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theteasetwrites · 1 year

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Merciless Beauty

Chapter 5: While Yet the Wound Is Clean

❧ Pairing: Knight Daryl Dixon x Princess Reader ❧ Era: Medieval fantasy AU ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: mild swearing, violence, references to sexuality, slight creep behavior, scary situation ❧ Word Count: 9.3k (aka very long)

❧ Before You Read...

❧ Glossary (you're gonna need this.)

❧ In This Chapter: The king is hosting his annual jousting tournament, an opportunity for Sir Daryl and other knights to display their cavalry prowess, and a cause for celebration. The party is soon interrupted, though, by a man whose name has haunted the kingdom of Alexandria for months, but his face has remained a mystery, until now.

❧ A/N: Just as a heads up, I definitely recommend popping open the glossary for this chapter because there are going to be a lot of terms thrown at you that might not make sense (lots of armor/jousting terminology). Plus it's just kind of interesting to learn about medieval stuff, so I highly recommend checking out the glossary! It will help immerse you more. Anyway, guess who's here... Finally, after so much buildup, our main antagonist makes his appearance. I don't want to spoil it, but you probably already know. And sorry in advance that this part is so long. I had a lot to fit in here! Hope you enjoy it though.

Daryl never much cared for tournaments.

But it was part of the whole knight thing, of course, and, considering the fact that he was the first knight from outside the castle walls to attend King Ezekiel’s court in just over ten years, it was an unspoken obligation for the knight to compete.

In usual circumstances, knights would use this opportunity to display their battle prowess, and to sharpen their marshal skills in preparation for the real thing. Daryl found little use for the practice, however, but there was one aspect of the tournament that did interest him, something that Duke Richard had been reminding the knight of on a near-constant basis.

“If you lose,” said the duke, amusedly watching the knight struggle to strap the steel plate pauldron to his shoulder, “I’ll personally inform the king that you’re bedding his daughter.”

He didn’t even want to joust at all, frankly, but the duke insisted, and filled the knight’s head with all kinds of fantasies of impressing you, and even bearing your favor for all to see. But, that would be too bold, he thought. Still, the idea spurred him on, influencing him to participate in the tournament’s most anticipated event―the joust.

Long before the Scourge, King Ezekiel hosted numerous tournaments in the castle courtyard throughout the year, with knights from far and wide traveling to Alexandria to display their skill and valor in armored competition against one another, followed by a luxurious banquet held in the great hall. When the plague spread through the land and the kingdom was closed off, the castle’s drawbridge was raised, too, and tournaments were scheduled only once a year, and only the knights already present in court could participate.

This year, though, was the most exciting tournament in ages. With a new knight at court to display his skills, the other knights were eager to rise to the challenge, but there was anticipation in the air, as it was known that Sir Daryl’s skill in the joust was not to be underestimated. In fact, he’d never lost the handful of jousts he’d participated in, and at least three of the knights he defeated had died from their injuries. Well, that was par for the course, after all. Jousting was dangerous, and oftentimes, it was a fight to the death.

“I won’t lose,” replied the knight with a huff, now buckling on heavy silver gauntlets over his suede black gloves. Upon the steel, the motto of his family was engraved in gold at the wrist: Fortes Fortuna Juvat―Fortune Favors the Bold. “‘Sides, if you told the king that, you’d be lying.”

Richard turned to procure the favor you’d gifted him a fortnight ago from the knight’s bedside table. “Then what, pray, is this?” the duke laughed, twisting the lush red silk around his finger as he shook his head. “Unless there’s some other maiden you’ve been spending all your free time with.”

“Pfft,” scoffed the knight. If only he could have already put on his helmet, then he wouldn’t have to endure the embarrassment of the blush upon his cheeks. “Means nothin’.”

Richard carefully replaced the delicate fabric. “Means you’re her favorite… Means she fancies you.”

Though the idea was painfully sweet to him, he had to deny it, lest the duke get his hopes up about the nature of your feelings for him. He had to convince himself of some other truth, some other reality that was, in actuality, much further from the truth.

“Means she’s grateful for my help, s’all.”

“Mhm… Anyway, you’ll be competing against the great Sir Shane.”

Daryl’s eyes rolled nearly to the back of his head as he draped a tabard, emblazoned with his the Dixon coat of arms, over his steel plated cuirass. “Don’t remind me.”

“Why not? You should be eager to knock a dalcop like him off his horse. He could surely use it, prancing around like a puffed up peacock the way he does.”

“Yeah, I don’t care,” replied Sir Daryl, with his usual air of nonchalance. But it was a facade this time, for the first time in all his years of jousting. For once, he did care about winning, about emerging triumphantly unscathed from the perilous performance. Why? Well, he’d never jousted in front of a particular beautiful princess before.

It was a crisp spring morning, bright and cheery, as the annual tournament always brought with it a feeling of mirth, as though the world wasn’t replete with terror and the constant looming threat of death. The courtyard was always beautiful, but it became a colorful display of pageantry as a procession of nobles from court flooded into the stands. The castle’s resident merchants and servants set up booths to offer refreshments, namely mead and chilled cider, while the king’s favorite minstrels played a jaunty tune to underscore the boisterous laughter and cheerful talk amongst the gathering of a hundred or so fancily dressed noblemen and women.

Today, you looked upon the scene with rose-colored glasses, though usually you hardly even bothered to attend the tournament, instead opting just to show up for the banquet. Food was a great motivator, but watching knights on horseback bash each other’s chests in with big sticks was hardly of interest to you.

