot he’d ever seen, why was it in his house? Honestly he’d forgotten half the places they pulled a handle of vodka or a baggie of powder out of.
He wasn’t an addict, he didn’t consider himself an addict but he just used them more as an aid to get him through the day. He wasn’t an addict.
He used them because he wanted to, not because he needed to.
Except.
Except now that he was faced with the reality that there’d be none of it left in the house, and he’d be monitored very closely by all of them so he couldn’t break and go out and get a fix… it had his anxiety skyrocketing through the roof and he almost asked them to stop multiple times.
But each time he did, he remembered the defeat and heartbreak on Steve’s face and he… he just had to keep pushing forward.
As they went from room to room, Max seemed to have some kind of sixth sense. Sitting there in her tailored business suit, red hair in a high pony, leaning over towards him with her elbows on her knees. Whenever he knew where something was stashed and the guys skimmed over it or missed it, she called out to them, telling them to look again without taking her eyes off him.
“How the hell are you doing that?” He asked.
“I had a troubled upbringing.” Max replied with a flat tone of voice.
They’d been at it for hours by the time he called for a fucking breather. All of this was exhausting. The stress was eating at his stomach. Eddie was in his back garden, trying to chill the fuck out with a cigarette when he heard the door open behind him.
“Boy.” The voice that came from behind him was heavy and stern, like Eddie’s own personal Kratos had descended and Eddie froze like a rabbit caught in a trap.
He turned slowly, hoping that someone else, anyone else was around to help take the pressure off but they all seemed to have scattered, the cowards.
“Wayne!” He tried to inject as much joy and lightness into his voice as he got to his feet but the man just continued to stare down at him with a raised eyebrow and his arms crossed, towering over him like a monument of parental disappointment.
Quick as a flash Wayne’s hand shot out and slapped him over the back of the head, not too hard, but hard enough to let Eddie know he wasn’t happy, as if that had ever been in doubt. “What did you do to that young man?”
“You can’t hit me! I’m in recovery!”
Wayne slapped him again.
“I’m fixing it!”
“You better be. I like that Steve kid. He’s good for you.”
Eddie slumped, dropping his cigarette butt on the ground and trudging over to his uncle, pressing his forehead into his collarbone. “I know.”
Wayne nodded and pulled him in close for a hug.
“I’m fixing it.” Eddie said again, quieter this time.
“Good.” Wayne rubbed his hand up and down Eddie back before pulling away. “We’ll get this sorted.” He placed his hands on either side of Eddie’s face and gave him a light squeeze. “Now pick up that butt, I didn’t teach you to litter.”
For all his whining and grumbling and absolute terror of the man, it was a big help having Wayne around. Of course it was, how could it not be. Though he’d never doubted Wayne for a second, facing up to the consequences of his actions had never been something Eddie was particularly eager to do.
Case in point, involving Chrissy was maybe a mistake.
Because she was, like, sporty and shit. And she kept dragging him out of bed in the early hours of the morning once the worst of everything was out of his system.
She’d force him into the gym room that came with the house and Eddie was pretty sure he’d never set foot in it before. But all the stuff there had clear signs of being used regularly and it was with a strange mix of sadness and glee that he figured Steve had probably been the one using it all along.
“Why am I here?”
“To get some endorphins into you without using drugs.”
Soulmate his fucking ass.
Chrissy was no less than a drill sergeant and no amount of whining and bitching would stop her from making him do stretches and get on the treadmill and god he fucking hated it. Any one who enjoyed exercising was now solidly listed under ‘psychopath’ in his brain.
Chrissy had even convinced Max to get her husband, some kind of sports health something or other, to put together a meal plan for him that had him eating shit like broccoli and apples and brown fucking rice.
Eddie did not throw a temper tantrum by day five of that diet, about a week and a half into this whole ‘getting his shit together so he could prove to Steve he was a competent human’ thing. Definitely not, even though his muscles ached and he wanted to stuff an entire Dunkin worth of Donuts into his mouth and get stupidly ridiculously high.
“Fuck off and leave me alone, Chrissy.” He snapped one morning from underneath his bedsheets. He was fucking tired, he was fucking sore and last he checked sugar wasn’t one of the addictions he was supposed to be giving up so why the fuck wasn’t he allowed to have any?
Chrissy crossed her arms. “No.”
“What’s even the point of this anyway? How the hell is the fucking broccoli and the fucking treadmill proving to Steve that I’m gonna stick around?”
“Because you’re improving yourself, taking care of yourself. Staying away from the drugs and alcohol and sex orgies and showing him you’re trying.” She sighed, softening her voice. “Didn’t you tell him you’d try every day for him?”
“Whatever.” Eddie grumbled, pulling the covers up over his head. “It’s a bed day. I’m staying in bed. Don’t try to drag me out, I will bite you.”
He could hear Chrissy leave and he knew the attitude was unnecessary, she was his rock in all of this, but he just wasn’t in the fucking mood to do anything apart from wallow.
He had dozed back off to sleep until he was awoken by someone coming up the stairs. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw a tall handsome man with fantastic shoulders standing in his doorway with a box of fucking donuts in his hand.
What kind of sugar-craving wet dream was this?
The guy lifted his hand with a pleasant smile. “Hey-”
“Sorry, man. I’m off the market.” Eddie slurred in some kind of delirious half-asleep haze before his brain finally caught up with him and he realised that’s probably not what was happening right now.
The guy burst out in a short laugh. “Yeah, me too. I’m Max’s husband, Lucas.”
Eddie’s entire face went scarlet. “Oh fuck, don’t tell her I said that. She’ll cut my balls off.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He said with an easy smile as he held the box out and shook it slightly. “I brought these for you.”
Lucas handed the donuts to him and even though Eddie should be wary of the quite literal candy from a stranger (although, was candy really the correct term?), the allure of fried sugar was too much.
“Aren’t you supposed to be having me eat healthy?” Eddie asked, practically diving face first into the box and stuffing as much as he could into his mouth at once. “Minoththuppothsbeowmaheawthmfifthnssjurmy?”
Lucas blinked at him and Eddie forced himself to swallow the large lump of fried dough, but not without sucking on his fingers first. “Am I not supposed to be on a health and fitness journey? Or whatever you,” he wiggled his fingers at him, “active types call it.”
"Don’t get me wrong, you still need to eat right and exercise but the meal plans I write up are usually for athletes at the top of their game. So the fact that sugar and some fats never made it in just never occurred to me. And no offence to you dude, but you are no athlete.” He smiled and tapped the box. “Everything in moderation, right?”
Things began to even out after that. The boys started to travel between Eddie’s house and their own homes, checking in on him less and less the better he got. Finally getting to spend some well deserved time with their families rather than babysitting their problematic frontman.
Wayne still stuck around. Eddie’s literal rock in everything he’d ever done in his life ever and Chrissy was no longer riding him so hard about getting the endorphins pumping.
Honestly video games could do the same thing for him but she refused to accept that.
When Steve walked back through his front door some two weeks after he’d left for a second time, he took Eddie by surprise all over again, manifesting behind him like some kind of ghost and scaring the ever loving shit out of him.
But he didn’t throw himself at Steve this time.
He didn’t have that right anymore.
The ball was in Steve’s court and he would be the one that would decide just how fast they moved from now on.
He noticed the difference in Eddie almost immediately because of course he did. Telling him off hand that he looked good, healthy. That he hadn’t looked like that since their second studio album blew up, which caused Eddie to blush furiously and hide his face behind his hair like a fucking schoolgirl and not someone who had appeared in fucking ‘Playgirl’, which he had.
Usually in his down time he would have been spending it hanging out with Steve and his weird little found family. And with Wayne, flying in between LA and Indiana and getting to remember what it felt like to just be a normal person again.
But it had also been the time Eddie would let loose and go hard into everything could. The kinds of things he couldn’t manage when on tour.
Days long sex parties, kink clubs, high quality drug dens, week long getaways to someone’s private island or luxury yacht that probably collectively took ten years off his life every time he went.
But they were a thing of the past now.
Eddie found he was kind of enjoying the slower summer getting clean afforded him. He’d started to enjoy the things he used to love so much, but lost over time.
Reading, losing himself in a writing haze, feeling the frantic passion of ideas and creativity overtaking him, and all with a clear head this time.
Days spent in his basement studio no longer fueled by cocaine and other stimulants, now only fueled by caffeine.
Before, he’d be able to go a couple of days awake in his writing haze but caffeine was no substitute for coke.
As a result of that, being under the influence of only caffeine, sugar and nicotine he usually ended up crashing on the couch down there before he even realised he was falling asleep. Sometimes he’d wake up with handwritten pages stuck to his cheek or forehead, sometimes he’d wake up with the mother of all back aches and stiff fingers. But sometimes he’d wake up with a blanket thrown over him, the ghost of a hand in his hair and a strawberry frappuccino waiting for him on the coffee table.
The downside of being lucid and sober was that Eddie was now painfully aware of his shithead behaviour over the last number of years and it constantly threatened to push him back into a spiral again.
He was actually mentally present for the first time in he didn’t know how long for a meeting with the label executives to discuss a timeline for the next album and tour. He had no idea just how much Steve had been doing for him, especially when it came to this.
Making decisions on his behalf that always benefited him far more than anything he’d have been able to negotiate himself, making excuses for why he was so out of it all the time that everyone could see through. But the execs always let it go because Corroded Coffin were one of the labels biggest bands, on of their biggest money earners and continued to be, no matter how fucked up Eddie was.
And it wasn't just meetings with execs he now had to deal with. The people refused to get the god-damn memo. The invites to all the debauched shit he usually took part in just kept coming and people actually started getting defensive whenever he refused.
No matter what he told them.
He told them he didn’t want to go. He was healing. He was off the shit that would be shared around like pass the parcel. They were down right offended to hear it. Like Eddie was somehow telling them all he was better than them by holding up a mirror towards their own actions which… maybe, yeah actually.
The only invite he had accepted was a charity fundraiser for queer homeless youth. But only with a firm stance that he would not be going to any kind of after party, so don’t even bother asking.
But it would be fine.
There’d be alcohol and probably some drugs and probably some people trying to get into his pants there but Chrissy and Steve would also be there, all but chained to his side. Gareth, Jeff and Grant would be taking up the mantle of schmoozing so it would be fine.
Plus, he was close to hitting his ninety days so he was definitely stronger than he had been at the start, right?
Yeah.
Either way, the alcohol, the drugs, the horny people… it would be the kind of shit that would be unavoidable in his line of work. So he’d have to get used to temptation being thrown in his face regardless and this would be a nice entry level experiment.
“You sure you want to do this?” Steve asked him, with an arm around his shoulder.
The return to normal touch had been gradual, happening over the last few months and it was doing wonderful things for his nerves right now. The three of them were sitting in the back of the big fancy car, stalling.
Steve flashed him a cheeky grin. “We can leave and head to the McDonalds drive-thru right now if you want.”
Eddie smiled and stopped twisting his rings around his fingers. This was an overly fancy event, probably requiring white gloves as part of the dress code but Eddie wasn’t going to start worrying about expectations like that now.
They knew who they’d invited.
“I’m fine. It’s fine.” He tipped his head over until he was leaning against Steve’s shoulder and laced his fingers with Chrissy’s gloved hand. “Let’s just get this over with. Maybe we can leave before I turn back into a pumpkin, though?”
Steve smiled. “Sure thing.” He pressed a quick kiss to the top of Eddie’s head and smoothly exited the car.
It was definitely not the most intimate thing they’d ever done together in their decade long friendship but definitely the most intimate thing that they’d done in the last three months and Eddie’s stomach exploded with butterflies.
“Cinderella doesn’t turn back into a pumpkin at midnight.” Chrissy said, shaking out her large pale pink dress as she stepped out of the car after Eddie. “Are you calling yourself the carriage?”
“Yeah.” He offered her his elbow. “I have plenty of carriage.”
“Twinkie,” she shook her head, “you have no carriage. It’s a tiny little fuzzy peach butt.”
“Excuse you, it’s a pumpkin!”
She rolled her eyes and gave his ass a little pinch out of view of anyone. “It is not.”
“It’s really not, Eds.” Steve put in with a not so subtle up-and-down look.
“This is a betrayal of the highest order,” he pointed at them, “and the both of you are terrible people.”
Overall, things went pretty well.
He didn’t really have to talk to anyone, the Corroded Coffin boys as previously discussed between them, were dealing with the majority of boring ass rich people conversation and Steve had enough experience from his upbringing with his parents to deflect the most persistent of wannabe schmoozers. Eddie had been sticking only to mocktails (his favourite would always be a Shirley Temple but they had some strawberry thing which was essentially just strawberry limeade but it was fucking delicious so who gave a fuck) and some really nice non-alcoholic champagne that honestly tasted better than the regular champagne without the tang of alcohol in it.
Steve had to lead someone away, almost with a hand at their elbow when they just kept pushing for conversation. Chrissy was in a gentle discussion with a new young artist who looked like she was about to vibrate out of her skin from fear. And Eddie felt a shadow descend into the chair next to him.
He turned, still trying to suck the last dregs of his Shirley Temple out of the bottom of his glass.
The guy who sat down looked vaguely familiar, in that kind of memory signal way. His subconscious definitely knew they’d crossed paths before but that could mean anything. Maybe he’d collaborated with him in the past? Maybe he was an old supplier? Maybe he’d slept with him, who knew?
“Hi!” The guy said with a smile and dark bedroom eyes.
Well, okay.
He slid a drink towards him, cold and beading with condensation and the most beautiful amber colour.
Eddie swallowed, unable to take his eyes off of it. He picked up the edge of the white tablecloth, using it to push the drink away. He didn’t even want to risk touching it.
“I’m clean.” Eddie pretty firmly kept the now empty Shirley Temple glass up, still sucking the straw around the bottom, trying to keep a barrier between them because no thank you. Not tonight. Not ever, anymore, if life worked out the way he wanted.
The guy nodded and smiled again, a little condescending, as though Eddie’s attempt to stay sober was cute. “I've been watching you. Trying to find an opportunity to say hi.” He scoffed lightly with a raised eyebrow. An attempt at an inside joke only one of them was in on. “Your bodyguard’s got a pretty tight grip on you though. Glad he finally gave you a chance to breathe.”
“Steve’s not my bodyguard.”
Even though he could be. Has definitely had to act like it before. More than once.
God, Eddie was a shit.
“No? He’s certainly acting like it. Won’t let anyone near you. Seems a little possessive if you ask me.” The guy scooted a little further forward and started brushing his leg up and down Eddie’s calf and Eddie retracted almost immediately.
“That’s going to be a solid no from me. I’m off the market for the foreseeable future.”
The guy couldn’t hide his surprise quickly enough. “Seriously? Someone get in your head about it?” The corner of his mouth tilted up in a smug grin. “Couldn’t stop thinking of a particular night? I couldn’t stop thinking of it either. I heard you stopped making the rounds after.”
Eddie could do nothing but blink at the absolute balls on this guy. But apparently this was a one sided conversation because the guy was still talking.
“I was hoping you’d call me again.” He attempted to nudge Eddie’s knee with his hand but Eddie pulled back again with a hard glare. The guy scoffed again. “Unless, of course, your phone privileges have been taken away by the help.” He laughed at his own pathetic, mean excuse for a joke. “I think we could be quite good together, Eddie.”
“I don’t fucking think so.”
The guy pushed out his bottom lip and batted his big eyelashes at him, like Eddie’s rejection was performative, like he was playing hard to get. “Awh. That’s too bad. You marked me up so good last time.”
It was only then that it finally clicked for him. “You’re the guy from the ‘Sucker’ video.”
The guy's bravado faltered, clearly not expecting to be forgotten so easily.
“Obviously.” He bit out.
He was the last guy Eddie had slept with before everything had happened.
Steve had shown him out and left on his vacation almost immediately after.
He’d been so upset.
“What the fuck did you say to him?” Eddie hissed, finally setting his glass down.
The guy blinked with a curl at his lip. “Who?”
“Steve.”
“Oh, him?” The guy laughed, short and sharp and mean. “Not my fault if he wasn’t ready to hear some harsh truths.” He shrugged. “I didn’t tell him anything he didn’t deserve to hear. Practically did you a favour, by the way.” The guy rolled his eyes. “Just had to get it in his head that he didn’t have a shot, shooting above his pay grade and if he couldn’t handle it he should take a long walk off a short pier. Even if you did let him weasel his way back in-”
There was something shoved hard into Eddie’s chest and he only had a second to register what was happening before he had to catch Chrissy around the waist and pull her back to stop her clawing this guy's eyes out.
The purse she’d pushed at him fell to the floor as Eddie was jerked forward, using his all of his weak as shit strength to keep a firm grip on Chrissy who was always so strong with her hidden jock prowess.
“Jesus Christ, put a leash on her, would you?” The guy had fired himself backwards, nearly toppling himself out of his seat.
“You motherf-! Edward, let me go!” Chrissy was swiping at the guy with one arm while the other dug into Eddie’s arm, trying to loosen his grip.
Before he could consider whether the spectacle of Chrissy Cunningham in her pink meringue dress absolutely wrecking this guys shit would be worth the entertainment enough to let her free, a wall of bodies planted themselves firmly in her way.
“I think it’s time we head out, don’t you?” Jeff asked leaning back, trying to avoid Chrissy’s hands.
“Yeah,” Eddie huffed. Jesus this girl was strong. “Yeah, maybe!”
