#my lady eatin good
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M’lady
leave a like on Twitter <3
#pov ur ningguang#this is MY wife#MINE#my first main#still my main (alongside Russian ginger)#faborite#queen#boots the house down pussycat slay#Beidou#Beidou genshin#Beidou genshin impact#genshin impact#genshin#genshin art#Beidou art#原神#Beidou fanart#genshin fanart#just rebuilt her on EM and working on that proper crit rate to dmg ratio#my lady eatin good
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Double Trouble (Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x Reader)
request fill for @bringinsexybackk69 <3 hope you enjoy this little drabble!!
Notes: fem reader! sfw, chaotic couple, fluff, civilian reader
Soap: getting a girl
Okay, not unbelievable; he's quite the pretty boy. He’ll usually squawk about some bird for a few weeks, then shut up once he’s done with her. Sometimes he’ll bring them around base for a round at the pub or to a government charity event the squad was forced to attend.
Recently, he has been less rowdy and more active. And by active, I mean rushing home as soon as he’s done with work on base. He’s been saying some nonsense about his family being in town.
He’s been more diligent with his paperwork, gathering up the lot and running himself down to the archivist to drop them off before getting home. Not even stopping with the force to grab a pint at the pub or have dinner.
Of course, he does eventually crack and tell Ghost. The poor boy can't keep his mouth shut for anything. Giggling as he unlocks his phone to scroll through and show ghost pictures of you together, his personal favorite being a screenshot of you holding a burnt pan of something thats supposed to resemble food thats been charred to nothingness with the biggest smile on your face, of course paired with a little text.
‘My man is eatin' good tonight. Bon appetit, baby.😍’
Ghost gave him a weak thumbs up. You were gorgeous; don't get him wrong, but for a civilian to be as strange or erratic as Soap meant some screws were definitely lost, perhaps multiple. Soap finally let himself yap a bit more about you to the squad, explaining that he actually wanted to take you seriously and didn't want to jinx it by bragging about you before he could really be sure.
Soap started bringing you around the base after a few weeks, ready for you to meet his friends—well, more like brothers—and Price as his proxy dad. You concerned Ghost more than annoyed him, and you clicked with Gaz almost as easily as you did Soap. Price didn't get to meet you on the same night Gaz and Ghost did since he was held up in a meeting.
Your first encounter with him wasn't exactly charming.
Price was honestly just trying to get on with his day; he was already pissed off dealing with rookies misbehaving. All he wanted to do was drop off these papers and nurse a nice, good scotch before bed.
He stood in front of Soap’s office door, knocking on it, waiting for some reply. Hearing nothing, he tried again. Still nothing.
'Whatever, he's probably pissing or something, I’ll just drop these and leave’
Sighing heavily, he leans his head against the door, bringing a tired hand to the door knob and briefly shutting his eyes, imagining the drink that will soon be his. Hey, he's actually kind of happy right now. Maybe he’ll wait for Soap and take the boys out for a round; maybe that'll make his day.
A small smile cracks on his face fondly as he twists the doorknob, cracking it open. That same smile drops just as quickly.
Oh, what the fuck?
He’s greeted by the sight of Johnny's desk on fire—no explanation, just the table on fire. No, not the papers on the table on fire, but the actual table on fire. Also, he’s screaming, and so is the lady with him. Wait, who the fuck is she?
“PAT IT OUT, WOULD YOU?"
Johnny's shouting—actually screaming—how did he not hear this behind the door when he was coming in? Price just stands there, eyebrows wrinkled as he squints his eyes, barely able to process what he's seeing at 11 p.m. with his brain feeling like mush.
“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK I'M DOING?"
Oh great, now she's screaming. His eyes wander over to you in your screaming match, trying to figure out the fire extinguisher. Johnny's trying to fan out the flame while you're struggling to pull the pin.
"CLEARLY NOT PUTTIN TH’ FUCKIN FIRE OOT"
“YOU CAN SEE ME TRYING JOHNNY."
"PRICE IS GONNAE FUCKIN MURDER ME."
“YOU MEAN THAT, GUY? HI, Mr. Price."
Johnny whips his head to the open door, where Price stands still verily confused as the lady works a miracle, extinguishing the fire while also covering Johnny in the same foam. Panting, you drop the extinguisher on the floor, slapping your hands on your knees. You turn to look at Price, shooting him the same grin Johnny has had before.
“Lovely to meet you, boss!!” You seem to chirp out happily.
"Pleasures are all mine” is all Price can manage at this point.
It seems like thing one has finally found thing two.
#cod mw x reader#cod mw2#ghost cod#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#cod x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#cod simon riley#ghost call of duty#john price#john soap mctavish x you#john soap mactavish#soap cod#soap x reader#soap mw2#mw2#cod#johnny soap mactavish#soap x you#soap x y/n#johnny soap mctavish x you#johnny soap mctavish x reader
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Dracula Dictionary, July 24th - Addendum
"I wouldn't fash masel' about them, miss. Them things be all wore out. Mind, I don't say that they never was, but I do say that they wasn't in my time. They be all very well for comers and trippers, an' the like, but not for a nice young lady like you. Them feet-folks from York and Leeds that be always eatin' cured herrin's an' drinkin' tea an' lookin' out to buy cheap jet would creed aught. I wonder masel' who'd be bothered tellin' lies to them—even the newspapers, which is full of fool-talk.":
I wouldn't worry about them, miss. Those are tired stories. I'm not saying they were never true, but I am saying they haven't been true as long as I have been alive. They're good for tourists, but not for a nice young lady like you. The tourists from York and Leeds that are always eating cured herring and drinking tea and looking to buy cheap gemstones would believe anything. I wonder who would bother with telling lies to them - even the newspapers, which are full of nonsense.
"I must gang ageeanwards home now, miss. My grand-daughter doesn't like to be kept waitin' when the tea is ready, for it takes me time to crammle aboon the grees, for there be a many of 'em; an', miss, I lack belly-timber sairly by the clock.":
I must be going home now, miss. My granddaughter doesn't like to be kept waiting when dinner is ready. It takes me a long time to get up the stairs because there is so many of them; and, miss, by this time I am already very hungry.
#the phonetically written sections are so incomprehensible to me that i've decided to just fully write them out once i piece them together#dracula daily#re: dracula#dracula dictionary#24 july#dracula daily 24 july#dracula dictionary 24 july
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Hi, :)
Can you write soft degredation for Tommy Miller where he is doing that to female reader. Tommy is a soft dom and the reader is a sub <3
Omg so sorry for the wait luv u for being patient E xoxoxo BUT I ENJOYED WRITING THIS IMMENSELY I need him especially when he shows up in tlou hbo HNGHFFJNN also I did use some twang bc they Texan also my fav thing is when Joel gets Distressed and the accent IS OUT
Kink Bingo - Degredation
Little slice o’ heaven
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: >2k
Tags: Soft dom, Tommy Miller is a sweetie pie who luvs his lady, pnv!sex, SOFT SAPPY LOVEMAKING, slice of life, set in Jackson, fake innocent reader, light Degredation kink, general warm n fluffies and orgasms
You couldn’t help but worry every time Tommy went on a patrol. But he was extremely capable, everyone in the safe haven knew that. Joel and Tommy once took out over 20 infected on a patrol, including those ghastly clickers and near impenetrable bloaters.
You stoked the fire in your shared cabin with your love, stew cooking on the stove. He’d radioed he would be back soon. You frowned, the asshole had been gone for a week. But you stayed busy, tending to the kids of the community, teaching them the ways of this new life. Well a life they’d only know.
There was a niggling feeling Tommy liked to go on extended patrols with Joel so they could bond. Which considering how volatile they were at first it warmed your heart. Padding back over to the pot of beef stew you stirred the contents, eyes flickering out the window.
People milled around, kids playing. You never thought life would become so…normal. Heavy boots and the creak of the door drew your attention, Tommy throwing off his jacket, running a hand through his long hair. He toed
off his thick boots, eyeing you softly. You smiled, putting a hand on your hip and teasing, “Bout damn time Miller.” He grinned and strode toward you, sweeping you into a big hug.
He nuzzled at your neck, drawling, “Sorry sorry, there’s my girl. You know how it gets up at those ski lodges.”
You rolled your eyes and teased, “Yep, playing guitar and laying on those couches you love. Leaving your poor pitiful baby at home, slaving over this stove and caring for the snotty children.”
Tommy’s grin widened, dark eyes sparkling. He kissed your lips quickly, big hands caressing your waist. In that southern drawl of his Tommy laughed, “Oh you’re fine, needy lil’ thing.” You harrumphed and turned back to the stove, pointedly shrugging off your lover.
Tommy snickered, coming up behind you and rasping in your ear, “C’mon baby, don’t you play cold w’me.” You turned to look, face innocent, “I’m almost done with the food, go on and sit down. Mercer gave me a bottle of wine he pilfered at a resort down the way.”
Tommy gave your ass a light smack, stomping to the rickety kitchen table. A pretty little flower from the greenhouse decorated the center. The fire crackled in the background. You poured the stew into some bowls, grabbing a loaf of bread to soak up the hearty flavor. Tommy called from the dining room, “You better be nice after we’re all fed, been thinkin’ bout your pretty self.”
You blushed and ignored the obvious sucking up. Carrying the plates to the table Tommy groaned, “Damn baby that smells good, much better than that dried shit Joel n’ I been eatin’.” You snickered, “Figured you’d need something to warm up.”
The pair of you ate in bliss, Tommy updating you on his adventures and you talking about the rowdy kids at the school. Time caught up, and the wine was drained. Suddenly you felt tipsy and flushed, Tommy’s lids lowering. You knew that look. Pillowing your hand on your chin you hummed, “What’cha thinking about stud?”
He leaned forward, a hand on your thigh, dangerously high. You’d been wet since his scent filled the room again. For y’all’s age difference, Tommy was insatiable. He crooned, “What d’ya think, sugar?” You couldn’t help the little whimper emanating from your chest.
That damn Miller man had you hooked since you stumbled into Jackson, half starved and crazed. He was kind and patient, teaching you more survival methods. As a former reluctant FEDRA teacher he found you a spot for schooling the kids. But with a much less militaristic, fascist curriculum.
People made jokes about Tommy being too old, but you liked it. He was dominant, rugged, and oh-so-sweet under the rough and tumble demeanor. Tommy snapped to get your attention, humming, “You all spacey already honey? Don’t take much for ya’.”
You trembled and whimpered, “Need you Tommy.”
He grinned, squeezing your thigh. The man hummed nonchalantly, “Why don’t you put up the dishes and I’ll get us all set up in the bedroom huh baby?” You nodded obediently, standing on woozy legs. The wine definitely did not help. Gathering the plates, a fork fell, clanging against the table.
You yelped and jumped, Tommy already up and assisting you to carry the dining ware. He sighed, “Sorry sweets, didn’t mean for that, here.” He walked you to the kitchen and pecked your cheek, his stubble brushing your soft skin. Your mind was blank as you scrubbed and put up the dishes, eager to get with your man.
The bedroom was dim, a single homemade candle you had crafted with the kids dimming the room. Tommy had washed, curls cascading to his shoulders— dark eyes gleaming. The heady atmosphere almost made your knees buckle. The Texan crooned, “C’mon over here darlin’.” You gulped and crawled forward, robotically beginning to shuck off your clothes.
Tommy grabbed you and pinned your trembling frame to the bed, tutting, “I get to undress my baby girl.” You whimpered, “P-please Tommy!” He laid plush kisses on your lips and neckline, rugged hands pushing down your pants. He ordered gently, “Up now, know how soft ya’ get.”
He shucked off your thick sweater, gifted by him of course, and the dreary long Johns underneath. Next came the bra, you shouting at the chilly air hitting your nipples. Tommy chuckled, warm hands palming the tender flesh. You mewled, “S-sheesh baby, feel so good.”
“I know sugar, young hot blooded thing like you needs this. Good thing your old man knows what to do. My girl.”
You arched into his lean body, hands pulling at his thick clothing. Little by little his tanned scarred body came on display. You simpered, “I missed you, handsome.” A calloused hand caressed your cheek, Tommy murmuring in your face, “Missed ya’ too hun, sweet thing. Can’t get enough.”
Tommy slowly crawled on top of you, smiling down softly, but the dark gleam in his eye betrayed the benign look. You spread your legs and laid back, outstretching your hands to wrap around the man.
