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celtic-crossbow · 14 days

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Since you said you were looking at requests could you please do something with Dom Daryl with overstimulation, breeding, and cockwarming? Maybe after the savior war trying to get pregnant or any later seasons Daryl? It’s almost 6:30 in the morning so those are just the prompts that came to me first, anything you write with them will be wonderful, thank you 🩷

If I get a Little Prettier, Can I be Your Baby?

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria (post Savior's War)

Warnings: Poorly written smut; p in v; cockwarming; forced orgasms; overstimulation; a hint of breeding, I guess? A/N: This request has been sitting in my inbox for weeks. Gods, I am so sorry for making you wait! I'm even more sorry that I was all over the place with this so I hope it's just good at all. I tried, Anon! I promise!

“S’the matter? Thought ya wanted this?”

Daryl was sitting against the headboard, just as bare as you. You straddled his hips, stretched around his cock and had been for—well, you weren’t sure. He had kept you there, softening slightly every once in a while only to press a thumb against your swollen clit to quickly bring you to orgasm. Your convulsing walls brought him to fully hard within seconds. You’d lost count of how many times he’d done it, sometimes not even needing the stimulation. He would be throbbing with just as much need inside of you and still worked at you until you came, shuddering and whimpering his name like a mantra.

“Please, Daryl, I need—”

“Ya need to sit there ‘til I say diff’rent.” His voice was low, gravelly. Stern, even. You felt your cunt clench and his hips jerk. You were so sensitive, yet still craving him. He could work miracles with those fingers but being so full and stretched without feeling him drag along your inner walls was torture. He wasn’t cruel, never. There was a safe word in place, always, no matter who held the reins. Whether out of sheer stubbornness or overwhelming desire, neither of you had ever used it.

“Yes, sir.” You breathed. Your fingers were splayed over his stomach, his muscles twitching with each miniscule movement you made, though you tried to sit stone still.

The battle with the Saviors had been won. Negan was imprisoned. Alexandria was being rebuilt. Everyone was working together and there was, for at least the time being, a feeling of relative peace and safety. While you had never officially married, you had become Mrs. Dixon in every way except on paper, and that didn’t seem to matter much in those days. You and Daryl had talked about a family before, but always seemed to find some reason to deny yourselves. His worries of becoming his father, Wolves, Saviors, and of course, the dead. There was always something.

It wasn’t until Daryl had been locked in Negan’s cell that he came to realize that waiting was futile. The world would never be safe. If you wanted to have children with him, he loved you enough to travel that road with you. He’d love his children because they were a part of both of you.

This? This was the first session in what would be many “practice runs.” Or maybe one time would be all it would take.

“You’re bein’ such a good girl. Wanna cum for me again?” He smirked, tucking your hair behind your ear and letting that finger carve a trail down over your collarbone, circling your left breast before he pinched and rolled your nipple. You gasped and arched your chest toward him, making him hiss when your hips shifted.

“S—sorry, sir.” You gasped, breathing heavily from just that slight stimulation. If he fucked you now, you feared you’d cum so quickly that it’d be embarrassing. From the twinkle in his eye, it didn’t seem like you were going to have a choice. You let out a squeak as he flipped you to your back, never separating from you but punching a moan from you both with the slight friction.

“Think I’ve had enough’a toyin’ around. How ‘bout we get to work on puttin’ a baby in that belly?” Pressing his mouth to yours in a sloppy kiss, a dance of tongues and teeth, he hooked the back of your right knee over the crook of his elbow and rolled his hips. You pulled back from him, lest you bite his lip, which he’d honestly probably rather enjoy. Another deep thrust saw your hips rising to meet his. He didn’t stop you or reprimand you, so it was safe to say this was all about the endgame.

“Fuck, you feel good.” You whined with your nails scratching over his shoulders, red marks all the way to where you settled your hands on his ribs.

“Yeah?” He knew the answer, even if he did make the next snap of his hips a little rougher. Raising your head, you nuzzled your cheek against his and placed your mouth against his ear.

“Don’t hold back.” You whispered, licking the lobe and then the spot where his pulse raced. Daryl growled, letting your leg drop. When he reached up to grab the top of the headboard with one hand and then the other, you knew you were about to get absolutely ruined.

And couldn’t have been more turned on by the thought.

With a smirk of your own, you chose to let your legs fall open as wide as they could, almost to the point of painful. You were soon digging your nails right into his buttocks. It started with a cadence of rough snaps, his pelvic bone and the coarse hair above his cock slapping against your oversensitive clit. He chuckled above you, knowing exactly why you were making those sinful little noises. Your humiliatingly slick cunt squelched with each push and pull of his cock, only adding to the debauchery that could potentially be heard by the others in the house.

You only dug your fingers in harder, drawing up your knees but keeping your legs wide open. “Come on, Dixon.” You panted, biting back a cry when the next thrust made you see stars. “I thought you wanted to fuck a baby into me. Put in a little effort.”

It was that moment, you knew you had fucked up.

Daryl went motionless, looking down at you through that curtain of sweaty, dark hair. He had one brow arched. He never let go of the headboard but leaned down between his arms until he was nose to nose with you, the most deliciously wicked smirk lifting one corner of his mouth.

“Ya better hold on tight, Sunshine.”

The first thrust shunted you straight up to the headboard, one hand releasing its hold on his ass to slap palm down against the wood and protect the top of your head. And then he was absolutely ruthless. Fucking feral. He used his hold on the headboard as leverage and fucked you at a pace you’d never experienced. Soon, you had let go of him altogether, both palms planted firmly against the smooth surface above you. You couldn’t stop shouting long enough to even let him know you were cumming. Once, twice. A third sparking to life low in your belly. His grunts and groans above you were just fucking delectable and you distantly wished you could focus on the sounds your pussy was coaxing out of him but the feeling of him just absolutely splitting you in two took precedence.

“‘Nough effort for ya?” He panted, slowing only slightly, just enough for you to see him scanning you for any signs that you wanted to stop, that you needed to use the safeword. You scoffed at him. However, you couldn’t seem to speak, so close to yet another orgasm. You saw his grip loosen, knew he was getting concerned, so you communicated your consent by flattening your feet on the mattress and rolling your hips up to take him deeper, both of you groaning. He worked his way back to the same brutal pace, his cock swelling and twitching inside of you. He was close.

You were closer.

Drawing in enough breath, somehow assembling enough presence of mind, you moaned out “I’m—I’m close—Please—”

Daryl grunted, dropping down from the headboard with a hand on either side of your head. “Let go, Sunshine.” He commanded through gritted teeth. “Fuck, m’gonna cum.” You had just felt the first tendrils of pleasure rip from your core when he thrust twice more, stilling against you and holding himself deep with a guttural moan, his muscles spasming and body trembling. “Fuck!” You were too lost on whatever cloud he’d sent you to, your eyes rolled back and mouth agape. Your chest was arched into him until you felt the burn in your muscles suddenly dissipate and you collapsed to the mattress, his name falling from your lips like a mantra.

Daryl was still thrusting into you lazily, dragging out both of your orgasms until you just couldn’t take anymore and twisted your hips to the side with a whine. He let you lie down flat again before gently, slowly pulling out of you, barely moving himself over before he collapsed into a trembling heap. You could feel his cum leaking out of you, burning as it slid across the flesh of your abused cunt.

It never failed that no matter how fucked out he was himself, your well-being came first. Rolling his head toward you, he gave you a once over. “Y’alright? Did I hurtcha? Ya didn’t say—”

“I’m so good that I don’t think I’m ever coming back down to earth, thanks.” You blinked lazily at the ceiling before turning your head, letting it lull toward him to meet his eyes with a lopsided smile. “My god, Daryl Dixon, you just rocked my world.”

God, you loved it when he blushed. He could be an absolute beast in bed—as he had just proven—and then go red as a tomato—as he currently was. Licking his lips slowly, he turned to admire the ceiling at the same time you did.

“I’ll get up in a minute an’ get us cleaned up.” He was finally starting to sound like he had found his lungs and put them back in their rightful place. You lazily waved a hand. “Are ya really alright?”

You nodded, smiling stupidly once again. “I may not walk right for a few days.” You moved with a wince. “In fact, when you get up to get that towel, can you grab me a wheelchair? I think you dislocated my vagina.”

Daryl, of course, looked mortified. “Oh, come on. I’m fine. Just a little sore.” Propping up on your elbows, you grinned at him. “Besides, payback’s a bitch and next time, it’s my turn.” He mumbled christ under his breath and rolled off the bed, staggering toward the bathroom while you stared intently at the perfect round of his ass. “I’ll find the blindfold and handcuffs tomorrow!”

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon request #anon request #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon x female reader

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kinkandkreep · 8 months

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.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・ ✧ :-.・゜

You study Mikey’s hands often.

They're almost perpetually bruised, the knuckle of each thick finger darkened with fine stripes of dried, occasionally fresh blood.

When they're not tucked into his pants pockets, Mikey's hands can almost always be found cradling a dessert of some sort, most usually dorayaki, or tucked underneath his head as he naps on whatever surface is closest to him.

The appendages appear battle worn and aged, slightly calloused and rough to the touch.

You find comfort in them, but you also can’t help but wish Mikey would take better care of his hands.

You know asking him himself to do better would be pointless, and though you know Ken is dependable, he’s also still a guy, so you take it upon yourself one day to sit Mikey down and perform some basic nail care on him.

He has a perplexed expression on his face when you arrive at his door with a large case, and his confusion visibly deepens once you open it.

Inside, there’s an array of tools and apparatuses, each with, presumably, a different purpose. It’s not like Mikey can tell.

You haven’t spoken to him beyond a simple greeting when you entered, having been silent as you dragged him over to his bathroom and made him wash his hands, dragged him over to his bed and sat him down, then began to rummage through your box o’ wonders with a surprisingly serious look on your face .

Mikey watches as you pull out about 5 different tools initially, shutting the box partially and setting it to the side.

Finally, you look up at him, holding his gaze for a moment before a large smile breaks out onto your face.

“Alrighty Mani, today we’re gonna do some nail care!”

Mikey blinks once, twice, before simply standing and pointing to the door.

“No. ♡︎”

You sigh, already exasperated and the real battle hasn’t even begun.

“Oh come on Mani let me do this for you! It’ll be quick and relatively painless. And I promise you’ll like the results.”

“Relatively??” A single one of Mikey’s blonde brows shoots up, lithely muscled arms crossing his chest.

You grin sheepishly, scratching your cheek with a finger. “Well, yeah, some parts might hurt. But that’s only ‘cus you don’t take proper care of your hands and probably have a ton of cuticle buildup.”