The four of them were able to manhandle Chrissy, who was still spitting and cursing, shooing her out of the front door. Eddie glanced back and saw Steve leaning down towards the guy with the sharpest smile he’d ever seen, muttering into his ear ‘He doesn’t even remember your name’ before turning and following the five of them out.
There was silence between the six of them outside, save for the sound of Chrissy’s heavy breathing, as they waited for the car to come around.
They all bundled themselves inside and once the door slammed shut Eddie exploded.
“Okay, what the hell?”
The boys were looking at him with wary expressions, Chrissy was wide eyed and a little flushed and Steve just cocked an eyebrow, well used to Eddie’s tantrums after so long. But that wasn’t what this was.
“Him? Him? I slept with him? He’s not even cute, why the hell didn’t anyone stop me?!” He pointed at each of them in turn, not even bothering to skip out Steve, the fucker would only tease him about it later.
The car started moving and Eddie took a second to send a silent apology to the very nice chauffeur, Marlon, who really shouldn’t have to be dealing with their nonsense.
“Twinkie,” Chrissy huffed, ripping her white opera gloves off, “the amount of times I have tried to slap the dick out of your hand and get you to listen to me-”
Eddie squealed, high and outraged. But he couldn’t even stay mad because Steve was doubled over cackling like a witch on her broomstick and the boys were poking fun at him while literally poking him in the sides and all he could do was slump down in his seat and pout at them with crossed arms.
They did end up going through the McDonalds drive-thru after all.
So... y'all wanna see Eddie's Playgirl cover? 👀 (minors dni)
That magnificent artwork was done by the supremely talented @sporelium and I am in fucking awe of him, like holy shit. I saw it when it was originally posted and I have not been able to stop thinking about it. Thank you so much for letting me reference it here. 😘🖤
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 AO3
@lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring, @child-of-cthulhu, @sweetwaterangel, @anaibis, @katytheinspiredworkaholic, @littlewildflowerkitten, @hallucinatedjosten, @estrellami-1, @gregre369, @stxrcrossed186, @novelnovella, @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme, @hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere, @thesuninyaface, @messrs-weasley
#steddie#steve x eddie#stranger things#eddie x steve#fanfic#steddie fic#penny00dreadful#stranger things fic#rockstar eddie munson#rockstar eddie#personal assistant steve#personal assistant steve harrington#modern au#somebody to love
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A Bumpy Aftermath (18+)
(HotD Hogwarts!AU)
part 2 of "The Yule Ball";;
List of headcanons for the main three;;
Pairings: Aemond x Reader, Jacaerys x Reader, Aegon x Reader;
Warnings: ANGST, pining, jealousy, NSFW content (not in the way that you hope for), (Y/N) is crushed in this one, not proof-read yet;
Word count: a lot, and we're not even done;
Author's Note: I apologise for the delay! I know I was meant to post this long ago, but I got wrapped in so many things this holiday season. When the time came to edit what I had in my drafts, I rewrote the whole thing from scratch - I think you guys deserve the best I can offer, and I wasn't proud of that particular end result :")
Speaking of time, this fic contains a lot of time-travelling - as opposed to how it's portrayed in the Harry Potter franchise, the time travelling in this fic works quite differently; When you do it, not only do you disappear from the present you left, but you also fully replace the past version of yourself from the time you decided to travel to - as such, there no "clone" lurking around that you have to be careful with. The only disadvantage for our heroes is that there is no one to fulfil the good and the bad actions that they did a night before...
After the wrap up of last night's celebrations, (Y/N) wakes up with dread flooding her veins - although she has Aemond, the sun rays bring both Jacerys and Aegon forth, shining over her confused feelings.
All's well when ends well, but what will happen if she can't figure out her heart?
The gentle promise of a new dawn slowly stirrs (Y/N) awake.
Her eyes flutter open, and she brings her hands up in a lazy stretch. Slowly, yet surely, she gets up from her warm bed, and stiffles a yawn that threatens to escape her parted lips.
"Well, good morning, sleepy head!" Celeste Bone, her roommate, teases the girl lightly. "We thought you were dead for a sec there. Not even the screams of the Quiddich team woke you up."
(Y/N) is taken aback, and her eyes widen momentarily - not only was it a Sunday afternoon, but there were no games to play during that time of the term, either.
Noticing her confusion, Celeste shakes her head and adds through a mouthful of jelly beans, "The Slytherins had a fight with our guys - tell me something new - and they took it up on the empty playing field. But Lucaerys got pretty roughed up. They're not sure he's gonna play in the next games."
(Y/N)'s mouth hangs open in shock - a pained look graces her features, and she bites her inner cheek, while quickly dressing up in her robes. "Merlin's beard, is he okay now?! What started the fight?"
"He's in the West Wing, in the Infirmary. Wost thing he's donning on is a concussion. They..." Celeste scratches her head in an attempt to remember what exactly started the misunderstanding. Her expression turns sour and she snaps her fingers.
"They overheard the Slytherins taking shit about that Graphorn Professor Lynnen brought last week to class. You know how Androw got scratched by it? His mommy issued a whole investigaton over the legality of bringing a real magical creature to class... turns out there's a lot of but's and if's when it comes to that."
(Y/N)'s head pumps in pure shock and adrenaline. You oversleep one time, and this is what happens to the whole school?
Celeste shrugs her shoulders.
"Either way, their guys said some fucked up shit, ours retaliated by punching them real good. Luke called Androw a 'hairy butt' or something, and those bastards full on jumped him!"
"Fuck." (Y/N) exhaled through a strained breath, not even bothering to tie up her shoelaces. "Poor Luke. And poor Jace, too..."
She left her Common Room in a hurry, jumping once every two steps on the moving staircase, until she reached the Infirmary. As she entered through the big oak doors, the exasperated sighs of Miss Margelle, the school's main nurse, could be heard as clear as day.
"To anyone who isn't his immediate family, get out. Out, I said! Let the poor child rest!" She scolded infinitely, until the students of the Gryffindor Quiddich team started leaving the waiting room one by one.
(Y/N)'s back stiffened, and she lowered her head to sneak past the student body to reach Luke's bed. There, she found Jace, Baela and Rhaena already seated, and a very beat up Luke to match their worried faces.
"Luke!" The girl uttered affectionately, reaching for his bandaged palm. "I came as soon as I heard. Those Slytherins are God damn savages."
Jacaerys is the first to leap up, his eyes full from a mixture of affection and reluctance over last night's events. He is quick to offer (Y/N) his chair, running a hand though his brown hair, not knowing whether he should apologise once more or concentrate on the subject at hand.
(Y/N)'s eyes are the first to soften up at the sight of him, and his bloody nose.
"Jace... don't tell me they got you too!" She muses with a crooked smile, worry evident in her voice.
"If you think they got him, you should've see how they looked like after Jace had a turn." Baela announces loud and proud, jerking her head in the direction of two far away beds, separated from her field of view by a sheer curtain.
"Baela...!" Jacerys chastises the young Targaryen with a slight blush on his cheeks.
"What? They can listen in all they want - It's not like it's a lie!"
After shaking his head with a barely hidden smirk, Jace turns his full attention to (Y/N), and bites his lower lip. "We're fine. Those fuc--... those Slytherins aren't gonna touch either one of us anytime soon."
"But they'll take their revenge on Böfur alright!" Rhaena sniffles loudly with teary eyes.
This snaps (Y/N)'s attention, and the girl exchanges a look with Jacaerys, who only bites his cheek in remorse at the reminder.
"Wait, what happened?" The Gryffindor enquires, leaning onto the chair more, her hands clasped tightly over her chest. "Celeste told me that Androw pressed some charges against Professor Lynnen. What will happen to the Graphorn?"
"That's the thing." Luke sighs in the hospital bed. "The lawyers pressed charges against them both - they wanted to arrest Lynnen and euthanise Böfur."
"The news for the latter came by this morning." Jace added sombrely. "Their request actually went through."
For a second, (Y/N) can feel her heart stop. The only noises that befall the Infirmary are Lucerys' growl and Baela's loud curses.
She nods her head briskly, and gets up on her feet, just as fast as Jace did. "Then we must do something. We can't just let the poor guy be taken in by the Ministry."
Jace's eyes fill with glee and determination, and the male hums in agreement. "Absolutely." He concludes, dusting the creases out of his robes.
"And I know just the way to do it."
Two sets of rapid footsteps descend from the moving staircase. Jace and (Y/N) scurry along, on a pathway that could only lead to the Hufflepuff Common Room.
With each taken step, the girl's brows furrow deeper - what did Böfur's fate have anything to do with the gentle Hufflepuffs?
And, if she could be honest to herself, she had no wish to bump into Aegon again.
Mayhaps sensing her distress, or simply being wrecked by their lack of conversation, Jace takes in a deep breath and lowers his head to the ground.
"I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about the things I said last night." His husky voice echoes throughout the empty corridor. Only when he feels (Y/N)'s shoulders relax, in a silent encouragement to continue, he keeps going. "I behaved like a jealous pig, and I want you to know that I'll spend every single day that's left in this year to make it up to you."
Chocolate hues clash with shining (y/e/c) eyes - Gryffindor glances at Gryffindor, until both their stares soften in fondness.
"Jace..." (Y/N) utters through a deep sigh, "It's okay."
"No. No, it isn't." He whispers amusedly, vexxing himself for his unprincely behaviour. "You were so happy on the dance floor, and I ruined it all, because... Because I couldn't stand the idea of you having fun with someone other than me."
Jacaerys' pained face speaks of his honesty from miles away - still, he takes in a shaky breath and recoils into himself, persisting with his confession.
"I was selfish. I was an ass. Most of all, I was a coward." His eyes flutter close for a few seconds, before opening them again to grace the girl with the softest of smiles. "I wanted to ask you to the dance myself. I had everything ready, I knew all the things that I had to say, and yet... I never did."
He shrugs his broad shoulders and runs a hand through his rebel hair. He can't say he expects the girl to answer. Even now, he feels selfish for staining a heartfelt apology with his feelings for her - still, he had to let her know.
The only thing he was hoping for now was that (Y/N) could find it in herself to still be his friend.
Her mouth hangs wide open, before she collects herself, biting her lower lip in tribulation.
Although Jace's confession made her heart leap in place and her face surely turn red, the girl had to swallow down the feelings he awoke in her - she was Aemond's girlfriend now, and she had to let him know. As gently as she could.
Before she can cook up an apology and a reasonable explanation for her following rejection, a familiar head of silver hair catches her eye.
Of course it was him.
"Jace - there you are!" Aegon's distressed groan shook the very staircase to the core.
His leg was jerking rapidly in place, and he looked as if he'd been waiting on him for hours on end. "Took your sweet time, didn't you? You know I can't stay here for long."
Quickly, his attention falls on the familiar clump of (y/h/c) hair, and Aegon averts his eyes while choking on his own remarks. "(Y/N)." He says in a most stale manner, coughing in the back of his hand.
Utterly unimpressed, the girl apprisingly nods her head, keeping her mouth in a tight line. As for Aegon, the older male was doing anything but look at (Y/N), shifting from one foot to the next.
The other one who is sharing her expression is the older Velaryon, who completely gives up on waiting for his uncle; instead gesturing towards Aegon's pockets and taking the first step forward.
"We're sorry we're late - but we're here now." He finally says, as Aegon's hand frantically searches through his robe. His purple eyes light up when he gets a hold of something.
"Ah, here we are - good as new." The Targaryen muses expectantly, handing Jace a rusty looking necklace with a proud look.
"What is that?" (Y/N) asks through a quirked up brow, as she runs her fingers down the dainty hourglass.
"That, dear (Y/N), is a very old and important family heritage." Whilst speaking, Aegon pauses dramatically, waiting for the girl to gesture him to keep going.
Noticing her lack of enthusiasm towards his antics, he nods his head in awknowledged defeat and quirks the corners of his mouth downwards in a most amusing frown.
"You're still mad about last night - fair enough. Are you familiar with the term... 'time-turner'?"
At that, (Y/N)'s eyes turn up. She nods her head decidedly and huffs out in a breath.
"The magical device that allows any witch or wizard to turn back in time for a limited amount of hours."
Jace gives her a boyish wink and smiles happily. "That's right! ... This is our best bet to save Lynnen and Böfur." He adds in a more serious tone.
"How in the world did you get your hands on this?" The Gryffindor asks, mesmerised by the priceless antique. "I thought the entire stock of Time-Turners were somewhere in the Ministry building, held under lock and key."
Aegon throws (Y/N) an arrogant smile, and shrugs his shoulders playfully.
"As I said, it's a very precious family heirloom... and the name Targaryen weighs very heavily in the magical world." He snickers while adding, "You know, just in case you were wondering."
A pang of annoyance graces (Y/N)'s features, and Aegon raises his hands up in quiet surrender.
"I only meant it as a helpful tip in case you ever need anything." The oldest of the Targaryen brother solemnly says.
Jacaerys, too, rolls his eyes silently, but pats his uncle on the back in a greatful manner. "Thank you, Aegon. We couldn't do it without you."
"I know." The older male agrees thickly, checking his own pocket-watch. "Well, look at the time, indeed." He chuckles to himself, "I wish you good luck on your ventures, dear nephiew, darling (Y/N)."
Choosing to ignore his petname, the Gryffindor looks at the Targaryen with renowed interest and confusion.
"You're not coming with?" She asks tentatively, to which Aegon shakes his head, rocking an expression akin to frustration.
"Tsk, I can't." He tuts lightly, as he buries his hands into his black robes. "I have to go to court - courtesy to my baby brother."
"Aemond?" (Y/N) asks in disbelief, before adding on. "Court? I knew you'd eventually end up there, but I thought it'd take more time than that."
Feigning hurt at her silacious words, Aegon placed both his hands atop his heart, moaning painfully, as if he'd been shot.
"You hurt me, wound me truly - mom always said that the prettiest girls have the deadliest mouths."
Snickering at his double edged meaning, no doubt more than overjoyed, Aegon rose to his feet again.
"It's not what you think, though - thanks to your precious Aemond, Professor Lynnen is in more trouble than worth." This time, his attitude is serious.
Aegon lets out a bitter laugh and clicks his tongue in pure annoyance. "That brat can't keep his mouth shut about anything he deems improper."
"What do you mean?" (Y/N) asks, eyes wide from both confusion and offence raised at her boyfriend.
"You don't know?" Aegon asks, fully befuddled, before letting out in a low whistle. "I though you were the first to know, since my brother is your best friend and all."
As Aegon turned his back on the pair, taking the way down on the moving staircase, he threw nonchalantly over his shoulder:
"Aemond was the one who alerted the Ministry of the 'misconduct' the head of my house was showing. Professor Lynnen is facing trail because of him."
For once, (Y/N) is happy that Aegon has his back turned on her, for she imagines that the expression she's wearing beats the result of any farce he may have pulled on her over the years.
Anger bubbles inside her: not only from Aemond's lack of communication and transparancy with her, but from his cruelty, as well.
Professor Lynnen was an old man, with a happy attitude and a kind heart. He never showed up late to class, and was always understanding with missed deadlines and less than stellar turned-in homework.
Most of all, he took it upon himself to give his students the best possible experience with the 'Care for Magical Creatures' course. And if you were to take a survey over Hogwarts' most popular and loved professors, Lynnen was a safe bet to always come out on top.
To say that (Y/N) took the news personally was an understatement. Aemond knew - this was her favourite faculty employee!
... And Lucaerys' too. But there was no way he did it on a whim to hurt him, despite all the differences they both had. ... Right?
Although she defied the thought with everything inside her, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel as though this mummer's farce was a sleek attempt for revenge; over something that happened way before their time at Hogwarts.
Always the kind and attentive soul, Jace quietly puts his hand over the girl's shoulder, rubbing small circles in a soothing manner. He offers her a sympathetic smile, one that lets her know just how much he understands her fury.
"I'm... I'm so...?" She tires to say though a quizzical brow. The Gryffindor lets out a huff of pure disbelief, and shakes her head, not knowing what to think.
"I know how you feel. It sucks being left out of the loop. Especially on something so important. But we'll fix it - together, right?" Jacaerys offers her a tiny smile, reassuring her with a gentle squeeze of her shoulder.
"Right. Together." She repeats, eyes full of determination.
Jace's hands reach for (Y/N)'s neck shyly, and, for a moment, the pair catches each other looking into the other's eyes with unspoken longing. (Y/N) is the first to break the stare, coughing slightly while glancing at their shoes on the hard floor.
The boy's ears are caught ablaze, but he brushes off the feeling soon enough.
"Right, so..." He whispers, biting his lip, "About 32 turns should do it?"
"32 hours sounds good." (Y/N) concludes as well, "It gives us enough time to prepare for everything and talk to the twins and Luke about our plan."
Jace smiles at her fondly, and lets out a small chuckle. "I'll tell Luke to mind his business when he hears those rascals talk nonesense about Böfur and Lynnen."
The pair share a laugh and turn their eyes to the dainty necklace that sits over both their necks. Silently, they beging to count.
One... Two... Three... Four... Five...
"Alright, here's the plan: since there isn't anyone who can take our place at the Yule Ball, I fear we'll have to attend." Jace's velvety voice rings into the girl's disoriented ears, puncturing through her dizzy head. He's holding onto her, gently, ensuring that she doesn't fall over or backwards due to the nature of their trip.
(Y/N) lets out a groan in protest, and brings a hand to massage her temples. "What a ghastly way to time-travel..." She heaves out in an attempt to ground herself back to reality. "How do you look so well after all that?"
The eldest Velaryon smiles sheepishly and shrugs his shoulders.