Your lover pressed flush against you, nipping at your jaw while he adjusted himself to mold to your needy body. His hot length slid against your folds, sinewy thighs flexing. You whined his name, running fingers into inky curls. The man gasped, swearing lowly, “Christ you’re soaked sugar, can’t help yourself can ya? All sopping from me steppin’ into the room, naughty thing.” You flushed and scrunched your eyes, moaning, “You get me so hot- gosh- Tommy!”
He laughed again lowly, “You haven’t sworn yet.”
Your brows furrowed in confusion. You wanted Tommy to dick you down, not question your word choice. You spluttered, “W-wha?”
He replied as if you were a dolt, “Obviously I haven’t banged the schoolteacher outta ya’ yet.” You batted his shoulder with a scoff, thrusting up against his cock to get back to the matter at hand. Tommy groaned, hand gripping into the bedding beside your head. He grunted, “Fine fine, so needy.”
You watched as a scarred hand guided his dick into your core, mouth agape in ecstasy. You whined, “Yeah- yeah, god Tommy!” His pretty lips fell atop your own as he slid the extent of his hot, pulsing cock inside of you. The pair of you kissed softly, tenderly as he began to move. The old bastard was right, you couldn’t go (too) long without being fucked.
Your legs wrapped around his waist, softly moving along with his movements. Tommy murmured, “Everyone knows your secret baby,” he licked up into your mouth, “Prim little girly likes gettin’ it from ole’ Tommy Miller.” You whined and clenched around him, eyes darting away from his smug face.
He gripped your chin gently, guiding your vision back to his face. Tommy teased breathily, “Ain’t I right honey? You love being my little slut hm?”
You cried out softly, pussy convulsing around his cock. Which was rubbing, rubbing, rubbing all the right spots. You shoved your face into his dampening neck, whimpering at it all. Tommy cooed, hand skimming down the middle of your torso to play at your swollen clit.
“S’okay baby, I know. Don’t have to tell me none.”
His calloused thumb swirled around your bud, sending a lick of fire up your body in a wake of goosebumps. Your fingers dug into his back, moaning his name wetly into the tanned skin. Your thighs clenched harder around Tommy’s slim waist, mewling, “S-shit yes, m’yours yours!”
He groaned again, fucking into your pussy harder, thick tip bumping that spot that drove you wild. Tommy rasped, “Thas’ right, whose pussy is this huh?” You blubbered nonsense, panting and writhing under his undulating movements, earning a sharp crack to your ass.
You howled, “Yours Tommy! Fuck- my pussy is yours baby!”
“Thatta girl.”
Crack.
You scrabbled at his shoulders, moving your lips back to hungrily gnash against your lovers mouth. You moaned and whined between frantic smacks, drool collecting on your lips. You tightened around Tommy, pleasure making the world spin. You cried into his smiling mouth, “Fuck I love you, fuck me so good, m’so lucky.”
“Mmm, I’m lucky sugar, fucking hell, get the sweetest doll in Jackson. Ain’t nobody taking you away from me.”
He fucked brutally hard after talking, proving his point that you weren’t going anywhere. You yanked on his curls, the swirling on your clit sending you to the precipice. Tommy gasped and nipped your lip as you whimpered, “Closeclose, oh god, fucking god, Tommy!”
He moaned, “Yeah, yeah baby, that’s it, come for me.” He pressed his forehead to yours, panting roughly, the bed creaking under both of your panicky movements. Your eyes crossed as you throatily howled a wordless noise, cunt clamping down on Tommy’s cock.
You shivered and held to him, tears pricking at your eyes, overwhelmed mewls escaping your drooling mouth. Tommy swore and pulled out, painting your trembling belly with white streaks. He heaved, “Sshshit! Oh baby girl.” You replied, “Yeah, yeah, s’good!”
You blinked slowly, orgasm ebbing away sadly, Tommy blindly reaching around for a cloth to wipe you off. He did so lovingly, cooing, “Such a good girl for me. Love you.” He tossed the ruined fabric to the side, flopping next to you. Tommy laid on his side, arm draped around your waist.
You turned to face him, tucking a stray lock of his dark hair back. A goofy smile erupted on your face, sucking in a breath before teasing in a hoarse voice, “You been getting jealous? Everyone knows I’m yours.” Tommy rolled his dark eyes, pulling you closer to lay kisses on the bridge of your nose and lips.
“Maybe. Young bucks’ll get sent to the woods if I catch them hawking you down again.”
Snuggling closer into the man you giggled, tucking a leg between his own. You sighed, “I’ll make sure to give the kids a warning. Fool.” He shrugged and held you tight, a warm light in this strange world.
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2. boy toys
"I'M tellin' you Keke, I thought one of them was gonna ruin my car, the way they were swinging', it was so close," Carson had been retailing the events of the fight since she returned from her lunch break. She would do anything to avoid her work.
"You and that damn car," Keke laughed, filing the nails of a customer.
All the other employees listened in enthralled by the story.
Carson shrugged, "It's my baby."
"Yeah, got you so distracted, you forgot to eat on your break."
"I'll get something' later," Carson waved her off, "but seriously, Vince was so mad."
Keelie never liked the man, so she was happy to hear that especially because he always hit on Mia, "Oh really, how mad?"
"He looked like he was 'bout to burst, you know how quickly these white folks turn red," Carson giggled along with the rest of the room.
"As quickly as I snap my phone," Keelie mused, receiving a nod from the woman in front of her.
"Ain't that right," Carson grinned at the noises of agreement from others.
Her story was quickly cut off when the door opened up, revealing a familiar face.
Everyone turned to see the pretty blonde who looked like he ended up on the wrong side of town.
"If it isn't Brian Earl Spilner," he cringed at the use of his name. Carson gestured for him to come over to the counter, and so he did, not before gingerly waving at the older women who gawked at him, "Ladies keep your paws away, he's not a bite to eat."
"He sure looks like it," they heard someone say, making everyone laugh.
"You stalkin' me now?" Carson teased, leaning on her hands as he neared closer with his winning smile.
He rose a brow, "Why would I say yes to that?"
"Well, Jesse did say you sounded like a serial killer so it's not outta the question," he playfully rolled his eyes at that answer, before he noticed what she happened to be sketching.
"These are good," he nodded at her work, making her show off her pearly whites, much to the amusement of everyone else, who watched the interaction. "Is there somewhere we could go to talk?" he asked a little quieter.
Keelie rolled her eyes, hearing him, "You guys can go to the back, but you got 5 minutes and then I'm draggin' you out."
Carson sent her a small smile, then grabbed Brian's hand as she rounded her station.
"I've got my eye on you Elton John," Keelie called out.
Brian glanced back, "Is it because I'm white?"
"No because of your talented voice," she quipped, making Carson pull him to the back.
Brian licked his lips as he scanned her outfit, he hadn't seen it all before because he and Vince were too busy scrapping. She looked good, better than good, then again she always did. Her hand was so soft, contrasting his. Callus' seemed to kiss his whenever he drove.
Carson was a little nervous when she closed the door and dropped his hand, staring at him as he smiled down at her.
The room was cramped, filled with tiny lockers, a mini fridge and a small couch, but the pair decided to stay close to the door. Correction, Brian was so close to Carson that she was practically caged in, she had no choice but to lean against it.
"What did you wanna talk about? You gettin' fired so quickly, must be a record for you right?" she mocked, folding her arms.
His eyes sparkled as he said, "Help me."
"Why do you think I should?"
"Because," he leaned in, drawing a wide-eyed look from her, "You're the reason I'm eatin' those crappy sandwiches every day."
She couldn't help but smile, she was so annoyed that she was. Between his curly hair, dreamy eyes and cheeky grin, how could she not?
"So you admit they're bad and you're stupid for eatin' them anyway," she remarked, trying to shake the heat kissing her cheeks.
"Worth it," he shrugged, not looking away from her.
Although, he came to the nail salon to ask her for a favour, just simply talking to Carson was a bonus. Barbie was another one of the nicknames he heard people call her, and he understood more when she corrected them and said Bratz doll instead.
"What do you expect me to do anyways, hypnotise Dom?" Carson's voice pulled him from his trance.
"Just tell me where the next race is," he didn't ask, he needed to know.
And to her, Brain wanted to prove something.
Carson raised a brow, "And why would I do that?"
"So you can watch me win."
"I'm enterin' that race, you think you can win against me? Dom? You just got outta your trainin' wheels, boy you gotta at least think before doin' somethin' like that."
Carson was putting a lot of money into the race and was hoping to get a lot out of it when, not if she won. The money made from the race would fund the new paint colour, engine, rims and a new stereo.
"Look, if I can win against Dom I get his respect," Brian explained, earning a small scoff from Carson.
"And me?"
"A date."
Carson swiped her tongue around her cheek, "Cute, but it's gonna take a lot more than one win to do that."
He chuckled, "We'll see."
"I guess we will, but give me your phone," she gestured and he started to smirk.
"Already?" he teased, drawing a sigh from her.
"Phone now," she demanded. Brian liked this feisty side of her and didn't hesitate to pull out his phone and give it to her. He goggled at her acrylics, liking the black and pink pattern, knowing she designed it. She typed in her number, called it and then hung up when she felt her phone vibrate, "Here."
Brian took back his phone, smiling when he saw the new contact:
Summer <;3.
"I'll text you the place," she said, pushing the door open, immediately seeing a bunch of women glance away and whisper amongst themselves.
"And I'll be there," Carson wasn't expecting him to kiss her cheek, but he did, "Bye Carson."
His smile didn't falter when he waved goodbye to a dozen women who were eager to wave back as he left the shop.
Carson groaned when she realised how happy she felt and then turned to smug-looking Keelie.
"So... is Justin Timberlake, gonna be comin' 'round more?"
Carson shrugged, "Maybe."
"Oh, he sure is."
"Yeah yeah, and Mia says hey," Carson teased, earning an eye roll.
"Bitch."
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a/n:
if you're a fan of my account, you know I'll try and add many filler scenes to books that are solely based on canon because the original dialogue can be quite tedious to read all the time. i want brian and carson to feel brand new and fresh. they already flirt like crazy and we all know how both canon and fanon brian can be when he's interested in someone.
you'll be seeing our girl racing soon. what do you think the outcome of the race will be?
#wattpad#fanfic#black reader#racer#2001#y2k#pink#carsonbaker#sonnybaker#fastandfurious#fast and the furious#brianoconnerfanfic#brian o’conner x black!reader#brian and sonny#brian O’Conner x reader
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the walking dead dead characters as quotes form the quotes channel on my discord server (Ft. Y/N) PT 3
Negan: *to Rick* I'm not saying I'm gay, I'm just saying I'd fuck you
Carl: WE CAN SOLVE THE ENTIRETY OF EARTH'S PROBLEMS WITH ***GENOCIDE*** IM IN
Maggie: ladies, if he's only asking for your breasts, legs and thighs, send him to KFC
Y/N: *eating a sandwich*
Michonne: what kind of sandwich ya eatin'?
Y/N: PBJ
Michonne: Helllll yeah, thats the real one
Glenn: I'm here for a good time, not a long time. let me eat my diabetes in milk
Negan: *to Carl* those are boobs
Daryl: ooo knife
Rick: when a bad idea is the only idea, it becomes a great idea
Glenn: get in, kids! we're going to therapy!
Y/N: I want to die peacefully in my sleep like Daryl, not screaming in terror like his passengers
Carl: fire is a solution to everything
Negan: fuckin hell, man, I'm gay!
Carl: I once told my dad I love animals more than I love myself. little does he know, I hate myself
Daryl: I'M NOT SHAKIN' THE FUCKIN' BABY
Glenn: women belong in the kitchen
Glenn: men belong in the kitchen
Glenn: everyone belongs in the kitchen
Glenn: the kitchen has food
final part, im afraid
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15 LINES
Rules: Post 15 lines (or less) of character dialog.
You can include context for the scene if you wish!
tagged by @chevvy-yates, thanks friend ♥♥
1 - "Do you think that one day I could be happy again?"
2 - "Who knew a good boy could kiss so well?"
3 - "Mr. Parker, Mrs. Parker is waiting for you"
4 - "Please, don't leave ..." He held his breath as she stopped without looking back, then his words died in a sigh, "... i love you."
5 - “Calm your temper Casanova, I’m not that kind of girl.”
6 - “It’s wonderful news to have the same feelings as the other…”
7 - “I’m a netrunner but…” he reloaded his gun, “I know how to kick ass when I have to save my friends."
8 - “Come back. To prove that a kid from Heywood can change the world. Come back …” His voice cracked. “Come back to me.”
9 - "One guy came in, talkin' about his Mr. Studd and showed it off. Another did the same," Vanessa begins without looking away. "Then someone walked up with a metal tassel, claiming he could detect Midnight Lady. Everyone wanted to touch, see... then test . Within minutes, everyone was fuckin'. "
10 - “You won’t escape me tonight.”