“What do you mean ‘don’t take proper care.’ I wash my hands all the time, thank you very much.” Mikey humphs, turning his head away from you.

“That’s great hun, but it’s not enough. Come, let me show you.”

You beckon him over with a hand, and while in any other circumstance Mikey might keep up the obstinate act just for the sake of doing it, he can’t deny that his curiosity is getting the better of him.

He’s always noticed how soft and well kept your own hands are, especially in comparison to his or one of the other guys. He wonders how you get them like that, aside from the obvious use of lotion, and he thinks this may be his opportunity to get some insight.

“Ugh, fine.” He plays up his annoyance, trudging back over to his bed and taking a seat, one of his hands outstretched.

“But be quick about it please. And try to keep the pain to a minimum.”

Clapping excitedly, you nod. Taking the towel you brought with you, you smooth it out on the mattress beneath Mikey’s hands to catch any debris, and to make for easier cleanup.

Gripping Mikey’s hand, you pick up a long piece of what looks like glass. Oddly, it sounds like sandpaper when you run your nails across it, and the sound sort of makes Mikey’s ears hurt.

“What is that?” He juts his chin out toward the object.

“This is a crystal nail file. It’s used for shaping the nails and reducing their length. Don’t worry, this won’t hurt, although it may sort of…tickle.”

Mikey opens his mouth to ask you what that means, but is interrupted by a sharp tingle radiating up and through his hand and arm as you begin filing at his nails. He jerks back instinctively, not liking the feeling at all.

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head, and you nod, instead reaching for what Mikey assumes is another nail file, although this one looks like a piece of cardboard.

“So, you don’t like the crystal file. It is a bit more abrasive than the emery board, and considering this is your first time getting a treatment like this done, I should have figured it might have been too intense for you. This file has a lesser grit and should feel a lot better.”

Mikey’s eyes narrow suspiciously, but eventually he eased his hand back into yours.

“You sure?”

You hum. “Positive.”

With that said, you begin the filing process again, and this time Mikey doesn’t jerk away, which you take as a signal to go ahead.

You’re able to successfully file all the nails on his left hand down to a much neater and natural square shape, leaving the minimum amount of length. You do the same on his right hand, inspecting both hands when you’re done to ensure they’re even.

“Alrighty! Now, we’re gonna push back and remove your cuticles.”

The confused expression returns to Mikey’s face, this time mixed with the most minute amount of alarm. “Remove them? How are you going to do that?”

You search through your box, pulling out a large bottle of milky white liquid. You hold it up so Mikey can read it. “With this.”

The bottle reads “Chemical Cuticle Remover” in big blue letters. Mikey leans back, eyes once again narrowed. “I don’t like the sound of chemicals.”

“It’s nothing harsh,” you assure him. “This method is totally safe and painless.”

Mikey hesitates, but shrugs. “If you say so.”

Taking a metal tool this time, Mikey observes you push the blunt edge against the skin right at the edge of his nail. He can’t really tell that anything is happening, but he trusts you know better than him.

Once you’ve finished that process, you apply a small amount of the cuticle remover to each of Mikey’s cuticles, taking your finger and slightly smoothing out the product.

“Now we wait a bit,” you say.

The two of you are quiet for a few seconds, both your eyes trained on Mikey’s hands.

“How long do we wait for?” Mikey eventually speaks, wiggling his fingers slightly so they don’t begin to cramp.

“Oh, not too long, just a few more seconds.” You give him a small smile.

Once about 30 seconds have elapsed, you take a napkin and wipe away the product on Mikey’s left hand, followed by his right. You then have him run to the bathroom to wash his hands.

“Make sure to use warm water!” You yell after him.

Once he’s seated, you study his nails, nodding and humming as you’re satisfied with the result.

“Ok, now I’m gonna take these cuticle clippers and remove any excess cuticle. There shouldn’t be much left; it looks like the remover did a pretty thorough job. This process will be painless because though we’re technically cutting the skin, it’s dead skin, and it’s been softened by the cuticle remover.”

It only takes a few snips for you to remove the remaining dead skin from around Mikey’s nails. You work efficiently, leaving him watching in silent awe as your deft hands tend to his own.

“Oook! That’s that.” You exclaim, putting away the majority of the tools you’d pulled out.

“Are you done?” Mikey questions as he studies his newly manicured nails.

“Not quite, just a few more steps. Let me see?” You outstretch your hands, palms up, and Mikey lays his over top of them.

“I know I just had you run to the restroom but now I want you to take this product,” you lift a small container full of what looks to Mikey like crystals, “and you’re gonna do something called exfoliating your hands.”

That word sounds familiar. He may have heard Emma say it once or twice before.

“Ok. And what is that gonna do?”

“It’ll remove the dead skin cells from your hands, consequently softening them and renewing their appearance.” You place the container in his hands, standing and beckoning for him to follow.

Once in the bathroom, you open the container, shaking a bit of the crystal concoction onto the palms of Mikey’s hands.

“Is that,” he sniffs, brows furrowing for a moment. “Is that sugar?”

“Yep! It’s something called a sugar scrub. It’s a little abrasive but frankly, your hands need it.”

Mikey decides not to be offended by the implication.

“Now, just rub your hands together as though you were washing them. You don’t have to do it too forcefully, just gentle motions.”

Mikey follows your instructions, despite not being too fond of how the scrub feels on his hands.

After about a minute, you give him the go-ahead to wash it off, and once his hands are dry you both make your way back to the bed.

“Now what’s left?” The words come out a little distracted from Mikey, so focused he is on how surprisingly soft his hands now feel.

You watch him with a smile, pleased with your success thus far.

“Now, it’s time for moisture and a massage.”

That catches his attention, and Mikey looks at you curiously. “You’re going to massage my hands?”

“If you’ll let me.” You bat your eyelashes at him, giggling when he clicks his tongue, momentarily turning away from you.

“Yeah yeah, just get on with it.” He holds his hands out, waiting for you to move.

Satisfied, you squeeze a bit of a masculine smelling moisturizer in the palm of your left hand, putting the bottle away and rubbing your palms together. Once they’re sufficiently coated in the lotion, you begin the process of rubbing and massaging Mikey’s hands.

“You’re tense,” you observe aloud, giving each finger a quick tug until you hear a low pop sound.

“This is unfamiliar territory. Yeah, I’m a little apprehensive.” Mikey jumps slightly with each pull on his fingers.

You pause, leaning forward until you’re nearly nose to nose with Mikey. He meets you evenly, the pitch blackness of his irises appearing dark blue in the light.

“You know I’d never do anything to hurt you, right Mani?” Your tone is suddenly serious, expression flat when you speak.

Mikey’s eyes widen in surprise at your words, but nevertheless, he nods almost immediately.

“Of course. I trust you, __.”

Searching his face for a few moments more, you eventually lean back, smiling sweetly at him.

“Good.”

It takes a few more minutes, but eventually you declare that you’ve completed Mikey’s hand massage.

“There! All finished. How do they feel?”

The blond boy takes a moment to study his hands.

His nails, once slightly jagged and unruly, now look uniform, neat and clean. His hands themselves are loose and relaxed, and the skin glistens under the room light.

“Very nice,” he admits in response to your question. “I’m afraid they’ll just get ruined again the next time I get into a fight though.”

Swiftly reaching out, you grasp both Mikey’s hands gently in yours, pulling them forward and placing tender kisses on the back of each. Manjiro can immediately feel his face reddening, warmth radiating all throughout his body at the fond gesture.

“Gives me all the more reason to treat you like this again, hm?” You meet his eyes, and Manjiro feels his breath catch in his throat.

Without preamble, Mikey cups your face, bringing your lips together for a soft kiss. The two of you remain connected for several seconds before separating, genuine smiles curving your mouths.

“Thank you, __. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Manjiro.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・ ✧ :-.・゜

ᵃ/ⁿ: ʰᵒᵖᵉ ʸ'ᵃˡˡ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸᵉᵈ!

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #mikey tokyo revengers #sano manjiro #manjiro sano #sano manjiro x reader #manjiro sano x reader

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riveluart · 5 months

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Chapter 20 I Battle My Jerk Relative

I wanted to do chapter illustrations of how I always imagined them in the book leading up to the live action premiere

(And then I will proceed to go nuts drawing the live action trio)

#ally cat doodles #my digital art #fan art #pjo #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #percy jackson #annabeth chase #grover underwood

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kinda-thoughtless-critic · 1 year

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Recruitment at Sunset

(jealous) Jean x Reader

It was a pleasantly warm evening at the survey corps headquarters, fading amber sun rays shone through open windows and avian chitter echoed from the leafy tops of trees outside. A relatively newly appointed Section Commander was at his desk shuffling some documents around. Many a parchment was discarded at a near automated speed, the applicant’s name was scanned and nine times out of ten dummped on a stack towering at the desk’s edge. Another, much smaller pile sat patiently in front of the young soldier.

His long fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as tired eyes forced themselves to squint at less than impressive chicken scratch. A calloused thumb pad sank into the paper, creating creases like that of those framing his features, and he sighed, wishing the setting sun would pause and prolong the day a little longer.

It was then the warm oak door to his office opened with a slight creak of its old hinges, and that wish disappeared through the widening gap. Too quick did bright eyes meet his, curved to the softest gaze, the sheet of paper cropping off a smile. Jean jerked upright at your entrance, only having seconds to swiftly sweep the larger paper pile into the metal bin below and place the one he’d been scanning on the one in front.

You cocked an eyebrow as you drew closer to his desk, the door closing slowly behind.

“These are the applications for your new squad,” he said nonchalantly, handing you a flimsy stack of papers.

You skimmed through the applicants, flipping through the limited number of pages. Impressed by their statements, but disappointed with the lack of choice, after the 5th you stopped. “They’re all female”

“Yeah, that seems to be the case,” he responded, resting his elbows on the desk, light brown eyes piercing in the subdued light, “the top four ones are the people I think you should pick. Bridgette and Lina placed 10th and 8th in their Training Corps a few years back, Winnie was a well respected Garrison soldier and I think it will be good to have one of the new recruits like Piper join your squad and learn the ropes.”

Your smile returned as he pitched his suggestions, noting the stray hairs falling from their carefully combed positions to brush the tips of his nose and cheekbones. “You’ve thought about this a lot haven’t you?”

Jean smiled, softer lines replacing rigid ones, and his expression relaxed. “I’m your superior now; it’s my job.”

“Except on this occasion it isn’t, Commander Hange gave me the okay to choose my own members,” you smirked, “not for my Section Commander to do it for me.”