"Fine, keep your secrets." The Gryffindor nudges him playfully, though still with a quirked brow. She nods assuringly, and returns her attention towards the subject at hand.
"Right. I still have to dance the opening waltz with Borya. We'll leave after - thankfully, everyone will be preoccupied with the ball, so the sneaking around part should be easy."
Jacaerys gives the girl a wide smile, and checks his hand watch from underneath his Gryffindor attire. "It's twelve o'clock. We need to get to Lynnen's office first, talk to him about what'll happen to Böfur."
As he speaks, the two begin walking side by side towards the small hut by the trident river.
(Y/N) exhales shortly, and gives her classmate a saddened look.
"I wish we could do something for him, too. Even if we sneak the graphorn out and away from Hogwarts, Lynnen is still going to face trail for school misconduct."
Jacaerys' steps cease for a moment, and a deep frustration crinkles his eyes. He spares the girl a comforting look, and runs a hand down his face in defeat.
"Aegon will still testify in his favour, to be sure." He breathes out in deep thought, "As will the Headmaster and every other student involved - safe maybe for Aemond and Androw."
In exchange for his words, (Y/N) hums in agreement, and adds in her own right.
"He's held in too high esteem to ever lose his job. Most of our Professors are eccentrics, anyway." She agrees quickly, "The worst they can do is prohibit him from bringing any more magical creatures to class."
Having given each other some courage with their shared hopes and beliefs, the two resume their walking in a more hurried pace. They pass classroom after classroom with their heads hung low, until...
"Ahaha, oh, Aemond!"
The soft giggling of a girl catches (Y/N)'s attention. It seems to be coming out from the 'Advanced Potions' class. Both Gryffindors share a curious look, before taking a peak inside the empty room.
Sure enough, there they are: Alys Rivers and Aemond Targaryen, fevereshly conversing about something with wide smiles on their faces.
"Listen, Alys, I wanted to ask you something." The Slytherin's smooth voice echoes throughout the spacious room.
"Of course~ anything!" She replies in a flirtatious manner, pulling her lavish hair out of her sleek ponytail.
(Y/N) was fast to take a step back, pulling at Jace's robes in a quiet attempt to grab his attention.
'Let's go.' She mouths to him, jerking her head to point at the ever moving enchanted set of stairs. He nods promptly.
For the rest of their way down, the Gryffindor tries her best not to think about the interaction she unwillingly spied upon.
So that's where Aemond was when he...
Her partner in crime disperses her thoughts with a nonchalant smirk.
"You know she stole Rosaline Petch's hair conditioner last year? Then she gaslit her into believing she just used it all up. That's why they had that ugly fall out." He states in a matter-of-fact tone.
Unexpectedly, a roaring laughter cascades from (Y/N)'s lips. Unable to calm down, she leans into the cold wall for support, raising up her brows in a display of surprise.
"Jacaerys Velaryon! Where in the world did you hear this?"
"It is known!" He laughs alongside his friend, "Come on, everyone in the Gryffindor Common Room talked about it!"
(Y/N)'s fit of giggles aggravates by the second. She quirks her head to the side and holds her sides from shaking. "Oh, everyone, is it?"
"Okay. Maybe not everyone." Jace's ears redden at having been caught. He offers the girl a beaming smile and admits shyly, "It was Sara and Elisabeth who wouldn't stop talking about it, and..."
"And?"
"And they might have invited me and Cregan to one of their super-exclusive gossip groups last winter... and..."
(Y/N) lets out a fake gasp, jabbing his side with her elbow in a playful manner.
"I cannot believe my ears. Jacaerys Velaryon and Cregan Stark - listening to gossip about Alys Rivers' hair!"
"Hey, it's like, totally full of extensions!" Jacerys strains his mellow voice to a higher pitch, immitating Elisabeth's manner of talking.
"Oh my God!" The girl exlaims, undisputably laughing even harder, crouching forward to steady herself once more. "That's what you were doing instead of Charms homework?"
"Come on, it was totally worth it!" He chuckles whilst looking a way for just a moment.
"How?" She grins cheerfully at her friend. "Past you would cuss you out to the Seven Hells and back! I remember even now how you used all your money to buy an enchanted feather, only to have it taken away when we took our O.W.L.'s."
Jacaerys groans into the air, and shuts his eyes while shedding an imaginary tear. "Please... don't remind me about that. It's supposed to be a well guarded secret!" He whispers near (Y/N)'s ear.
His eyes soften, however, and he ruffles the back of his head. "It was worth it... because it made you laugh now." He answers truthfully.
A comforting silence befalls the two after that: both hiding their faces away, smiling wistfully and blushing profusely from the all-but-an-actual-confession that Jace managed to slip from his lips.
"Sir, you must allow us to help you release Böfur back into the wild." (Y/N) says categorically, leaving no more room for pleading or refusing.
Professor Lynnen sits down at the pumpkin shaped table, a warm cup of tea presented in front of him and his two little guests. He runs his spotted handkerchief over his bald head and neck, taking in a deep, consoling breath.
"(Y/N), Jacaerys..." The old man begins, but cuts himself off at the sight of the distressed teens. "Böfur will be returned to his herd in Switzerland by the end of the month, I, I..." His eyes squint from underneath his rectangular glasses, and he shakes his head in confusion. "I'm afraid I don't understand why you're so adamant in having him go tonight."
"Something bad is about to happen if we don't smuggle him out tonight - or at least hide him in the forest." Jace's voice is laced with worry, and he openly pleads with the Care for Magical Creatures professor.
At his explanation, Lynnen's shaky hand comes to ruffle the boy's hair affectionately, as he smiles down at the two of them prudently.
"Child, there is no reason to worry over the unknown. I, I know that the Ministry wants to seek judgement against the poor fellow, but rest assured that nothing bad is going to happen to him." Having said that, Lynnen sniffs into his handkerchief and readies his voice by coughing. "All life is precious. The Ministry knows this, as well." He adds wistfully, with an admirable determination for a person so spent.
"Sir, but you don't understand... we do know." (Y/N) bites her lip harshly, glancing at her professor from over her simmering cup of tea; prolonging herself against the chair even further.
Lynnen's already expanded eyes widen to a comical amount.
"You... know already?" He asks tentaively, taking in a deep breath of understanding. His eyes swell with the warning of tears, and he brings another pocket handkerchief to his runny nose. "Oh, my poor Böfur..." The old man wails silently.
Both Gryffindors exchange a look of worry, and get up from their seats in order to console the hurting soul.
"He doesn't have to die." (Y/N) says with renowed fire, "We'll make sure he doesn't, but we need your help to take him away."
Jacaerys follows the pattern of her words not a heartbeat later, "Tonight is the Yule Ball. Every teacher and student will be in the Great Hall, dancing. We can come unseen to your hut again - we'll take Böfur and give him in the care of some centaurs we know until the time comes for him to leave." He speaks with passion in his heart.
"You can stay with the rest of the students for the whole celebration - you'll have an alibi, and no one will suspect you of freeing him. There's thousands of students at Hogwarts, but only twelve professors." (Y/N) proclaims optimistically, giving his wrinkled hand a gentle squeeze.
To both their surprise, Lynnen squeezes back, giving the pair a big, tight smile.
"That went better than expected." (Y/N) huffs, as she skips yet another two steps on their ascend.
"We still got a mouthful for using a Time-Turner on school grounds." Jace shudders at hammering tone Professor Lynnen used with them, but still smiles to himself when (Y/N) laughs. "Everything is falling into place, though." He takes a moment to collect himself, before uttering, barely above a whisper, "I'm glad we're doing this together."
"Me too. I don't want to jinx it, but I think we're actually going to pull this off." The girl muses to herself, and stops her walking once they reach the portrait guarding the entrance to their common room.
"I'll see you tonight?" Jace hushes in a sweet promise.
"I'll see you tonight." She replies with a wide smile that scrunches up her freckled nose.
The two turn to the awaiting Fat Lady, and prepare to say the month's ever changing password:
"Caput Draconis!"
The rest of the evening went on in an uncanny recall of déjà-vu.
(Y/N) put on her black and red silk dress, and she asked Celeste to do her hair.
She put on the same red lipstick, and did her eyes with the same eyeliner.
Finally, she walked down the stairs to the Great Hall, skipping down the exact same steps.
Borya bowed down, he kissed her hand - she might have blushed.
Alys tugged on Aemond's arm, and she might have glanced at them - although her nerves were pulling her apart.
This time, she forgot to wave and smile.
The first waltz began.
A flutter of emotions overcame her.
She looked at Jace.
Once.
Twice.
Three times, before the dance was over.
Once.
Twice.
Three times, she was twirled around by the Durmstrang student.
When they pulled apart, she looked at the clock - half past eleven, so close to midnight.
She danced two more, maybe three dances.
Jacaerys did the same.
When the clock struck the hour of the wolf, both Gryffindors excused themselves, promising to return momentarily.
While everything went down, Aemond looked.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Four times.
Five times.
Endlessly - until (Y/N) disappeared into the night with Jacaerys Strong following her foosteps.
The one thing that wouldn't change that cursed night, was the feeling of pure anguish he felt, as he watched the girl he loved leave with his nephiew in such a hurry.
Then Alys called out to him. And his vision became blurry.
Two sets of hurrying footsteps made their way across the smooth pavement, seemingly chasing each other to who was the fastest runner.
Jacaerys' hand went under and into the green flowerpot, in which Professor Lynnen left the set of keys to Böfur's fence.
(Y/N) let out a sigh of relief when the boy presented the set to her, and she grasped it with her own cold fingers.
Since no one was watching them, and there was no reason to hurry besides for their own benefit (the sooner they freed the graphorn and took him into his safe oasis, the sooner they could return to the warmth of the Great Hall), the two friends joked and wrapped their heads around the one problem they were facing in between small breaks: 'Just how are we going to transport him without having the guy scream into the night and alert everyone?'
Jacaerys came with the solution. There was plenty of fresh kill inside Lynnen's house, to feed the beast during the day, and they so happened to have all his keys.
Baiting him into the forest with it, all the while keeping him busy with the copious amounts of meat, the daring Gryffindors managed to pull through with their plan.
(Y/N) bowed down in reverence when she handed Böfur to Magorian, the mighty centaur who overlooked all which moved and entered in the Forbidden Forest - and Jace followed suit.
"Okay, now let's get out of here." She whispered to him in a grave tone, shaking to the core from the unforgiving cold.
Jacaerys soon noticed her shaking, and no amount of future protest from the girl managed to sway him into taking his coat back from her smaller form.
"I have the blood of the Dragon." He jested lightly, shaking his head at another of her failed attempts. "It keeps me warm enough. Don't be proud and wear it! I wouldn't forgive myself if you caught a cold."
"Y-You could die from anaphylactic shock, you know." The girl retorted through grittered teeth, rubbing her hands together to bring more warmth to her stiffened limbs.
"And it would be an honor to die knowing you were safe."
The smallest of smiles graced her lips, and she grabbed the eldest Velaryon by the robes again.
"Today is not the day you die."
Now it was Jacaerys' turn to smile.
The celebrations might've just as well ended when (Y/N) and Jace reached the Great Hall again. More than half the student population seemed to be utterly drunk on the spiked punch - courtesy to Aegon, who, in lack of both his nephiew and darling (Y/N), got bored during the forth or fifth dance -, and the other half poisoned by the questionable cookies that Vela Castillo made 'especially for the occasion'.
Not even Borya escaped their deadly clutches. Almost green in the face, he bowed down stiffly before his date - it was a miracle that he didn't empty his bowels then and there -, excusing himself profusely from the dance floor and scurrying to the Dungeons, where the Slytherin Common Room resided.
Baela had already went to sleep.
(Y/N) scrunched up her nose in amusement, and Jacaerys stiffled a small laugh.
"It seems that we're both partnerless." The girl noticed with a quirked brow. Her eyes scanned the perimeter of the wide room, but found no sight of silver hair, or charcoal black.
Where did Aemond and Alys go?
"Yeah, but the party's spent." Jace noticed in a stale manner, glancing at (Y/N) with the corners of his eyes. "I'm sorry." He added, barely above a whisper.
"Huh? What for?" It was her turn to question him, utterly perplexed.
"For... I mean..." Jace gestured towards the ballroom with a solemn expression, "For taking you away from the ball. You didn't get to dance like last night - or, well, tonight."
A cautious smile graces (Y/N)'s lips, lighting up her fair features. She pats Jace on the back and jests delicately.
"I don't need two nights in a row of dancing like that - I have a killer muscle ache already."
Hearing her words, Jacaerys laughs earnestly. Still, he gives her an apologetic look, which (Y/N) shoots down with a passing wink. "Don't worry. I mean it."
Her hands go above her head in a linguid stretch, and the Gryffindor stiffles a yawn.
"Good job to us for today!" She concludes lazily.
Although tiredness was taking over her, she couldn't help but feel a tad aggravated by what the end of the Yule Ball meant.
Since I never had the fight with with the boys... then there's no reason for Aemond to take off on his broomstick and confess to me tonight. When I wake up tomorrow, we won't be...
A heavy sigh unwillingly parts from her lips - (Y/N)'s eyes trail down sadly, but a pang of optimism finds it's way to her heart.
Even if he didn't confess, I know the way he feels about me. I can just tell him that I love him tomorrow. Explain it to him the way he explained it to me.
With her mind made up on the matter, she relaxes her tense muscles once more. Still...
"Jace, I think I should check up on Aemond. Make sure he's not... food-poisoned and whatnot."
For a second, the girl can swear that his jaw tightens in repressed anger, and his brown eyes glaze over with sadness and longing - but just as quickly as that look seemed to appear, it left his face in an instant.
"He's still your friend." The Velaryon reassures her with a strained smile, "Of course. But let me at least accompany you to their dorms - it's far too dark for comfort, and there's a lot of drunk students haunting the halls still."
"Thank you, Jace." (Y/N) returns his grin sweetly.
Their walk through the catacombs is one of a pleasant silence, and (Y/N) even finds herself humming to a low tune that her mother used to sing.
All's well when ends well, but...
"O-Oh! Oooh, shit!" A slurry moan cuts through the established taciturn.
"Shh, keep quiet..." A loud slap carries it's sound through the deafening darkness, spilling over the Gryffindors' ears. "Fuck, good girl..."
The man's voice shakes with lust, and with each passing second, a feeling of dread seeps into (Y/N)'s body. Jace stiffens next to the girl, and shoots her a quick look.
"Look at you, taking me so, so well - can you give me another one? Hmm?"
"Mmhh, yes, yes, yes, Aemond...!" The woman gasps louder and louder with each wet thrust, until she lets out a muffled scream, no doubt covered by... Aemond's... hand.
The same hand who held onto (Y/N) the night before. A night that didn't even happen. This was now her reality.
The girl's throat closes into itself. It's getting harder and harder to breathe.
"Yes...!" Aemond lets out in a loud bark, groaning loudly, "Good fucking girl. That's it, Alys, that's it, take all my fucking cum."
A loud step back. And then another one.
Retreating is all that (Y/N) can think to do.
Hot, scorching tears fall from her eyes, wasting over her red cheeks, falling on the floor.
She's running away now, clawing at her collar for a chance of fresh air.
She doesn't mind the fact that the couple more than certainly heard her, or that her sobs are so loud, that they're threatening to wake the whole castle up.
"(Y/N)!" Jace's desperate tone chases her down the hallway.
He marches towards her, before changing his mind in favour of approaching the tangled Slytherins, who are definitely closer yet.
"Lumos maxima." He commands with a rage fuelled voice, lighting over Aemond Targaryen and Alys Rivers - who tries to hoist her skirt up in great haste.
Jacaerys doesn't spare her a second glance, instead concentrating on Aemond - without even thinking twice, he punches him straight in the face, busting his knuckles and leaving them bloody in their right crochet.
"You piece of shit." He hisses at his uncle, and he wants to hit him again, but the unforgettable sobs that left (Y/N)'s throat make him immediately run after her.
"(Y/N)! (Y/N)!"
The Gryffindor must have lost his voice by the time he finally finds her, in the inner garden of the castle, resting her head on her knees, trembling with the intensity of her cries.
For what feels like an eternity, he sits on the icy steps with her, silent; rubbing her back soothingly after placing his coat over her smaller form.
The blood that coats his knuckles coagulates, and the initial sting turns into an easing numbness.
Eventually, like all things, her crying ends. Either from acceptance over the situation at hand, or from lack of remaining tears - it ends.
"... When this whole mess happened for the first time," (Y/N) began with a breathy voice, "Aemond sneaked in o-our dorms and told me he lo-loved me."
The girl swallows thickly, and levels her breath again before choking out. "A-A-And he said... that he always will."
Jacaerys is borne of the Blood of the Dragon. Despite all that, when he reaches to hug her, his hands are cold.
His chin rests atop her head in a comforting manner. His strong arms engulf her fully, better than his coat can. Jace's body radiates heat and safety, and he begins to rock her gently from side to side, feeling his own heart break with every venture.
"I can't e-even be mad at him, can I?" She weeps harshly into his arms, "We're not a thing here a-anymore... w-we never were in this reality, I s-suppose."
Jacaerys can't say anything - he doesn't know what she'd like to hear, or how to judge the situation impartially himself.
He feels his blood boil. Of one thing he is certain: he would never do that to her.
He wants to tell her that. He yearns to let her know - but the Gryffindor realises that they are both heartbroken in their own right. And that he had no right to, in light of her situation, to confuse her.