Until Sir Daryl informed you he’d be participating, that is.

Your interest in the event was now twofold: for one, you were terrified of your favorite knight being knocked from his horse, suffering the wounds of the joust that could undoubtedly lead to his demise. Your second, more base, interest was in seeing the knight triumph, the idea of his skill in battle exciting you despite your pacifist nature. Indeed, even your father was surprised at your presence, questioning you as you each sat elevated above the tiltyard in the royal balcony, watching the servants arrange the finishing touches before the joust began.

“I must say, I was not expecting you to attend,” remarked the king. “Since when are you interested in seeing the joust, my dear? I seem to recall you often referring to the sport as ‘barbaric.’”

You took a nervous sip of cider from your pewter goblet before speaking. “Well, I… I wanted to please you, father, since you always put so much effort into arranging the tournament.” You offered a sweet faux smile to bolster your fib.

He didn’t seem to catch on, his jolly laugh carrying in the gentle breeze as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder with a playful shake. “I’m happy you’re here. Oh, look! There’s your bodyguard.”

Trying not to appear too enthusiastic, you calmly craned your neck to follow the king’s extended arm, your eyes landing to the spot where he pointed. Oh, my.

Sir Daryl walked almost gracefully in the cumbersome armor, having been experienced in the practice of carrying such bulky steel upon his person. You’d never seen him so decorated, his body ornamented by a full set of the most protective armor money could buy. Its shine was nearly blinding, the reflection of the high late morning sun shimmering off the freshly polished steel. His helmet, like all jousting helmets at the time, was of the frog-mouth variety, his eyes and the surrounding skin the only part of his visage that could be seen through a narrow ocularium. Despite this, it was easy to spot the knight, his characteristically broad shouldered frame standing out even beneath all the armor, and his family’s crest painted upon his shield and tabard.

Beside him was his horse, Phantom, similarly dressed for the occasion, with barding of steel plates covering his face, neck, back, and hindquarters. Draped above these essentials was the steed’s caparison, boasting alternating checkers of red and yellow, to match his knight’s crest, of course.

Without a second thought, you rose from your seat to greet him, but quickly you remembered your father’s presence beside you. “Oh, father, may I―”

“Yes, yes, go on, but be quick. The tournament’s about to start.”

You weren’t entirely sure your father even knew what you were about to ask, but you were just fortunate that he was agreeable to whatever you were going to say. The mead was probably helping to lubricate his inhibitions.

“Thank you, father,” you said before bestowing a kiss upon his scratchy cheek. “I won’t be but a few moments.”

As you hurriedly side-stepped through the seats, you skipped down the steps and rounded the corner to meet the knight, the skirt of your particolored heraldic gown of yellow and green, your family’s colors, bunched up in your delicate hands to prevent you from tripping over yourself in your excitement.

“Sir Daryl!” you called out over the heads of a passing group of nobility.

The knight’s vision was terribly limited, but above the anonymous heads of people whose names he did not quite care enough to learn was the shining reflection of your simple pewter coronet, with two meticulously constructed braids coiled into circles on either side of your bright, freshly rouged face. He almost didn’t recognize you, him being so used to seeing your hair down or in a much less boldly colored gown, but you looked like the picture of beauty to him in any case.

On your way to him, you asked a passing merchant for a shiny red apple, which you held out to Phantom as you gracefully approached the armored destrier. He sniffed the fruit for a moment, then took it in his mouth in one fell swoop, while your other hand gently stroked his chamfron.

“Poor thing,” you cooed most woefully at the horse. “Such a gentle creature being forced to compete in this barbaric, savage sport.” You side-eyed the knight, his face completely unrecognizable, as it was locked away in a large, almost comically shaped helm. Snickering, you held back your laugh.

“What’s so funny?” asked Daryl, his voice muffled underneath the helmet. He knew, though, that he looked, for lack of a better word, stupid. He never liked armor, especially not the kind used for jousting. It made him look so pompous, he thought, and the bright reds and yellows of his tabard and shield, combined with a gaudy blue panel adorned with three large white stars, was just too flashy for his taste, but if he didn’t compete, he was sure Duke Richard would never let him hear the end of it.

“Nothing,” you replied, voice rippling with giggles. “Nothing at all.” Your gaze trailed playfully up and down his silver-covered body, right down to his sabatons. “I think you look rather… dashing, actually.”

He huffed inside his helmet. “I look like an idiot,” he said.

“No, you do not,” you replied, more seriously now. “You look like a knight, and that’s what you are.” Peering over his shoulder, you looked across the tiltyard to see Sir Shane outfitted in similar armor, though his heraldry was of his own house―Walsh. His tabard and shield, as well as his horse’s caparison, were of red and black. As you sized him up from a distance, your face blanched with worry. “Do be careful,” you said. “Sir Shane has never lost a joust in all the ten years he’s been at court. One knight lost his eye jousting him just last year.”

A strange surge of bitterness rose up in his throat like bile. Could it be… jealousy? Subconsciously, his chest seemed to puff up as he turned to look towards the other knight. “It will be easy,” he said, somewhat boldly as his rarely displayed confidence began to show. “‘Sides, I’ve never lost either, milady.”

Just then, a young flaxen-haired squire, Henry, you knew him to be called, approached the knight with a hook-shaped arret which he affixed to the knight’s cuirass, for the purpose of keeping his lance steady as he charged.