Jean sat back a bit, running a hand through disheveled locks, “I saved you time. It would’ve taken ages for you to decide on the right ones, so I thought I’d help you out.”

“This doesn’t seem like much.” You flapped the documents for extra effect, then glanced sidelong at the recently filled bin beside his desk. “Unless I am to count the ones you threw away just a moment ago.”

He followed your eyes down and promptly folded his arms. “Those aren’t important.”

“In your opinion perhaps, but not to me,” you said, stalking over to them and fishing them out. Jean frowned, displeasure evident in the reappearing creases gathering around knitted brows as you flipped through them. “So here are all my male applicants.”

“The ones I picked out for you were better suited,” Jean insisted.

You almost laughed. “You sure? Because one of these guys, Isaac Milton, was a Squad Captain in the Garrison.”

“He was stationed at Yarckel,” he countered, “He’s never seen a titan.”

“We’re not really fighting titans anymore. At least, not like before.”

“True, but he’s got little battle experience compared to the veterans I’ve picked, and won’t be as sharp as the new trainees. We don’t know exactly what we’ll be up against. Y/n, I don’t want you getting yourself killed protecting him.”

You sighed, clutching the stack close to your chest. “I’ll need his leadership experience- plus he was in the top 20 after graduating.”

“Leadership experience like choosing which barrel to sit on while you drink away the shift playing cards?” His words were sarcastic but his tone nothing short of sincere, this combined with the intent gaze he fixed you getting up and walking round made for a dangerous combination. He took back the stack with without resistance. “Hange and Levi are giving you a squad because they know what you can do. You’re more than capable of leading them.” He let the pile land with a thump on the desk and rested a hand on it, leaning his tall frame towards you. Attentive. “Have faith in yourself.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his immediacy, amber rays highlighting the precise curve of his smile, sheer softness in this gaze. The musky scent of imported cologne played annoyingly with your senses, threatening to distract your thoughts.

With a huff, you gently shoved his shoulder. “I’m fully capable of your promotion.”

He let out a soft chuckle, allowing his body to sway slightly with the impact. “Alright, then maybe you’ll get the next position that comes up.”

Shaking your head, as if you could brush off the natural half smile clinging to your cheek, you reached around his arm to pick up the lighter stack. Both of you knew he wouldn’t stop you if you really wanted to choose differently, but you were never going to. His judgement was more than reliable, had saved your life multiple times, for the longest time you never questioned trusting it. That said, you weren’t going to make it easy for him. “Is there a reason the only ones you approved were female?”

Jean took his hand off the tall paper pile, subtly hiding it from view as his lower back leaned against the desk. “Nope. They’re the best here.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

��Fine,” you reached up to jiggle his bearded chin. He allowed it, for a moment, before playfully batting your hand away. Turning on a heel you made your way to the door, “I’ll go with these four, so they better not disappoint, Horseface,” finally calling out as you left, “Actually to be on the safe sight, keep those ones on file for me...”