11 - "Come on! Do ya think you're scarin' me?" A tear rolls down her cheek, then several as she screams, "I'm not afraid of anyone!!!"
12 - "Ya know Gus, the Valentinos follow the Santa Muerte, and I follow Padre. We'll never agree, but I consider him my father, more than my genitor, who's just a fuckin' tag in Heywood's streets. So if you speak about him like ya just did, you'll get my knee in your cojones, the Heywood style."
13 - "I saw it in their eyes, I frightened them. They'll see me as a ticking time bomb, as … a monster. That's what I am."
14 - "Papa… Virgile's gone, and keeping his car won't get him back. Anche a me… manca."
15 - “And if I lose, I have to go out with...ugh, him one night. Ya imagine ME with this ugly guy having a drink ? It’s like eatin' your own vomit. Doable but disgusting.”
tagging (no pressure and sorry if you already did/already be tagged) : @dustymagpie @wanderingaldecaldo @fereldanwench
#ask game#writing prompt#glory writing#sometimes i write#mostly virgile's stories and vanessa#you can easily find enzo's line too
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Redneck Doug lost his goddamned mind over episodes 6 and 7
This is from a couple of weeks ago. Sorry I haven't posted it. But it's very short and I know folks will be disappointed.
Instead of getting a flurry of texts, this time, I ran into The Internet's Favorite Nerd Cajun earlier while we were both walking our dogs that morning.
Here's how it went:
"Hi Doug! Nice morning"-
"MEAT MUFFIN! MY BOYS!!!!"
"Say what?"
"THE BOYS!!!!!"
"Oh, yeah, The Bad Batch. What's up?"
Underneath is a desperate transcript of this happy old Cajun's shrieks of joy as we walked Jimmers and My Old Lady.
-------------------
Episodes 6 and 7: "The Boys are Back in Town: Parts 1 and 2"
My boys!
Rex and Jorge and Manny! MANNY!
THEY LIVING IT UP ON CASTLE GREYSKULL! THEY TEAMING UP WITH HE-MAN NOW?!?!
MY BOYS GETTING EVERYONE DINNER THEY EATIN PHO LIKE WE IN BAYOU LA BATRE YEAH BOYS!
Trigger and Nutsy going all bam bam pow and Nutsy took a flamethrower to a grenade and he's shot but he's off to good boy redneck Valhalla!
I will always love you, Nutsy!
Little Orphan Blondie and Daddy Warcrimes have toothpicks together!
The DOG SURVIVED! GO MUTANT JIMMERS GO!!!!!
THE FUCK YOU DOIN DADDY RAMBO WHY CAN'T YOU SNIFF OUT THE GUY FROM TRON CREEPING AROUND LIKE MY NIECE'S EX AROUND HER CONDO IN BOCA RATON?!?!?!
Woah run run run but the Guy from Tron* is going PEW PEW PEW!
Julio protecting the dog! Now there's the Guy from Tron chasing everyone and punching Daddy Warcrimes on the waterfall like it's Last of the Mohicans! Love that movie.
Who is The Guy from Tron?! Woah look at his knife work?
Now Bernardo's back too! ** I haven't seen Bernardo in forever!
And oh many Jorge and Daddy Warcrimes they got BEEF but they gotta work together and Toaster Strudel gave Blondie a new GUN such a good big brother!
*= CX2 is the Guy from Tron I guess.
**=Bernardo is Wolffe?
@skellymom @sued134 @cdblake1565 @amalthiaph @yeehawgeek
#tbb#cloneforce99#the bad batch#thebadbatch#doug talks star wars#cajun doug#redneck doug#doug was insane#doug loves clones#the clones#clones deserve better
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Cookie Crusades: BiBi & KitCat
Summary: BiBi and KitCat go on a late night hunt for their favorite thing: cookies. Andy Barber x Black!Reader, Bianca Barber, Katrina Barber, Oliver the Cat
Warnings: Fluff, Stern Andy, Pushover Andy, Oreos, BiBi Barber, KitCat Barber, Minors DNI
A/N: Part of my Growing Pains Series. Let me know what you think. I promise BiBi is safe. Bye now!
___
BiBi slips out of bed and quietly tiptoes down the hall to her sister’s room.
“Sissy!” The eager toddler exclaims. “Hi Sissy!”
“Shh, KitCat.” BiBi holds finger to her lips. “We gotta be quiet. We on a mission.” She looks down at the cat waiting patiently at her side. “You too, Ollie.”
KitCat excitedly hops up and down in her crib. Bianca walks over and lowers the bars so that her sister can climb out. “You gotta hold my hand.”
She walks her little sister to the stairs. “We gonna sit and scooch down the steps on our tushies, okay? Don’t let go of my hand. Don’t wan’ you to get hurt.”
One by one, they make their way down to the lower level. Once they reach the ground, BiBi leads KitCat towards the kitchen. Once there, she grabs a step stool and drags it into the pantry.
“KitCat and Ollie, you keep watch for Mama or Daddy while I get dis.” Katrina nods and turns to watch the stairs for any kind of movement. Her little face filled with determination. Standing up on her toes, big sissy reaches for a package. “Almost got it.” Her tongue pokes out of the corner of her mouth. “So close.”
Got it!” BiBi yips in triumph. “Okay, c’mon. Just gotta get dah milk.�� Opening the fridge, she grabs an open pint. “We gonna share. It’s fine. Same germs.”
Sitting on the floor, she pats her lap. KitCat nestles herself between Bianca’s open legs as she opens the package of Oreos.
“Here you go.” She says as she hands one to her little sister. KitCat smiles and immediately removes the top part of the cookie to lick at the frosting.
“No, KitCat!” BiBi takes it from her. “You eatin’ it all wrong.” She holds another cookie to her mouth. “Take a bite of dah whole thing!”
Shooting her an impatient glare, Katrina does as she’s told. She bites down, chews, and smiles.
“Good, huh? Tol’ yah.” Big sis scarfs down her own cookie before taking a drag of milk. “Have a sip. No choke.” BiBi presses a kiss to her head. The two of them go to town on the package of cookies and milk.
They’re so involved in their late night snack that they don’t notice when Daddy joins them.
“Excuse me, ladies?” Comes the soft growl. KitCat drops her cookie and cuddles closer to her sister. “What is happening here? Why is she out of her crib and why are you out of bed? Why aren’t either of you where you’re supposed to be right now?” He huffs.
“Umm…” BiBi looks at her Daddy and then down at the package of cookies. “We just havin’ a snack. And den’ I was gonna put her back to bed, right KitCat?” She nods.
Andy pinches the bridge of his nose. “You two girls are gonna be the death of me.” He mumbles. “I can feel it now. In a house with three women. Three of you. All of you the same, but also somehow different. Completely and totally outnumbered.”
Katrina looks at Bianca who simply shrugs, not understanding what their father was going on about.
“We love you, Daddy.” BiBi whispers.
“Wuv Dada.” Katrina echos. Fishing a cookie out of the package she holds it out to Andy. “Have one?”
Andy stares them down, doing his best to try to remain stern. He couldn’t have his two little gremlins sneaking out every night. Today, it was for cookies. But tomorrow it could be for boys. Over his dead body. And since when had his BiBi learned how to operate her sister’s crib?
Jesus. They were both too smart for their own good. He, as a father, was doomed. With a resigned sigh he opens a cupboard and pulls out a container of creamy peanut butter.
“Look ladies, I don’t condone this type of behavior, okay?” His two girls share a glance. “But if you’re gonna eat Oreos, you need to do it with peanut butter. It’s the only way to eat these things.” Both his girls do a happy dance when he joins them on the floor. An excited Oliver curls up in his lap and proceeds to fall asleep.
“I’ll help you rebrush your teeth after. Just don’t tell your mother.” Andy grumbles.
END
#Chris Evans#andy barber#chris evans black!reader#andy barber x woc!reader#chris evans woc!reader#andy barber black!reader#bianca barber#katrina barber#chris evans imagines#andy barber imagines#chris evans fanfic#andy barber fanfic#Cevansbrat0007 fic#cevansbrat0007growing pains series
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A proper lady.
Donny Donowitz x OC
Written with the help of @saltynametag !
Warnings: none! Just a bit of tention :) (and a fascist perv)
English is not my first language (I'm from pizza country) so have pity of me q-q
Gif by me! <3
Mariangela was in disbelief.
They made her come down all the way for her dear Apennines and abandon her beloved brigade, put her on a train full of fascists for two full days and made her walk for four more, only for her to end up in Bumfuck Nowhere, France. And for what?
To join a platoon of disorganized degenerates, infiltrating swanky Nazi parties for intel?
Not exactly what she pictured when she got the letter from the US army... “fight the Nazi forces”, yeah right.
At least they didn’t touch her explosives, still safely tucked away in her suitcase. She looked at her reflection in the mirror; an expensive dress, silk maybe? Fuck if she knew, it was a gift, courtesy of the American government. She touched the delicate necklace hanging from her strong peasant neck, grimacing at the scars on her hands and face. She struggled with the eyebrow pencil, carefully drawing where her brows had been singed.
Everyone would know; these fancy things didn’t belong to her.
A knock on the door startled her,
“Y’done in ‘ere, miss?”, Aldo was growing impatient.
Mariangela tried fixing the smudge on her forehead, “Not yet.”
“Women...”
She recognized the other voice, shouting back, “Shut the fuck up, Omar!”
“I’m-a sorry, bella principessa, take-a all-a da time-a you need-a!”
In the few days they’d worked together, he’d latched onto her accent as a source of mockery. She sighed, smoothing out the burned ends of her hair and grabbed her purse, making sure her little Lugher was wedged between her compact and forged papers.
As she stepped out, Aldo let out a low whistle,
“Boys”, he gestured dramatically, “our lovely Miss Rah-vee-nah.”
The Basterds chuckled. She wasn’t so easily flattered,
“I look like shit.”
“Language, missy”, Aldo scolded, “S’a fancy party full-a fancy wiener eatin’ schnitzels and yer a proper lil’ lady, understand?”
She. would. rather. Die.
She opened her mouth to tell Aldo to fuck off, like the proper lady she was, when her eyes fell on Donny...
Oh Donny...
Her forbidden fruit...
As if he wasn’t handsome enough in army green or that goddawful wife beater...
But, God... did he look good in a suit.
Aldo’s gruff voice snapped her out of her daydream,
“Ev’ryone good on the plan?”
Donny nodded, a curl coming loose from his slicked back hair, “Me, you ‘n’ Omar work for Mari. Hugo ‘n’ Wicki are Gesta-fucks and Smitty stays back with the rest, case shit hits the fan.”
Mari nodded, distracted by that damn curl on his forehead when he offered her his arm,
“M’lady”, he said playfully.
She giggled like an idiot, “M’lord...”
“Questi crucchi non hanno proprio gusto...”
These Krauts have no taste at all...
Mariangela muttered under her breath as she took a sip of what the waiter called “champagne”... piss water, more like.
Her arm was still looped with Donny’s, trying to keep her cool and pass him off as her date. Looped was perhaps a generous way of describing it; her nails were dug into the fabric of his suit, making him wince,
“Watch it, my arm’s still attached, y’know...”
She jumped and smoothed his sleeve out, “Sorry... I’m nervous.”
“Really? I couldn’t tell”, he joked.
His playful demeanour put her at ease, and she even managed to crack a small smile, despite her dress nearly choking the life out of her. Who was in charge of tailoring, anyway? Had they ever met a woman? She took another sip of piss water and caught a glimpse of Hugo, who wasn’t any better off than she was. He looked like he was seconds away from ripping the clothes off his back and fighting everyone in his birthday suit. And honestly? She wouldn’t blame him. Flitting through the crowd of fascist, covering for Omar and Aldo’s terrible excuse for Italian accents, smiling...
She was going insane.
At the very least, it was all going smoothly.
“Mi dicono che lei è italiana, sì?”
They told me you were Italian, right?
A man, in a carefully pressed fascist uniform with hair as shiny as his boots, caught Mariangela’s arm.
Shit.
He smiled and it made her skin crawl. Be polite. Be polite.
“Certamente! Pensavamo di essere i soli...”
Certainly! We thought we were the only ones!
The man wrapped his nicotine-stained fingers around her wrist, bringing her hand up to his chapped lips. Donny stiffened beside her, squaring his shoulders. The man introduced himself,
“Galeazzo Marchi”, he paused to kiss her hand again, “piacere di conosorela.”