“Good day, Henry,” you said with a smile. After a brief “your highness,” and a nervous bow, the boy scurried off to gather more of the knight’s equipment, then, while Daryl’s mind began to wander as he became lost in the red of your lips, coated in that intoxicating rouged balm he knew too well. “Well, I should―”

“Wait,” interjected the knight. That particular shade of red had reminded him of something he had packed into the saddlebag beneath Phantom’s decorations. Lifting the brightly colored caparison, he dug clumsily around the small leather pouch, his large gauntlets causing him much frustration as he grunted under his breath, eliciting another small laugh from you as you watched him fumble in his clunky armor. “Goddamnit,” he huffed again, his confidence slowly waning about as quickly as it had waxed. “It’s in ‘ere somewhere…”

Finally, he triumphantly procured the red silken fabric. Your favor.

“Oh, Daryl! You still have my favor!” you said, taking the silk sleeve into your own hands to feel the familiar fabric once again.

“Course… Is―is that all right?”

“Oh, yes, yes, of course. It’s yours to keep. You must let me tie it round your arm for good luck. I’d be honored for you to be my champion.”

Your champion. He was queasy with your sweetness, and with the sudden tingling he felt… below his belt, he was reluctant to admit.

“Yes, your highness,” he replied, holding out his arm. He couldn’t let himself even breathe as you twisted the fine scarlet silk tight around his right rerebrace, the feeling so wonderfully snug and warm, even if he couldn’t physically feel the sleeve there at all.

“There,” you said proudly. “Now you’re my champion, whether you win or lose.” Your once confident voice became unstable with quivering anxiety. “But please win, my knight. I… I just could not bear to see you hurt.”

And I, you, my princess.

In the distance, the knight marshal called out to announce the beginning of the tournament. Quickly, Daryl hoisted himself onto his horse, while the lance handler passed to him his weapon, a lance that swirled with red and yellow stripes. The ten foot long pole was menacing as you watched with wide eyes while Henry affixed the strap of Daryl’s shield to his left forearm.

“Good luck, Sir Daryl,” you said to the knight, then your eyes averted to the Friesian horse below him. “And to you, as well, Sir Phantom.”

I love you, he wished to say, but he had neither the courage nor the confidence to say such a thing at a time like this, or ever.

Instead, he simply nodded your way, then watched you through the narrow opening in his helmet as you returned to your place in the balcony, beside the king, who raised his goblet towards him.

Sir Daryl returned the sentiment with a subtle but intentional upward tilt of his lance, while the knight marshal instructed the jousters to come forward.

You watched with bated breath as the match began, Daryl’s black horse cantering towards each other, each on either side of the wooden tilt that divided the tiltyard. The closer they came to colliding, the more they each lowered their lances, mirroring each other in an almost artful fashion, until Sir Shane’s lance drove into Sir Daryl’s underarm, eliciting a shocked, but entertained, awe from the crowd.

“Oh!” you gasped in fear, covering your agape mouth. “He―he… Father, that should not be allowed.”

To your shock and horror, the king only laughed at your dramatics. “My dear, it’s only the first pass, please. Look, Sir Daryl is fine. No lances broken.”

“But he could be hurt… Oh, this game is vile. Is there not some other way for knights to prove their skills?”

“Yes,” replied the king, his eyes still transfixed on the next pass, during which Daryl’s lance intersected Shane’s breastplate, but not enough to knock him from his horse. Still, the knight marshal announced that five points were granted to Sir Daryl of House Dixon, with Sir Shane holding four points thus far. “But what better way to test a cavalryman’s marshal skills than a good old fashioned joust? Look.” The king pointed towards the knights, their horses each cantering towards each other once again for another pass. “It takes precision, grace… Tis an artform… Ahhh haha!”

The king stood tall, cheering with the crowd as they all stood up with their hands outstretched in a celebratory motion. “What’s happening?!” you cried out over the crowd’s cheers, yourself now standing to try to see past the dancing hands that obstructed your vision.

“Sir Daryl won the first match!” he said triumphantly. “Look! Sir Shane’s lance is broken, marking the end of the first match.”

The rules of the joust were arbitrary, in fact. They varied from tournament to tournament, but King Ezekiel’s tournament always required three matches, each one ending when a knight’s lance broke from the impact of the other knight, or when a knight was knocked from his horse. A knight could also yield honorably to the other at any point, at which the knight who yielded would lose the match, but be commended for his chivalry.

But of course, you didn’t much care for the rules, all you cared about was Sir Daryl, his underarm visibly wounded from the way he awkwardly wielded his shield as he prepared for the next match, Phantom shaking his head as he whinnied and pawed at the straw-covered dirt. Sir Shane was given a new lance from one of the handlers, while the runners cleared the field of the broken bits of wood that had splintered off Daryl’s shield.

“He’s hurt,” you sighed. “Under his arm…”

“At ease, my dear. Watch, the next pass begins.”

Your father was captivated, his pupils ping-ponging between Sir Daryl and Sir Shane as the two began another canter towards each other, their lances about to intersect again.

Daryl only saw red during a joust, his opponent becoming nothing more than a moving target. Whatever chivalry he had, he could put it on display for the crowd of nobility, but inside him was a raging bull, much more concerned with winning than impressing. Well, except you―the princess, whose wide, terrified eyes he could feel tickling his skin, even beneath all that armor.

I’d be honored for you to be my champion, your voice echoed almost ghostly in his head. My champion repeated relentlessly, over and over and over for God knows how long, until an uproarious cheer from the crowd tore him from the delightful torture of your sweet voice and your intoxicating words.