A heavy sigh juxtaposed your friendly wave goodbye, followed by a quiet grumble seeing your fleeting figure, taking away what little light had been left with it.

~~~

Thanks for reading!

Masterlist

Burden of Duty (Jean x Reader angst)

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saltpepperbeard · 8 months

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OBLIGATORY THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS™ TOWARDS THE NEW OFMD S2 PICTURES

hi y’all. hi besties. every time i think i’m solid and stable on my feet, new footage absolutely pULLS THE RUG OUT FROM UNDER ME ANDNW. EVERY TIME I THINK I’VE SUSSED OUT THEORIES, NEW FOOTAGE IS LIKE LOL NOPE.

So let’s Ramble let’s Discuss because djwndnsnd MANY THOUGHTS HEAD SCRAMBLED-

So this one is the ✨easiest✨ (IN THEORY), and also so very delightful. BECAUSE LOOK AT THEM. LOOK AT THESE SMILEY SWEETHEARTS. LOOK AT THEIR OUTFITS AND TEA AND FOUND FAMILY VIBES!!!

I would assume this is on a different ship, or maybe on the “floating market” that was teases in one of the articles. I’m of course leaning towards the Red Flag Fleet based on previous material, but I can’t really figure why or WHERE in the season.

Employing help to catch up with the Revenge? Attempting to stay hidden because Stede ran from the Naval Academy and is subsequently a VERY wanted man? A bit of both?

Either way, CUTIES. (Also that SKY 😩😩😩)

And this one,,, THIS ONE,,,,, 👀? 👀👀🧐🧐???

The first knee-jerk reaction I had to it is an immediate post-reunion shot. He looks very confused—very SHOOK, if you will lol. And he’s still wearing the same shirt he’s been traveling around in for some time. It’s also relatively dingy, which tells me a bit of time has passed.

And that flooring behind him,,, Is that the DECK OF THE REVENGE???

SOOOOOO reunion taking a bad turn? Him tripping back over himself because Ed reacts ENTIRELY differently than he expects? Him just RECOILING in shock???

But then also, I’m like 👁👁, because I feel like it COULD be a misdirect. It COULD be something entirely different. Because I feel like they love doing that with previews lol. Something ENTIRELY innocuous and unrelated to what it APPEARS to look like.

Because, I will say,,, the gloves,,,,,, who is She.

AND THEN THIS ONE,,, 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

does edward teach know i want him carnally

He’s just so so beautiful, but of course we all knew that. WE ALL FIGURED AS MUCH.

I will say though, something that caught my attention in this shot are the marks/cuts on his face. Particularly, the mark/cut on his lip, because it matches up with-

THIS shot. And this in particular is really scrambling my brain l m a o because,,,

My running theory for this was that it was Ed going through some sort of “battling his past phantoms” type journey, and was working towards healing on his own. LITERALLY on his own, because I also thought this came after him falling off the ship/getting thrown from the ship.

And I ALSO thought that him meeting up with the bunch again would come with happiness/healing as a result.

SO SEEING HIM STILL LOOK SAD AND STOIC WITH A BLUNT??? HONEY????? HONEY DARLING??????? I THOUGHT WE WERE GOOD LMAO WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE STILL SAD 😭😭😭

Unless it’s just something more serious, and he IS indeed feeling better. I mean, he doesn’t have his makeup or anything, so he COULD just be in a more grim situation of some sort.

But I digress. #EdDeservesToSmile2kForever

ANNNNNNND THEN THIS LMAO. THIS. THE MOST CONFUSING OF THE BUNCH RIGHT HERE,,,

The position they’re in,,,,,,, 📸🤨

But what REALLY snagged me was Ed’s facial expression qkdjwjdjw like babe WHAT ARE YOU DOING. WHAT ARRRRR YOU DOING WJDNWN

My brain just immediately shouted “FERAL BEHAVIOR” because that looks like me whenever I’m like 🤪. JUST BUG-EYED AND CHEWING ON FLOOR TILES IDK.

…BUT THAT’S ME GOING BONKERS OVER FOOTAGE SO LIKE QJDJWNS,,, IN WHAT CIRCUMSTANCE WOULD ED LOOK LIKE: THAT.

like is frenchie carrying marmalade and ed saw it and pounced and is like ⚫️👄⚫️

because honestly that’s Valid.

But it’s also VERY interesting, because Ed’s makeup is off, and his HAIR is in that one lovely updo. So again, AGAIN, it makes it very difficult to tell what the motivations are/what the characters are feeling, because it’s like,,, ED BABE ARE YOU GOOD??? DO YOU FEEL BETTER??? OR WHAT AKDJWJDS

Regardless, REGARDLESS, I don’t know how they manage when I’m already through the ceiling, but I’m somehow vibrating at an even GREATER level than before. I cannot, and I mean, CANNOT wait to know the context behind all of these.

And cannot BELIEVE we’ll know in ✨less than a month✨

#OFMD #OFMD Season 2 #OFMD S2 Speculation #OFMD S2 Spoilers #Gentlebeard #Blackbonnet #Edward Teach #Stede Bonnet #Frenchie #Roach #Wee John #Buttons #Oluwande Boodhari #I’m just #😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫#Revenge Rambles

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slippinmickeys · 3 months

Text

Three Part Harmony (21/24)

“Is anyone dead back there?” Mulder asked quietly, his blood a thrumming brew of adrenaline and cortisol.

“No,” Scully said, her voice equally low.

Rhonda remained silent, her eyes fixed ahead, and she gripped the steering wheel in white-knuckled tension. The snow was coming down in thick sheets, curling into the windshield with magnetic purpose.

“Their cars aren’t going anywhere and I disabled their radios, but I think we probably have less than half an hour before there’s a statewide APB on all four of us and this vehicle,” Scully said from the back seat.

As Mulder let his breathing start to regulate, he was struggling to know how to feel. Relief and awe and wonder were battling it out, but anger was slowly overtaking his higher functions.

“I told you to stay away,” he said, unable to turn in the cramped little car enough to look at her. It would have been easier to unleash his fury if he could look her in the eye, but he did his level best anyway. “I told Skinner to keep you as far from me as possible! And now-“

“And now we’re in the same situation we were in before,” Scully fired back. “But you’re with us. I need you with us.”

Mulder could hear a slight wobble in her voice and he took a breath, trying to calm himself.

“It’s not the same situation, Scully,” he said, slightly more level headed, but still upset. “You’ve made a criminal out an innocent woman, and-”

“I made a criminal out of myself,” Rhonda finally spoke. “The second I offered you help and refuge. I’m a big girl, and I knew what I was getting myself into. Now if you don’t mind, I’d rather you not argue in my car while I’m playing the old Montana favorite Am I Still On The Road.”

Slightly chagrined, Mulder leaned back and looked ahead. It was nothing but a mass of whiteness. He could not tell either if they were driving on a road or in the middle of a field. There was nothing to see but snow.

“Good,” Rhonda said, eyes never leaving the windshield. “Now thank your wife and son for saving your sorry ass.”

Mulder didn’t correct her, but turned as best he could and reached into the back seat as far as his shackles would allow him. Scully reached forward and gripped his hand hard.

“How’s he doing?” Mulder asked.

Instead of looking at their son, Scully closed her eyes then smiled.

“He’s doing good,” she said. “He’s happy you’re back.”

“Dadadadada!” William shouted, and Mulder teared up, wishing he could pick the boy up and hold him close.

Rhonda and Scully merely chuckled.

“He’s got a few new tricks,” Rhonda said.

“Oh yeah?” said Mulder, reluctantly pulling his hand back from Scully’s to wipe at his eyes.

“Hi!” William squeaked.

Mulder felt the first smile he’d worn in days creep up his face. It fell when he turned to look out the front of the car.

“We’re going to need to get out of this storm,” he said.

“There’s a town in about ten miles. We can get gas, something to eat. Maybe the weather will let up.”

“I think the weather’s the only thing helping us right now.”

“This ensemble certainly isn’t,” Rhonda said, jerking her thumb at him.

“You don’t like my outfit?”

“It’s a touch provocative. Most men in these parts wear a little less jewelry.”

At that, the cuffs and ankle shackles all simultaneously released, falling from Mulder’s limbs in a slither of tinkling metal. He startled and braced his suddenly free hands against the dashboard.

Rhonda pulled her eyes from the road for a moment to look directly at him.

“Scully’s got a few new tricks, too,” she said, and refocused back on the road.

XxX

Rhonda pulled up directly in front of the unisex bathroom door at the gas station, which was blessedly around the side of the building, rather than through the store at the back. Scully had handed Mulder a bundle of clothes and a pair of boots and he’d slid out of the car and into the bathroom without anyone witnessing him doing so.

It was relatively clean, thankfully, heater blowing full force from the ceiling, with a single toilet in the corner, a sink, paper towel dispenser and Koala Kare unit in the wall.

He was redressed, holding onto the orange prison jumpsuit, trying to figure out where he should dispose of it when there was a sharp rap at the door. His heart rate spiked, but Scully’s voice came a moment later on another ratatat of knocking.

“Mulder, open up. Let us in.”

He unlocked the door and threw it open only for Scully to push immediately inside, holding William out in front of her like a sacrifice, the bloom of a brown stain blossoming halfway up his back.

“Oh shit,” Mulder said, drawing a look from Scully.

“You noticed,” she said and stared at him until he roused himself into action and pulled down the changing station shelf.

Scully laid down the small blanket she had slung over her arm and plopped William down on it unceremoniously.

“Can you get him undressed?” she asked, swinging a bag off her shoulder. She began digging through it, setting several things down on the table near William’s head; a pack of baby wipes, a clean diaper.

“Mulder,” she said, looking up at him.

“Right!”

Mulder leapt into action, unzipping the felted footy pajamas the baby was dressed in and peeling them off. What he found underneath was a crime scene. Smelled like one, too.

He swore.

William seemed delighted, clapping and babbling and making himself a generally wiggly nuisance while Mulder tried to get the soiled diaper off of him. Finally, one hand full of the utterly destroyed pajamas and the other holding the biohazard of a diaper, Mulder looked at Scully somewhat desperately.

“Can you take over?”

She nodded with a look he thought might have been a smirk and stepped in, wiping and cleaning their son with far more efficiency and composure.

Mulder took the opportunity to shove the prison jumpsuit into the trash can and placed the filthy footies and diaper directly on top, pulling the whole of the bag lining the can to take with them. He wouldn’t put it past Bryson to dumpster dive through excrement for a chance to get at William.

When he turned back to them after washing his hands, Scully was holding out his son to him, clean and fresh-smelling and smiling, and Mulder took him into his arms with such a rush of relief and longing that it felt like his heart might drop out of his chest.

XxXxXxXxXxX

When the little family was settled back into the car, Rhonda turned to them, feeling uneasy, but resolute.

“You’ve been doing this longer than I have,” she said. “Being on the run. What do we do?”

Mulder turned to look out the windshield. The snow had let up, and hadn’t accumulated as much as it might have without the wind. There were drifts that were a couple feet high, but bare spots on the ground, and the roads had mainly been blown clear.

“We need to stay off major highways,” he said. “Find somewhere to hunker down.”

Scully sighed. “That’s easier said than done with a baby in tow.”

“Yes,” Mulder admitted. “But Rhonda’s cabin is out and we’ll need to hide the car. Bryson’s seen it, and her. Couple of hotel rooms would be great, but I don’t think we can risk it. We need somewhere with plumbing. Heat. Supplies.” He turned to Rhonda. “I’m sorry this is happening to you. I’m sorry we ever set foot in your diner. That your lot has been thrown in with ours.”

“I’m not,” Rhonda said, finding herself truly meaning it. “You’ve given me a purpose. For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m doing something that helps. That matters.” The resolve with which she said the words shored up her bones, made her sit up taller. For the first time in her life, she felt a fire burning in her belly.

“I’m with you,” she said. “And we’re in slightly better shape than you think.”

When Mulder looked at her curiously, Scully piped up from the back seat. “The trunk is full of everything we might need,” she said. When Mulder turned to look at her, Scully shrugged. “Didn’t want to get stuck again.”

Rhonda considered the other things Mulder had said, the wheels turning in her head. Finally, she looked at them both.

“We need a few extra gallons of gas, just in case,” she said. “But I know where we can go.”

XxX

The sign by the road was studded with snow, but you could still make out the name it boasted, ‘Camp Waawaate’ with the old picture of a canoe, ‘established 1938.’

“It’s a summer camp,” Rhonda explained as she pulled to a stop in front of the gate, looking at the sign fondly. “I went here as a kid. Worked here for a while, too.” Some of the best times of her life had been spent here, swimming in the mountain lake, singing songs in the cafeteria and by a campfire. It certainly looked different in the snow. “It’s miles and miles from anything resembling civilization and closed up tight for winter. You can’t see anything from the road. We should be safe here.”

She sighed, remembering the good times, and threw the car in park. She turned to look at Scully. “The gate’ll be locked. I could use your help.”

Scully avoided looking at Mulder and nodded, unbuckling her seatbelt. Mulder had to get out to let her out of the backseat of the hatchback, but wandered behind her curiously and watched as she walked up to the swinging gate, peered at it for a moment. The padlock seemed to unlatch of its own accord. Mulder looked at her as though she’d employed a Jedi Mind Trick to unlock it.