Jacaerys Velaryon settles on hugging her tighter, on smoothing the hair on her back in a gentle caress. "Shh, shh... don't cry. Don't waste your tears on that guy."
Jacaerys Velaryon stays like this however long she needs to. Burning on the inside, and shivering from the cold on the outside.
His jaw clenches and unclenches repeatedly. His concious is fighting against his selfish will - the former wins, and so he tells her.
"We can turn time back again, you know." He rubs her back, creating enough friction to keep her warm. "A turn or two should do the trick. I'll go set Böfur free, and you stay here and dance."
Tears well into his eyes again. They cloud his vision, blurring his surroundings - but he doesn't need eyes to continue, anyway.
"You dance with Borya and have fun... you let Aegon and his stupid brother froth at the mouth again. And then you go to your room. And then you wait for him. And then you talk to him."
For the first time that night, (Y/N)'s eyes shoot up in their own accord. She shakes her head relentlessly, parting from the warmth that Jace's body provided.
"No. No way." She denies him strongly.
"Why not? I can do it by myself." He soothes her back into his embrace, "I'll get it done and you, and Luke, and Böfur will be happy."
"And what about your own happiness? ... No." (Y/N) repeats again, as she brings her own hands to hug Jace back into her. "If Aemond truly loved me, he'd fight harder for me. What s-sort of relationship am I hoping to have, if he jumps Alys the second I'm not available?"
"He's an ass." Jace whispers atop her head again. "Ever since we were children. Don't waste your tears on him, sweet girl. He doesn't deserve you."
After a few more sniffs, (Y/N) finally raises her puffy face from the boy's robes. Her cheeks are red from crying, her eyes still glassy from the tears.
Her full lips quiver in the moonlight - once, twice, three times -, before she collides them with Jace's.
Hers move in wild abandon, while his stay frozen in their place. Perhaps they truly are.
Sensing his lack of desire for their unconventional peck, (Y/N) feels the heaviness of guilt suddenly pierce her soul.
"I'm sorry..." She whispers, an inch away from his swollen lips. "I misunderstood."
"You didn't misunderstand a thing." He murmurs against her turning cheek, while bringing his hand out to cup her jaw delicately and kiss her in his own right again.
Quiet moans leave both their lips. Jacaerys brings his free hand down, down to her waist, and pulls the girl closer to his body yet.
A flash of awareness brings him back to his wits on earth, as (Y/N) lets out a small whimper in his mouth.
With a tenderness rarely found in men, Jace pulls away from her face, caressing her stained cheeks with his calloused thumbs. "I'm sorry. I... I can't."
Seeing her eyes squeeze in pain and her body recoil in sadness, Jace holds her face in his hands gentler still, and whispers once more.
"From the first moment I met you, all I wanted was to kiss your lips." He admits fevereshly, shaking his head, "But I don't want to take advantage of you. You're hurt right now, and for good reason."
Jacaerys slowly rises on his feet, taking (Y/N) with him in his protective cradle.
The two make their way inside the castle. The warmth of the thousand fires flooding their veins like a warm bath after a harsh day in the Winter's outskirts.
"If we are to do this... I want you to choose me." He adds softly.
"I'll wait for you, (Y/N). And even if I'm not the one, I promise you to always be by your side."
All's well when ends well, right...?
┌─── ∘°❉°∘ ───┐
Taglist:
@caramelcandescence @spn-obession @ramielll 💗
└─── °∘❉∘° ───┘
#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#house of the dragon#aemond fanfiction#aemond imagine#aemond x y/n#house of the dragon aemond#aemond x fem!reader#aemond x you#jacaerys x reader#jacaerys valaryon x reader#jacerys x reader#jacerys strong#jacerys velaryon#slow burn#jacaerys strong#aegon x reader#aegon x you#aegon x y/n#aegon imagine#jacaerys imagine#jacaerys fluff#house of the dragon hogwarts au#house of the dragon jacaerys#house of the dragon aegon#aemond angst#they're all kinda assholes in this one#i'm literally so sorry#part 3 maybe?#let me know what you think
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Quackity was hosting a space on Twitter and these are a couple of things that he mentioned and that I was able to hear if you're interested [I couldn't hear the beginning or the end sadly :c]
- Quackity is going to upload a video to his main YouTube channel
- He also wants to create more content for his channel in spanish, but not simply re-upload streams but rather record specific content for YouTube
- As for streams, he wants to make more streams including irl stuff
- About the qsmp he said that "exciting" things are coming and that there are incredible plans for 2024
- He said he wanted to stream tomorrow [stream de rosca de reyes xd] he said he wanted to do it with someone but he didn't confirm anything, he just said "we'll see who with"
- Quackity also said this month was exciting because he had several personal announcements he said, and I quote: "Tomorrow I could be announcing that I am going to have a child and guess what? I'm not lying, or maybe I am, I don't know, who knows? who knows?.."
- He said he basically wanted to ''report'' so we could see he wasn't dead and that he wasn't "scratching his balls" [being lazy] and that he's been working really hard [which is why he's been inactive lately]
- He said he wanted to give this year everything he "owed us" from last year, like new emotes: "Emotes are coming soon for both channels and also for a third channel if I learn to speak Portuguese"
- "and the set up... No mames, for two years I've been doing streams in front of a white wall... I'm going to decorate there too, decoration streams are coming, I'll most likely punch the fucking wall and leave a hole there, maybe that will be my decoration but we'll try, that's going to be very exciting and very fun"
- hair reveal? [maybe maybe maybe he'll let his hair grow as long as he can and then cut it on stream maybe, that's the plan at least]
- maybe the second edition of "washing dishes live" will come xd
- He said that he's been talking to Rubius about doing something together [clarifying, he said they haven't talked about it much]
- after some people on twitter said they didn't believe him he said the new propaganda was "Quackity always tells the fucking truth/Quackity siempre dice la pura pinche verdad"
- "This month, God willing, something very exciting is coming on the QSMP and also in the month that follows and the month after that, very significant moments are coming to the qsmp, you'll know in due course what I'm talking about and if you want, record this clip so you can see that I'm not lying" [and so I did :D]
- says he's planning his return to a platform, he said "well, it's not a "return" because honestly I was never there." [tik tok?]
- And that's all I was able to hear :D
- I'll check if I missed anything and add it later xd
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Paring: Geralt x Reader
Summary: Reader is thrown into the Witcher’s world. Will she survive? Eventual smut may come about😉
A/N: This is the first part in a series. I have not edited or proofread. Please do not repost, translate or copy my work without permission. Please leave comments! ❤️
Chapter Two
Masterlist
I feel the warm sunshine on my face. I lay in between wake and asleep. Something feels strange as if I’m not in my bed. I feel a poke to my side. The whisper of voices begin to permeate my consciousness. I open my eyes blinking heavily to see two men standing above men.
The first one short and round with a frightening leer on his face. The other one tall and fairly muscled. I sit up and back away in confusion.
“She’s quite pretty sir.” The tall one grins.
“Aye that she is. She fetch a good price after. I’m down with her.” The short one replies. I look around quickly. Then I look back at the two men in front of me. I see them dress strangely as if they should be from a different time. “Tie her up. I’ll have my tast of her once we reach the castle.” He says. The Big on stomps to me. I feel my temper rise in my belly and the flush of rage begins to warm my cheeks.
The is dumb fuck wad had another thing coming if he thinks I’m going with him. I feel the dirt in my hands. The second he leans down I tos it right in his eyes. He scrambles back and I kick him right in the balls. I stumble to get up but once I do I run. I pant heavily and i run in the oppisite direction for where they are. I jump over logs. I look back don’t see them behind me. I keep running booking it deeper in the the forest. Just as I begin to slow down I am d ambushed. The large oaf tackling me to the groud. We roll across the ground. I try to keep from being pinned under him. We finally stop rolling with me on top and I scratch at his eyes. He screams in pain. I fight to pun away from him but he just pulls me right back in and punches me so hard in the face I feel myself wanting to back out. I fight to keep open my eyes. I buck hard hitting him in the chin. I try to knee him again and he bellows in rage again. I roll out from under him and start to run again when I feel in a sharp pain in my side. I look down to see an arrow sticking out of my side.
I stand in shock at the sight when I feel a sharp pain at the back of my head and then darkness.
When I wake again I am moving and Have an intense pain in my side. I look and see I am in the back of a cart with my hand tied in front of me and my feet bound together. I press my hand to the wound on my side is leaking still. I see the arrow in my side and stifle a gasp. My memories start to flood my mind. I feel panic in my rising in my chest. I swallow down the panic and breathe. The first thing I need to do is to free myself. The second is getting away from these assholes. The rest I can figure out after I’m free. I can her the voices but I can make out what they are saying. I start biting at the rope and I gage out the tast in my mouth. I keep biting until I can wiggle my hands free. I sit up and hold in the scream that threatens to rip free from the pain. I dare not even try to lean forward to untie my feet for the fear of the pain.
I look to see the arrow tip is still sticking through me. Fuck. I’m going to have to break that and the back of it. I roll from my left side and take a couple of deep breathes be for I roll over to the right in a rush and snap the back. I bight my lip so hard I I tast blood. I breathe heavy and try not to cry at the great amount of pain.
I look down and see the arrow head still sticking out. I h=take another deep breath and hold it in my hand and roll Ofer quickly snapping it off. The pain roll though me in waves. I look down and tear the sleeves of my pajamas and press it against my wound. I can fish taking the whole arrow out and bleed out.
I feel th cart stop. I pick up the arrow head Nd grasp it firmly. I sit up ready and see the cart door begin to open ant to the big oaf before he can reach I stab the arrow in his face pushing him to the ground. He screams in pain and I take off running again. My side aches and I run. I hear scream of fright behind me. I look and see something big eating at the big oaf and fat man is running toward me hauling ass. Without another thought I I take off running. The pain slows me down the I feel my hair grabbed and it pulls me backwards. My weight is pulled him to himI grab his arm trying to pull it away. He pulls me around and puts me in front of him. I stop struggleing when I see why he has moved me in front of him. I begin struggling even more when the beast turn our way and starts coming.
I stomp his foot with everything i can. He howls in pain and the grip on my hair relaxes for a moment and I pull free and push him to the ground and take off running again. I hear his scream and a loud sickening squelching. I feel my self tireing and my foot slip sending me tumbling down to the ground. I can hear the monster coming for me. I turn over to my back and see the spider like monster coming. I try to stand barely making it when I see a flash of white hair fall from the sky and impale the spiders thorax to the going and I was as the monster screams a sound so horrible I cover my ears.
I see the man pull out the sword and bring it back down on there creatures head. My legs wobble beneath me. I struggle to stand. The Man pulls out his sword out and I fall to the ground. I feel my eyes close. If only for just a minute then i will stand. I struggle to open my eyes again. I finally get them open to see white haired man crouching above me. I see black eyes meet mine. I see the wolf medallion. I look back up to his face.
“Geralt?” I whispered and the promptly pass out.
@novaacanee - just tagging until I can fix the link ❤️❤️
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am i missing something in kinda comparing the entire maggie and nina situation to paris? 'cause there was no need to get them to fall in love. a&c might not be able to make people actually feel it, but they seem to have mind control down pat without much effort (or any moral quandaries). they could have waited for an angel to show up and just faked it- easy, certain way out. it's not like the idea of working together like that is even weird, not after the gabriel miracle.
so. either they missed it, which is plausible, and uhhh, renders this whole ask pointless, or *would* have moral issues with it (also plausible💀), or they're being completely ridiculous again, and would rather plan balls than actually make an effort to get themselves out of Mortal Fucking Peril (not that aziraphale necessarily knows it is). i think it would fit the pattern, honestly- when not having huge blowouts over *problems of their own making* (hey aziraphale kill this kid it'll be fine, aziraphale why won't you ditch earth with me, crowley why won't you come to heaven with me), the ineffables always seem to be constantly, aggressively orbiting eachother, making heart eyes and goofing off (cough end of the resurrectionists "not kind" cough) with 0 regard for safety except for the (very very sadly i can't find the -ennial word for every other century) occasional heart attack, and then just skipping right back down the aisle.
(hope this is coherent, i've been editing things a little too long to tell)
hello @aq-uatic my darling!!!💕
(bby im so sorry!!! i thought i had posted this ages ago and i went rooting around in the drafts to continue something else and realised i hadn't!!! im an idiot sorry!!!)
i think there is some context behind aziraphale's actions in particular with this scene:
we know that aziraphale has a fondness for maggie, that i'd argue goes slightly beyond the fondness he has for humans in general (and even then that's questionable at times), and he seems genuinely put out that he's not in a position to help her - to wiggle his fingers about, and make it happen for her (horrifying implications, aziraphale, but we move). so, whilst aziraphale obviously is prompted into the whole 'lets-make-these-two-humans-fall-in-love-bc-that's-totally-normal-and-okay' by holding the everyday record back in the bookshop, i think there is an element of aziraphale genuinely wanting to help her, and coming up with the ball is his interpretation of an organic way to do that (💀). but it doesn't justify the whole thing one little bit; despite the possibility of that being his intention, it's completely batshit - nina certainly didnt know, let alone consent, to anything, and maggie didn't either; they're not dolls for either of them to play around with.
essentially though, i agree - any logical, coherent, sensible thinking would have probably just helped them arrive at a solution that didn't involve warping reality and bringing a whole room of people under a horrifying amount of hypnosis. but you have two supernatural creatures who, in a fairly major way by the time of 2023 at least, have their sense of existing amongst humanity influenced by not only the clandestine, dramatic nature of their own story, but by their tendencies towards damsel-but-not-wholly-in-distress-ing and anti-hero-at-best-ing respectively. we have to barely scratch the surface to see the intertextuality between these traits of theirs, and where they might stem from stories told in certain books and movies (emma by jane austen, and james bond spring to mind).
they constantly talk in riddles to each other, in code and in double meanings - they may somewhat understand the general sense of what the other is saying, but it's not categorical and leaves too much room for error or misinterpretation (which, ultimately, it does). it's a constant dance circling each other, ebbing and flowing, pulling in and drawing back, but never coming together properly; it's a quadrille vs. a waltz.
it makes sense that they are so used to finding the most roundabout and convoluted ways to do things, and this continues into s2, because not only is it how it tends to go down in fiction, but also because that's literally how they've had to exist - not only so their closeness isn't detected, or so their true natures aren't suspected by their respective head offices, but also by nature of being literal supernatural creatures living amongst humans - sleeper agents, of a kind - and constantly having to exist without detection.
none of this makes it right, of course not - but i actually don't think they see any other way of going about things. they're so good at it, so well practiced, that (as just two examples) they run verbal rings around gabriel/metatron (book) and beelzebub chattering about the great vs. ineffable plans at the airfield, and they dance around the most straightforward solution to the maggie/nina problem. as for themselves and their relationship, they dont speak plainly to each other until the bandstand or final fifteen... and even then, i feel like its aziraphale that is maybe the first to break and speak plainly? idk:
i think it's clear that crowley is the more scared, and therefore the more cautious, in this regard. for all his objections attempting to distance himself as an angel compared to crowley's being a demon, aziraphale feels to me that he is the more inclined to throw caution to the wind. i think its because crowley understands the danger in blowing their cover a little more than aziraphale does - aziraphale on multiple occasions slips in nearly admitting their closeness (1800, end of 1827 as you pointed out, and when meeting with the archangels in heaven in s1) - and is still stuck in the safety that dancing around what should be plainly said affords them. they both - as you wonderfully put it - aggressively orbit each other, and breaking the holding pattern comes a little too late.
so no, i think your drawing the parallel between the Weird-Ass dynamic in 1793, how they handle the maggie/nina storyline, and then how they behave with each other, is very apt! but its, at this time, arguably all that they've known - acting in this way - and breaking the cycle is starting to happen, but won't pay its dividends until s3✨
#this is a new angle for me to think about and therefore not well written and you have my apologies for that#good omens#ask#s2 meta#flashback meta#crowley meta#aziraphale meta#feral domestic/final fifteen meta
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Harley D. Dixon 12
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Rick and my Dad return alone in the afternoon.
I only have a short moment to be disappointed that they didn't find Sophia before something else steals my attention. After I recounted my time in the woods to all the adults, and how I almost ran into Jim right before being attacked by a walker, everyone's moods have gone from tense to tenser — especially Shane's. As soon as Rick and Dad make it back, he bounds down the RV steps and makes a beeline for 'em with those angry, balled fists'a his, and that stressed-out walk that makes his dog-tag sway. I crack the window open an inch so I can listen in on what he has to say.
"Listen," He huffs as he approaches. "We got a problem."
Rick cringes lightly. "Another one?"
My Dad, as he crosses his arms over his chest and leans against a nearby truck, lets his gaze wonder over to the RV, where he knows I'm staying. He glances at the tyres, the side-mirror, the roof, but never the window.
"Not a new one. An old one." Shane scoffs lightly. "Jim."
Suddenly, my Dad's all ears.
"Hell you mean?"
"Jim Davison. Your daughter just told me she almost ran straight in'a him while she was alone out there." He says. "Said she found his clothes hangin' on a line by a tent, his cap, the knife, the rope. And the way she described this thing — I believe her."
"Jim?" Rick frowns.
"Ain't nobody else wonderin' around out here with a Detroit Tigers cap and one'a Dale's steak knives." He shrugs. "It's him."
"Damn it." My Dad grumbles to himself, sounding exhausted.
"We knew there was a possibility he'd make it out." Rick sighs, as if that helps anythin'. "Hell, I mean, we banked on it."