Phantom’s hooves had kicked up a great deal of dust in the swift canter of his movements, but as the horse turned, Sir Daryl narrowed his eyes through his helm to see the opposing knight writhing on the field, his horse displaced from underneath him and his lance torn to shreds beside him.

A gaggle of valets and runners filled the tiltyard, some of them assisting Sir Shane and lifting his helm to inspect for damage, but the knight tore his arm away as he rose to his feet, replacing his helmet with a deep, frustrated grunt. It seemed that the two knights had yet another thing in common: they were both sore losers, and that was not very chivalrous.

The knight marshal announced another five points to Sir Daryl for unhorsing the knight, who climbed back on his mount despite his torn tunic and cracked cuirass. The final match began, with the two knights barrelling towards each other with more tension in the air than before.

“I cannot even bear to look,” you said, despite the fact that your eyes were glued to the scene. “Someone could get killed, never mind the injuries.”

“He’ll win,” remarked the king, though that did nothing to ease your worries. Seeing Sir Shane’s fall was enough to give you heart palpitations.

But winning was all that mattered to Sir Daryl in this moment, his mind completely occupied by you―your voice, your scent, your touch, your taste… He could only imagine the taste, of course, but it was sweet, just like everything else about you.

Your champion… I will be your champion, no one else. I am yours, my princess… My queen.

With another roar of the crowd, the knight returned to this plane of existence, where the coronel of his lance shredding through Sir Shane’s cracked steel cuirass to deliver another blow strong enough to unhorse the knight, his body crashing to the ground as a cloud of dust enveloped his frame in a cruel miasma of defeat.

Your heart stopped for a moment, not only because the poor knight had surely suffered a great pain, but because your knight was victorious.

“Huzzah!” the king cheered, standing with the rest of the crowd as they tossed brightly colored streamers and waved the miniature blue flags of Alexandria. In celebration, the marshal raised the banner of House Dixon upon the high wooden flagpole hovering over the tiltyard, triumphantly bearing the colors, arms, and slogan of the old family.

“I never doubted you for a moment, good sir,” laughed the duke, his arms crossed as he watched the knight lift his helm from his head in relief. With a smug grin, Richard bowed before Daryl.

“Pfft,” he scoffed, just before shaking out his sweat-soaked hair. Not eager to boast about his accomplishment, he turned towards the fallen knight, who was being lifted into a wicker stretcher, carried by two valets. “He gonna be all right?”

“A few broken ribs, a little internal bleeding,” sighed the duke. “He’ll live…” Richard squinted his eyes as he examined Daryl’s disheveled appearance, his face blotted by dirt and a bit of blood from his face hitting against the inside of his helm. Jousting may have been considered a gentleman's game, but it was hardly dignified in the end. “Get yourself cleaned up,” he laughed. “And put on your best clothes.”

“For what?”

Richard crossed his arms as he shook his head, amused by Daryl’s lack of attention to the day’s schedule. “The king’s banquet, fool.”

“A toast!” the king announced, holding his goblet of mead so high and with such vigor that you were sure it’d splash over your head. “To our champion knight, Sir Daryl of House Dixon!”

The great hall hadn’t been so lively in years, it seemed. Even the previous banquets paled in comparison to the mirth that echoed through the corridors of the castle. The feast was grand, indeed, with two pigs’ heads on either end of the long refectory table. In the center, of course, was the king’s prized swan, roasted and seasoned with only the best exotic spices, saved for the annual occasion.

Only the noblest of the court’s nobles were seated at your table, which was raised upon the dais and overlooking a dozen or so smaller tables, where the lesser nobles raised their goblets to join in the king’s celebration of the knight. While he typically would've sat lower, Daryl was placed ceremoniously at the high table, an honorary distinction for his victory at the joust that morning.

As you raised your glass with the others, you noticed the anxiousness in Daryl’s face as he tried to muster a smile, but you were sure he felt horribly nervous. You knew that he hated being looked at, or any attention to be solely upon him, and there were about fifty or so people looking at him, paying him quite a bit of attention.

In fact, all night, Daryl seemed distracted, and indeed he was. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. At least, when you weren’t looking.

Tonight, you wore the prettiest gown he’d ever seen―a gown of mauve colored velvet, with a lighter lilac shade of detailing gracing the wide neckline that barely clung to your exposed collarbones. Down the front, the seam was decorated with the very same detailing, adorned with glittering jewels, pearls, and delicately embroidered designs. The impressive bordering continued at the split of your sleeves, exposing the cool, pure white of your long-sleeve chemise underneath.

In your hair was a silver circlet encrusted with matching pearls, with a thin, translucent veil of white draped perfectly over your intricately braided hair. He felt unworthy just to look upon your face, the skin so plump and smooth and without a blemish in sight. To even breathe the same air as you now seemed improper―he’d rather suffocate than dishonor you with his presence, his impure stare threatening to sully you and your perfect virtue that he’d risked his life to protect.

Even now, surrounded by nobility and sitting only a matter of feet from the king, your father, he still couldn’t help but think of you in ways he knew to be wrong, some downright sinful. As much as he tried to tear his mind from you, for fear that he’d corrupt you just from the thought of touching you, he just couldn’t do it. By the time dinner ended, he’d explored every square inch of you, if only in his head.

The revels only continued after the feast, with now slightly inebriated nobles dancing in a circle about the great hall, their feet stepping in sloppy movements to the lively tune of Dance of the Forest of No Return, with the king’s favorite troubadour, Luke, leading the other minstrels with his fiddle.