Scully shot Mulder a self-conscious look and then he offered to stay outside the car and lock the gate shut behind them. She swung back into the backseat next to her son as Rhonda popped the old car back into gear.

“Gonna be a bit of an awkward conversation explaining all that, huh?” she asked the younger woman.

“We’ve had awkward conversations before,” Scully said, looking out the window. “I’m just…”

Rhonda could read beyond the ellipses of her abandoned comment. The woman was so glad to have her lover back beside her that the words to describe her relief wouldn’t come. Rhonda smiled kindly at her as she pressed the accelerator to nudge the car through the gateway of the camp. It was humbling to be a part of a love story like theirs. They were not the first to love as deeply as they did, Rhonda knew, nor were they the most tragic, but something about their romance felt like a storybook, like an author was writing them with a pen and was as yet not sure how the story would end.

Rhonda could only hope it would be happy.

Mulder swung the gate shut behind them, re-securing the padlock, and jumped back in the car, rubbing his hands together to warm them up.

“This place going to have power?” he asked, blowing into cold fists. “Is it going to have heat?”

The drifts across the drive were bigger here than they had been on the road, and Rhonda had to build up some momentum to get through them.

“Power up here is unreliable,” she said, concentrating on driving the serpentine, tree-lined two-track. “They have generators.”

“And heat?” Mulder asked again.

“It’s a summer camp, but it’s in the mountains. Each of the cabins has a fireplace. As does the main lodge and cafeteria. Should keep us warm enough.”

Mulder nodded from beside her. Beggars and choosers and all that, thought Rhonda.

Through an aspen grove and into the scrubby cedar swamp by the lake they drove, until the driveway widened out as they hit the main campus. To their right was a small hut on the lake that Rhonda knew housed paddles and life jackets, canoes pulled up high along the shore, clumped together upside down like fallen soldiers after a battle. To the left was a rectangle of pavement with a basketball hoop on one side, the other stretching out into low wooden bleachers that surrounded an enormous fire pit.

Beyond the court, up the small rise of a hill, perched an enormous timber frame lodge that overlooked the lake, which sat gray and wind-dimpled, uninviting and cold.

“We can start at the lodge,” Rhonda said, pointing to the main building. “It has an enormous fireplace and a genny that runs the kitchen equipment.”

“Think we can get it going?”Mulder asked.

Rhonda knew there was an enormous oil drum by the maintenance building that was full of the gas that kept the generator running all summer, but she wasn’t certain how often they topped it off as autumn approached, and pointed to one of the gas cans at Mulder’s feet.

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” she said.

“Are there places to sleep in the lodge?” Scully asked.

“Just kitchens and the cafeteria, a couple of small administrative offices,” Rhonda said, shaking her head. She pulled up to the back of the large building and killed the engine.

“Beyond the lodge are the campers cabins,” she went on, explaining the camp’s layout. “Boys to the east and girls to the west. Genny powered bathrooms at the end of each. The cabins have fireplaces and are small and retain heat pretty well. Beds a-plenty. I can get the generator up and running at the lodge and one of the bathrooms. There’s an enormous firewood cache behind the building if you want to get started there.”

Mulder nodded at her.

“Pick a cabin, any cabin,” Rhonda said, unbuckling her seatbelt. “And if you’d like some privacy, you can put me in the next one down.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

The inside of the lodge was all exposed beams and wood accents, built at a time when the trees grew bigger. The main room was wide and expansive, with a high ceiling that ended in a peak and huge fireplace faced with raw granite, the masonry old but sturdy. The tables that filled the space in the summer had been pushed to the sides of the hall, and the chairs stacked neatly next to them. An old piano sat in the corner next to an empty plastic Lost & Found bin. On the walls were pictures of campers from decades worth of summers; swimming, canoeing, arms around each other at a fire, one or two gap-toothed archers holding up the rare bullseye. Scully could hear it the moment Rhonda got the big generator going. There were big bay windows that faced the lake letting in the gray light of the day, but Scully flicked on the lights anyway, flooding the dusty space with yellow light.

William had fallen asleep in his car seat, and Mulder set him gently down.

“I think she said the firewood is around back?” Mulder said, pointing at a side door near the fireplace.

Scully nodded and drifted over to the door.

The entire camp had been secured tightly for winter, but locks were no longer really a problem. All Scully had to do was connect with William–something she could now do even when he was asleep–picture the pins and tumblers inside the mechanism, and think them into place. It was a handy gift, though one that would produce some parenting challenges as William got older should the boy figure out how to do it himself. Should they manage to get out of this alive.

She opened the door, and Mulder followed her out into the cold.

Rhonda had been right; all along the side of the building were shoulder-high stacks of seasoned firewood three or four sections deep. More than enough to keep them warm for however long they needed to hide out here.

“What do you think?” Mulder said, coming up alongside her. She could feel the warmth emanating from his body, but had only really touched him in the car when he’d reached out for her. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself at him in relief, to wrap her arms around his solid middle and tuck her head under his chin. To have him tell her that it would all be all right, that she had done the right thing. But they had things to do, and needed to be getting along doing them.

“Get a fire going in the lodge and then pick out a couple of cabins?” he went on.

Scully thought of William sleeping in the big cold room behind them.

“Yes,” she said. “Bring in as much as you can and I’ll get a fire going.”

Figuring out how to open the flue to the enormous fireplace was the biggest challenge, but once she’d maneuvered it open, it wasn’t long before they had a roaring fire going.

Rhonda walked in just as Mulder was stacking the last of a half-cord of wood next to the hearth. She looked down fondly at William.

“I’ll stay with him and get the supplies brought in from the car,” she offered. “If you two want to figure out where we’ll all sleep?”

Scully nodded at her gratefully. Mulder came up behind her then and put a heavy hand on her shoulder, which sparked such a flood of feeling within her that William–still connected to her–shifted in his sleep. Scully watched as the older woman knelt down and tucked the edge of the blanket more firmly around the child. Rhonda then looked up and gave them a small smile.

“Take your time,” she said quietly, and Scully could have wept.

XxXxXxXxXxX

There was a way they looked at each other, a way they locked eyes, that was unlike anything Rhonda had witnessed before. It felt, at times, a little bit like a blessing to witness, and a little bit like a curse. She thought of the romance novels she liked to read so much, of the inevitable pull the main characters felt for each other, the way they would stop at nothing to be together. How odd to see the real thing.

Rhonda wondered what it was about them that invited such suffering, such bliss. What was it about them that made even God turn away?

Mulder took Scully’s hand as they walked out of the lodge, both sparing one last look at their son. Rhonda would give them time together, whatever peace she could for as long as they needed. There was a reverence between them that needed to be honored, a fire that was in want of rekindling.

Rhonda could still see the camp cabins in her mind's eye, unchanged since her childhood. She closed her eyes and looked down on them as if from above, saw Mulder and Scully, those poor tragic lovers. She wanted to heal them or at the very least give them an opportunity to heal themselves. Under the fleece of evergreens, they would step into the small cabin and embrace. Rhonda envied them their reconnection. Envied them their love. She wanted nothing more than to foster it, to take them up like plastic dolls, lift them out and press them tightly together with the palms of both her hands.

#the x-files #fanfic #my fic #msr #wip

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makethatelevenrings · 1 year

Text

Angel by the Wing - SIX

Chapter Warnings: discussion of canon character death, allusion to emotional parental abuse

Series Masterlist

The industrial hum of the overhead lights mixed with the metallic scrape of the freezer door on the frame sent a shiver down your spine. The balmy San Diego weather couldn’t compete with the freezer aisles of the Miramar commissary. You were on the hunt for some quality time with your two favorite men, Ben & Jerry.

Normally, you would leave the Kazansky household and make your way to the Hard Deck to nurse a beer before leaving with Jake, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be around all that loud noise and drunken idiots. You could deal with it when you were working, but tonight you just wanted to go home and nurse your aching heart at the bottom of an ice cream carton.

Contrary to popular beliefs, bartenders don’t always turn to alcohol to soothe themselves.

Grabbing a carton of your favorite flavor, you headed towards the self checkout when a tall body stepped out of the booze aisle and directly into your path.

“Shit, sorry,” the man mumbled as you careened to a stop, just barely catching yourself from crashing into him. Seriously, you have got to stop smacking into people in the grocery store. The last time you did that, you ended up practically adopted.

“That’s my bad. I should have been paying better attention…hi.”

Bradley grinned at you and you shook your head, a small laugh escaping you. A six pack was clutched in one of his hands and you nodded towards it.

“What? Is my bar not good enough for you?”

“It’s not the bar, but the people. Can you imagine dealing with Hangman all day, everyday?”

A smirk played on your lips at the thought and you shrugged. “I just serve the drinks.”

“Not working tonight?”

“Penny does let me have a life sometimes. Surprising, I know. So I’m heading home and hopefully eating this whole thing before going to bed before ten.”

He looked down at your bounty and then back up at your face. There was some charming allure to Bradley Bradshaw’s smile. You offered him a shy smile and jerked your thumb over your shoulder towards the self checkout.

“I should…go.”

His hand curled around your wrist, warm and light against your skin like the summer sun. It pulled your attention back to him instead of your imminent escape.

“Join me on the beach?”

You hesitated, just for a brief moment, but then you saw that there was something behind that handsome facade. Anger. Grief. Frustration. Behind the cocky smile and charming veneer rested something else.

“Okay,” you murmured. “Beach sounds nice.”

Your battle with him over paying was short lived because he swiped your ice cream across the scanner and slid his card into the reader in two swift movements. You rolled your eyes but accepted the ice cream. He had snagged a plastic spoon from the salad bar when you passed and presented it to you like it was an award.

“How chivalrous,” you mocked as you took the proffered object. The beach was only a short walk from the commissary and despite the fading sunlight, there were still plenty of folks on the sand. You both kicked off your shoes at the edge of the sand and then journeyed forth. Bradley found a spot that was relatively empty and looked to you, suddenly unsure. You smiled at his almost tentative gesture and planted yourself firmly in the warm sand.

“C’mon, farm boy, you gonna join me?”

He settled into the sand next to you and cracked open one of his beers. He silently offered you one but you shook your head and opened your carton in response. The sickly sweet taste of sugar and cream danced across your tongue and you sighed at the relief against your burning tongue and aching heart.

“Have a good day at work? Or can you not tell me that either?”

He huffed out a laugh and took a long drink before setting his beer in the sand next to his foot. His dark eyes stared out at the lapping waves, crash after crash after crash. He clasped his hands and rested his forearms on his propped up knees.

“What made you come to San Diego?” he finally said. He tore his gaze away from the water and fixed it on you. The memory of your decision to come here made you chuckle and you took another bite of ice cream before responding.

“I was working at this shitty bar in my hometown. God, I hated it. My coworker asked me if I could move anywhere in the world, where would I go? I had no idea. So she handed me a dart, covered my eyes, and told me to throw it at the wall. We had this mural of the map painted on it and the dart landed on San Diego.”

You paused in your story and ate another bite. You chewed thoughtfully on some of the extra bits in the ice cream and then let a small smile cross your lips.

“I quit my job the next day, packed up everything in my car, and drove here.”

“Just like that? In one night?”

You shrugged. “I lived at home so it wasn’t like I was paying rent. I just had to get out of there before I suffocated. I love my mom, don’t get me wrong, but the older I got, the more I realized that I didn’t particularly like her.”

The cold touch of ice cream on your lips felt sharper and the flavor turned to ash. You shoved the spoon into the dessert and stuck the carton into the sand next to his beer. Leaning forward, you rested your chin on your forearms as they balanced on your knees.