Galeazzo Marchi. Pleasure to meet you.
Aldo and Omar shifted uncomfortably behind them, as Galeazzo rubbed his thumb over Mari’s knuckles. She sent a panicked look Donny’s way; his nostrils were flared, his muscles tense, eyes wide and angry... if looks could kill...
“E il signore...”, he gestured to Donny dismissively, “chi dovrebbe essere?”
And this man... who is he meant to be?
She blinked.
Fuck.
Donny looked pissed. Omar was sweating bullets and she could feel Aldo’s eyes burning a hole in the back of her head, she could practically hear what he was thinking, “fuck’s going on over there?!”
They were meant to be tourists. Just rich tourists, they hadn’t worked out any other details... she blurted out the first thing that came to mind,
“Il mio fidanzato.”
He’s my fiancé.
“Oh, capisco…”
Oh, I understand…
He answered.
He smiled with the smile of someone who doesn’t actually care. He wasn’t going to give up.
“Posso offrirle da bere?”
Can I offer you a drink?
He said, taking a glass of piss water from the silver tray of a fancy dressed waiter and handed it to her.
She was about to take it, more than anything out of pity towards the man, but Donny was faster, and handed her his own glass, still full.
“Com’é gentile, da parte sua…”
How kind of him…
Galeazzo looked bitter.
Donny smiled at his reaction.
Mari took the glass and took a sip, trying to release the tention.
She took a glance of Donny, who was staring down at the man with a glare of challenge. Like if he was daring him to do something she still was unaware of.
“Quindi…fidanzati, giusto?”
So…engaged, right?
“Sí! Da quasi due anni, ormai.”
Yeah! For almost two years now.
The man smirked. She didn’t like it.
“E…vi amate molto?”
And…do you love each other?
Mariangela was about to burst, but decided to stay silent for the sake of the mission.
“Sa, stavo pensando che una coppia bella come la vostra sarebbe un vero piacere da ammirare…”
“You know, I was thinking that a beautiful couple like yours would be a real pleasure to admire...”
That was the last straw.
Mari replied, contemptuous, with a raging blush on her cheeks for the embarassment.
“Non ho idea di quello che lei sta cercando di fare, camerata, ma la risposta é e sarà no!”
I have no idea what you are trying to do, camerata, but the answer is and will be no!
The man smiled, as his hand grapped her wrist.
Tightly.
“Non sono il tipo di uomo a cui si dice no.“
I’m not the type of man you say no to.
A weak metallic sound.
The loading of a gun.
She looked down and saw a tiny Walther P38 in Donny’s hand, pointing straight at the man’s belly.
Mari looked back at the man, reacting with a smil at the look of terror Galeazzo had on his face.
“Un po’…territoriale, il suo uomo.”
Your man is a bit…territorial.
“Non é il tipo di uomo a cui si dice no.”
He’s not the type of man you say no to.
Galeazzo turned pale white.
Donny pointed at the restroom’s door with the gun with a friendly smile, grabbing the man’s shoulder tightly and dragging him in.
As soon as he walked in, she walked towards Aldo and Omar.
“What’s goin’ on, why did he go there?-”
“Don’t, Aldo, it's too long to explain.”
A few moments later, Donny walked out, looking unbothered.
“What happened? What did you do to him?”
“Don’t worry ‘bout it, doll.” He replied, adjusting his suit.
Doll.
He called her "doll".
Well, there’s always a first time, I guess.
She wrapped her arm around his, as soon as he offered it to her to take, her cheeks burning.
“What matters now is that he’s not gonna be a bother anymore. Anyway, are you alright? Did he hurt you?”
She took a glance at her wrist, but not even a tiny scratch was there.
“No, don’t worry.”
“I do worry, actually. I’m glad you’re not hurt. I would have killed him…”
Aldo walked towards them, hissing to their ears. “Can you try not to get in a mess for five seconds? I swear if-”
A deep voice interrupted him from behind him.
“We got what we needed. Let’s get outta here.”
It was Wicky, followed by a pissed off Hugo.
“Wenn ich in fünf Sekunden nicht aus hier komme, drohe ich ein Massaker zu begehen.”
If I don't get out of here within five seconds I risk committing a massacre.
Hugo complained, quickly interrupted by Wilhelm, who stepped on his foot.
“Halt die Fresse! Wenn sie uns jetzt finden, geht alles schief!”
Shut up, goddamnit! If they find us now everything will be ruined.
Hugo flinched, but went quiet.
“Well then, I guess we don't have much time before that creep wakes up and comes out of the bathroom looking for me and Donny. We gotta move.”
They all started to walk towards the exit.
“What did that guy ask you for reacting like that?”
Omar asked. Donny shrugged. “I dunno, they spoke italian the whole time. What did he tell you?”
Donny asked to Mari. She stiffened, slightly tightening the grip on his arm for the embarassment, her cheeks turning red again.
“Nothing, keep walking.”
It didn't take them long to return to their base, an abandoned shack in the middle of the countryside in northern France. She sat on a chair, in a room upstairs. The perk of being the only one allowed to have a private room, for…well, obvious reasons. She took off her dress, finally being able to breath. The tossed the dress on the bed and put her usual clothes, finally being more comfortable. As she was taking her make-up off, she heard a knock on the door.
“Come in!”
Donny walked in.
“Y’alright?”
She straightened her back on her seat, coughing softly in nervousness, her cheeks slightly red.
“Could be worst.”
He walked behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. She stiffened.
“I just wanted to say you looked good tonight. I've never seen you dressed so fancy. Or with any make up on.”
He looked nervous.
“Thanks, Donny, I…I appreciate.”
“Like…very good.”
She looked at him through the mirror, with a questioning face.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that you were very beautiful.”
Donny suddenly looked very nervous.
“Not that you're usually ugly, of course.”
He was…complimenting her. He was complimenting her. She tried to smile, her cheeks red. She looked at one of his hands and hesitantly rested hers on it.
“Thank you, Donny.”
“Anytime.”
He looked at her one last time, before taking her hand in his and kissing her knuckles.
“Goodnight, Mari.”
“Goodnight, Donny.” She answered, with a faint voice.
He then got out of the room, gently closing the door behind him.
She looked at her hand and kissed it where Donny kissed it too.
“Ti amo.”
_________________
Divider by @saradika !
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Surely, We Can Make Miracles Chapter 5
Previous Chapter
Nero: There ain't any point in eatin' it cold if it's supposed to be served hot!
You don't even cook, and all you can do is fuckin' complain about it!
Originally, they'd been whispering to each other, but as Nero's anger mounted, his voice was getting louder.
Even if Dianne couldn't hear exactly what they were saying, it was still perfectly obvious there was some kind of argument going on.
Bradley leaned in, refusing to give in, audaciously trying to whisper into Nero's ear again even as Nero was glaring daggers at him.
Bradley: I can at least tell when the person makin' it actually has pride in what they're makin'.
You ain't the one makin' this shit. Why are you tryin' to cover for 'em?
Nero: Now you're tryin' to preach at me about pride in your work? You're just pretendin' you know what the hell you're talkin' about when you're just flappin' your gums!
Figaro: (You know, now that I'm getting a good look at them…they're kind of obviously ex-partners, aren't they…)
(I wouldn't have thought it'd be his friend in the kitchen. Really, preconceptions are never any good.)
Faust: (Nero… No matter how much he might say you're his friend in the kitchen, Bradley's still a Northern wizard.)
(Thoughtlessly making him angry isn't going to end well.)
Lennox: (Goodness. Bradley's such a glutton.)
The tension in the air was only getting progressively more electric.
And then Shino joined in, keeping his voice low.
Shino: I get what Bradley's saying.
Let me be honest. First…
Heathcliff: Shino.
Heath said his servant's name sharply.
He was every inch a noble right now, the look in his blue eyes cold and pointed.
Shino flinched, and then took a deep breath and started shooting back.
Shino: I'm saying this for your sake. You don't need to do anything.
Heathcliff: You're being arrogant.
And you're being ungrateful towards the noble Western Chenon House's Lady Dianne's hospitality, which she's put her heart and soul into…
Any furthur critique is out of line.
Your insolence is doing nothing but dragging the Blanchett name through the mud. Have some self-control.
Heathcliff's harsh words made Shino snap his mouth shut. He was trembling a bit, his gaze drifting away from him.
After a moment, though, remorse showed on his face, and he deeply bowed his head.
Heathcliff, too, bowed slightly to Dianne, and then elegantly returned to his meal.
Shino: (Heath's right… It wasn't all that long ago that I was hunting for scraps. Maybe I've gotten too used to living well.)
Heathcliff: (I'm sorry I was so forceful, Shino… But if I didn't say as much as I did, it could've turned into a diplomatic incident…)
(She's smiling right now, but she must be furious in her heart… What if one day she says I need to give you up?)
(It's possible I won't be able to save you from that, Shino… So…)
An unpleasant atmosphere settled into the silence as our meal continued.
About when I felt confident no one else was going to start voicing their displeasure, Bradley leaned back and crossed his legs.
Bradley: But damn!
Nero: Woah! My hand's slippin' on the pepper…!
Bradley: Waugh…! Achoo!!
In the fight against <the Great Calamity>, Bradley had been afflicted with a bizarre injury that affected him when he sneezed--and, well, he vanished.
Somewhere in the world, he was cursing Nero and his pepper.
Snow: Goodness gracious, I suppose there was no avoiding that.
White: We shall go to the market and retrieve Bradley.
Figaro: There's no way of knowing Bradley showed up at the market, is there? You two just want to go window shopping.
Snow & White: Gulp…
Figaro: Please don't do anything disrespectful. Rutile and Mitile are both sitting nice and politely…
Snow: You're so wrong! We're just going to go pick up our dear Bradley!
White: We have a duty to supervise him, you know! By the way, Owen dear, what's that cake called again?
Owen: Torta di cocco.
White: Thanks!
Figaro: Jeez.
The twins vanished like smoke.
Mithra: Hm? Is no one else eating? If you're not going to eat, I'll take it.
Owen: Here.
Owen pushed his food onto Mithra's plate, and then stood up from his seat and drained his cup of tea.
Owen: I want more of that cake, too.
And, having said that, he vanished, too.
The ensuing silence was so heavy you could cut it with a knife.
Akira: (What should I do… Should I have said something…?)
(I wonder what everyone's thinking…?)
Oz: …
(Though this is not especially good…)
(It still outclasses my own failures.)
Arthur: (I bet he's thinking this is better than his own mess-ups.)
Rutile: (I've made some pretty bad dishes too…)
Mithra: (Everyone's eating so lightly. That means I win.)
Mitile: (It's not very good, but saying that would be rude and wasteful.)
Riquet: (Expressing displeasure with one's meal is to embrace corruption. It is a terrible thing to do. I know that, and yet…)
(I'd been wanting to eat something more delicious than this.)
Cain: (Owen's really going to go eat more…? I know that cake was delicious, but he already ate seven slices…)
Shylock: (My sincerest apologies, but I have no intention of putting anything that doesn't capture my heart into my body.)
Chloe: (I need to eat all of this, somehow… I've really gotten so used to eating Nero's food I've gotten spoiled…)
Rustica: (Chloe's ocean-inspired outfits look so good on everyone.)
Murr: (This rules! Watching everyone's reactions to having to keep their desires in check is so fun!)
Figaro: (For now I can just pretend to eat, and then get something from the market later.)
Lennox: (Lord Figaro isn't swallowing any of that, is he…? Is he making it disappear with magic…?)
Nero: (God… I can't do this… As a fellow chef, I can't pretend this is someone else's problem…)
(What happened, Borda Castle head chef… Did you forget the seasoning to handle the smell or something?)
(He seemed so meticulous in his work, too. Or maybe he got the cut wrong… Or is it someone else's work? Did they hire someone new?)
(Maybe he got sick… He must've gotten sick. And now he can't taste things right anymore. That's gotta be it.)
(Or maybe he injured his hands… How could things have ended up like this…)
(What a disgrace… If it were me, I'd pack my bags and be gone by tomorrow…)
(But what if he's got a family to support… Argh! I don't wanna even think about that.)
Faust: (Nero's making so many different faces right now…)
Dianne cleared her throat.
She turned to face me and, bright as always, began to speak.
Dianne: By the way, Master Sage, I have a question for you.
Akira: Ah, yes. What is it?
Dianne: Lately, Borda Island has been facing a number of mysterious disappearances.
Akira: Disappearances…?
Dianne: Yes. Both the residents of the island and people visiting it are concerned by them.
I'd like to ask your help in resolving them…
✦✧☾✧✦
Let me summarize what Dianne told me.