"We banked on it, alright, but only 'cause the alternative was a whole lot worse." Shane retorts. "I mean, we were one peanut butter jar away from leavin' him there to starve, Rick, and I'm honestly startin' to wish we had. Them last couple days he was with us... the shit he was sayin'—"
My Dad interrupts him. "She almost ran into him, she said? He ain't get to her?"
Get to her, makes it sound like Jim wants to do somethin' bad to me, which is a scary thought. Me gettin' scratched was the whole reason he got abandoned in the first place, and even before then, he weren't my biggest fan. I always wondered why that was.
"Y'know, Daryl," Shane scoffs to himself, "How 'bout you go ask her yourself?"
Dad stiffens.
"Bendin' over backwards to find one lil' girl, while there's another'un back here wonderin' where the Hell her Daddy's gone off to." Shane argues, almost disgusted by the sight of my Dad right now. "You even seen her since yesterday?"
Dad has nothing to say to that, 'cause the answer's no.
"You even care how her wound's healin'? She could be on her death bed right now and you wouldn't even know."
"Shane, back off a little." Rick says quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"I say we go kill him." My Dad suggests randomly, and with passion. "I say we go and find that damn camp and finish the job. Harley should know where it is. It's just the one tent, right? Easy fucking pickings. I've killed turkey's tougher than that lil' wimp, and I'll do it again."
"I ain't so sure that a wise idea." Rick disagrees.
"I'on give a shit about wise." Dad warns. "I give a shit about my kid."
Shane scoffs at that, 'cause of course he does.
Dad catches it. "What? You got somethin' you wanna say?"
"Oh yeah, I got somethin' I wanna say." He sasses, mirroring my Dad as he begins to straighten; begins to plan where exactly on his body that'll hurt and bleed and bruise the most. "I ain't got nothin' you wanna hear, though, 'cause—"
"Oh, who am I kiddin', you always got somethin' you wanna say."
"—you're livin' in denial, Daryl."
"Well, you ain't gonna be livin' at all in a minute, if you ain't careful."
"Oh, how classy's that?"
"Guys." Rick intervenes.
As the argument escalates, I pull the curtain back across the window to hide away from it all, pulling the covers over my face. All I can do is hope that Shane doesn't decide to blurt out anythin' stupid like, Remember when you belted your kid, Daryl, in front of Rick, 'cause Rick's a cop, too, and I already got one too many'a those things pokin' around me and my Dad's business. I lay there for about five minutes, after which the shoutin' stops, and then I lay there for about twenty more minutes, wondering once more where my Dad's gone off to. I wonder if he's gone to kill Jim.
I'm fiddling with Matilda's hair when I hear talking coming from outside the RV, this time much quieter than before. I lift the covers to hear better, confused. It sounds like my Dad's voice. Footsteps approach my door, and those also sound like they belong to him.
I sit up just in time to see my Dad standing in the doorway.
"Knock, knock." He says tiredly.
I'm shocked.
"Dad?"
He comes forward and sits on the edge of the bed, looking down at me placidly; wordlessly. I catch myself studying his face for new scrapes or bumps, but it looks like the fight didn't have the chance to turn physical, 'cause all I see is a single grape-colored bruise around his tender-looking eye. It feathers all the way up to his brow, paling to sickly yellows and greens as it goes. A stain of revenge. It's good to see his face in the light again. It's good that there's no anger there. He takes in my sun-burnt face; my bug-bitten neck. He reaches out and sets the warm palm of his hand — Not a nice hand or a mean hand. Just a hand — down on my stomach through the covers, over my wound, where just one day ago I was bleeding buckets of blood all over him. He frowns to himself and pulls away. Then he leans forward and pecks me gently on the brow.
I don't even flinch. I don't stiffen, or gasp, or nothin'.
"I'll sing for you tonight, chicken." He tells me softly. It's not a suggestion, it's a statement, just like how I'm sorry is a statement. "So don't go nowhere."
That almost makes me giggle; almost makes me forget about the way my side is aching and my friend is missing. I think Dale and Lori, the worry-warts that they are, would have heart attacks if I tried to leave the RV.
He almost smiles, too.
"There's somethin' I gotta do, but I'll be back by dark."
"Okay." I happily agree. "I'll wait."
It's not a lot, but I'll take it. I'm just glad he visited me at all.
If Shane saw this — My Dad tryna be nice, and me lettin' him without question— he'd go mad. I don't know why I consider this, though, 'cause when have I ever cared about what Shane thinks? When'd he sneak into my brain?
After giving me one last kiss, this time on my forehead, my Dad gets up and hesitantly leaves the room.
"Look after her." I hear him tellin' Dale.
"Will do." He responds softly.
The door to the RV shuts.
I know my Dad wants to murder Jim like he murdered Ronnie, and he would shoot Shane without hesitation, and he yells at me and belts me and avoids talking to me, and that Shane thinks he's a monster, but even monsters can love — And love from a monster is better than no love at all.
I fall asleep with a fuller heart than usual.
"With tails in the air, they trotted on down past the shops and the park to the far end of town." Dale reads over the rims of his spectacles, the Hairy Maclary book propped up in his lap. "They sniffed at the smells, and they snooped at each other, when suddenly, out of the shadows they saw—"
"Scar-face Claw." I snarl with a grin.
The page turns, revealing... Scare-face Claw, the toughest Tom in town. Yes! I knew it. I love this part. I've read it a hundred times.
Dale, sitting next to me on the sofa, grins and sets the book down.
"You know what? I'm starting to think you know every page off by heart, young lady."
"I used to have almost all the books." I proudly say.
"Oh? Did you have this one in your collection?" He asks.
"Yeah," I nod, "It's my favorite."
"Lucky you," He bumps me gently. "Out of all the books in the world, your Dad found this one just for you."
I smile. He resumes reading, putting on a silly, not-very-Dale-like voice for Scar-face Claw like he always does when we reach this page. I never thought I'd hear Dale Horvath, deep-thinker and RV-fixer, go Meeeoow before, but I never thought my Dad would be nice to me ever again, neither, so today is just full of happy surprises.
We're near the end when T-Dog comes in.
He spots me and Dale on the sofa and chuckles. "This place is turnin' into a damn infirmary, ain't it? How you doin', little nerd?"
He juts his chin in my direction.
His forearm is wrapped in a red t-shirt that I'm pretty sure ain't actually meant to be red, and there's a subtle grimace built into his usually very cheery features. I guess he hurt his arm that day I went missing. It's good to see him standing at least, which is more than I can say for myself.
"I ain't so bad," I shrug, smiling.
"Had it pretty rough out there, huh?"
"I killed a walker." I tell him, 'cause it's fun to say. "Killed it dead all by myself."
He seems to find that funny. "I heard. Maybe I should start callin' ya little badass, instead."
I giggle.
"We're making the most of house-arrest by doing some reading." Dale says. "Gotta take it easy on those stitches before getting back out there, right?" He winks at me before turning back to T-Dog. "And how are you? The arm still giving you grief?"
"I's just lookin' for them clap-pills Daryl found. They in here?"
"The Doxycycline?" Dale deadpans.
"Yeah. The Doxy-whatever."
"Idiot... I suppose it is coming up for your third dose." He concedes with a great big sigh. "They're in the right cupboard, top shelf."
He pulls open the kitchen cupboard and retrieves the white bottle of pills that Jacqui made me take a couple hours ago. It's got my Uncle's name printed on the tag, which means it weren't picked up from a pharmacy or a dumpster — It came from my Dad. Jacqui said he offered 'em up the second I was outta his arms last night. It also had his birthday on it, which made me feel all bad on the inside, 'cause people don't get birthdays once they're dead, and the word Doxycycline, but it ain't had no clap on it. I thought clap was somethin' you did with your hands.
As T-Dog pops the cap, I ask, "What's clap?"
Are clap-pills for people who can't stop clapping? But T-Dog ain't clapping, and neither am I... Hm. Weird.
"Oh, Lord." He says, before downing two pills.
Dale answers more gracefully. "It's definitely not something you need to know about, that's for sure."
"Why not?"
T-Dog gives me an amused look as he puts the bottle back. "Trust me, kid, let's leave it at that. Ignorance is bliss."
Hm. I guess I'll never know.
"How many of those are left, anyway?" Dale asks him.
"Uh... 'Bout a handful." He guesses, sitting down in the booth. A hiss leaves his mouth as he peels the shirt back, revealing a line of thin, black X's stitched into his skin that look exactly like mine. He shakes his head, as if he just disagrees with his entire arm. "If they start to run out and we still ain't any better, I gotta say — The pills can go to Harley. I ain't gonna hog her chance at healin'."
"Don't be silly," Dale scolds him, taking off his glasses, which means he means business. "You're both gonna heal."
"Yeah," I parrot, "I don't mind sharin'. Not one bit."
"I'm just thinkin' rationally, here." T-Dog shrugs.
"I'm not too sure you are." Dale hums. "I think you're being pessimistic."
"Man," He tsks, annoyed, "Ain't we been worryin' about runnin' outta stuff since day one of this shit? We know how this goes. It goes in ya mouth, it ain't comin' back out again — Not in any useful way, at least... Same goes for pills. Simple as that. And when that happens, I'm sayin' Harley can have 'em. I'll be damned if she don't."
"Don't give up just because you can. Who's to say we won't find more medicine by then?"
"Common sense."
Dale looks like he's tryin' really hard to not roll his eyes.
"Okay, fine." He unhappily agrees. "For your peace of mind — Okay. But I'm telling you, this whole go-on-without-me thing is starting to get old."
He looks unconvinced.
"You believe this guy?" Dale murmurs to me funnily.
This makes him crack a smile. "Whatever, man."
"Oh, no, please. Keep offering your noble word to us, your highness." Dale jokes, making me giggle. T-Dog shakes his head, goin' okay, okay, okay, as Dale really rubs it in. "It was just getting good. That part about 'give them to Harley', oh, that was a clincher, that was. Almost made me tear up."
"Okay, old man, I get it." T-Dog chuckles. "Dang. You believe this guy?"
"I think you're both unbelievable." I say.
Dale grins. "That's it, then. You heard the girl."
"'Sides, you got more stitches than me." I tell T-Dog. "I bet it hurts worse, too. You were awake when they did yours, weren't you?"
I got lucky, 'cause I was knocked out when I got my stitches done.
He nods, tracing his wound with a finger. He makes himself laugh by saying, "Awake and screamin', that is."
"Oh, you weren't that bad." Dale dismisses.
"When they brought out that damn spool of fishing line, I just about squealed like a little girl."
"Fishing line?"
"Oh, you don't know?" He asks, and I shake my head no. "Oh, yeah. The pills weren't the only thing your Dad offered up. When Jacqui saw how deep your wound was and started talking 'bout stitches, he got out his tackle box like Mary Poppins and gave her a bunch of fishing line to make it happen. Needle came from a sewing kit we found in a car. If that's not the definition of making the best of what ya got, I'on know what is."
I pull a face, glancing at my side. "So I got fishing line in my belly right now?"
T-Dog takes great joy in saying, "Yep."
"Eugh. That's weird."
"Well, we had to use something."
I never really gave too much thought to how the stitches got there.
"I guess we won't be catchin' fish anytime soon." I muse.
"It's a good thing we got plenty of pretzels and yoghurt bars, then." Dale jokes.
T-Dog groans. "Oh, that's right! I forgot about those!"
He suddenly starts digging into the large rucksack sitting on the table, pulling out three blue packets and a couple pink and white bars.
"You hungry over there?" He asks me, before throwing some pretzels into my lap.
I catch 'em, smiling. "You're right. These are way better than fish."
"And skunk." T-Dog adds under his breath, ripping open a packet for himself. "Definitely better than skunk."
"Nothing to get the immune system back into shape than unhealthy amounts of sodium, huh?" Dale chuckles lightly, settling his spectacles back onto the hump of his nose. He re-positions the forgotten story book on his knees, thumbing through the pages. "How about we pick up where we left off, Harley? And T-Dog, you can stay, too, if you'd like. You're not too old for picture books, are you?"
"Hell, no." He enthuses. He makes himself comfortable in the booth, ready to indulge in the wonders of Hairy Maclary with us. "Read away, gramps."
I tear the packet apart and pop a pretzel into my mouth.
"Alright, then." Dale clears his throat. "Off with a yowl, and a wail and a howl—"
I'll be back by dark.
That's what he said, weren't it?
Then why is it night-time and he still ain't returned?
Story-time with Dale and T-Dog was fun and all, but now it's dark and the moon is out.
I think something's wrong.
This is when I realize, as cold chill crawls down the back of my neck, that I don't actually know where he is. He didn't say where he was goin', or what he was doin' — He just said I'll be back by dark, and that means nothin' to me, 'cause it ain't true. He could be in the woods, he could be somewhere along the highway, he could be hurt, or dead, or lost, or in some type of trouble that would keep him from comin' back—
"Dale," I nervously call out from the bedroom, nibbling on my fingernail. "C—? C'mere, please?"
I watch the darkened horizon become even darker by the second through the window, disturbed that I don't see my Dad there at all.
The door opens, but it's not Dale who pokes his head in — It's Rick.
"What's wrong, honey?" He asks me, glancing around the room as if expecting the bogeyman to have wriggled out from under the bed.
I tense.
"Where's Dale?" I ask, 'cause bein' alone with Rick is like bein' alone with a semi-poisonous gas. He's too much — even if he tries to make himself too little, like he is right now by speaking gently and sticking to standing in the doorway, 'cause he knows that any little thing could set me off. With enough pretending, he's a Dad and a leader and a friend who's saved my life twice over, but one little slip and he's the man who killed my Uncle again. I've gotten used to him by now, but my old English teacher used to say that frogs get used to boiling water if you heat it slowly enough.
"I don't know, actually." He seems to regret saying. "He was just on his way out and told me to keep an eye on things in 'ere."
Rick's been 'keeping an eye' on me?
Shouldn't he be out looking for my Dad, who said he'd be back by dark?
For somebody who's got two people unaccounted for right now, Rick's pretty calm, which makes me think he don't actually know my Dad's missing at all, which would mean Dad didn't tell anybody else he was leavin', which means it was a secret he only told me. Why would he do that?
"You want me to get Lori?" Rick offers nicely. "She's right outside. She'll be happy to help out with whatever you need."
I must stay quiet for some time, staring out the window, 'cause Rick speaks up again.
"Harley, are you alright?" He asks, clearly concerned.
Not really, I want to say, but I'm supposed to keep Dad's secrets. I've kept the CDC a secret, why can't I keep this one?
He steps inside, now, and cautiously sits on the edge of the bed. He even reaches out to feel my forehead, but I lean away a little.
"Is it your side?" He guesses. "You hurtin' again?"
"I'm worried." I whisper, a bit cryptic, like breaking little pieces off the secret won't make it as scary.
Rick frowns. "About what?"
"About— About my Dad."
I can keep the CDC a secret 'cause it's only me who was hurt, but it might be my Dad who's hurt this time, and that's worse.
"Why're you worried about your Dad, honey?" He asks, tilting his head, utterly confused. He might be thinking about last night, in the woods with my Dad. He knows something is up between him and Shane, and he's right. That's the other secret I'm keeping. I almost wish I could spoon feed him little crumbs of that one, too, 'cause it would be so easy, but I gotta remind myself I'm not doin' any of that. Not ever. "What's wrong?"
"I think he went somewhere." I say think, even though I should say know, 'cause I wanna be wrong so bad. "I think he should be back by now."
"Did he tell you he was leaving?"
I nod lightly.
"Leaving where?"
Chewing on my lip, I shrug.
I don't know where he went.
Rick stares down at his boots like there are little equations etched into the leather, and then turns to me again.
"And you didn't tell anybody?" He sighs.
Is he frustrated with me right now? I should be the one who's frustrated! It's my Dad that's missin'.
"No, I didn't tell anybody." I say angrily. "'Cause I thought he told everyone he was gonna leave! He always does!"
"You — You're absolutely right." Rick soothes me. "That's why I'm just a little confused right now."
"Well, you gotta go look for him." I whine.
"You're certain he should be back by now?" He makes sure. "Did he say that?"
"Yes!"
He takes a long exhale. "Okay. I'll... go talk to Shane, okay? He's on watch. Maybe he knows where he went but forgot to let us know."
I don't care about maybes.
You don't find people with maybes, even if you're a Sherrif.
"Just find him." I bring myself to say to Rick. I try my best to glare at him, but I fail, 'cause there's all these stupid tears burning the corners of my eyes and this big lump in my throat. I just want my Dad. I just want him and he's not here, even though this time he wants to be. "Please."
I can't believe I'm askin' Rick for help.
"I will." He promises, and I hope this one isn't empty like all his other ones. "Just wait here. I'll ask around."
"Okay." I grumble, watching him leave.
I go back to gazing out the window, watching the forest quiver and rustle in the hot night breeze.
I imagine Sophia out there, and in my mind, she's both curled up underneath a bush like a kitty cat and being ripped to shreds at the hands of a walker at the same time. I hold Matilda tighter, wishing I just knew which one it was, 'cause guessing is worse than knowing. I miss Sophia, too. If she was here, she'd braid my hair while we waited and tell me not to worry about my Dad. She'd be able to go through the Pokémon cards with us. She'd be safe and happy and there wouldn't be any guessing.
"What do you mean he's gone, too?" I hear Rick exasperate outside.
I perk up suddenly.
"He just left, man, like a couple hours ago." Andrea replies. "Said we was searching for Sophia."