“My mom is one of those people who wants people to think she has a perfect life, unless she’s using her bad days to garner sympathy. She always wanted me to be perfect, even if she didn’t say those words exactly. I worked my ass off and did everything she wanted, but I still ended up at home, working as a bartender. But I was good at it. And I liked it.”

“But it wasn’t enough for her,” he finished your thought process. You nodded and then sighed.

“Sorry, you didn’t ask to have my problems dumped on you.”

He was silent for a moment and then he stared out at the ocean again. You ducked your head, heat rising to your cheeks as embarrassment washed over you. This is precisely why people left. You were too much. Too open.

“My dad died,” he blurted out. “When I was a kid. He was a pilot. Naval aviator. I wanted to be just like him.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. The grief was still evident by the thickness of his voice. Without thinking, you reached out and gently laid a hand on his forearm. He turned his head to look at you, studying you for sincerity. He must have found what he was looking for because he inhaled deeply and then continued.

“It tore my mom apart. She loved him so much. They made me believe in soulmates…but his death ruined her. She tried her hardest to raise me with his memory, but the older I get, the more he fades away.”

“And your mom?”

“Cancer.” The word shot an icy arrow through your heart as you recalled the conversation you had with Sarah hours earlier. Fuck, that word couldn’t escape you. Just like the damn illness itself, it consumed the world around it.

“God, Bradley, I’m so sorry. I know that doesn’t fix anything, but really, I’m sorry. What was your favorite memory of her?”

He stilled beside you. His fidgeting stilled and he sucked in a sharp breath. Exhaling slowly, Bradley stared down at his hands.

“No one’s ever asked me that,” he admitted. His eyes shut in thought and then he chuckled. “She tried to give me the most normal life possible, even when there was this big hole in our lives. But once a month, we would go to the arcade and she would get us thirty dollars worth of tokens and we would spend half the day playing. She was a mean skeeball player. And then we would get pizza from this local place and watch whatever movie I picked that night.”

Despite the smile on his face, tears gathered at the edge of his lashes. He grit his teeth and ground his jaw, as if he was angry at his own tears. You reached out, hesitated, and then you ran your thumb along his cheek.

“She sounded like a really great mom,” you assured him.

“The pilot that my dad flew with is here. He pulled my papers from the Naval Academy. He tried to stop me from flying. And now he’s here. He’s fucking training us and-” His fists clenched and you slid your hands down to cover his. You didn’t have the words to comfort him. You didn’t know what to say that would soothe all his rough edges and ease his aches.

You simply rested your head on his shoulder as the two of you gazed out at the last vestiges of sunlight kissing the sky goodnight. Your vision blurred with the weight of this night and you blinked away the tears that tried to escape.

Sarah. Tom. Now, Bradley. They needed you. They needed you to be strong. And strong you would be.

Tag List: @mizzzpink @xoxabs88xox @dreaminglandsworld @khaylin27 @loveforaugust @phoenixssugarbaby @atarmychick007 @mak-32 @itsmytimetoodream

#abtw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader x jake seresin #bradley bradshaw imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #hangman x reader #hangman imagine #rooster x reader #rooster imagine

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roxineedstosleep · 1 year

Text

Tiny to be a Strong... but too much Strong to be a Velaryon

Based on my Small and Tinny! Lucerys AU & “THE fight scene at Nyra's engagement to Laenor”

But Lucemond.

******************************************

So, Lucerys stays... small.

Literally, While Jace and Joffrey grow big and strong like Hardwin once did, thus proving their Strong genes.... Lucerys stayed tiny. Jace and Joffrey got those wonderfull stoned chin, fearless eyes, broad shoulders, firm muscles, bushy eyebrows, untamed hair... if it weren't for her mother's delicate features mixed in everywhere, and that grandmother Rhaenys showed portraits of her relatives with wavy hair and dark hair and familiar features... well, her legitimacy would have been judged much more harshly than before.

Those pictures helped a lot to protect Jace and Joffrey, but not Luke... he couldn't even look like a Targaryen or a Velaryon in his entirety.

Even Viserys, Alicent, Daemond and Rhaenyra start to doubt if everything with Lucerys is okay, I mean, even if he doesn't grow like his siblings, he should at least have made the first growth spurts by now; but nothing happens. Corlys occasionally, to lighten the mood, jokes with his wife that the Velaryons are late bloomers, Rhaenys also would do some light comments during the nobleship assamble saying about her Baratheon ancestry, that not all desensitised children grow up quickly. Even Viserys would mention that Daemon grew a little slower until he hit puberty and grew like a weed. Laenor also started claming that he stayed small until he began to accompany his father and uncle in their battles at sea.

“He’s just takign his time, like my son, like my, like any other memeber of my family did before any of us. Give some air to grow up“ the Lord of the Seas said once.

But even Corlys cannot deny that Lucerys does not seem to be growing in any way. Even Aegon, who did not grow as tall as Rhaenyra, Healena and Aemond, still stands at the height expected of a Valyrian... What about Lucerys?

And, of course, that begins to affect Lucerys and his entire family dynamic with him.

In the beginning, during the first years of his puberty, Jace and Joffrey would start to pass him the things that Lucerys can't reach because he's not as tall as they are. Worse when Baela and Rhaena started to even surpass him and help him was when Lucerys noticed a difference.

Jace increasingly changed clothes and protection equipment, as he grew wider and taller, even Joffrey followed him, always cover him like they were his protectors, but Lucerys remained in the same knightly guards and always left behind. And he could not lie when he noticed that Daemond asked the smiths to have all his weapons modified exclusively for his size.... Even Joffrey didn't use those small swords?!

Alicent would sometimes call him a little prince (unable to resist forgetting all the resentment she once felt, when she noticed that all his ceremonial clothes made him look so adorable for how small Lucerys looked in comparison to his other siblings.), and Corlys would put a special seat on Arrax's saddle after he saw that even the dragon was bigger and he couldn't see well. Viserys had also sent to fix some furniture in King's Landing just so Lucerys's seat wouldn't make it him look smaller.

It wouldn't have been a problem if after a while his accelerated growth would appear.... but it didn't. Years went by and he still remained small.

And, the last straw for Lucerys, was when even Ser Cole, who used to be a real jerk to him, put him on a child's mount to teach him how to ride a jousting horse properly. And if that wasn't enough, he even gave him the soft pads inside his armour!

Ser Cole was no longer looking at him ugly, or with pity, he was basically looking at him in awe and talking to him as if he were younger than Daeron.

And his mother even encouraged him to do it!

How dare they?

He was no little prince, he was a Valyrian heir as strong and powerful as any of his brothers or cousins!

And so it went on... until a meeting of nobles.

The music, the dancing and the drinking never seemed to stop... and just for that, a fist fight, something some might have predicted, happened.

All the princes and princesses were in the thick of it, Aegon landing the occasional accurate blow against the daring, Jace and Joffrey had managed to pull their aunt Haelena and the twins out of the tumults. Daeron (who had recently been visiting) was even spared only because Aegon threw him out of the fight before he himself got out.

It was just him and Aemond... who seemed to be clearly stressed about not having his blind side covered.

Of course, the Greens and the Blacks continued their internal political squabbles. But they still shared dragon blood in their veins and none of that was going to stop them from protecting each other.

So, taking advantage of his small stature, he squeezed through all the idiots kicking and punching each other, got to his uncle Aemond, who had miraculously managed to squeeze in next to a pillar... and carried him.

No one knows whether the fight ended because several Lords started shouting at their guards to stop it all or because they were all frightened to see the new rogue prince moving through the crowd like a sack of potatoes.

But everyone was amazed to see the ageless little prince, Lucerys' new nickname, carrying his uncle. An uncle who was twice his size, weighed probably three times as much, and who kept moving and shouting in high Valyrian as if he were an animal about to enter the slaughterhouse.

After that no one else dared to raise a row for the rest of the night.

But if Aemond blushed when he saw Lucerys carrying heavy things.... well.

No one would say anything about it.

#lucemond imagine #ship: lucemond #aemond x lucerys #lucerys x aemond #lucerys velaryon #aemond #aemond targaryen #Small! Lucerys #He's a little prince and strong... literally speaking.

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tgrailwar-zero · 9 months

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The two of them, CONSTANTINE and DRACO, engaged in terse combat. Slash after slash, the two of them were relatively closely matched with DRACO's weakened state- and your support behind CONSTANTINE. Eventually, it reached a lull in the battle, as for the first time since the battle began, you gained a good look at DRACO's face.

If one could boil down the expression on DRACO's face to two words, it would be 'betrayed' and 'enraged'.

She snarled, mouth twisted into a grimace, eyes burning with fury.

DRACO: "Snakes, like Galba! Summon me, only to see me dead and cast aside? I will not simply be a means to your ends. I am a Beast, not a Heroic Spirit to be jerked around like a puppet on strings!"

The battle had pushed her closer to LUCIUS, and she took the opportunity to strike.

With her scaled hand, she swiftly decapitated the Servant husk, watching the War Monitor's body grow limp, but horrifyingly remain standing.

Blood poured into the goblet, her own mana slowly and steadily increasing at the macabre offering. CONSTANTINE took a step back, his sword still brandished.

DRACO: "Worry not, 'Masters'. I expected more from those who would call upon a Beast, and I will leave your presence, but I will not sit upon a council of vipers quietly awaiting my execution! Not again! I shall put this Solar Cell to rights on my own."

[ DRACO used 'Independent Manifestation' to sever her contract! She's no longer under your control! ]

As CONSTANTINE rushed forward for another strike, DRACO's form began to shift and shimmer. As the blade slashed through, it touched nothing but air.

LUCIUS was gone.

…DRACO was gone.

A long, heavy silence hung over the clearing.

The only ones left were KUKULKAN and CONSTANTINE, as the former cast a terse glance towards the latter, her arms crossed.

KUKULKAN: "Constantine…"

He didn't look back at her, already beginning to walk forward.

CONSTANTINE: "We march onward. Gain Saber's help, destroy Sodom's Beast, and then we can worry about the Solar Cell. We've wasted enough time here."

She didn't say anything in response, her eyes only narrowing slightly as she trailed behind.

#thgw story #thgw: chapter 4 #main post

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bogslob · 3 months

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There is something so soft about Annabeth giving Percy her necklace and Grover giving him a squashed tin can before the Ares fight

#it feels like they were giving him it incase he died #so he would have a part of them for eternity #percy jackson #the lightning thief #rick riordan #pjo tv show #pjo series #percy jackon and the olympians #annabeth chase #grover underwood #i battle my jerk relative #the prophecy comes true #percy jackson spoilers #pjo finale

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the-pjo-analyst · 5 months

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Chapter 20 - I Battle My Jerk Relative

Theme of the day: War

Y’all I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna finish these last few chapters before the tv show comes out!! This year really didn’t turn out the way I wanted it to go but by the gods I’ll have at least one goal done no matter how skewed it got 😅 I was really like I’ll be able to read all the Olympus series in a year sjkdfhsd shit happens.

On to the chapter, “war” seems a bit self explanatory since this is when Percy confronts Ares. While Ares isn’t the one to have formed the idea of pitting the Big Three against each other, but he’s enticed by the idea of WWIII, a three-way war. Luke was lucky that it was Ares who caught him, since he probably was the easiest of the Olympians to manipulate (like hey... you could turn me in or you could let me go and start a giant war 😏). It really was a brilliant plan, as I said in my last chapter post, because it takes advantage of the Olympians’ weaknesses and paranoia. And the only way for it to go wrong was for a child to complete his quest against all odds despite having to 1) trek across the country, 2) face countless monsters, 3) thwart trickery from evil masterminds, and 4) trek across the country again. Percy really had very low chances to make it out alive. But he also lives off of spite and proving people wrong lol.