✦✧☾✧✦
Akira: Ever since Miss Dianne was appointed Borda Island's new lord, people have been disappearing.
There's currently nine people missing, including both humans and wizards.
Chloe: Both humans and wizards…
Arthur: This island has its famous wizard market, after all.
Rustica: And this island is beautiful, so many humans come both to sightsee and to permanently settle down here.
Figaro: The development of magical technology has made it so much easier for humans to go where they like.
If you look around, you'll see a lot of brand-new big homes.
Lennox: Meaning?
Figaro: There's more vacation homes. Hasn't land on Borda Island and in the City of Nectar gotten more pricy?
Shylock: I believe so.
Rutile: Isn't that odd? Are Southern Country's prairies going to be that pricy one day?
Murr: If there's more people living on them, yeah! The more demand there is, the more profit the suppliers make.
Right now, Southern Country's pretty empty. But what if it got a population as big as Western Country's?!
Cain: Basically, Borda Island's a popular place to be for both wizards and humans.
Akira: Yes, exactly.
According to Miss Dianne, the repeated disappearances are worsening the antagonism between wizards and humans.
Heathcliff: So they both think the other side is the culprit…?
Akira: It seems that way… The wizards in the market think it was the humans' doing…
And the island humans think that it was the wizards' doing.
And since Miss Dianne, who's open and friendly with wizards, just arrived…
Arthur: The island residents, already on edge, have been demanding that she leave.
They think that a lord who's so close with wizards won't be similarly cordial with humans.
Akira: Exactly. You really understand what's going on, Arthur.
Arthur: It's like I always say.
Though I may stand as Central Country's crown prince, I am also a wizard.
The wizards think that I'll ally myself with humans.
And the humans think that I'll ally myself with wizards.
It takes a long time of open and patient conversation to stamp out any misunderstandings.
Shino: Why do you have to be the one to do it? They're the ones that are being stubborn.
Arthur: If you think the person you're talking to is being stubborn, you can never become friends with them.
Both wizards and humans have decided that the other side is the one being stubborn.
And so an endless cycle is born.
Shino: That's true…
Actually, this is a good chance. You're a good guy, so let me give you some advice.
Arthur: You think I'm a good guy? I'm happy to hear that.
Shino: You're too good of a guy. You should let yourself get upset more often.
If people don't wanna listen to you, they're not gonna listen. And then you're just wasting your time.
There's not as many kind people in this world as you think. You should let up a little.
Arthur: Thank you. You're very kind, Shino.
Shino: Don't mock me.
Arthur: But don't worry. I wouldn't say I'm all that virtuous, either. I do have a goal in mind.
Shino: A goal?
Arthur: It takes time for people to see me not as a wizard, not as a human, not as a prince, but as myself.
And for me to see the person I'm talking to properly, I need to take that much time as well. It's difficult to erase one's prejudices and preconceptions.
Shino: …I'm not willing to put that much work into other people.
People who don't like me should just stay away from me.
And I'll stay away from them, too.
It's fine if we don't understand each other. It's enough to know what lines not to cross.
Arthur: I think that's fine, too. Boundaries exist so that you don't experience undue suffering.
Shino: …? Isn't that the complete opposite of what you said, though?
Arthur: I think it's the same. I probably just have much different boundaries from you. It's just about what we're good and not good with.
Shino: Meaning?
Arthur: If human society and wizard society stay separated, one day, they're going to collide messily with one another.
I want to avoid that tragedy.
I feel like that's the only thing I can leave in this world…
Oz: …
Arthur: What I'm trying to say, is… I'm good at having those kinds of patient conversations, and I have a personal interest in addressing the issue.
So it's not something that's as difficult for me as you're worried about, Shino. But again, thank you.
Shino: Hmm… Well, if you say it's fine, then it's fine.
Living just seems hard for you and Heath sometimes.
Heathcliff: …
Figaro: Things are getting pretty philosophical here. Both understanding something and misunderstanding something are important in a wizard's life.
But for right now, let's just put that topic to the side.
Faust: You're just knocking that philosophical topic off the table like a cat.
Figaro: It'd be nice if it was the kind of topic that we could put on hold like that, right?
So to sum it up, Master Sage, she wants us to find the true culprit behind these disappearances?
Akira: That's correct.
The island residents are wary of the people in Miss Dianne's castle, so they can't do much at the moment…
Figaro: Got it. Then it's time to start collecting information on these disappearances.
But first, Master Sage, can I have a second?
Figaro put his arm around my shoulder and led me away from the group.
Once we were a bit of a ways away, he murmured something into my ear.
Figaro: …Master Sage. A lot of people are involved in these incidents.
Akira: The market wizards and the island residents, right?
Figaro: Yes. And there's also the possibility that these disappearances are actually serial murders.
Hearing that startled me. I looked up at him.
He shrugged his shoulders with a bitter smile on his face.
Figaro: Wizards turn to stone when they die. Cleaning up the bodies is easy, so it's easy to cover up their deaths.
Arthur is Oz's disciple, and Shino's been through a lot of direct combat. Heathcliff's also been taught how to protect his family.
Chloe and Rustica have been traveling for years, and I imagine they've seen their fair share of fighting. But, my kids…
The Southern brothers, Rutile and Mitile, aren't ready for this kind of thing. I don't think Riquet is, either.
For the chance that humans have been killing wizards.
Akira: …How likely do you think the chance of that is?
Figaro: I'm not sure. They did say they're only disappearances, after all.
Say you stabbed and killed me right now. All you'd have to do is wrap my stone in my clothes and bury them somewhere, and boom, I'm recorded as missing.
The bright sunlight was making my head spin.
Akira: (That's right. Wizards turn to stone…)
(If something happened to any of them, I wouldn't even get to see them resting peacefully afterwards.)
Figaro: So I think it's better if the matter of information gathering is kept away from Rutile, Mitile, and Riquet…
Oh, oh dear. Perhaps I should have kept it from you, too. You're looking a little off…
Shylock: Are you okay, Master Sage?
Suddenly Shylock was at my side, supporting my arm.
He glared at Figaro, blaming him for my current state. Figaro raised both hands and shook his head.
Figaro: I didn't do anything.
The outline of the sun above glittered with all the colors of the rainbow. Just like the stone of a wizard.
Next Chapter
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do you support the marjorine-is-taller-than-kenny agenda
oh, 100%, babey! ( im the short kenny, tall marj agenda )
like do you know how BADLY i want kenny to give off tall, mysterious stranger energy, like dirtiest white boy in america, slimmer than jim, smirky, leaning over the hood of cars, chain link fence, chain smoking cigarettes, trailer park pretty, putting the slender in slenderman...
BUT THERE JUST AINT NO WAY BABY!!!!
the mccormicks are eatin wheathins as bread like if you whip out a ritz cracker around kenny that is Fine Dining for him, i mean that. like he is malnourished as fuck like probably barely missed fetal alcohol syndrome he is nooooooot...tall.
like he is giving Short King. like shorter than stan which is saying something because i made pep!stan like 5'8 and 3/4 ( listen those 3/4 mean a lot to him let him have those...its all he can reach xx )
like kenny is honestly giving 5'6"-5'7"
which at first i was...hm idk...BUT ACTUALLY I LIKE THAT BETTER? because i feel tall kenny could just give Well Thats Just A Tall Medium Ugly White Boy but short kenny??? i know that man has the moves.
like charms oozes out of every pore, everyones pants hit the floor, rizz level 10000%, like he cuts his hair with rusty kitchen scissors but it some how looks like mullet modern art, the little gap between his front teeth is like where most people want to LIVE, i feel like his voice is crazy oceanic levels of deep. like that shit ~REVERBERATES~
kenny was S TIER on the cfpom fight list ( one bc he could probably seduce u out of the fight or steal whatever he needs off of you ) but mostly bc i feel like he could probably knock u out in one go but will probably jump around and watch you swing and miss and hit yourself in the face before hes finally like i'm bored, sweet dreams <3 LMAO
i feel like anytime some douchebag is like yeah whatever ur short! hes like ok ask your girl how tall i was last night ;) KHDLKSHLD AAAAA
anyways short king kenny nation i could write Essays!!!! abt this
BUT TALL GIRL MARJ!!!!!! okay okay okay....so marj is def like 5'11"
like cfpom heights
kyle: idk i forgot how tall i said kyle was anywhere btween 6'1-3 TALL
*insert stan wowza noise* i maintain that style would have made out way more if drunk stan could reach kyles face...we were robbbed
marj: 5'11"
stan: 5'8 AND THREE QUARTERS SOMETIMES THE DOCS GIVE HIM LIKE AN INCH OR TWO IF HES 5'10 ITS A REALLY GOOD DAY FOR HIM TELL HIM HE LOOKS TALL PLS josh hutcherson energy
kenny: 5'6" i said what i said argue with ur mom, dad or grandmama
cartman: hes like 5'4" idk so much evil in that compact body
but i feel like marj hit a massive growth spurt in like 7th grade and shot up past EVERYONE and it was like...woah. and i think it just made marj really dysphoric unfortunately because i think she got a lot of random attention for getting tall but was very awkwardly fumbling around in that body, not confident, feeling all wrong :(
went on a lot of weird blind dates with bible studies girls...was really unhappy and felt kind of like a freak im so sad i love you marmar
also linda stotch i guess is petite satan and makes fun of women for being tall or not uwu small and dainty and men for not being super macho and masc ( stephen is probably scary tall ) so being tall was always this uncomfortable thing for her like it made her ugly :((((((
which is insane because kenny was like WOOF WOOF WOOF BARK BARK AWOOGA AWOOGA ONE CHANCEONECHANCEONECHNCE TALL LADY STEP ON ME PLEASE IM ON MY KNEEEEEEEEEEEES
he was...in heat for all of high school. i wish i was kidding.
kenny x stan x kyle x jersey x raven x horny boy max security prison
( off topic but i DO think pep!kenny has kissed both stan and kyle, uh stan we have SEEN [ too much, i do think they get a little handsy when drunk smh, physical touch kings ] and uh...a past kyle was trying to...test a theory...a queery...and kenny had a really good answer...stan is going to be jealous no one tell him about that OOF )
but after her transition i think marj is enjoying living large, being like 6 billion feet tall in high heels, picked kenny up by the scruff on the back of his neck and just carries him like a the world most beautiful knock off birkin bag and i support the simp short kenny agenda...i also think that marjorine is much scarier than kenny or even kyle
i think marj is nice and classy but if u try to grab her ass she will put you in the hospital and be like woopsie do! <3 SHES SCARY IN A BLESS YOUR HEART SOUTHERN LADY WAY I WOULDNT TRY IT
marj being tall is so near and dear to me, i just feel like kenny is always looking up to her and chasin after her and when they were little kids she was like smitten in love with him, he hung the moon if he looked at her once a month but in high school she was like im not playing these little games with you kenneth mccormick! no sir! when you're done runnin' around you can call me then but watch out i might not answer xx CLEEEEEEEEEEEEARED HIM LIKE WHEW!
( she also full names everyone like stan has never been stan, stanley forever, kenny is kenneth, cartman is eric, kyle is kyle...period. )
aNYWAYS! it worked she whipped the hell out of him amen...BUT YES SHORT KENNY TALL MARJ SUPREMACY OR AT LEAST THATS HOW IT IS IN MY FANFICS GET WITH IT OR GET STEPPIN
-uncle nina, short queen...unfortunately...i act 6'1" tho
p.s. kenjorine and style def do double dates otherwise known as marj and kyle taking their boyfriends out for a walk...woopsie do! <3
#i had too much to say abt this#HELL YA TALL MARJ SHORT KENNY#like something abt kenny being like 5 nothing and rizzing the hell out of everyone is so real#he is tall enough to ride that ride#i am obsessed w him#i also love tall modelesqe marj towering over everyone in heels hanging out w kyle#marj is like wow im so happy to be here and kyle is like everything sucks im going to kill everyone at the same height#theyre both at the function facepalming watching kenny and stan do messy party boy things and take turns dding#im talking too much i hope this makes sense#also i am sort of attached to dirtiest white boy in america mcwhoremick#but i DOOOO see the asian kenny panderverse vision and i might canonically change that in rm but im not sure#ITS THE REP WE DESERVE#also re: kenny and kyle kissing i think kyle was in like 8th/9th grade had not kissed another boy#and was like kenny...i think i may...be a massive gaywad#and kenny was like baby...i have been known...but yes u can kiss me about it SKLDHLKHDS#and he was like whEw yep THANK YOU i am sorry i called u stan and kenny was like disrespectful i have way more ass than that but ur welcome
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For you and @groovy-lady:
I sent these Snetunia recs a while ago (which are still my go to recs), but here are some fics on my TBR that look promising:
Normal Enough by EmpressofMaladies
Right Down the Line by CMorningstar5
Petunia and the Prince by Slytherinteam
A Magical Love Affair by Charmed92
Regretfully Yours by Maria_De_Salinas
Oblivion-verse by JackAmy
Homesick by Charlie9646 (and also their "Under the Stars" and "A Fish Without A Bicycle")
Charm and Cherishment by hermioneclone
Leather and Old Memories by kitsunerei88
Where Do We Go From Here by theskyatmidnight
Love is the Dream by Meditationsinemergencies (mind the tags)
Misery Love Company by Cakenaps
ANON YOU ARE AMAZING
We eatin good tonight 😩
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Abyss
A WIP prologue of a fic I'm hoping to post someday. I'm putting it here so I can get some early feedback for revisions, and also because I like watching numbers tick up.