Who? Who else left?
I crane my neck to catch a glimpse of them, but I can't really see much from here — only their shadows.
"Who left?" Lori asks.
"Well, first Daryl." Rick answers, stressed. "First Daryl and now Shane."
Shane.
All of a sudden, I get this feeling in my stomach that makes me wanna hurl.
As I gape, a single gunshot pierces the forest.
BANG.
A flock of tiny white birds shoot up from the trees.
They're gonna kill each other.
I know it.
This is it.
I feel sick. I feel totally, completely head-to-toe sick, and I'm not supposed to be walking right now but I'm already out of bed, anyway. The covers get caught on my foot and I almost trip, which hurts real bad — "Dang it," — and then I'm shoving past the bedroom door and then the main door and I really shouldn't be walking, 'cause this hurts even more, and just as I hit the tarmac, there are arms reaching out for me. They catch me like a bag of bricks. I try to stand again, 'cause I need to know what that was — I need to know who got shot, why, how, where — If it was my Dad.
If it was in the stomach, or the heart, or the leg or the foot or the head. Oh, please not the head.
"What the fuck was that?" T-Dog yells.
Anything but the head. You can stitch up anything but the head.
"Dad!" I shriek, as if begging him to come back; to appear on the horizon line, like the sun after a long, long night. "He's out there!"
"Shh. Shh, it's alright."
"No! Get offa me!" I shriek again, 'cause that's Rick — It's Rick who's holding me. "Get off!"
"Harley—"
It's Rick, not a Dad or a leader or a friend who's saved my life two times over — It's the man who murdered my Uncle and who's standing and doing nothing when my Dad needs his help. Rick, with that dumb badge that says King's County, but should really say Liar.
"You think it's them?" Lori worries, her face white as a sheet.
Glenn runs over. "What's going on?"
"Who did that?"
"Was that a gunshot?"
"He's out there!" I cry loudly, choking on nothing as I struggle against Rick. "He's out there! He's out— He's out there!"
"I know. I know." He says, and then to someone else, "Go get your gun."
"Oh, God." Lori moans.
"He's out there!"
"I know. I know." Rick hushes. "I know. It's alright."
Jacqui rushes over and grabs me from the other side.
"Baby, you're gonna tear your stitches open." She warns. "You gotta be careful."
I think they've already torn open, 'cause it feels like there's red-hot lava oozing outta my skin, but I don't care. My Dad's out there. He's out there and he didn't tell nobody where he went and Shane's out there with him and they wanna kill each other. Jim's out there. They wanna kill him too and I think Jim wants to kill 'em back 'cause— 'cause that's what angry people wanna do. They wanna kill. It could've been him. It could've been a walker, 'cause there are walkers out there too, or the gun might've slipped, or they might've been fighting, or arguing, or, or, or—
"Should we go look?" Andrea asks. "I mean, how do we—?"
"He's out there." I cry, breathing heavily through my clamped jaw, wrestling Rick, wrestling Jacqui, bleeding, wanting my Dad.
"It might not've been them." Lori nervously comments. "Might've been somebody else."
"No." Rick looks up at her, a dark look in his light eyes. "It was them."
That's all he needs to say to convince Lori.
"Then I'm with Andrea." She says. "Do we go look? We don't even know where they are."
"That's a whole lotta forest out there." T-Dog agrees.
I think I can hear Carol in the background, mumbling Sophia's name tearily as she paces back and forth.
"What the Hell are those fools even doin' out there in the first place?" Jacqui butts in. "And at night, no less. Are they stupid?"
"They gotta be." Says T-Dog.
Glenn comes running back with a rifle.
Rick stands.
I squeal like someone who's being branded with an iron poker as Glenn passes Rick a box of ammo and Jacqui wraps me in a hug, 'cause I know what's about to happen and what's already happened is nothing good. I cry as Rick throws a pistol to Andrea, and I cry as Lori bends down next to me, murmuring it's okay, it's okay, it's okay, and I cry some more as Jacqui tries getting a look at my stitches, which burn like scorpion stings.
"I'm gonna have to re-do these," She mumbles to herself.
On my other side, Lori brushes my hair back from my wet face. "Breathe, sweetie. Breathe."
What are they gonna find out there? My Dad, dead? My Dad, a walker? Are they gonna put him down like they put down Morales?
They're gonna kill each other.
I know it.
Either they've shot each other or they've shot Jim, but either way, someone's dying tonight.
Please be Jim, I selfishly pray. If it has to be somebody, please be Jim.
"You got a flashlight?" Rick checks.
"Yep." Glenn answers.
"Compass?"
"Yes."
"Fall in, then. Let's go." He says. "Andrea, guard this place 'till we get back."
"Wait—" Lori shakes her head, but there's no time.
Rick and Glenn hop over the guard rails.
They cross the field and the forest swallows them up.
My sobs fill the silence.
I just want my Dad.
The very last thought I have before I collapse with grief into Jacqui's arms is, He was gonna sing for me tonight.
My Dad, who I think might be dead, used to tell me, sometimes little girls don't get what they want.
He used to say it when I'd ask for an extra five minutes of TV before bed, 'cause I'd be cuddled into his side with my favorite stuffed animal, and it wouldn't be the end of the world if I watched just five more minutes, would it? And he said it all the time whenever I tried to pick up a snake on our walks in the woods behind our house, and also when I begged him with a laugh to stop tickling me. He used to say it all the time.
I think he'd say it now, too, 'cause all I want is for him to come back right this second, but I have to be patient.
If I was a little girl who got what she wanted, my Dad would emerge from the forest, and he'd do it right this very moment, and he would be a little banged up, 'cause I'll allow that, but he wouldn't be shot. No, he wouldn't be shot. Not in the foot, or the leg, or the head. Not anywhere. I would run up to him and I'd hug him as soon as I could reach, and I'd smell dirt and sweat and maybe some blood, but I'd also smell home. I'm sorry, chicken, he'd tell me, and I'd be a little confused on what exactly he's sorry for, but I'd forgive him anyway and he'd ask me, What've you been doing while I was gone, and I'd answer, I was brave and I waited and I wasn't worried one bit. If I got what I wanted, this would all be true.
But sometimes little girls don't get what they want.
I'm sitting under the RV awning, bleeding out in a blanket as I watch the horizon line for movement.
Jacqui says she needs to re-work my stiches, otherwise I'll be in an even worse way than I already am, but every time she gets close to me, I tell her to go away and she does. She and Lori have been spending all morning figuring out how to get through to me, and it's a perfect copy of that morning back at the quarry where I was rooted to that chair by the fire, refusing to talk because one of my family members was prolly dead.
I keep hearing that gunshot in my head. It's the sound of a door slamming shut, or a balloon popping.
A single BANG.
The sun rolls across the sky like a yellow marble, and the day slips away like loose sand in a timer.
I don't even know how long I've been sitting here by the time Jacqui approaches for the tenth time today.
"Go away." I croak before she has a chance to say anything.
"Damn, girl. Not even giving me a chance, huh?"
I frown, looking up from the trees.
"If you hear me out for just a minute," T-Dog says, "There's a bag of pretzels in it for you. The last bag of pretzels."
I squint at him.
"You ate all the pretzels?"
"I'm a stress eater." He simply says, before deciding it's safe to take a seat beside me at the little fold-out table.
I glance over at Jacqui and Lori, who are pretending not to watch.
"Remember what Dale said to me yesterday?" He asks.
"You're an idiot?" I deadpan.
"No— Well, yeah he did say that." He mutters. "But he also said, don't give up just because you can. You can't just sit here all day just because ya can. You need new stitches. You need food. Hell, you ain't even drank water today, I don't think. I know your Dad's been gone for a while, and ya sad an' stuff, but I'm telling you that man's a cockroach. It's only a matter of time before he comes crawling back, and when that happens, I'm not gonna have him breaking my nose when he finds out I let you waste away in that chair. No, sir."
I look up at him, confused at this strange tactic.
"Man, Dale too." He adds. "Guy's gonna be heartbroken if he finds out you didn't take his advice."
He gives me a very exaggerated look.
Whatever this tactic is, it makes me smile a little.
"Nobody ever takes Dale's advice." I dismiss.
"I did." He shrugs. "I thought this damn gash was gonna kill me, but there's a chance it won't. I ain't giving up."
"What happened, anyway?"
"Snagged it on a car door."
I pull a face.
"Hey, it ain't a knife in the guts, so I'm happy." He jokes. "But if I'm taking my meds, you gotta take yours, too. Let's start with that. You can have the pretzels after for dessert. How's that sound?"
I consider the offer. "Can I stay here while I take 'em?"
I can't leave this chair. I have to keep an eye on the horizon at all times, in case they come back.
"I'on care. Do whatever." He smiles. "We got a deal?"
"Sure."
When I glance over at Jacqui and Lori again, they look like they've just seen witchery.
T-Dog goes inside and comes back with Dale, who's holding a mug and two round pills.
"I heard someone's ready to take their meds?"
In the afternoon, I see someone coming — But it's not one of ours.
It's a woman.
She's riding a horse.
As soon as she spots us, she steers the horse in our direction, and even though Andrea points a rifle at her head, the woman ignores her. She draws near and pulls on the reigns, coming to a stop. The horse whinnies and clip-clops on the spot, a brown-gold thing with a shiny coat.
"Is there a Harley Dixon here?" She asks, looking us over.
Everybody goes still.
I don't know this woman. Nobody knows this woman.
She knows us, though.
Andrea cocks the rifle. "How do you—"
"Her Dad's been shot."
Lori gasps.
My Dad's— My Dad's been—? So, it's true? How does she know that?
I try to stand from the chair, suddenly immune to all the aches and pains in my body except this woman's words in my ear.
"Yeah?" Andrea challenges. "And how do you know that? Was it you who shot him?"
"No." She replies firmly. "It was a man."
"Is his name Shane?" Dale asks with distaste on his tongue.
"I don't know." She says. "But he's alive. I just got sent by a Rick Grimes and a Glenn Rhee to come and get his daughter. Is she here?"
I stumble forward, only getting a glimpse of her studded cowboy hat and purple shirt before being blocked by Dale, T-Dog, and Jacqui, who begin to argue with the woman, but I shout over them. I need to see my Dad. He's— He's alive, she said. My Dad is shot but alive. I'll let this woman whisk me away on a horse to a place I've never been if it means I get to see my Dad again. I'd go with her even if she didn't know Rick and Glenn's names.
"How do we know you're not lying?" Dale questions the horse-lady. "We're not just going to let you take a child on pure hearsay."
"Whether I take her or not doesn't change nothin'." She tells us. "Daryl Dixon will still be on his death bed."
It's a leap of faith, but we've gotten used to doing those.
Jacqui squeezes my shoulder, silently communicating with Dale before nodding down at me. "Go."
Go.
Where, exactly?
I got no idea.
The direction my Dad is in.
That's enough for me.
"Come on then, Harley Dixon." The woman beckons, reaching out a hand.
"Go," Dale agrees. "We'll catch up. Where is it you're taking her? When can we get there?"
Jacqui helps me up onto the horse.
"The Greene farm. Backtrack to Fairburn road from here; head two miles down. You'll see the mailbox."
He nods. "And just who are you?"
"I'm Maggie Greene."
"Thank you, Maggie." I tell her quietly, taking in her rust-colored hair and her green eyes as she smiles at me over her shoulder, thinkin' she must be an angel. I don't think angels get around on horses, 'cause they got wings for that, but this one does.
"We'll be waiting for you." She tells everyone.
The horse whickers and rears as she kicks her heels into its side, and then we're racing down the highway together.
The Greene farm looks like a watercolor painting.
It reveals itself like a pretty canvas as we trot through the thicket into a sprawling field.
"Pretty enough place to get stranded, am I right?" Maggie smiles, warm as the sun.
I see sheeps and cows slowly grazing in soft-looking pastures, and white clouds fan-brushed onto a baby-blue sky. I'm reminded of the wooden doll house I used to have, and how you could tell just by looking at it that someone has loved it very much for a very long time. We wind down a pebbled path lined by wildflowers. The beating of the horses's hooves sound like a steady heartbeat. I try my best to take a deep breath to match its pace, but my heart just won't slow down. I'm too nervous, too out of my depth, too scared. Shot but alive, is what I chant in my head.
The wrap-around deck becomes easier to see the closer we get.
There's one, two, three, four people standing and sitting around the stairs, watching us approach.
Two of their shirts are soaked in blood, like two red roses in the distance.
"Everything's gonna be okay." Maggie Greene tells me.
Shot but alive.
Shot but alive.
Shot but alive.
Author's Note.
Oh my gosh, this one was a ride and a half. I've been working on it on-and-off for like 2 weeks. How was that Ao3 crash, huh? I wasn't able to access my drafts for two whole days! Torture!!
I really, really hope you enjoyed this chapter. It's a pretty pivotal one, and it finally kicks off the main part of season two - The Greene Farm! I LOVE the Greene farm. I would 100% live there.
Who do you guys think shot Daryl? Was it Shane, Jim, Otis, or someone else? Hmmmm
Thank you so much for reading, and thank you even more for your patience. <3
Sending lots of love :)
#the walking dead#twd fanfiction#twd#daryl dixon daughter#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon twd#daryl dixon#daddy issues#ao3 fanfic#fanfic#rick grimes#shane walsh#angst
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𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 . ( nsfw edition. )
RULES: bold which option your prefer ( or, in some cases, maybe just hates the least ! ) out of each of the following pairs . we will strike turnoffs.
submissive or dominant? (she's a switch)
whips or chains?
handcuffs or shibari?
pillow princess or power bottom?
voyeur or exhibitionist?
blindfolds or spreader bars?
butt plugs or vibrators?
edging or multiple rounds?
knots or ovipositor? (I don't think she has an opinion on this)
spanking or scratching?
ball gag or muzzle?
strap on or double sided dildo?
one on one or group sex?
vanilla or kinky?
lengthy cocks or girthy cocks? (porque no las dos? she says)
small boobs or large boobs?
ass or chests?
thighs or arms?
hot wax or knifeplay?
loud or quiet?
biting or sucking?
collars or piercings?
costumes or lingerie?
laughing & silliness during sex or intensity & power struggle during sex? (both at the same time is her jam; she doesn't like sex to be TOO serious all the time)
fucking a virgin or fucking someone with experience?
face to face or from behind?
phone sex or sexting?
cumming inside or cumming outside?
being filled or bukkake?
dirty talk or degradation?
role play or porn on in the background?
public edging or filming in the bedroom?
condom or bareback?
lube or raw?
video call masturbation or sexy selfies?
blood play or breath play? (not a lot tho)
face fucking or anal sex?
leather or PVC?
morning sex or evening sex?
clothes on or clothes off?
#[ ☀ ᵈᵃˢʰ ᵍᵃᵐᵉˢ ;; ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁱᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ˢʰᵒᵒᵏ ᵘᵖ ]#[ ☀ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᶠʷ ;; ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰ ᵐᵉ ⁱ ᵈⁱᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵃ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ⁱⁿˢⁱᵈᵉ ]#not sfw#she refused to pick one on too many of these lmao
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I HAD A TERRIBLE DAY SO IMMA RANT ABOUT IT. HERES A LIST OF WHAT HAPPENED
1: I have 4 friends in home group NONE WERE THERE
2: I had to skip my piano lesson aka my fav lesson of the day because I had a fucking science test (it sucked)
3: I had PE and I have 8 friends over 3 classes (we merged classes today) AND NONE WERE THERE
4: it was raining at lunch meaning I had to hide under a verandah because my school refused to let us inside
5: I had German (just bad in general)
6: during German my fucking teacher sat behind us so I couldn’t go on Pinterest or use fucking google translate (my teacher doesn’t let us use google translate)
7: I only had one friend in that class and we weren’t allowed to talk to each other because the teacher kept yelling at us for nothing
8: I stole a tennis ball from PE and this dickhead stole it and I had to trade my fucking chicken crimpy shapes to get it back (I named it herbert)
9: I then had English (problem enough)
10: (only good bit) we got to watch bluey but my fucking teacher kept stopping it and saying “WhAt DoEs ThIs HaVe To Do WiTh ThE hErOs JoUrNeY
11: it took my dad like 20 minutes to show up to pick us up from school (me and my sister)
12: the wouldn’t take me and Paige out for bubble tea afterwards
13: it was raining when we got home so we couldn’t work on the treehouse we’re building (for my little siblings and also maybe myself)
AND I GET IT THESE ARE FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS BUT IM ALLOWED TO BE ANGRY IF YOU HAVE A PROBLEM GO EAT SOME FUCKING SHERBERT
EDIT: HOLY DID I BE FORGOT CUZ IT’S GONE NOW BUT THE ENTIRE DAY IT FELT LIKR MY EYE WAS BEING GRATED BY A CHEESEGRATER WHILE I WAS CUTTING ONIONS CUZ J SCRATCHED MY FUCKING EYE PRETTY BAD
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Pinned info time
Call me Mic I guess, about 30 years old, he/they or similar.
I have a deep resentment for the terms profic and proship, but it scares kidders and sensitive catholic guilters away, so it's in my url.
I don't care what someone writes in fiction so long as they're a decent person to the real world. If you disagree then politely go back to your cesspit, I have no time for radfems and protofascist babies.
This account is for seeking/responding to RP ads, because I realized a lot of the seeking blogs here required an account for "liking to reach out", rather than just dropping a discord.
I use my discord account tag presentationmicheal for RP purposes, for the time being I'm ok with random friend requests, but I'm also a grouchy old man and if your vibes are rancid you're gone.