When Daryl tired of sitting with the remaining nobles at the king’s table, he used the energetic chaos of the dance to snake through the crowd and take cover beside a wide stone pillar, where he could recover from seemingly endless conversations that went nowhere with people who’d never cared to speak to him before today.

With his arms folded across his chest, he leaned against the pillar to watch them all dance―one of Duke Richard’s hands was interlaced with that of Lady Michonne, whom Daryl had known his lord was laying with. It did not bother him, for he did not care about what the duke did in his spare time, but he found that their affection for one another was enviable, and he’d never felt such a way before.

Love had never interested him. He’d always poured himself into his skills―practical things. Love was much too grand, too intangible. What Daryl trusted most in this world was what he could touch, the mundane. He did not have the time nor the interest for flights of fancy like love. Of course, the only aspect of love he knew of was that of a carnal nature, because that was what he could wrap his head around.

Long before he was a knight, he’d gone adventuring to distant lands, accepting work as a guard or hired military for whatever king or constable would have him. In between breaking up drunken brawls in dark, dingy taverns or slaying nameless faces in a battlefield somewhere, he found his relief, more or less, in “unchaste” women, but only when he couldn’t reach particular itches by himself.

Even in those times, he never thought of love, nor wanted it. He was sure he’d never felt anything even remotely close to it, until you

What he felt for you was more than lust, and even then, he knew his lust was different than anything he’d felt before. It wasn’t motivated by his own need for release, but by his desire for you―to please you, to know you in every way, to show you how much he cared for you. His lust was not born out of selfishness, but out of love, and there is nothing selfish about real love.

He knew it was real, too. It consumed him, mind, body, and soul. You consumed him, to the point that he found himself searching for you in the chain dance, both to keep his eye on you, as your bodyguard, and to allow himself the pleasure of your sweet face, and the curves of your body so perfectly accentuated in that gown… He found you, dancing in the circle, your hands each joined by two other men.

The circle split then, your arms tugged by one of the men from your left, while the man on your right joined with the woman to his left. He pulled you into a rambunctious dance, his hands appropriately situated upon your hips, but much too low for Sir Daryl’s taste.

Swords were not allowed in the great hall, unless one was a guard, but the knight was allowed one rondel dagger, just in case. He stopped himself when he felt his hand instinctively reach for its hilt, strapped to his belt.

It’s just a dance, he thought to himself. But, oh, how his heart ached, just at the sight of a man touching you that way. He tried to pull his attention away from the man, instead calming himself by relishing in your laughing face. But then, why couldn’t it be him making you laugh, swinging you around and squeezing your soft, warm waist…

“You should ask her to dance.”

Daryl blinked in surprise at the duke, Lady Michonne by his side as she held back a snicker. “What?”

“Ask her to dance,” Richard reiterated, this time himself laughing at the knight’s bashfulness. “Or would you just prefer to watch?”

“Pfft,” scoffed Daryl. “I’m not watching nobody.”

Lady Michonne stepped forward with her characteristic boldness. “Her highness speaks highly of you,” she said. “Very highly… She speaks of you ad nauseam, in fact.”

Now that was surprising. “She does?”

“Mm… Here she comes now.”

Daryl’s back straightened as he puffed his chest out and held back his shoulders, resuming his more formal stance.

You’d not spoken to him since that morning, just before his joust, and it had saddened you that his face was hidden by his helm. Now, in the warm light of the great hall’s flamed sconces and magnificent chandeliers, you saw him properly. All evening, in fact, you’d been just as entranced with him as he was with you. Whenever he averted his gaze from you, after several moments of studying you, you were doing the same―taking in every inch of him like he could’ve been taken from you at any second.

In the several months you’d known him, you’d never seen him so… princely. Granted, he still hadn’t quite mastered the art of combing his hair, with a few stray strands of chocolate-colored bangs hanging sloppily over his forehead, but he was dashing, as always.

You held back a soft giggle every time he shifted uncomfortably in his tight black doublet, its shiny brass buttons stretched to their maximum in order to accommodate his broad chest. The poor man looked terribly uncomfortable in the snug hose that graced his stocky legs, but you relished in the view.

“Good evening, Sir Daryl,” you spoke with a peppy lilt to your honeyed voice. “I do hope you’re enjoying yourself.”

Only when I see you, my princess.

“Yeah... Ahem, I mean, yes, your highness.”

You formed a smile at his blunder, not that it mattered to you. You were quite fond of his informal manner of speaking.

In the several moments you were entranced by the knight, Lady Michonne and the duke had slinked off somewhere, no doubt to afford you privacy with Sir Daryl.

“Well… Why aren’t you dancing?” You’d hoped that this line of questioning would somehow reveal your desire for him to ask you to dance. If you were more bold, you’d ask him yourself, but when those sapphire eyes fell upon you in an intense gaze, you were rendered meak and powerless. The hold he had over you was nearly frightening, but the adrenaline lit a restless, scorching hot fire in the pit of your stomach, one that moved lower with each breath he took as he held your gaze. Lower, lower… Starting a fire in your loins.

“I… don’t know how,” he said. “‘Sides, I’m s’posed to be watching you. I mean, watchin’ out for you.”

You tilted your head with a teasing smirk. “I do not think there is any peril here, Sir Daryl. I can assure you that I feel perfectly unthreatened. You are relieved of your bodyguard duties tonight. In any case, it’s a celebration of your victory.”