It’s interesting how each pjo book up until the final one is about Percy delaying a war in some way (kinda a theme with Riordan’s books lmao). The start of the chapter shows the beginnings of war with Hades’ army starting to rise up from the Underworld, causing massive earthquakes and fires and general chaos. Like a harbinger of a greater battle. In the immediate sense, it’s a taste of what could happen if an Olympic civil war occurs, but it’s also a bit of foreshadowing to the actual war that will take place in the future. Just like this whole book, it’s setting up what’s to come.

Continuing on that theme, Percy’s battle with Ares really culminates everything he’s learned on how to fight so far, and it sets the stage for what the readers should expect the rest of his battles to go in the series. It makes me think of the final climax of The Last Olympian, how Percy chooses to use his brain and his heart rather than his brawn against Luke, because those are the things that truly matter in the end. In this case, while Percy does use his strength and demigod powers, the reason he wins against Ares is because he uses his intelligence. It really correlates his battle with Echidna, since at that point he didn’t have enough experience to fight with more than just instincts. Actually since St. Louis, Percy has had to rely on his brain when confronting enemies, maybe that encounter influenced him to do that more. And with Ares, he finds that just his instincts doesn’t cut it. He forms a strategy vs Ares’ brute force. Percy even remembers Annabeth’s words from an earlier chapter: “Ares has strength. That’s all he has. Even strength has to bow to wisdom sometimes.” Like the old saying, the pen is mightier than the sword! Which is really ironic in this context lmao. Speaking of irony, it’s funny how Luke’s advice on how to sword fight helps Percy in his battle. The very man behind the robbery and evil plot being a reason Percy survives this quest lol. I know it’s addressed in hoo, but it’s strange how Ares is all brute force and no strategy, because the latter is such a huge part of war?? And it’s not like the ancient Greeks didn’t use strategy in their battles. But ig that’s what Athena is for 🤔

Other ways war and its effects is sprinkled in the chapter without an actual war in bullets bc I’m too tired to fully analyze these very sad things:

Percy mourning losing his mom (again)

Percy compartmentalizing his grief to focus on his mission

Despite winning his battle, Percy not feeling very victorious but instead feeling drained bc there’s no true winner for those in a war

Moving on to something a bit opposite, I can’t not talk about Annabeth giving Percy her camp necklace. Two people, potential enemies, reconciling as Annabeth says. The act is a physical symbol of Annabeth’s words from ch 16 (moreso than the oreos lol). She’s showing how she’s truly on Percy’s side, setting aside an ancient rivalry. In the face of war, Annabeth will fight with Percy and not against him. Kinda mirrors their moment in Blood of Olympus under the Parthenon doesn’t it? 🥹💖

Small things:

Can you believe a child taunted a literal god and the god fell for it

Like Ares could’ve been you’re beneath me and let him feel the wrath of Hades but instead he was like y’know what Ima fight this kid. he called me a coward.

Percy attributes his ability to observe things with his ADHD so ig that is a demigod trait. But he is extremely good at it.

Previous: Chapter 19 - We Find Out the Truth, Sort Of

Next: Chapter 21 - I Settle My Tab

#i will finish this book before the 20th if its the last thing i do #percy jackson #ares #annabeth chase #luke castellan #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #the lightning thief #tlt analysis #pjo analysis #pjo meta #also thank you to all the nice comments on my posts!#i see them. i see you. you're very appreciated <3

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 1 year

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𓅨 Dreamswept: Chapter Four

Dreamswept: In which Dream’s imprisonment brings out his darker side. Y/N’s mother works for the Burgess’s as a nurse, and after stumbling across what is hidden beneath Fawny Rig’s mortars one summer, Y/N’s life will never be the same. A darkness has attached itself to her and no matter how long she is kept from the Endless in the basement, he has not forgotten her kindness and brief moments of comfort. No, he has not forgotten, and now he craves it.

Warnings: None.

To Note: Dark!Morpheus/Dream x Female!Reader, Inspired by 'Claiming His Queen' by @moonmaiden1996 (Go Read It!).

Word Count: ~2.2k

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“Y/N/N…. Y/N/N? Y/N!… Y/N!!!” Jerking up in place, your arms battled against the blankets you had wrapped yourself up in during the night. Blowing hair out of your face, you glared at your door. “Y/—“

“I’m bloody awake, Blythe!” You shouted at her from your bed.

“As you say, sleeping beauty!” Blythe fired back. “Izzy burned all of the pancake batter and we have nothing in the fridge to eat. Get dressed, we’re going out for breakfast!” You flopped back on your bed with an inebriated groan. How many years had it been since you figured out how to cook meals for yourselves and Isabel still managed to burn all of the pancake batter? She was lucky you hadn’t been woken up by the sound of the fire alarm. Glaring at the ceiling of your room, you roughly dragged your covers to the side and untangled your limbs from your sheets. You moved into a sitting position on your bed and ran your fingers through your hair while looking out at the Saturday morning. Ever since graduating from Wycombe Abbey school and attending university with your two best friends, life had been relatively simple and uneventful… Isabel’s lack of cooking skills and proclivity to set things of fire, aside. The three of you had been rooming together since your start at the Wycombe Abbey, but now that you all held university degrees, you were finally moving on.

Not from each other, of course, you would all maintain strong contact, but you all had different plans. Isabel had gotten a job in Leeds as an architect and Blythe a job in Birmingham for her degree in accounting. You were finally returning home to Wych Cross, a move you were greatly looking forward to. Your best friends were determined to make your last few weeks living together the best to date. Last you had heard from the two they were planning to drag you to a club tomorrow for one last ‘hurrah’ before you caught a train south to Wych Cross on Wednesday.

You got up from your bed and wandered out of your room to the shared bathroom, knowing both of your roommates were probably getting hangry at this point in time. Cleaning up from your sleepy state in the bathroom, you double tasked brushing your teeth and hair while looking for clean clothes to wear. By the time you were ready and hopping your way to the front of the apartment, working socks on your feet, Blythe and Isabel were arguing with each other over where to get breakfast.

“If you can’t make up your bloody minds about where we’re eating breakfast,” You snipped at them, grouchy from hunger yourself as you grabbed your purse and keys. “Then we’re going to my pick.” That made both girls glower at you, and with a triumphant smile, you glided past them, heading for the door. “Come on, I’m starving.”

The arguing continued over breakfast, even after you had put your foot down on where you were going to eat. It was when you were fixing your second cup of tea that you finally put an end to it.

“Girls!” You hissed out, giving both of them looks. “I love you both dearly, but if you don’t shut up in the next five seconds I will strangle both of you!” Isabel and Blythe glared at each other, but did as you asked. “What are you even arguing over since I know it’s not over breakfast?”

“Iz, here, is thinking about getting back with Grant. Which, first off, hell no! Second, why would you go crawling back to that misogynistic arsehole? He never treated you right at all. As your friend, it is my job to tell you when you are being stupid.” Blythe answered, her eyes trained on Isabel. Your eyebrow rose and you turned to the woman in question.

“Isabel, Blythe and I spent a good three weeks picking up the pieces of your heart after you caught him cheating on you… I don’t want to have to do that a second time.” You told her frankly. “You remember the very explicit threat Blythe told you should he start sniffing around you again?”

“He said he was sorry! He was practically groveling!” Isabel protested weakly. “He brought flowers, Parisian chocolates, and—“ You held up your hand, stopping her in her tracks.

“Iz, a cheater is never going to change their ways and if he really loved you… why did he cheat the first time?” Isabel’s face fell at your words, and while you did feel sad that you were dashing her hopes, your words were spoken from your heart. You didn’t want to pick up the broken pieces of her heart a second time. Reaching across the table, you took her hand in yours and gave it a squeeze. “You know I say this with the best intentions, right?” Isabel bit her lip and nodded.

“I just want to go back to having that perfect relationship, I don’t want to have to start over.” She sighed out before looking up at Blythe. “Like, Blythe has the perfect relationship and be both know that Joey is going to propose any day…”

“Or she’ll just propose herself,” You offered back with a small chuckle. Blythe stuck her tongue out at the two of you but grinned behind her latte. “Joey’s an adorable person, but slow on the uptake sometimes.”

“Leave my girl alone,” Blythe puffed out. “Jojo will figure things out… eventually.” You rolled your eyes.

“Heavy on the eventually.” You reached for your tea and took a sip. Isabel let out a snort, nearly drawing her water up her nose. She spent the next minute coughing with Blythe pounding on her back. Breakfast finished on a lighter note.

“If you poke me in the eye with that mascara wand… I am going to mutiny and abandon going to the club entirely.” You sternly told Joey as she concentrated on putting mascara on your lashes. Joey rolled her brown eyes at you and continued her work.

“Like Blythe and Isabel will let you not go when you are leaving on Wednesday.” Joey shot back, her face deep with smugness. “I’m not going to poke you in the eye, Y/N/N. Calm down, I’ve been doing this since I was ten.”

“Is that supposed to be a comfort, Jo?” You quipped at her, trying not to flinch at the mascara wand brushing against your eyelashes. “Why is this such a beauty standard? Feels more like torture.”

“And you are being dramatic my friend,” Joey chided with a tut, giving your lashes one last brush before pulling back with a pleased smile. “You’re done with your torture, Y/N/N, go get yourself into that hot mini dress you go for your birthday before Blythie get’s impatient and forces you into it.”

“I am going to burn that bloody dress one of these days…” You muttered while making your way back to your room. The dress in question was a dress Blythe and Isabel had given you last year for your birthday. It was one of those little black dresses that when worn, would draw hungry eyes. The dress highlighted your best curves and hid all of the parts you normally tried to hide. You looked good in it… but you never felt comfortable flaunting your body and assets. Out of the three of you, you were the most reserved. Your experience in dating was very limited and Blythe and Isabel tried to get you out as much as possible to hook you up with someone.

It was irritating, but manageable. You just had to get through tonight and you wouldn’t have to put up with them trying to hook you up anymore. You loved the pair, but their meddling in your lack luster love life was never ending. Changing into the mini dress, you finished putting in your earrings as you walked towards the kitchen of the apartment. Isabel was leaning against the kitchen counter, phone in hand and fingers rapidly moving across the screen. You eyed her fingers before looking at her face.

“Izzy?” You gently probed, your eyebrow raised in concern. She scowled, typed some more, then slammed her phone down on the counter.

“There! I’ve just told Glenn to piss off for the last time and blocked his number!” She said triumphantly.

“Kudo’s for you, Iz, Glenn’s a twat I will happily never hear of again.” You praised her while Joey came gliding into the kitchen looking as beautiful as ever with her short pixie haircut spiked with glitter. “Looking good, Joey, got plans tonight?” Joey’s eyes sparkled mischievously and you shared a laugh. Hopefully she and Isabel would be too busy to pay any attention to you. You would only just have to deal with Blythe’s machinations. A manageable task but not ideal.

“Alright, who’s ready to party!” Blythe asked, strutting into the kitchen in a shimmering dress that fit her perfectly. It was going to be a long night. The four of you set out for the night club and started with a round of celebratory shots and while Blythe dragged Joey out to the dance floor, you remained behind to talk with Isabel. Neither of you were big into dancing, which really defeated the point of going to a club in the first place, but you both knew how much Blythe loved dancing and humored her more than you cared to admit.

“So, if you’re going home does that mean you might have a chance of finding yourself a local boy to catch?” Isabel asked, her eyes sparkling from interest in the topic. You eyed her suspiciously.

“No.” You replied shortly. “I didn’t go out from the manor that much and spent most of my time chasing frogs. You know that.”

“Pity…” She huffed out, slurping at her current fruity drink. “I should make sure to visit then, drag you out to find you a boyfriend. Seriously, Y/N, you need one. We both know how lonely you are at times.”

“I don’t need a boyfriend, Izzy.” You retorted. “After Evan I think I’m good with a nice long break from the dating scene. Besides, aren’t men more interested in women who actually know what they’re doing? My dating skills are at the bare minimum. It doesn’t help having a scar smack dab in the middle of my cheek.” You gestured to scarred tissue on your face, the only physical evidence left of the accident that stole a block of your memories when you were younger.