Goes without saying but 18+ partners only. Honestly preferably 21+
Under the cut is my general RP info!
Extremely very horrendously gay so I won't be interested in MxF, also extremely very horrendously trans so expect most if not all of my muses to come with pussy DLC.
Currently I'm only super into writing My Hero Academia (manga reader!).
Muses
---
Dabi / Touya Todoroki - primary muse, snarkastic piece of shit, I do not pull punches with him nor will I write him being a doting husband, or other out of character extremes.
Even in AUs where, somehow, Enji was an alright father, my Touya ends up a serial killer.
That said I can reel him in a little, but he will come with "canon typical asshole" warning either way.
No hard pref on whether he's got a cock or cunt.
---
Katsuki Bakugou - not 100% confident with him, but getting there. Always written at least 20 years old, UA was a college to me, what of it.
Again, canon typical asshole.
Primarily play him trans, but I can be convinced to play him otherwise.
---
Present Mic - Pretty sure I could write this cringelord in my sleep at this point. Nothing special about him, he's chillin'.
Slight preference for him having cock n balls, but I'll write him otherwise more than happily.
---
Currently on track learning Hawks, Aizawa, Enji and Natsuo. Unsure when I'll be confident enough.
---
Kinks, Limits n Shippy shite
Shit that I love: Omegaverse, hybrid AUs, height differences, enemies to lovers, biting/scratching, piss, petplay, dom/sub, ponyplay, bondage, muzzles. interrogations/captured be heroes or villains, male pregnancy (pussy preferable, but can deal with otherwise), public sex, heat/rut, aphrodisiacs, intercrural, mirrors... honestly most kinks not listed in limits/meh do something for me.
Dead dove edition: Incest, noncon, abduction, torture, guro/snuff, fuck-or-die, fuck-AND-die, human pet, meditorture, more I've probably forgotten.
Hard limits: Characters under 18, feet, scat/gas in general, mental institutions, ABDL/Ageplay, raceplay. I may have forgotten something, so this will probably update later.
Honorable mention: 'daddy' kink makes my skin crawl, but if your pitch is interesting I can tolerate it.
Meh: Vore, hyper, inflation. I hate calling them "Deviantart Kinks" but that does end up a good descriptor. I am into a couple of these but not for canons, can't explain it just don't like it.
Ships I'm primarily interested in:
Dabihawks, Dabiskep, Todocest of many flavors, Dabizawa, Dabibaku, Bakudeku, Kiribaku, Todobaku, Endhawks, Erasermic, Mightmic, Erasermight, Dabishigs.
Open to others (and I love a good crackship).
(I'm willing to break out my not-quite-confident guys for some of these, just forgive any fumbles.)
Misc shit
I'm of the opinion the characters would have fouler language were this manga higher rated, so expect my guys to drop a couple harsh words here and there. If you're offended by the word 'fuck', we won't get along.
I've got no hard pref for positions, I'll write them all.
Response times vary from "100 responses a minute" and "once every couple days" depending on how much work I have on. If I'm slacking and not responding every three days though, time to whallop me with the cartoon mallet.
I'm a grown ass man with an honesty clause. I will be upfront if I've fallen out of love with a thread, and if I feel up for coming back to it later. I expect the same of you, please.
My active hours are somewhat random and work dependent, and can sometimes be entirely flipped in a couple days.
RP through Discord only. We can make a server!
Third person paralit, 2 paragraphs minimum, no need to match my length if I go off the rails!
I really, really, really love headcanoning/"what-if"s/spitballing. This doesn't always have to become a thread, I really dig discussing what could have happened with current threads if XYZ was different, this isn't a wistful sigh wishing things were different. I'm going to be talkative OOC, you will get memes if they're relavant to what we're doing - or if I figure you'd just like em, I am not going to treat you like an RP token machine.
I don't expect that much legwork in return, but please at least be willing to do dumb spitballing OOC a little.
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Rating hunter's weapon/skills
Warning: mentions of broken bones, blood, bruise, gore etc etc.... I'm not a doctor so this is probably not accurate
Hell ember
-its a shark plushie....
-the only way he can kill you is that he suffocate you or have ungodly amount of power
-so 0/10
-but if we're talking about his old weapon then.... Yup. It WILL hurt
-you are alive but not thriving
-yes he can use it to kill you but it depends on his force/where he strikes really. 7/10
-his puppet is made out of metal(?) so yeah you will get bruises
Smiley face
-imma be honest idk how it works but it will probably hurt
-but from his animation he's kinda thrusting so the tip is only hitting you also it's blunt so it's more of a bruise
-this sounds dirty out of context but yeah 5/10
-but old weapon.... 10/10 it's literally a CHAINSAW unless you have plot armor
The ripper
-yeah.... About your back
-rip (no pun intended)
-it depends on how hard he hit you
-worst case scenario is that he hit your nerves and stuff (I'm not a med school student don't ask please)
-best case scenario he just scratch your back lol
-6-8/10
-foggy blade is a different story tho.
-ill assume that it's like a force of wind hitting your back which again, depends on distance/how hard etc.
-so for me i think it's just bruise 4/10
Gamekeeper
-do you see that shit????
-it doesn't hit you
-it doesn't hit your spinal cord
-but that shit goes through you 10/10
-but if he hit you then about 6/10
-now Bear traps....
-you won't die (unless you are left to bleed out) but it will hurt so fucking much
-7/10
Violetta
-bruises
-her arm (legs?) Is made out of metal so it's just bruises 4/10
-her web is just going to make your skin very itchy that's for sure 1/10 unless you cannot tolerate it like me then 3/10
-now cacoon death...
-i think you'll die because of lack of air which kinda explain why you die faster than the rocket chair 8/10 not painful as others but is very unique
-im not going to talk about her throwing web though
Geisha
-the most tolerable out of anyone (except hell ember shark plushie lol)
-yes it's hard but hey you live and it won't hurt much like others 1/10
-no butterflies they don't hurt ya
Feaster
-bruises
-it hurts the next day but not the match lol 6/10
-the is way too short so....
-if we considered that he has so much power then... Some broken bones?
Wu Chang
-more bruises 2/10
-ill just assume that their skill just f with your mental health
Photographer
-ah yes everyone favorite short midget bald grandpa with Donald duck colo(u)r palette
-its a sword
-ALSO he actually have training 7/10
-i won't rate photo world
Mad eyes
-our ACTUAL favorite grandpa
-off topic but if you main Chad eyes i respect you and your dedication so much
-but if we are talking about his walls then....10/10 you are dead
-okay so bruises again 6/10
-EDIT: yeah imma change that to 10/10 bc of the steam... Might burn ur skin off
Dream witch (servant)
-pickaxe
-self explanatory really 7/10
Axe boy
-an axe
-7/10
-BUT remember he's a decapitated child so he won't really have much power so 5ish/10
-fire ball jkjk but 2nd degree burns go brrrrr 8/10
Evil reptilian
-kinda like geisha but sharper so 4/10
-okay....
-anyone forbids that this lizard man get presence
-WILL crush you and step on you (lucky simps)
-10/10 ain't no way you are gonna survive
Bloody Queen
-quick question
-how isn't her finger cut off yet????
-shes pretty much a corpse
-4/10
Guard 26
-spike go brrrrr
-yup that's gonna hurt
-6-7/10
-BUT BOMBS!
-Again 2nd degree burns
-7-8 ish /10
"Disciple"
-shes doesn't outright stab you with that so 4/10
-but if she stabs you instead of slapping you....
-again depends where soooo 6-10/10
-if her cat have rabies then you are dead 10/10
Violinist
-it doesn't hurt much 1.5/10
-bro got scammed by the devil lololol
-his skills literally make people ears bleed
-0.5/10
Sculptor
-my main :D
-she uses telepathy so i can't calculate
-but she seems to be new at it
-ngl at the end of her attack she's like trying to pick her chisel up
-its a shallow stab 4/10
-BUT
-STATUES
-MORE BRUISES
-also by her description you need to be crash into something with her statues
-so assuming that she chips everytime and you crash against the wall then....
-broken bones
-bruises
-internal bleeding
-10/10
Undead
-bro sword is like clouds sword from final fantasy 7/10
-he slug you
-ALSO charge attack skill makes your heart skip a beat 10/10
The breaking wheel
-spikes
-hey um breaking wheel mains out there...
-how tf do you play him?
-i can't even kite him ffs
-anyways there's no hope you are dead 10/10
Naiad
-another shallow stab but this time it's sharper so 5/10
-despite what people thinks
-she doesn't drown people in her abyss (even though it will be pretty cool and horrifying at the same time
-theres just creatures from the sea that bites you 4/10
Wax artist
-bruises y'all know the drill
-2nd degree burns from wax
-3/10
-EDIT: change to 7/10 if the weapon thing is boiling (i forgot what it's called)
-also can someone explain his backstory and why people think he's racist????
Nightmare
-shallow stab gang
-4-5/10
-his crow did nothing at all sooooo-
Clerk
-what is she even holding????
-a cane?
-anyways about 1.5/10
-also what is her backstory and what is her gameplay? I legit can't play her
Hermit (the frog)
-cane 2/10 but he have to hit you like million times to down you/hj
-yall know how it feels like to be paralyze???
-its kinda weird you feel but also don't feel
BONUS
-so about 6/10
Night watch (nagito Komeada/hj)
-I would say 7/10 if he stabs you with it but he kinda slap you with it 4/10 (it's still metal anyways)
-WINDBLADE i mean... Cyclone The wind won't affect you much UNLESS he pulls you in and you got crash into a wall or something.
-again it depends
-0-1/10 if it's just the wind 8/10 if you crash into everything
patroller
-bites you so 8/10 lol
-rabies.
-you can't convince me otherwise so 10/10
A/n this is 1 am so I'm sorry if this doesn't make sense/rating kinda weird
BONUS BONUS:
THOMAS THE TRAM
INFINITY OUT OF INFINITY
THE MOST OP HUNTER
#unknownwritesstuff#idv#identity v#idv hunter#idv sculptor#idv leo#idv smiley face#idv headcanons#idv hcs#idv feaster#idv the ripper#idv dream witch#idv photographer#idv wax artist#idv violinist#idv violetta#idv hermit#idv clerk#idv geisha#idv wu chang#idv nightmare#idv the will brothers#idv naiad#idv bloody queen#idv evil reptilian#idv disciple#idv gamekeeper#idv axe boy#idv guard 26#idv night watch
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The Compromise, by DarkIsRising
I worked on this fic all day, which was supposed to be a follow up to the steter, petopher, stetopher mini series I’ve been dabbling with but... I kind of feel like this isn’t going anywhere useful for the series? I dunno, maybe tomorrow I’ll change my mind. Until then here’s a tumblr exclusive: 1600ish words of lightly-edited Chris and Stiles at a coffee shop post-The Adjustment.
The Compromise
In the morning, Chris takes Stiles out for coffee.
No, scratch that. In the morning Peter makes good on his promise by going down on Stiles right there in the bed while Chris pretends to sleep beside them. With Stiles’ legs thrown over his shoulders, Peter’s mouth is hot and hungry as he works Stiles into a gasping, grasping mess. When Stiles comes, he bites his own forearm so hard there’s an indent from his teeth that doesn’t fade until after he’s showered, dressed—his own clothes have too much blood to walk around in Peter’s bougie neighborhood now that the sun is up, so he doesn't bother to ask before he throws on Peter’s sweatpants and a v-neck that probably costs as much as six of Stiles’ Old Navy tees—and out the door with a stone-faced Chris before Peter's finished his own shower.
And then, after that, Chris takes Stiles out for coffee.
Stiles’ head is fuzzy. The bright morning light that blasts through the trendy, hipster cafe’s storefront window might be good for the wall full of draping plants but it’s hell on Stiles' retinas, and the grind of coffee beans is intense where it pings through his skull like an arcade game of pain. But all-in-all he knows he got off easy considering how much vodka he’d manage to down on the walk to Peter’s building last night.
He knows he should probably be hurting way worse and he wonders, as he settles into the tiny, bistro-style table, if there’s some kind of study on the effects of sex and dopamine on hangovers, because with his limited sample size of one it's fucking awesome, but that's not exactly enough to know for sure. His fingers itch to tap out a Google search on his phone, to lose himself in a meaningless research spiral, but Chris is heading his way so Stiles resists the temptation.
His knees knock into the side of Stiles’ thigh when he takes the chair opposite, and Stiles has to make a concerted effort to give him some room. He’d much rather stay put, letting their legs press together, but he already showed his hand last night when he’d kissed Chris, so he cant get away with something like that being unintentional, especially not when he’d already caught a glint of ice-blue eyes this morning when he’d moaned, Peter’s hand cradling his balls, before Chris had turned to one side and left Stiles looking at his back, clearly uninterested in joining them. And that’s alright. That’s fine. Maybe it hurts Stiles’ ego a little, but hey, he knows he’s an acquired taste. Like bananas and ketchup. Or pizza and nutella. Perfect for some, but maybe not all, and certainly not something he could logically imagine Chris Argent enjoying now that he’s not plastered out of his mind.
Even with a resolution Not To Care, he still can’t keep his knees from bouncing and his fingers from drumming on the table in a chronically over-medicated agitation of nerves and awkwardness. AKA: the Stiles Stilinski Special.
“So, not that this isn’t great, having someone else pay for my ten-buck latte, but I feel like maybe this is where we go our separate ways until the next horrifying adventure in paranormal-land crops up.”
Chris responds with a non-response: humming and sipping from his coffee as he looks at the wall of plants like he’s maybe thinking of taking up horticulture. “How are the hands?” he asks at last, still staring at the pothos, and Stiles shrugs.
“Fine,” he says, not because it hasn’t been a bitch and a half to realize just how often his palms stretch and flex with every simple task, but because he doesn’t really want to talk about his hands.
His hands make him remember the garrote biting into his flesh which makes him remember the possession, and then he’s remembering all the possessions before this one, the loss of control, the loss of hope, the feeling like he won’t ever be normal again, won’t ever be clean from all the blood spilled, won’t ever be absolved from all the lives taken, and then that bleak, heavy anvil of despair that’s been swinging overhead is starting to darken the sky around him, like he’s Wile E Coyote stepping onto a hand-painted target in the middle of the desert.
This is what his arrangement with Peter is supposed to prevent—this body-crushing, brain-rotting hopelessness. It's supposed to give him something else to think about to get through one more day, and one more after that, and one after that, until a week’s gone by and the need to be done with it all has dimmed to more manageable levels of awful.
Stiles doesn’t realize his drumming fingers have gotten more frenetic until warm hands settle on top of his, a wordless request, and he stills them with a mumbled “Sorry.”
“What did Peter mean when he said—” Chris begins at the same time Stiles says “I'm sorry we’re fucking the same guy” and then they are staring at each other.
Chris blinks. His face is blank. He blinks again, and then, withdrawing his hands he wrap them around his coffee cup and looks away. From this angle, Stiles can see the muscle of his jaw working.
Stiles should wait him out. But he's not built for things like 'patience' so he keeps talking even though he knows odds are pretty good he's only going to make everything worse.
"Probably was a better way for you to find out than seeing me on his lap when we was naked and you two had just… Anyway. I'm sorry. And I know the age difference bugs you, but I can guarantee this doesn't even crack my top ten of Worst Ideas Stiles Followed Through On." Stiles fiddles with his coffee cup, popping off the plastic lid to watch a curl of steam rise, caught in the sunlight. "I mean, sure, the fact that it's Peter is probably a horrible idea, seeing as he's, you know." He waves his hands in the air to sketch out his best approximation of psychopath and zombie and Peter. "—though in my defense you are sleeping with him, too, which means you're judgement is just as fucked as mine so it's not like you can totally think less of me for it."
"I don't think less of you, Stiles. I'm worried." Chris sighs, so world-weary it brings out the smudges of tired beneath his eyes. "I don't know exactly what Peter's angle is with all of this but I know he has one. If things go south, I can handle Peter and whatever he's plotting."
What the fuck? What the actual fuck? "And, what? You don't think I could?" Chris doesn't have to say it. His pursed mouth and sad eyes talk plenty. "Listen, first off, screw you. I might not have grown up an Argent but I think by now I've more than proven myself with all the shit this fucking town has thrown at me—"
"Stiles."
"Second of all, if you think I don’t realize Peter’s probably got some angle that is going to absolutely bite me in the ass later, then you are dumber than you are hot. Of course he’s up to something. He can’t order a fucking pizza at pack night without there being a devious angle he’s working. But right now waiting for this week to be done so that I can come back to his douchey, minimalist apartment and get dicked down is the only thing keeping me from eating a gun or jumping off the interstate overpass so excuse me for not caring at this particular juncture what his motivations are. And thirdly—”
“Stiles,” Chris says again, cutting his eyes to the other patrons, and Stiles realizes that he’s getting a little loud so he brings his voice down but he’s no less emphatic.
“Thirdly, you’re not my father. You don’t need to treat me like I'm your kid. Like I need protecting from the big, bad wolf." Like you couldn't protect your own daughter from me, he stops himself from saying though the words bore a hole straight through his tongue.
He waits for Chris to say something, to match his own boiling-over anger with that cold fury Stiles has become way too acquainted with over the years, but he doesn’t. He watches, assessing, like he watches and assesses everything, the intelligence glittering in his eyes like noon off a glacier-fed lake. Finally he gives one lone, single, solitary nod and says “Okay.”