A shiver ran through you as you recalled the scene of this morning’s joust, the knight’s strength and skill in battle on full display. You shouldn’t have found it as… intoxicating as you did, but his body in that suit of armor hadn’t left your mind since.

“You were magnificent today,” you added, quickly shaking your head as you realized what you’d said. “I mean, very… good. You were very good today.”

“Thanks,” he replied in an attempt to appear nonchalant, when really his heart was pounding against the inside of his ribcage, demanding to be set free from its stuffy confines.

With a sudden pang of discomfort, he rotated his shoulder and grimaced at the soreness of his underarm, where Sir Shane’s coronel hit him during the joust. Memory flooded to you of the moment it happened, how terrified you were that he’d been injured.

“Are you hurt?” you asked, outstretching your hand to gesture towards his shoulder.

Daryl cleared his throat as he shook his head. “Nah,” he said, though he was hurt. He just couldn’t let go of his pride to admit it to you. “Just a cramp…” His train of thought was derailed most suddenly when he fixed his glance upon you, your whole face shining like an iridescent full moon hanging delicately in the night sky, your eyes sparkling like mysterious, faraway stars that he knew so little of, but often wondered about when he found himself lost in the clouds, daydreaming about beautiful things that eluded his earthly knowledge.

That warm, hearth-kissed glow of your plump, unblemished cheeks sparked a fire of confidence in his belly, one that would surely get him into trouble if he let it reach his head, but those flames tickled at his heart, the beat of which resounded over any rationalities his inner voice tried to spew.

He didn’t know the first thing about dancing, and he was already terrified of clumsily stepping on your feet or grasping too hard at your soft hands, but he was willing to embarrass himself if it meant he could touch you in this moment.

“Would you, uh…”

You blinked sweetly as you leaned forward, trying to better hear his soft, low voice underneath the cacophony of voices combined with the energetic music that echoed through the great hall all around you. “Yes, Daryl?”

Clearing his throat, he started again, this time, his voice louder and more confident as he looked you in the eye. “Your highness, may I―”

“AHHH!”

A sharp, blood-curdling scream erupted from the shadows of the great hall, followed by a terrified noblewoman running to the crowd, cowering in her husband’s arms. The dancing ceased as a discordant strum of lute strings punctuated the abrupt end of the festivities, while confused chaos spread like a plague to each partygoer, circling around the woman to see what had frightened her so.

Whatever it was, Sir Daryl did not hesitate, pinning you behind him as he withdrew his rondel. His immediate thought was the unthinkable―walkers. Though the event was nearly impossible, given how secure the kingdom and the castle was, there were always blind spots, and Daryl could name about a dozen of them off-hand, all of which could have easily been breached. Well, that was his first thought, but it was quickly dispelled when one of the king’s guards limped shakily towards the center of the hall, his hands bloodied and held together at his stomach, where a thick stream of scarlet expelled profusely.

No longer able to keep his body intact, the guard fell forward, with a tangle of shiny, loose intestines spilling out of him before his lifeless body hit the timber of the floor.

On account of the knight’s broad shoulders obstructing your view, you could only hear the gasps and screams and cries of the terrified people, and the voice of your father rang out, begging everyone to remain calm. When you peaked over Daryl’s shoulder, you couldn’t keep yourself steady, your head dizzied from the sight of the gore. “Oh!” you cried out, grasping tight to his waist for fear you might faint. “What is happening?!”

The knight only backed up, taking you with him as he wrapped his free arm backwards to grasp your hand. “Shhh,” replied the knight. “I’m getting you out of here.”

Daryl backed up until he reached a door that he knew led to the castle pantry, which surely would be a suitable place to keep you hidden from any danger, whatever it was, but as he turned, he was met with an unfamiliar knight in unfamiliar armor, draped with a tabard of black and red―the coat of arms featuring three red fleurs-de-lis and three white crosses. He only studied it for a moment as the enemy knight lifted the sharp tip of his sword to Daryl’s neck, pushing him and you back towards the crowd.

Reluctantly, you were ushered to the edge of the mass, where the king had pushed aside several nobles to kneel down beside the fallen guard. You watched your father turn over the man’s body, shaking his head in something between rage and anguish. “Who did this?!” he bellowed, his voice echoing through the hall. He looked around the room, up and down, left and right. “Show yourself, coward!”

Only moments later, there was nothing but a disembodied voice that answered him. The voice was deep, unfamiliar… with a heavy dosage of arrogance.

“Well, shit,” the voice said. Everyone searched their surroundings, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice. “I’m terribly sorry, my liege. You see, sometimes… I just can’t help myself.”

His voice rippled with a conceited chuckle, a sound that was much too disturbing for the current situation. To hear someone laugh so callously at the poor man’s body, engulfed in a pool of deep red blood, was just horrific, so much so that you held back a sniffle as tears began to trickle down your once rouged cheek.

Slow, heavy footsteps approached, their slight rattling indicating that the man was armored, and, indeed, he was. As he appeared from the shadows like an apparition of the night, the warm light of the great hall illuminated the owner of the voice―dressed in ebony armor, with a matching black spiked morningstar mace dangling haphazardly from his gauntleted hand. Tucked in his belt was a blood-soaked dagger, dripping as he approached slowly, coming further into the light.

Behind him were several helmed knights, all wielding bloodied swords. You feared they had killed most of the on-duty guards, rendering the court defenseless against these brutes. The thought was enough to have you shaking as you squeezed Daryl’s hand, the warmth of his strong grasp providing some comfort, but not enough to soothe you, especially when the knight sauntered his way towards your father, holding his mace over his shoulder arrogantly.