Yes, before you ask, it is a shipgirl fic for Kantai Collection. Yes, it's also a Dishonored crossover.
:>
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The sun rose over Dunwall’s bay.
Atop the high white walls of the aristocratic quarter, two did sit and converse.
“Do they not unnerve you?”
A scoff.
Bellowed low did the mournful calls of a wounded whale echo across the water, sunlight glinting off the blood-sullied ships calling their fair port home.
A sigh.
“Of course.”
They turned their eyes away from the bay, and the victorious hunting horns sounded.
Crimson splattered against decks as the cheers of many working men went up into the air, the scent of salt and the stench of iron pervading through the air.
The whaling trawlers stood still on the water, towering over the smaller boats in the docks, waves slowly lapping up against the sides of their looming steel hulls, as ichor from their crew’s latest prey dripped, dripped, dripped down onto their decks, flowing down the sides like a macabre curtain.
Gore pooled into the bay, and it was whaling season in Dunwall again.
Deckhands whistled as crates and blubber were hauled ashore, bosun’s ear-bleeders and wounded animal calls drifting across the port, interjoining into a discordant chorus of ship’s horns and voices high over low as the bustle of the returning hunt began.
“Voids, just lookit the size of ‘er! We’re eatin’ good tonight lads!”
Eyes roved out over the water, stormy grey and gazing off into places elsewhere.
“Can barely believe it myself I say, she’s nearly bigger’n me bloody house! What a beauty of a beast.”
Smoke drifted into the air from a pipe, attached to a pair of cracked lips hidden behind a scruffy ill-maintained beard.
“Daniels, keep yer mitts off the crates! If I find even a piece o’ that blubber missin’, I’ll take my cut outta yer hide, you good-fer-nothin’ yellow liver!”
Calloused and bloody hands gripped the railing at the bow of a ship, the limbs they were attached to hidden by a black wind-weathered overcoat, whale-leather exterior shining under the heavy gaze of the sun.
“You keep yer hands away from that Bessie or I’ll have words with you at the end of my gun, you salt-ridden dogs! Away, away with ye, to yer posts!”
Captain Gregor Hobson of the Red Lady’s Hymn sighed, raking a hand backwards through his hair, whale-oil pale with a meager speckling of grey here and there.
“Oi, Claggard! Ease up on ‘em, no reason to get so worked up this early when we’ve just brought in a haul like this.”
His voice was tired and exasperated, smokey and slow like a cask of fine liquor, or a trail of burning gunpowder leading to an ammunition storage, depending on his mood that day.
The first mate stood pinned in place, before quickly nodding and scarpering off without a word, not without one final glare at the smug deckhands.
“And fer the rest of you, if I find even so much as a hand's width of that blubber missing, I’ll feed you to it. Get back to work, the lot o’ you!” He turned, and the crew took to their stations with all the speed of a man being chased into hell without so much as a backglance.
“Blimey, he’s terrifyin’.”
“Aye. He was a sarge, fer the navy. Tyvia, I think. Sunk near a dozen ships himself and ate a man’s heart out on the deck during the wars, from what I heard tell of.”
“Malarkey, the both of you. He’s an old sea-dog, nothin’ more, nothin’ less. Just keep yer hands away from the whales if you want to keep ‘em. He’s ruddy well good with that sword, and I don’t fancy losin’ any more fingers than I already have.”
Hobson scoffed, turning his pipe over the port with a good thunk against the rail for good measure, reflective mood soured as a heavy frown worked its way onto his sea-wizened face.
“Excuse me.”
He cast an eye over his shoulder.
Another sigh, barely suppressed as the frown dropped from his face like a slick trout.
A thin man stood behind him, face pointier than a shark’s with twice the teeth to match, eyes narrowed down to dagger points and holding a watch in his hands, impatiently checking the time and tapping his foot.
A shining brass badge pinned to his vest shone in the rays
“Mornin’, Harbormaster. What can I do you for this fine day?” He greeted, turning and leaning back against the railing nonchalantly, tipping his hat up.
The Master looked down his nose from his head’s perch upon his far too spindly body with a sneer.
“Yes, yes, good morning and all that, we hardly have time for pleasantries. State your name and import, I have important places to be and this isn’t one of them.”
His voice was a mixture between coarse grating sand between his ears and a poor imitation of a noble’s nasal dulcet tones.
Hobson only narrowly kept from rolling his eyes at the behavior. Slap a new accent on, think you’re taller’n everybody else and suddenly you’re the talk of the Tower.
Still, as much as it grated, the Harbormaster was a rung above him in this twisted labyrinth of a society, so he played along for appearances sake.
“Of course, of course, wouldn’t want to keep you, I’m sure you’ve got some very important things to be doin’. Just follow me and we can be done with it right quick,” he assured, tone falser than his bosun’s teeth, smiling wide like a whale waiting for its next prey to wander into its maw.
The Master’s head inclined, chest puffing out, though he straightened himself out before it could become too obvious, glancing about none too obviously.
Hobson pretended he didn’t see it, whistling a jaunt as he guided the man away and down to the hold, past the whale strung up in the crane above them.
Hook, line and sinker with these types, every time, like leadin’ a rat to bread.
An hour later found the man off of his ship, wandering away with his hands stuffed into his pockets, probably to bugger whatever poor sod he set his eyes on next that was within his reach.
The Red Lady’s Hymn sailed for no company, and no sponsor.
To a man like the Harbormaster, it would’ve been easy prey for an ego boost, bossing about independent sailors on their own ships from the safety of his position, conversely to the myriad of trawlers moored in the bay marked as Royal Hunters, the biggest group of sailing shills this side of the continent.
Hobson watched until the slimy eel disappeared into the throng of sailors before turning back out across the bay, blowing out a long exhausted heave, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands to rid them of the salt’s sting.
The Hymn hummed under his hands, engines whining with electrical power under the strain of the immense creature above the deck, groaning as blood sluggishly dripped from harpoon wounds along its flank.
“I know girl, I know. Just one more good haul and you can rest,” he whispered, waiting for the humming to settle before striding off towards the bridge, barking orders to the crew as the church bells further inlands began to toll.
Below the deck, buried deep within the guts of the hulking steel beast of a ship, was the Hymn’s twin hearts, glowing as the whale-oil within churned and sparked with arcane energy, rusted screws rattling in their places as the engineers did their best to sooth the beleaguered machines.
The Red Lady’s Hymn was ancient, by modern day whaling trawler standards.
It wouldn’t be out of the question for Anton Sokolov to have walked the Hymn’s deck himself when it was just WT-032, the last of the Driscol class ships, marking the beginning of a new line as the trawlers were further refined.
Three crews had manned the decks of the Hymn in her time, and all but one of them had met grisly fates at sea at the hands of beasts unnamed and unknown.
And yet, every time, the Hymn had sailed back into Dunwall to do her duty as always, towed in by tugs, or, in the incident that earned her the moniker of Red Lady’s Hymn, by the tides themselves.
It had been a foggy morning then, all those years ago, bitter winter come to lay its weary bones into the bay as ice crept around the shores, and WT-032 had been missing at sea for three weeks.
The Watch had all but given up on it by the beginning of the second week, and the only ones still looking for it in any capacity were sailors wary of happening upon its wreck.
Then, in the waning days of the Month of High Cold, a ship had sailed into port, sluggishly maneuvering into dock until her hull had ran aground the shore with an awful shrieking noise, almost touching the nearest house with her prow until she rasped to a stop, barely a finger’s width away from shattering its window.
The Harbormaster then, a crabby old man with little to say beyond poison to spit at younger folk, had come running out of his hovel with his face twisted into an angry rictus and shouted for the captain of the vessel to step onto shore, then abruptly fell silent.
The hull loomed over him, red ichor drip, drip, dripping out of her scuppers and onto his face, filling his nostrils with the heavy cloying scent of iron as it dribbled down his chin.
The carcass of a whale still hung above the abandoned vessel, bereft of all life as it slowly shifted in the wind, sending creaks rattling down the cranes holding it aloft.
Blood congealed into the cold oak of the deck, spattered about in great pools and littered with splinters, some planks sticking out like jagged teeth, and others split in two, like the steps of a mighty giant had sundered them apart.
No matter where the Watch had searched, after the calls had gone up, no crew were to be found, corpses or otherwise.
It was like they had been plucked from the decks by the hands of the void itself, leaving it to drift away on the winds, pulled along by the tides like a lost child by the hand of a mother.
That day, in the cold of Dunwall’s winter, the dock-goers had gathered and listened as the vessel’s engines sang, like a ghostly siren’s chorus, solemn and pained as it strained to keep itself going on what little fuel it had left.
The sailors would drift home that morning, minds elsewhere and attention paid to places far away as the song echoed across the waves, the blood drip, drip, dripping off of her deck and into the bay, seemingly never drying no matter how long it stained the decks, or so they say.
WT-032 earned the moniker Red Lady’s Hymn that day, for the color of her crimson shawl and the notes of her sorrowful song.
As much of an curse as she was a blessing, she was truly a terrible and wonderful thing to see over the horizon, hull bloodied with whale-gore more often than not, her song whispering across the waves as the silhouette of a mighty beast caught in her crane wavered against the setting of the sun beneath the sea, like wet paint running down a canvas.
As the moon came up over Gristol and colored the ocean in a ghostly pale blue, the Red Lady’s Hymn set out for her next hunt, skies cloudless overhead and waves calm beneath her hull.
Captain Gregor kept a watchful eye over the sea, hands steady on the wheel as a quiet tune carried over the deck in chorus with the humming of the Hymn’s heart.
He turned slightly, away from the windows, just enough for the glow of the moon to leave the corner of his vision, grasping for the lighter in his pocket and deftly lighting the pipe perched precariously on the wooden surface beside him, lifting it to his mouth and turning back to face the deck.
He stilled.
It was quiet.
He leaned slightly over, casting his gaze about for his crew and finding nothing but air.
His heart slowed as his eyes narrowed, setting the pipe down.
He thumbed open the lock on the furthest right window, before calling out in a clear voice, “Boys, how’re the seas lookin’?”
The only answer was the waves, gently lapping against the Hymn’s hull, song eerily silent.
Unnerved, he called again, voice unsure, to no avail.
His eyes narrowed further, and his hands itched for his sword.
Turning on the spot, slowing the ship and leaving the wheelhouse, he opened the bulkhead and stepped out into the cool night air, breezeless and still.
Closing the heavy cast door behind him, he strided down the steps, whale-leather boots click, clack, clicking against the deck.
Two paces.
No sign of anybody.
His heart beat faster, like a war drum thudding in his ears.
Four paces.
“Boys?” He yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth.
No answer.
Six paces.
His back was nearly against the aft’s railing now, the Hymn’s heart still quiet beneath his feet, his voice echoing across the waves.
Eight paces.
The Hymn sang.
One, low, haunting note, like the death-call of a whale in her last throes, reverberating in his chest as it froze like ice, heart dropping like lead into his gut as it crescendoed, louder, louder, the engine’s whining almost reaching an unearthly wail, before-
Death, yawning wide open, like a cavernous maw, a black and cold abyss.
A hat hit the deck without a sound, a scream evaporating into the air, never making it out of his mouth as more than a rattling gasp.
When the dawn rose over Dunwall’s bay once more, and the hunt once again returned victorious to the bay only to find its waves silent and songless, the Red Lady’s Hymn was not there to greet it.
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Abyss
noun.
A deep or seemingly bottomless cavern.
“A rope led down into the abyss.”