“You’re beautiful and you know it, Y/N, and your dating skills are terrible because you’ve spent all your time in the last years studying or working… and then you get so tried, all you wanna do is sleep which means you have to take your meds, which knocks you out for a solid ten hours.” Isabel grumbled, wrinkling her nose. “Why are you still on those meds anyways? I’d have thought you would grow out of your nightmares by now…”

“I don’t have dreams period, let alone nightmares.” You reminded her. “Medication stops those… and as for my continually taking them? My mother was quite insistent that I remain on it so I don’t suffer from nightmares, she was actually somewhat hysterical about it and the only way I could get her to calm down was agree. It’s not like the medication is messing with my waking hours.”

“You’re an adult, Y/N/N, you don’t have to listen to your mother anymore.” You made a face of your own and took a long drink of your own beverage. Yes, you were an adult, yes you still listened to your mother… but everything you did at this age just felt normal, routine.

“I just don’t want to upset her, she’s starting to get up there in age and I’m worried about her health.” You sighed out after lowering your glass back to the tabletop. “Recently found out that she has congenital heart disease, nothing too bad but the doctors don’t want her to stress her heart out, physically or emotionally.”

“They only just found it?” Isabel asked, her eyebrows pinched together. “Now?” You shrugged at her not understand why it hadn’t been caught any sooner.

“Don’t know why they haven’t caught it until now, she’s a nurse, you’d think that it would be something easily caught… I don’t know. Mother says she’s perfectly fine, never one to be a hypochondriac, but I’m concerned that she’ll off play her symptoms to the point of injury. You know she’s stubborn like that.” Isabel contemplated your words as lights flickered around you, you had reached the point in the night where the music and lights would get unbearably loud.

“Given how much she bosses Alex and Paul around? I’d say your mother is more than stubborn if she can get them to do what she wants.” Isabel said, her voice raising in volume.

“But is that stubbornness or her just being bossy?” You questioned back, flourishing your hand. “You know she’s a very bossy woman. There’s little point in trying to argue with her.”

“Maybe you could try and talk to her when you get home? It doesn’t seem unreasonable and might I remind you… your an adult!”

Date Published: 10/12/22

Last Edit: 4/3/23

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#morpheus #morpheus x reader #lord morpheus #dream of the endless #dream the endless #dream of the endless x reader #dream the endless x reader #dream x reader #the sandman #sandman x reader #the sandman x reader #the sandman netflix

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tending-the-hearth · 2 years

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possible pjo season 1 breakdown

this is totally just a guess of how i think the book would best be broken down for the first season of the PJO show!

there are 22 chapters in the book, and 8 episodes in the first season, so here's how i see it happening:

Episode 1: "I Accidentally Vaporized My Pre-Algebra Teacher"

this episode would cover the first four chapters of the book, and end pretty much the same as it does in the "My Mother Teaches Me Bullfighting" chapter, with Percy entering CHB and Sally being taken by Hades. Obviously, not everything from the chapters will be in the episode, but the major moments, like the opening monologue, the field trip, Mrs. Dodds, Grover and Chiron's discussion, the Fates, Gabe, Montauk, and the Minotaur would be included.

Episode 2: "I Become Supreme Lord of the Bathroom"

this episode would cover the next four chapters, and be basically the explanation chapter, where we find out everything as Percy does. It would be the chapter that introduces everyone, like Chiron, Luke, Clarisse, Annabeth, Mr. D, and all the important supporting characters. This would also be the first hint we get at Luke's bitterness and the overwhelming amount of the unclaimed. It would end with Percy being revealed as the son of Poseidon at the end of the capture the flag game.

Episode 3: "I Am Offered A Quest"

this episode covers Percy getting his quest, him, Annabeth, and Grover being attacked by the Furies on the bus, and, of course, the entire Medusa scene. This also covers Percy getting Riptide, the foreshadowing with the winged shoes that Luke gives him, and the iconic "Percy sending Medusa's head to Olympus" scene.

Episode 4: We Get Advice from a Poodle"

The main plot points of this episode would be Grover's talk about finding Pan, the Arch, and the backstory reveal for Annabeth on the train to the Arch. This would be more of a "bonding" episode for the trio, as well as a reflective episode for Percy, given the moment he has underwater after jumping from the Arch.

Episode 5: :A God Buys Us Cheeseburgers"

The Ares episode! This also includes the Lotus Hotel and the "We Shop for Water Beds" chapter, though that one seems a little more minor compared to everything else, besides Percy getting the pearls, so I've grouped that in with the Ares/Waterland plotline and the Lotus Hotel plotline. This also gives a chance to reveal the entire Thalia storyline, as well the very sweet pre-relationship Percabeth moment in the truck with the animals.

Episode 6: "Annabeth Does Obedience School"

The Underworld episode, starting with the trio finding DOA, and meeting Charon! I feel like they could definitely slip in a little foreshadowing with the Styx and Percy ultimately getting the Curse of Achilles. This episode also, of course, has them almost falling into Tartarus, and meeting Hades. The main moments, of course, being when Percy realizes he can't save his mom, as well as when he realizes that he's been tricked.

Episode 7: "I Battle My Jerk Relative"

The main parts of the episode would be the Ares/Percy fight and Percy going to Olympus to return the bolt. I think the "I Settle My Tab" chapter could probably get split into two, with the Olympus council scene being in this episode, and the reunion with Sally being in the next episode.

Episode 8: "The Prophecy Comes True"

So the season finale would have the reunion with Sally, Percy returning to camp, Grover leaving on his search for Pan, and Luke's betrayal. I'd definitely love to see all the scenes with Luke, like the presentation of the bead for the summer, the training arena where he reveals his mortal/immortal killing sword, and the scorpion/reveal scene. The final words of the episode would be, of course, "I'll be back next summer" as Percy steps outside of the borders, and maaaaaaybe a close-in on Thalia's tree.

of course, throughout all of these episodes, Percy's dreams that correspond with each chapter would be featured, since they're major plot points as well!

again, this is totally speculation, but if i had to break down the 22 chapters into 8 episodes, this is probably how i would do it, give or take a few little adjustments and shifts!

#pspsps apollo come here sunshine man #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson #annabeth chase #grover underwood #chiron #sally jackson #pjo show #pjo series #yes i also organized it so that each of the episodes can have at least one instrumental of the songs from the lightning thief musical #which is something i'd absolutely LOVE to see happen

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alliepeachfan · 7 months

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Hey guys! This is my first post on here so I might put some of my OCs on here! I hope you like them!

My No Straight Roads OC: Mariah Qwartz

Name: Mariah Qwartz

Age: 20 yo

Gender: Female

Species: Human

Hair color: Light Brown with purple highlights

Eye color: Blue

Powers/abilities/styles/gifts: She is an excellent dancer having started at the age of 4. She also incorporates dance moves into her attacks with strong batmas and graceful pirouettes to dodge attacks.

Weapon(s): Her microphone which she can use either at close range or launch it at enemies further away. She can also use it to send supersonic sound-waves to either confuse or knock back the enemy. She can also sing to boost her team's morale or heal them.

Hometown: Vinyl City

Personality: Mariah is a kind and charming woman with a passion for music and dance. She enjoys many forms of dance, but ballet became her bread and butter. She often experimented with incorporating ballet dance into various genres of music from Country to Jazz, but she had one dream: to combine ballet dance and rock. She also has a combined personality with BBJ; a bit of Mayday's hotheaded nature and Zuke's logical thinking side.

Strengths: She is a natural born morale booster!

Weakness: Her beauty causes opponents to easily underestimate her.

Family: Aside her parents and siblings, her only known family member is great-aunt Tatiana. They have had a rather strained relationship and was made worse once Mariah pushed Titania off the stage when she was being pulled off by her relative. However, the two would reconcile at the end of the game.

Friends/relationships:

Mayday- Mariah and Mayday have a very close bond as friends after she was comforted by her and Zuke after the argument between her and Tatiana and offered a position for her as a singer since she sounded great. Mariah accepts, and returns the favor by protecting her against any threat possible. However in the fight against 1010, she is consistently irritated by Mayday's gushing and even said during the fight that if, "she didn't shut up, she would beat her over the head with a shovel". Mayday is further shocked when after the fight Mariah kicks the head off one of the bots before angrily walking away. However in the fight against EVE, the two would have their chance to work together and reconcile. She even consoles Mayday after the final defeat

Zuke- Mariah and Zuke have an equally close bond, especially after the incident occurred. He does seem to show a little interest in her, but does respect the fact she's not ready to date again after a different incident happened (not between the two of them). She even stands up for him in his confrontation against DK West and even delivers a few rhymes of her own.

Kliff- She initially distrusts him, but really hates his guts when finding out his true intent near the ending.

DJ Subatomic Supernova- She doesn't seem to speak much to him, although when she shares her knowledge about Pluto with BBJ; she immediately catches his eye. After he summons her close to him, he examines her, asks for her name, and invites her to go out with him. When the battle starts, he puts her up on a smaller Saturn platform to protect her from harm. Luckily, she is able to rejoin the group in time to deliver the showstopper. He does agree to start off as a friend after the whole ordeal.

Sayu- Mariah does admire Sayu for her outfits, but is mortified upon seeing her in her reverse mermaid form. Afterwards, she is met by the kids behind the bot; Remi, Tila, Dodo, and Sofa, who are big fans of her dance work (especially her electronic ballet video). She is the last one to leave as she is signing autographs and taking selfies with each of the kids.

DK West- Mariah doesn't care for him at all, considering what a jerk he was to Zuke. After Zuke defeats him, she decides to get at him further and post a social media status saying, "There's a new king of rap and his name is Zuke West!" and smiles as she hears his agonized cry.

Yinu and her mother- Mariah initially considers Yinu's mother control over her child to be barbaric. But afterwards, she is pleased that she has simmered down. As for Yinu, she is impressed by her musical talent at such a young age. Yinu greatly admires Mariah and considers her a legend in dance. Her mother even asks Mariah to dance for them while they play before she leaves. Mariah happily agrees and even gives the duo an autograph afterwards.

1010- She has had a major dating nightmare of these guys. She clearly instructed her date (the one in the white) that it was to be a one-on-one date. However, unknown to her, each member had a chance to swap spots. She would only find out the truth after the pictures of the date were posted. The only way they could be told apart were the colored wrist-bands. Angry for being tricked and fearful for what kind of backlash she might get; she dumped them. When she and BBJ confront the group, the group immediately recognizes her and attempts to win her back with their flattering compliments. However, she bitterly responds with, "Does a toe miss a hangnail? Absolutely not!" To further her level of spite, she kicks the head off one of the members after the fight before storming off. But, she does forgive them a little while after they reclaim their district, but on the condition that they'll have to restart as friends (she's not ready to go back to dating yet).

Eve- Mariah does admire EVE greatly and considers her an inspiration for fashion and music; although she is shocked that she would set Zuke's hair on fire in the past. After EVE is consoled, Mariah approaches her and tells her how much she has meant to her and humbly asks for an autograph. She is surprised when the great artist admits that she has been an equal inspiration for her dance techniques and agrees to swap autographs.

Tatiana- As explained earlier, Mariah intially has a strained relationship with Tatiana and it's made worse when Mariah stands up for Bunk Bed Junction. While Mariah believes that Tatiana is being too stubborn to disclose her rock star past; Tatiana believes that she's being a rebel. However; the two reconcile after they team up against Kliff to stop the satalite from crashing into the NSR tower. Aside the incident; they actually are very close.

Likes: Ballet, Fashion, her friends, her family, her fans, music

Dislikes: Kliff, Tatiana (formerly), 1010 (formerly), being underestimated, being restricted, people who disrespect music, being lied to, dating

Fears: Forced to start dating again

Hope you guys like Mariah!

#nsr oc #nsr #no straight roads #no straight roads oc

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