Your father snarled as he sized up the unhelmed knight―a tall, thin man with hair black as a moonless night and slicked back to the nape of his neck. Upon his face was a short, graying beard, which looked almost as scratchy as his grating, deafening voice.

“You must be…” He paused for a moment, holding his finger to his chin as his eyes floated up to the ceiling. “Oh, King Ezekiel, the Kindhearted.” The knight bowed dramatically. “Silly me. I should’ve known.” With another laugh, he let his gaze wander the great hall, his head nodding while that infuriating smirk stretched over his face. “This is some place you’ve got here, your majesty.” He sauntered around, causing the court nobles to back away with a series of terrified gasps the closer he got. They did not seem to faze him, though, he only continued talking, admiring the beauty of the hall. “This place is magnificent!” he laughed, then let his eyes fall back upon the crowd, their hearts beating hard enough to nearly fill the silence.

“Oh…” The black knight’s hand rose to cover his mouth, his eyebrows furrowed in exaggerated faux sadness. “Oh, my… I―I interrupted something, didn’t I? Well, I hate to break up your… splendid soiree, but, tell me, good King Ezekiel the Kindhearted, why, praytell, was I not invited?”

The king stood straight, steadfast and unwavering. You admired him greatly, as you were sure you would’ve been much too frightened to say anything to the man, whose identity you were beginning to realize, though you did not want to admit it.

“Sir Negan of House Smith,” the king acknowledged stoically. “You’ve slaughtered my people, stolen our provisions, made a mockery of my kingdom… Why in God’s name would I invite you here, where you and your so-called Saviors are most unwelcome?”

Sir Negan narrowed his dark eyes, though he still smirked. It was not a smirk of good humor, though, but a sinister one.

“Well, I suppose I thought we had an understanding,” he began, now making his way through a cluster of people to take a vine of red grapes from atop the nearest table. He popped one in his mouth, then hummed loudly, so loud that his sound of pleasure echoed through the great hall. “Those are some good grapes! You people don’t mess around.”

“What is this ‘understanding’ that you speak of?” demanded the king. “And speak quickly.”

“Or what will you do?” replied Negan, approaching the king once again until he got so close that Ezekiel swore he felt droplets of grape juice spew from the knight’s mouth onto his face. “I’ve killed at least half of your manpower, I’ve raided your armory, and there’s about, I’d say, four times as many of us as there are of you.”

You worked up the courage to examine your surroundings, and now there were Saviors encircled all around you, blocking each and every exit. There were no guards to be seen. You were trapped, subject to the knight’s whims. He and his men could slaughter you all right here, right now. The suspense was the worst part.

“But that is of no importance now,” added Sir Negan, now pacing before the king, his mace swinging by his feet like a pendulum. “What is important, however, my good king, is our simple, clean-cut understanding, and our simple, clean-cut understanding is as follows: you give me what I ask for, and I won’t slaughter each and every last one of you sorry pricks.”

Another gasp erupted from the crowd, only serving to amuse the man. “That’s the spirit,” he laughed. “Now, because I’m a reasonable, merciful man, and a knight of chivalrous honor, I will spare you and your little kingdom tonight. This… tarriance, as it were, is only to provide you the courtesy of yet another warning, the previous of which has gone sorely unacknowledged. This shall serve as your second warning, and a third will result in more forceful measures being taken, if you catch my meaning. In fact, what I am most interested in at this moment, instead of killing all of you and pillaging your great abundance of resources, is laying eyes on my future bride. King Ezekiel the Kindhearted, won’t you show me your daughter―my princess?” He spoke the final words with a venomous laugh, as though the whole thing was a game to him, a source of amusement.

For Daryl, it was anything but. You felt his hand grip yours tighter, his body standing firm before you as his back straightened and his chest puffed up to its fullest extent. His breaths became labored and voluntary as the blood raced to his head, where images of striking the knight down before another filthy word about his maiden, his lady, his princess could spew from the bastard’s smug mouth.

For your part, you let your tears absorb into the fabric on the knight’s back, where you begged silently for the power to disappear into thin air and never have to hear the knight’s voice ever again. It stirred in you all the fear you’d tried so hard to escape, all the death of hope that plagued your darkest dreams and reminded you of the cruelty of the outside world. Now, you felt as though you had let that darkness in, and it eclipsed every beautiful thing you’d known.

“I will do no such thing,” replied the king. “You will leave at once, and never show your face here again. My daughter is not a bartering chip, and the kingdom of Alexandria will stand strong against you.”

Sir Negan’s smile slowly morphed into what could only be described as a poisonous scowl, while his hand gestured lazily to one of his men, who then disappeared into the shadows of the corridor.

“I did not want to have to do this,” he said, his voice lower now, more menacing, and not nearly as arrogantly jovial. “But you forced my hand… Bring out the girl.”

Squirming in one of the knight’s arms was Beth, her mouth gagged by a red handkerchief and her hands tied behind her back as she let out several muffled whimpers. In your overwhelming fear, you grasped tighter to Daryl’s hand, whispering involuntarily, “Beth…”

A gasp erupted from the crowd, and even your father seemed to falter, his courage visibly draining from his once stoic face as another knight pushed down on the girl’s shoulders until she was kneeling before Sir Negan, who brandished his mace with too much ease for your comfort. The horrible man let the heavy silence settle in as he took slow, languid steps towards the girl, her eyes weighed down by pendulous tears as she sobbed against the fabric in her mouth.