“Okay?” Stiles repeats, wary.
“Okay. You’re right.” Chris shrugs, not like he doesn't care but maybe like he's uncomfortable. Stiles has never seen the capable hunter extraordinaire Chris Argent uncomfortable like this before. “You’re an adult. You can handle yourself. You’ve more than proven that through the years. Whatever you’re doing with Peter is none of my business.”
“Good. Yeah, okay,” Stiles says, and it is good—it is—only he feels kind of unhappy, unsettled, even though Chris is conceding every one of his points. They drink their coffee in silence after that, looking anywhere but at each other. "I mean, it is a little your business," he mumbles, elaborating when Chris only raises an eyebrow. "Peter. Since we're both…you know. With him. It’s kind of your business, too."
"It’s really not. We've never been exclusive. More like," he shakes his head, plunges on, "we fell into it after Allison… and now it's—"
"Sexy? Angry?" Stiles suggests. "Angry-sexy? Sexy-angry?"
"Habit," Chris says firmly.
"Huh." Stiles scratches his chin and instantly regrets the pulling ache he gets for moving his palm. "A three-year-long sex habit."
"Something like that." Standing, Chris leaves to throw his empty cup in the trash. When he returns he asks "Where are you parked? I’ll walk you to your Jeep."
"Ah. Well, actually. Funny story: I walked here last night."
"Then I'll give you a ride home. Come on."
#steter#petopher#stetopher#teen wolf#darkisrising fic#spicy-ish#tw: suicidal ideation#mentions of it at least
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Hearing Mike Patton: the big list
OK here we go. My Mike Patton listening journey so far, opinions on what I've heard. This is a rolling WIP - I'll be making edits to the original post as I see fit. Please don't reblog (lol, there's a no reblogs feature now - so you can't!) but feel free to comment/reply. Long post, so it's under a cut.
the Mike Patton bands (more that 1 studio album as a full member/lead) in order of preference
#1 Tomahawk - you know I love this band and I pretty much love everything about it. John's driving drums, Duane's soundscape guitar, Mike's perfect blend of creeped out whispers, raw powerful singing, and just audible triple-tracked screaming. And horror of horrors, I prefer Kevin's sludgy simple punk bass to Trevors, like, good playing
Studio Albums:
Self Titled: I have listened through this album more times than I can count. One of my s-tier. The first four songs are basically perfect imo. Every song makes me wanna fuck Mike dirty on the floor, ahem. Least favorite is POP 1 - frankly I don't love the inflection in his voice during the verses think the verses are a liiiittle to whiny sounding.
Mit Gas: Was my intro to this band and still one of my faves, though ST just edges it out. This time the middle of the album is the best to me, You Can't Win through Capt. Midnight. I want to like Desastre Natural, but I just don't, sorry Mike!
Anonymous: Ok - I actually do love LISTENING to this album, but I kind of hate that it exists. I want someone to tell me it's not cultural appropriation. Antelope Ceremony is such a wonderful bop and I love Mike's vocals and chill little interlude/bridge. Crow Dance is fantastic. Cradle Song can suck it.
Oddfellows: As mentioned I'm actually not a huge fan of Trevor just within the context of this band. Like, the songs are still Tomahawkesque, but they're too...normal? Tight? Eh, it's pretty good but strangely my least favorite of the catalogue. IOU is good Rise Up Dirty Waters is good, I do not like White Hats/Black Hats.
Tonic Immobility: I probably haven't listened through this as often as I should, maybe just a few times. But I remember liking it better than Oddfellows. So maybe Trevor is redeemed. The first 3 songs are great....and then I don't remember the rest of the album off the top of my head!
Live Shows/Bootlegs: I think I've listened to/watched basically all the bootlegs and live show videos available on yt. Some multiple times. Listen - I love this band. Particular bootleg highlights (that I remember) are of course the London Astoria 2002 show, the House of Blues shows in 2003, and the Stockholm 2002 show cuz it came off the soundboard. Listening to the first tour is really fun to hear how the band learns to play live with each other. And how Birdsong, Mayday and Harelip get developed. I wish I knew the scratch lyrics, and I bet so does Mike 😂. How I wish there was better quality video footage of the first tour. Like with every fiber of my being. Mike Patton was SERVING LOOKS. Special note that I think Trevor during the Oddfellows tour looks pretty dang cute! And you know what, the more I listen to the Oddfellows tour show, the more I'm appreciating the songs off it...I still don't love White Hats/Black Hats, but live Mike does put a good spin on it.
#2 Mr. Bungle - The partner band to my proper introduction to Mike Patton. They're only second because I truly find I end up listening to Tomahawk more often. The range between albums coming from the same core trio is gorgeous. Bär and Danny (and Theo, while he was with them) are incredible. The live band is master class. The live shows have some fucking balls. Sorry, I don't count Scott or Dave as part of the band!
Studio Albums:
Self Titled: I mean, what can I say? It's definitely ska! (lolololol). It almost doesn't even make sense to talk about any Bungle album. But really, I strangely appreciate how earnest (???) this album is. You can just tell these are a bunch of kids who love...sounds. And love making music together. Mike's high pitched vocals are tempered by good growl-ly stuff. Travolta is an obvious favorite, Egg maybe a less obvious favorite??? The "no place like home" bit makes me so happy. Even though it's my url namesake, Squeeze Me Macaroni is pretty silly and might be my least fave?
Disco Volante: Sometimes when I'm sad I'll listen to this album and it will almost always make me feel better, even though it has no reason to. It's not my favorite album of theirs, but it's definitely an important one, and I have deep love for it. Every track is my favorite...even Backstrokin! (fartn', pissn', strokn' my fuckin dick) For some reason After School Special always makes me think it's a TMBG-influenced track??
California: Ya, I know, obvious fave, but it really is. I just think it's more of an actual uh, cohesive?, album than DV is. And it's got, like, songs! Retrovertigo has been a sleeper, but it might just be my favorite right now. My favorite on my first listen was Ars Moriendi. It's sacrilege, but I don't love Pink Cigarette.
Raging Wrath of the Easter Bunny: Again, probably the studio album from Mr. Bungle that I've listened to the least, but it's still good and I do like it. I just need to be in the mood for it. I think it would make a killer live show and it pisses me off that people are mad at them for the tour set. Like, what did you expect from this band? Hoo boy, let's see - I like Raping Your Mind, Anarchy Up Your Anus and Eracist, and I think I need to listen to the album more to compare the rest!
Demos: Crap, I am such a bad Bungle fan, I haven't listened to any of them all the way through. I'll get on that and report back.
Live Shows/Bootlegs: I am pretty sure I have seen all the available yt video footage of live shows from ST tour to the Cali tour? I haven't completely seen any pre-album shows. And I've listened to maybe 30% of the bootlegs starting from the ST tour, but honestly mostly from the DV and Cali tours. I'm such a hyprocrite and I haven't listened to/seen any of the RWOTEB shows completely. The early Bungle show videos are just so bonkers, they must have just felt so fucking alive then. Mike with the shaved sides (when you could see his head) is perfect. And I particularly love the two bootlegs from the 1999 Bowery Ballroom shows. Mike is like super nice to the crowd, and the crowd is so super nice to the band?!?
#3 Faith No More - Ha ha, FNM is only 3rd! And it's true, I just never really listened to much from this band until maybe December last year. I remember that infamous bf playing me the whole of TRT and I just cannot listen to Mike being that high pitched for that long. But since listening to the Download Festival 2009 show casually while working, I've fallen pretty hard. I appreciate what everyone's bringing to the sound - for me it's Billy that really sells it and while I think the synths/keyboard add a lot, I wish there was just more. to. them. I must admit my guitarists in order are Trey (ya!), Jim, Jon, Dean. I'll just be listing Mike era output.
Studio Albums:
The Real Thing: Yup, still can't listen to this one too often. I do not like Epic. I don't even like when Mike sings Epic in his mature voice. My fave song from this album is Woodpecker From Mars. That should tell you something. The Real Thing is pretty great. Edge of the World is fun, but it was only on the cassette supposedly??
Angel Dust: Ah, the golden child of FNM albums. I love it, but it's not my favorite, simply because I dislike Kindergarten SO MUCH. Not like "oh I don't love it", no, I heavily dislike this song. But everything else is great. Midlife Crisis the obvious fave, and the first half of the album is just fantastic, but if I had to chose one it actually might be Caffeine.
King for A Day...: Yup, it's this one. This one is my favorite. Maybe it's Trey adding magic guitar dust. Maybe because they recorded in Woodstock and gave it some east coast flavor. Honestly maybe it's because there isn't much keyboard. But I think this album is such an engaging listen and I have a good time whenever I do. Ricochet is wonderful, The Gentle Art of Making Enemies sounds 10X better live but does the job in the studio (I really wish he hadn't choked up his vocals on the 2nd "you need something wet in your mouth"), and I have a real fondness for Ugly in the Morning. What the hell is Star A.D. doing here?
Album of the Year: I think it's just Mike that doesn't like this album at this point? Ya some of the songs sound a little like throwaways...but they're still easy on the ears. Like I kinda love how sweeping, (gentle?), and sentimental a lot of it is. The way Mike belts the last lines in Ashes to Ashes does something to my body that I cannot possibly describe.
Sol Invictus: Fuck, I really just check out on Mike after like, 2010, huh? I have listened through this album exactly once. It was fine, and I have no idea why I haven't listened to it again (I just started listening to it again right now...I think I need to talk about older Mike's 'Tom Waits' voice at some point, oh and maybe his like, thrash screech voice too, I'm still a fan of him growling like a dog though)
Live Shows/Bootlegs: Mike is almost always better live, and for me it's most apparent in FNM shows. I think he gets some flack for seeming checked out??? during shows (maybe not being faithful to the songs?), but I don't know how you could look at any performance and not see Mike giving all of himself to the music. He knows how the song goes, he just something else to say. Anyway I will always be entranced by the 1997 London Astoria Show (god help me) AND the 1997 Brixton Academy Show (and fuck). And where would we be without the 1995 Santiago Chile show? And and? On god there are so, so many good ones... omg and all the TV appearances! The professional footage from the reunion shows are beautiful, and the tour is so much fun, but most of them don't have the same charm as the shitty bootlegs and I particularly dislike the Area 4 Festival 2009 video, with the exception of Patton's stripper euro. I've listened to probably 15% of the audio bootlegs, just a couple with Chuck, there are so ding dang many of them, and there is so much video footage, I'm just less desperate for them. Ok, and last thing, I do appreciate the changed lyrics on Epic for live shows ("so you lay down on it and you FUCK it some more," "What is it? It's SHIT!"). They make the song 10% more bearable.
(sorry I got distracted by yet another Tomahawk 2001 video, and now it's time for bed - more to come)
#4 Fantômas - Does this count as a solo project since it's all Mike's aural vision? Either way, I know I'd be more legit if I placed them higher on the list...but....I'm getting there. It's just that I mostly am listening to all this while I'm working, and you just can't listen to Fantômas while doing something else. You gotta sit with headphones, preferably in the dark, eyes closed. Or at least I do. The good thing is, listening to this band has really prepared me for Adult Themes for Voice, at least the few tracks I've heard off it (like, I just picture Mike in his hotel room, hearing all of Fantômas, but only the vocals coming out). And all that being written, the technical ability and, funnily, musicality it takes to pull this off is just staggering. Of course Trevor was on board, but kudos to Dave and Buzzo for saying yes and smashing it.
Studio Albums:
Fantômas: Actually, I initially rated this one lowest, but it's growing on me after a few listens. I'd probably put this one and The Director's Cut in a tie, but still under Suspended Animation. With a couple more run-throughs, it might rise to clear second. It doesn't make sense with anything except TDC to talk about tracks, right? I do like how convincing it is as a soundtrack, and I love when Mike sounds like he's truly descending from outer space, only to land on the power lines.
The Director's Cut: Would it help if I actually knew the originals? I did have to listen to this one also a few times to get into it, and I have to admit, I like that it has songs. Rosemary's Baby IS really good. And I have a soft spot for Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me. Spider Baby is silly - do I like it? I dunno.
Delìrivm Còrdia:
Suspended Animation:
#5 Dead Cross -
#Mike Patton#just mike patton for now#the big list#long post#aka: someone with no musical talent and a bum ear gives unfounded opinions
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I know I talk too much, but I had to get this out, because, like I said, I have nothing better to do. Okay, so, first of all I CAN'T TAKE THIS SHIT ANYMORE!! I don't know why so many things piss me off, like, to the point where I'll be like "I won't think about this tonight" and it keeps me up all night. Idk if this is some childish shit or I'm genuinely gonna burst a blood vessel. Some stupid fucker says something online and I HAVE to respond. Misunderstandings piss me off so much, and with that, I will name shit that's been pissing me off lately.
1. The comic Lydia situation- I LOVE comic Lydia to death, and I'm sure the two people who, yearly, accidentally click on my posts know that too, but these DUMBASS bitches don't know that. Every FUCKING time I see a post about comic Lydia, it's some braindead idiot saying the same thing we've seen a million times. YES, SHE LICKED CARL'S EYE! WE FUCKING GET IT! "I can't believe Lydia would do that 🥺" If it's so traumatizing, DON'T.READ.THE.COMICS! Another thing is how Lydia was 16 and Carl was 13. I've already established that I ONLY ship TV!Carl X Comic!Lydia/TV!+Comic!Carl (whatever fucking fusion I created) X Comic!Lydia, but people be saying shit like "OMG, LYDIA'S SUCH A CREEPY CREEPER FOR THAT 😭😭!" Bffr, bitch, this girl has been to hell and back, AND was taught so much bullshit. 1. That childhood didn't exist, 2. That people could do WHATEVER the hell they want to her, and 3. That she was an animal. What the fuck do you expect? Lollipops and daisies? Open your eyes, brotha. For some reason, people are saying that Lydia SA'd Carl and trauma dumped on him about her situation at camp. Really? That's what we're going with? Dude, she was TAUGHT to DO these THINGS! Holy CRAPPPPAPAPAP!!
2. The SHOW Lydia situation- This girl makes me want to peel the skin off of my nonexistent balls. People will sympathize for TV Lydia SO much! "She didn't deserve what she went through!!" Be so fr. TV Lydia didn't even scratch the surface of what comic Lydia went through. Sure, she was in a shitty situation too, but girl got TWO boyfriends AND two father figures. Comic Lydia got slapped in the fucking face by her mom, and, in the end, didn't even get to be with Carl. Wtf is this? And people say: "Well, she got bullied." I'm not sure being bullied is worse than being r-worded and nearly killed to spite your mother. I see all these FUCKING "TV Lydia >>> Comic Lydia" shit. What did this girl do? They make her seem like a monster for doing WHAT SHE WAS TAUGHT! If someone tells you "Hey, y'know red means go and green means stop" from the time you're 10, I bet you'd get hit by a fucking 18 wheeler. Another thing, that bitch was ANNOYING! Jesus Christ, I don't wanna sound one-sided but HOLY CRAP! Nothing against Cassady, but "WAAA, MY MAMA HATES ME!" Girl, stop.
The Chandler Riggs situation- Stfu about this horse shit. It never happened. Kys. Free my man Chandler 💪
Empty fanbase- I can't do it. I can't fucking do it. I have to keep recycling the same comic Lydia images over and over and OVER AGAIN! There's hardly ANY fanart of her, hardly ANY edits, and the ONLY time I see anything with her "Me reacting to Lydia licking Carl's eye 🤓" These pussy baby bitches, bro. I'm literally alone here. Whenever I try to defend my point online, some overweight person behind a computer SHITS on my FUCKING point, leaving me looking like a damn idiot. All because I'm saying you shouldn't label a kid as a creep because she's scared. But NOOOOOOOOOO, one person says something and the fucking hivemind begins. I'm here with my SCRAPS of comic Lydia content. My SHITASS DRAWINGS, all because people, for some reason, want this girl dead.
And with that, I will stfu. Idgaf. Suck my ass. Show Lydia sucks ass, (not) respectfully. I will defend comic Lydia 'til this earth blows. My girl deserves better. If comic Lydia has one fan, it's me. If she has zero fans, I'm dead. And, yes, I will keep being dramatic and rant about dumb shit I read online.
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𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 . ( nsfw edition. )
RULES: bold which option your prefer ( or, in some cases, maybe just hates the least ! ) out of each of the following pairs . we will strike turnoffs.
submissive or dominant? (He is both but if I must pick leans more towards dominante because he likes control)
whips or chains?
handcuffs or shibari?
pillow princess or power bottom?
voyeur or exhibitionist?
blindfolds or spreader bars?
butt plugs or vibrators?
edging or multiple rounds?
knots or ovipositor?
spanking or scratching?
ball gag or muzzle?
strap on or double sided dildo?
one on one or group sex?
vanilla or kinky?
lengthy cocks or girthy cocks?
small boobs or large boobs?
ass or chests?
thighs or arms?
hot wax or knifeplay?
loud or quiet? (Sheik is quiet)
biting or sucking?
collars or piercings?
costumes or lingerie?
laughing & silliness during sex or intensity & power struggle during sex?
fucking a virgin or fucking someone with experience?
face to face or from behind?
phone sex or sexting?
cumming inside or cumming outside?
being filled or bukkake?
dirty talk or degradation?
role play or porn on in the background?
public edging or filming in the bedroom?
condom or bareback?
lube or raw?
video call masturbation or sexy selfies?
blood play or breath play?
face fucking or anal sex?
leather or PVC?
morning sex or evening sex?
clothes on or clothes off?
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