______________________________________________________________
#kancolle#dishonored#dunwall#shipgirl#crossover#crossover fic#I have zero idea how to tag this.#my writing#bis rants#don't expect very many notes but I hope I at least get a few comments#Self esteem boosts and all that.#numbers go brrrrr
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Pam Lives!
Pam Lives! Part I
Saturday, August 18, 1973
The Sawyers
It was on a Saturday it all happened down at the old Sawyer place, hot as hell, a real scorcher. That’s when it all went down. Old lady Faulk said she's seen 'em stop off at the cafe earlier asking for directions. Bob Hewitt, today, 81 years young, and sharp as a tack, saw 'em that day, too. "Them girls stood out, half neked, short-shorts, no brassiers. That shit didn't fly, least ways not back in '73." Hewitt, as it turned out, proved to be a wealth of information when it came to the Sawyer family history. You can judge for yourself. This is what Bob Hewitt related to me about 'em, word for word . . . "First big mistake was leaving him home alone, him bein' "Leatherface." They'd called him by that ever since, oh, it wuz years ago. Freddie first showed off his handiwork ta young Jed. Jed, well, he wuz so impressed, he slipped, n showed it off to Pop and Grandpa, something he sorely regretted later on. Pop and Grandpa, now they'd always favored Freddie over Jed. That wadn't no secret, bragged to anybody who stopped in at the cafe about him, and 'specially out at the slaughter house. Not Jed tho, no sir, pissed Jed-off-no-end, kept him on a low simmer ninety-nine percent a the time. "Assholes" I 'member he'd say, n as he got older it all jest got worse.
Back in '64, that was when Frederick “Freddie” Theodore Sawyer, become "Leatherface"… least ways around the Sawyer house, anyhoo. Give it to him more like some rite a passage. It wuz one that had some roots in one of Sawyers' deep… well, some real dark family secrets. Pop and Grandpop Sawyer both liked the name right off, heard 'em both call him that down at the cafe, droppin' hints they give it their o’fficial Sawyer sanction. It wuz one day I wuz in eatin' my dinner there, an' they wuz laughin' about their lil ol' party the night before, sayin' how it wuz includin' lots a Jim Beam n plenty a hootin’ n a holler-in.' Neighbors confirmed it ta me later on, but here they were a settin' right in the cafe, Red n ol' Grandpa, the two of 'em jest hootin' n kindy howlin', then talkin' low, goin' on 'bout the full moon. It wuz like they wanted me ta hear some stuff, n then they'd get ta whisperin' so's I couldn't hear the rest, n they'd look sideways over at me n smile tagether. Ta be honest I couldn't wait ta git outa there. Gave me the heebie-jeebies. Somethin' wuz off… jest couldn't put my finger on wat it wuz, know what I mean?
Didn't all start out that way though. Jed, always wuz a little weird, kindy "off" you might say, but he seemed polite, nice enough, quiet . . . always kept his head down, as I recall him. He even baby sitted for the Lanky kids now n again, n for Sheriff's kids, too. So did Freddy! Never saw it comin'. Never. Nothin' like what happened to him later. Nothin'. I 'member Freddie as a kid used to walk together with Jed to school, took care of him, ya know, like protective and all. Both of 'em wuz always dirty, n covered in bruises. I always wondered if that was a "birthmark" on Jed's face, like they said, or if somebody hadn't burnt him. Get right down to it, truth be known, Jed jest downright hated Freddie after he wuz around twelve or thirteen, hated him, 'specially after their momma, Lorrine, run off and left 'em all alone with their Pop and Grandpa.
Who can blame her? Woman wuz covered in black n blue many a time, n they worked her like a damn dog over at the cafe. There's lots a stories floatin' round 'bout how folks seen Grandpa comin' up behind her, tryin' to feel her up, kissin' on her while she wuz sweepin', her a cryin', n the whole time, her own damn husband, he'd jest be laughin' 'bout it. She run off twice n Red 'd go find her n haul her back.
BBQ wuz so good, folks didn't stay away tho. Fact is, startin' 'round '64… '65 'ish they did a pretty damn good business, cuz a the location, right on the highway n all, folks passin' through to Austin n Taylor n such. Hell, they didn't know 'em, n it wuz the only place ta git any good BBQ anywhere for twenty miles around, any that tasted like them Sawyers could do it. Nobody could beat it. Juicy n tender… mmmm-hmm, it jest melted right in your mouth. Old Pa, "Red," we called him, cuz his face wuz always so damn red, he'd laugh, tell his jokes, n flirt with all them young girls, right there big as day in front a poor Lorrine. She wadn't bigger n a minute. Lorrine wuz left orphaned after her folks wuz washed away down in Galveston in that 1915 hurricane. Somebody found this poor little squallin' baby right on the beach after it hit. She never even knew her real name, cuz nobody could find no trace nowhere of her folks, nor any family… nothin'. Red met her when she wuz about 14, brought her up here. Folks said Grandpa wuz pretty excited, I remember hearin' that.
Grandma Sawyer wuz taken to Terrell Institute for the Insane way back in 1915, lost her mind early. Now, that wuz real sad. She came back home here n there, n he'd send her back. They dropped "Insane" from the name in '25, switched it ta "State Hospital." My grandma knew her, grew up with her, over in Kaufman. She lived at the hospital off n on fer almost 30 years, finally died there. I guess you already knew about her though.
Red, liked the young girls… the tighter the tops n shorter the shorts. He'd eye 'em up and down, give 'em his slick wick-ed crookety ol' smile, n pop 'em some extras n freebies in their bags. The local boys caught on quick, got smart ya know? They'd drive 'em up, git the girls to go in n pick up their stuff to-go, tell 'em ta jest work it a little, "jiggle it," they'd all say, n have a big ol' laugh watchin' Red oglin' 'em. Round about '68… '69, cafe got ta be so bleepin' busy you had to git there early, or you'd be waitin' a half hour, or more. Weirdest one was that durn red haired kindy baldy-boy, some cousin or somethin' from the Gein side a the family. They said he come down from Plainsfield, Wisconsin, n they had him washin' windshields n turnin' meat. Odds n ends, I guess. First time I laid eyes on him, I said, "Wut-Is-That?" Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, needed a check-up from the neck up… if you git ma drift? He disappeared one day just like that. Makes a body wonder, don't it? What I wanna know is where's all that BBQ money. Never kept no bank accounts. I guarantee ya it's buried somewhere on that property.
But ever body talked 'bout them poor boys, n wut must be goin' on at home. After Lorrine left, that's when they quit comin' to school. Somebody said they saw her climbin' into a semi headed south on I-35, late one night. "bout two years later, somebody else told me she wuz livin' in Needles, California, but I don't know. She never showed up here again that's fer sure. Freddie… funny, hard for me to call him that now. I jest call him, Leatherface now days. We all felt bad for them boys, but you didn't screw around in Sawyer's business. Funny thing, just like all kids that git beat, they still want their daddy's to be proud of 'em. Know what I mean? Damnedest thang, but, it happens a lot. Sad.
"Big goddamn bully," Jed told everybody around town, "… ever since Pop got him that first chainsaw." They'd all worked out at the slaughterhouse at one time or another. Had to 've changed 'em. Somethin' did. Later, Jed didn’t sleep in the house no more, he wuz just too scared of him. That wuz no secret. Slept in the barn, or in good weather in a tent he set up in the woods, down near the tank on the edge of their back property. You know, down near the Simpson place? Town joke was: Jed liked old Leatherface just a little bit less the day that semi splattered him from Austin all the way to Waco.
Freddie, that is, "Leatherface," he had what they said wuz "special talents." Freddie might be two beers short of a six pack, but he sure as shit had talents, always showin' off out at the slaughterhouse. Skinnin' things. Yessiree, he did. Talk buzzed out at the old slaughter house about him. You could tell Red n Grandpa admired him for them talents. Jed did, too, but he was jest too damn jealous to ever admit it, ya see. It just made him boil over, bore a hole in his measly little 'ol soul. Jed wuz warped. As I come ta wrap my mind around it, only later you understand… it wuz that way with Jed only 'til they got the bodies home. Then he got some kinda kick or somethin'. You know we had many a grave robbin' went on here fer years, all of 'em wuz middle aged ladies, n no-body-wuz-ever-caught. Came together better when we found them masks n . . . well . . . let's just say, body-parts. They wuz all over the house. Yes sir, I went with the sheriff and saw it fer myself! They had all sorts a contraptions n thangs we found in that house afterwards . . . made me so sick ta my stomach, I went outside n upchucked. Hell, we found that poor kid's damn heart n liver in a pan on-the-stove! We both jest had ta go outside ta breathe finally . . . smell wuz somethin' I can't ever get off me.
Anyway, the story is, Leatherface stayed home all alone with Grandpa that day, while Jed and Pop were gone. Pop Sawyer off to the cafe, and brother Jed, off to who knows where, up to no good that’s for sure. Course, there was Grandpa, upstairs. Back in the day, Grandpa was more mo-bile and he could kindy keep an eye on Freddie, most a the time. OK that is anyway… when he started to go a little crazy, ya know? But, not by ’73. That day it was just Leatherface, left all alone with Grandpa. Well, he did have one thing to keep him company, his evilness… and his “devices." We’ll just never know. Maybe that day would have gone down differently if only those poor youngsters hadn’t wound up running outa gas.
Leatherface said it was all their fault, “those snoopy fuckin’ kids,” after we got 'em all back to the sheriff's office. That’s what the sheriff and the rangers said set him off the worst, n then all of a sudden he'd break out a gigglin'. Red kept yellin' at him ta shut-up. Pretty quick we wrestled Red out and took him over ta the Taylor jail. Once Red wuz gone, he got back ta blabbering on about it, then makin' them squeakin' sounds, n gruntin' like a pig, only got one oar in the water, that one."
With that, Bob gave me a wink, bobbed his head, n clucked his tongue. You can bet they weren't any too happy to get Red Sawyer over in Taylor. This wuz Round Rock's problem and they wanted no part of those Sawyer creeps.
Pam’s True Story
Before Jerry opened the freezer and was instantly killed by Leatherface, Pam slipped in and out of consciousness. When Leatherface pushed her back in the freezer, she was awake. Dizzy, her head pounding, her back throbbing, but awake. She began to slowly realize the terrible horrors that had occurred in the last hours that day,
Then, it came back to her. Kirk, oh, God, no! Kirk! The memory ran through her veins… Kirk lying on that putrid table, that other room, the chicken… and were those bones? Human bones? That monster! Suddenly she felt herself sweating, and an overpowering desperation to escape. Frantically, in the dark cold, Pam began to feel around clumsily for the freezer latch. There! There it is!! It was then she realized: the latch was broken! It was broken! The lid was not locked, it was open!
Hyperventilating, Pam sucked in her breath, and tried to swallow, but her throat was so dry. She held back a cough, as she laid there in fear… for minutes, but what seemed like forever to her.
She wept silently, listening in agony to Sally's pleading, begging, her screams, men laughing at her, taunting her. Oh, Sally! Dear God, please help us! Who were these other voices? Where was that monster with the chainsaw? What was IT, human? One of the voices, she thought she recognized. She’s heard that voice. But who? Who was it? Had she met him? Where? She felt utterly and completely helpless. Then she remembered the voice was that scuzzy idiot hitchhiker!
In her gut, Pam knew exactly what she had to do. There was nothing she could do for Sally, her beloved friend, not alone. No way, not now, not with all of them there. How many were there? She then knew, she had to escape to get help. Now! With all the courage she could muster, Pam made what would be the most prophetic, and the toughest decision she would ever make in her entire life. The decision, she would escape.
She could hardly move with the enormous pain shooting through her battered body, but carefully, ever so very carefully, with all the strength she had left, she slowly pulled herself up, and climbed out of the freezer. She shook in panic every time she heard their movements, cringing at their grotesque laughter. Afraid even to breathe, little Pam, slipped soundlessly out the kitchen's back door. Dizzy, numb, frozen, heart pounding, hardly breathing, in her desperation and sheer terror she began to feel her feet as they began to run. Run! Run!
End Pam Lives! Part I
🚀💋🎥🪝🪚⛓ 🐓
Cover Designs by Desmond Ambrose Root
"Pam Escaping" - Drawing by @Tadeo Mendoza
** (Inside stories)
#texaschainsawmassacre#horrormovie#horror#leatherface#marilynburns#trailblazers#teri mcminn#gunnarhansen#dpearldp#kimhenkel#williamvail#Black Maria#meathookgal @screamqueensinhorror
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7. FALLING
thank you for the support
WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF MENTAL HEALTH
"DON'T tell me you're fallin' in love, it's been what, a couple of weeks?"
"I am, he gets me you know," Carson gushed, speaking quietly to Keelie. "Sounds like bullshit I know, but word to God, I'm serious."
Fortunately, the nail salon wasn't busy so only five other people were being tended to.
Keelie huffed out a laugh, "The dick that good?"
"It's the best," Brian was probably the best she ever had. It was only two days since their date and they couldn't stop, he caught her whenever and wherever.
All the time she spent with him, she noticed a lot. He was quite jumpy, and anxious, especially when it came to his phone. Very cagy about his past and she knew to respect that even though it drove her to overthink.
"White boy got it like that?" Keelie was shocked, she'd never seen her friend act so enamoured about a guy.
In the past, Carson was very naive, and way too trusting, so she hoped that history wasn't repeating itself.
Carson giggled, "He really does. Girl, he talks me through it."
Keelie instantly choked on air, "He what?"
"You heard me."
"He's vocal?" Keelie lowered her tone, making sure the customers couldn't hear much to their disappointment. Carson nodded in response. "Damn."
"Voice husky and everythin', he puts it down, lifts me up, keeps me hooked even if he's just starin', he knows he's got some sort of power over me. Drive's me crazy, I swear.”
“He’s packin’ right? He has to be with that shit eatin’ grin.”
“Respect me, I wouldn’t settle for no little dick,” Carson’s response had them both snickering.
The friends abruptly looked up when the shop bell rang and Brian walked in, eyes immediately landing on Carson.
"Ladies," he nodded at a few of them as he walked by, greeted Keelie before leaning over the counter and pressing a few kisses to Carson's lips making the customers awww in the background. Keelie moved away to help them. "You good baby?" she nodded, noting the irritation in his eyes, but before she could say anything he asked, "You get your nails done?" she nodded again, showing them off to him. He pulled out a 50-dollar bill and put it next to her.
She looked shocked, "You don't have to."
"I want to," Brian insisted, still not smiling.
He's annoyed, she realised.
"You ready to go, your shift is done right?" Brian questioned.
"It's done," she replied, "I'll go get my stuff."
He nodded, watching her go into the back, then sighing when he heard Keelie's voice.
"I'm watchin' you," she warned, walking passed.
He snapped his head, looking in her direction as she picked up a new electric file, "I didn't do nothin'."
"Tell that to my third eye," Keelie took note of his annoyance, wondering why he was so worked up.
Brain didn't respond.
Carson came back, with her bag in hand and immediately saw how riled he was.
"Yo, Keke what did you say to him?" she asked, coming up to Brian who put his arm around her.
"Nothin', I only said hi. Didn't I Eminem?" Keelie taunted, sitting down in front of a regular.
"Yeah, Lil' Kim's right," Brian jabbed, making the whole store laugh.
Even Carson smiled, sticking her tongue out at Keelie who flipped him off.
Brian whispered something as they walked out and onto the street, "Come on, I gotta show you somethin' before we meet the team."
"What is it?" she wondered.
His ringtone disrupted his response. He pulled out his phone, keeping it close to his chest and ignored the ring.
She squinted at him, "Brian?"
His phone started to ring again, just as they reached his truck.
"Is that your mom or somethin'?" she pressed.
"What? No, it's just..." he trailed off, annoyed by the constant ringing and switched off his phone, but that only irritated Carson more.
She shrugged off his arm, "Do you have some secret life you're not tellin' me about Brian?" she was frustrated and he hated that he was making her feel that way. "Do you have a wife, kids, some white picket fence?"
He tried taking her hand but she didn't let him, "Baby, calm down, it's nothin'."
"Then why do you look tense?"
"Because you questionin' me alright? Nothing's wrong, I'm good, you good?" he didn't mean to snap at her. He'd never done it before.
Carson took a step back, looking him up and down. Why's he acting like this? her annoyed gaze settled on something she hadn't noticed before.
"Yo, what happened to your hand?"
It was red and slightly blotchy.
Brain flexed his fist and shook his head, "It's nothin'."
"Was it Vince, did you get in the ring with him again or somethin'?" she was met with silence, "Just answer the question."
"I just did," he breathed out. "Trust me, I'm tense 'cause everythin' is on top of me at the moment. I have bad days and good days like everyone else"
She had to ask, "And your phone?"
"It's Harry," he rushed out, "I left my shift early to come and see you, to spend to with you."
"Okay," she didn't have anything else to say.
He groaned, "Don't be like that, lemme show you want I got you."
Carson just nodded, watching him unlock the truck and pull open the passenger seat, retrieving the present he got for her.
She gasped when she saw the jewel-encrusted sunshine ornament. She remembered telling him about it on their date but she didn't think he was listening.
"Y-you... how?"
"I kept an eye out," he carefully placed it in her hands. "Just wanted to make you happy."
It cost nothing, but it meant everything.
She clutched it tightly, smiling so hard her cheeks hurt.
"Thank you, baby."
And it was like everything was forgotten.
So Brian smiled and embraced her tightly, placing a kiss on her forehead.
"Let's get outta here."
__
The next day Carson squealed when she saw her car, more importantly, the engine that looked like it cost 15k. Jesse even claimed to have tweaked a few things, things she didn't notice before. She couldn't believe it. Her flashy rims, the turbine, and the compressor were fixed and the stereo was finally working again too.
"Like it?" Jesse asked with a proud smirk.
"Like it? you did this before street wars and whilst you were fixing the Supra?" she gawked, eyes blinking rapidly at the shiny parts.
He sheepishly shrugged, "Had to do it for you. The rims were the easiest to do. The engine took some time but it was nothin'. Speakers are all set. Check them out, you'll love it, drivin' down sunset blarin' them to the car Gods."
She laid a fat kiss on his cheek and hugged him.
"I love you, you know that? The biggest, bestest and brightest," she listed, beaming at the car.
"I love you too, now lemme get back to the Supra. Go paint your Charger, I know the designs will be sick."
Jesse left her to her own devices. Carson put down the hood, then reached into her pocket to add the last addition.
She slid into the front seat, slid off the plastic and placed the sunshine ornament on the dashboard, it stuck very easily.
"I hope you love it, Dad," she whispered, wishing he was here.
After a moment she jumped out, blew a kiss at the car and walked around the garage, finding the paint she was going to use for the designs, then pulled out her sketchbook and some overalls to protect her fit. She got lost in her own world when she started, everything was going to plan.
She felt so blessed.
So what could go wrong?
She heard some of the guys talking from the distance but she didn't pay much attention.
She barely flinched when she felt someone kneel behind her and wrap an arm around her shoulder pausing her painting.
"Hey blondie," she greeted him as he kissed her cheek.
"Looking good," Brian nodded to the design. Every time he saw her work, whether it was in her sketchbook or some other street racer's car, it made him wonder why she never did this professionally, just like Jesse. Art school or engineering.
She leaned into his hold, "Thank you."
They talked for a while, she asked if his hand was okay, but was told that it was nothing to worry about. He kept saying she would win any race she would enter and couldn't wait to see it happen, all while taking some pictures of them.
He had pictures of the pair of them all over his phone.
Pulling her from the ground, he cupped her face and pressed his lips to hers. The feeling coursing through their veins wasn't foreign anymore. They embraced it like a warm hug. It was light yet intense.
When she went to move away he squeezed her sides.
Carson's laughter caught Dom's attention and he stood by the entrance, but neither of them saw him yet.
"Check it," Brian tried taking the paintbrush from her but she ended up getting some of the excess paint on his shirt.
"That's what you get," she mused.
"Oh, that's what I get?" He wiped the rest of the paint on her overalls, earning a fierce glare.
Finally seeing a displeased Dom standing off to the side, Brian shifted back slightly.
"Need a cigarette," he murmured.
Carson's brows furrowed, "Didn't you say you quit?" damn he must be stressed.
"I have to make a parts run 'round Simi Valley for Harry," Brian dismissed her question, looking directly at Dom.
"Drive safe," The Torretto man said with indifference.
"Bye, Sonny," Brian breezed passed Dom, after kissing her goodbye.
Carson stood there awkwardly, Dom continued to stare at her, and she didn't understand why.
"I had a guy on the phone, said you hadn't finished his design yet," he expressed, breaking the silence.
"I'm on it."
"Are you, 'cause you seem distracted?" There was a lot of judgment in his tone.
She scoffed, "Get off my back. If I say I'll finish the design I'll finish the design," she put down the paintbrush and frowned, "Brian's not a distraction. I thought you liked him."
"Me likin' him got nothin' to do with anythin'. Just focus," he always said the same thing to both her and Mia. His sister for school and Carson for her occupation. He knew that his godsister was falling in love with the guy, they all did, it so was obvious. "You wanna win big at race wars right? Make sure you keep your head straight."
She huffed, "First Vince, then Brian, now you, must be somethin' in the water right? Why are you all in my grill? Just mind your business."
"You're my business. Always have been, always will!" he yelled, causing her to walk out of the garage in a huff, "And don't you forget that!"
__
Later that day, Carson stood proud, grinning at the finished product of her car, trying to forget all the stress and worries she felt. She was happy. I'm happy, she kept telling herself. The team congratulated her for creating such a beauty before leaving to go and see Dom and Brian drive off in the completed Supra.
She tried not to overthink. Everything was going to plan, right? But the feeling in her stomach was growing.
Carson wanted to ignore it but her dad always told her to listen to her gut.
The sun was fading and she knew it was time to get back to her shared apartment. Letty had dipped, Mia was studying, Vince and Leon were inside whilst Jesse with stuck in his head working on the computer.
In the corner of her eye, Carson caught the orange Supra pulling up the garage.
Brian and Dom were talking intently about something, she couldn't get a good read on either of them, with their shades being on but she was too tired to even try.
"Yo Summer, where's everyone?" Dom asked, noticing her furrowed brows. The garage was scarce and Jesse didn't look up at the sound of his voice.
Brian smiled as he walked over to her since she didn't look too happy and he instantly felt a sense of dread.
"Inside," was all she had to say, "I'm bouncin'," she went to move but Brian caught her keyless hand, "Yeah?" Dom left the pair alone and eventually, Jesse joined him, finally snapping out of his trance and wanting to badger him about the sweet ride. "I gotta go, Brian."
"Why don't I come with you?" He suggested, with a smirk playin' at his lips.
"Won't your Sylvanian family be blowin' up your cell?" He laughed but she was serious as hell. "I've got work in the mornin' you know?"
"I won't keep you up and my phone will stay on silent. I promise," he came closer, pulling off his shades and staring into her eyes. The sun's falling rays struck her iris' had it stirred something inside of him. "I just wanna hold you, Sonny," he whispered as she scrunched her nose, making him cup her chin and peck her lips a few times. "We'll get some beauty sleep together. Okay?"
His words were making her trip and fall over any gut feeling.
So she agreed, "Okay. But we're just gonna sleep," she warned him as he pulled open the driver seat, letting her get in before jogging over to the passenger side. He gently shut the door, eyes lighting up at the ornament on the dashboard. "Only sleepin'."
Brian nodded, watching her start the engine, "A good night's rest and my beautiful girl to hold onto, not a bad way to live," he said softly, earning the cheesiest smile from her, "That's all I want."
"And that's what you've got."
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a/n:
https://pin.it/1s5Uvmk (how i imagine her car to look, obviously with huge bratz doll silhouettes across the sides) it's funny because her street name at this point is "barbie" but that won't stop her from doing what she wants. and what's cute is brian's street name is "bullit" so we've got bullit and barbie.
https://pin.it/1c7m5sX (how i imagine the sunshine ornament to be but without the moon). in the behind the scenes videos of this film, the director wanted no rearview mirrors in the car, because he wanted it to be as accurate to the street racing culture of the time, so carson doesn't have one. so just imagine the gift sticking to the dashboard.
some more angst in this chapter between brian and carson. the way he caught an attitude with our girl was disrespectful but of course, all it took was a gift to calm her down. it's sad i know but it's all part of the build-up. carson loves love and even though she knows something is up she'll tell herself to be delusional for a little longer and let him "hold her".
i've been getting a few messages about how often i update but it states multiple times that i publish every sunday (even check the first few chapters pls!)
also with the mature scenes that i write, pls prevent yourself from saying "robbed" or "call 911". what i write should be enough and it gets annoying when i see things like that. as stated in my bio, don't comment on any of my stories if you're a minor!
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#wattpad#fanfic#black reader#fastandfurious#fast and the furious#brian o’conner x carson baker#carsonbaker#brian and sonny#sonnybaker#brianoconnerfanfic#brian o’conner x black!reader#brian o'conner#y2k#2001#black racer#stereo love
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