“Let her go at once!” demanded the king, though the frailty in his voice reminded you that there was nothing he could really do to stop Negan. His guards were all dead, and the whole court was outnumbered by knights. It became quite clear at this moment that there was one person in charge of the events that would unfold tonight―Negan.

Sir Negan turned to point his mace towards your father with an aggressive jolt of the spiked weapon. “You, my king, are in no position to be making demands. See, I am holding court now, and as my first royal decree, you will show me the princess, or I will clobber this young maiden’s head in til it pops open like one of these succulent table grapes.” The knight fed himself the last grape, then tossed the vine over his shoulder. “Choice is yours, your majesty… But then, if you tell me no, I’ll just bash some more heads in. I can do this all night.”

Silence settled in again, with only the murmuring of the constable and the chancellor as they attempted to advise the king on what to do, though he only looked terrified now. You’d never seen the color drain from his face the way it did then.

But the knight lost his patience, clicking his tongue as he shook his head. “Do not make me count.”

The king silenced his advisors before taking a deep breath. “No more blood needs to be shed this eve,” he said. “I’ll give you anything you want―food, weapons, livestock… But not my daughter.”

“Five!”

No! you screamed in your mind until you swore your eardrums grew sore.

“Four!”

You tugged on Daryl’s hand as you whispered, “I have to―”

“No,” he replied.

“Three!”

“Please!” begged the king. “Don’t do this, there must be something―”

“Two!”

Sir Negan raised his mace high above his head, both hands gripping at the handle as he prepared to slam it back down. Beth’s sobs now echoed through the hall, despite the gag. Though it was hard to tell exactly what she screamed, you swore you heard the words, “No, please, no!”

You couldn’t let it happen. Besides, if he only wanted to lay eyes on you, there couldn’t be much harm, could there?

“Stop!”

Negan’s mace paused in mid-air, just before he was about to deliver the blow. He looked towards your voice, then, as you pushed with all your might to escape from behind Daryl’s body, his arm outstretched as a last resort to keep you from going any closer to the man.

Now, you swallowed back a lump in your throat, trying to remain dignified despite your fear, which manifested in a small, but noticeable, quiver to your voice. “I am (Y/N),” you said, with your precarious confidence fueling you enough to speak again, this time more nobly after you took in a deep breath. “Crown Princess of Alexandria, heiress to the throne… And by my royal decree, I command you to release her at once, or I will have your head.” An empty threat, but it proved you were serious.

Your father spoke your name in a tone somewhere between appalled and petrified. Before he could speak again, Negan silenced him.

“Ho-ly shit,” the vile man laughed. Such foul language was never permitted in the great hall. He was a scoundrel, of that you were sure. “Isn’t this something?”

With his mace dangling by his legs, he sauntered towards you, the whiteness of his teeth carving a dent in the lower lip of his wicked smirk. With each languid step he took, you tensed and shivered, while Sir Daryl breathed deep, guttural breaths, almost akin to a growl the closer the man got to you.

What could he have done at this moment? He could not hide you any longer, now that Negan had seen you. He could not strike the man, for there were far too many Saviors outweighed against him and the handful of other knights and noble warriors among the party. No, all he could do was pierce the man’s soul with a thousand yard stare to rival them all.

“You… are… fiery.” Each word was punctuated by another slinking step towards you, until Negan got too close for Daryl’s comfort. He fought with himself as he side-stepped in front of you, his mind telling him to stay put, his heart begging him to keep him away from you, his own body a sacrifice for your dignity, your honor. He could not let the man’s presence taint you.

Negan leaned back with a look of amusement, a sharp chuckle under his breath as he shook his head. Daryl only stared back through adroitly critical eyes.

“You’re more of a door than a window, my good sir,” laughed the black knight. “Pray, just who do you think you are?”

Without a moment to think through his words, he spoke quietly, just above a whisper, a simple phrase: “I’m the one who’s gonna kill you.”

“Sir Daryl,” you spoke shakily. If Daryl got himself killed right now for your honor, you’d never forgive yourself, or him. “Stand down.” He turned his gaze to you, your face pleading with him as little tears shone like crystals in the reflection of the light. Each tear was another laceration to his heart. “Please,” you whispered, your voice falling softly on his ears like a dewdrop on a trembling flower’s petal. He did not notice your hand grasping at his forearm, squeezing gently, as if to assure him that you were all right, though it did little to placate his rage at the man.

Wordlessly, he stepped away, all the while keeping his gaze upon Sir Negan. The growl that escaped below his breath was drowned out by the arrogant man’s triumphant chuckle. Indeed, Daryl had won once today, but what he felt now was an incredible, profound loss, or just the beginning of one. Somehow, the physical pain of this was a thousand times worse than a measly lance to the chest.

“Good,” he said, his eyes lingering over parts of you that would’ve been off limits to anyone but your hypothetical husband, all while his tongue wetted his bottom lip unabashedly. Bile rose in your throat, but you swallowed it back, standing up straight and stoic despite your desire to recoil in abject repulsion.

“You truly are… the most ravishing woman in the world.” The sudden earnestness in his deep, contemplative voice terrified you more than the sight of his mace, its spikes grazing against the fabric of your dress as he dangled it absentmindedly by his legs.

He slowly leaned closer to you, his hot, oppressive breath stinging the side of your face as he whispered through tight, sneering lips: “I cannot wait to ruin you, princess.”

You shuddered as his gauntleted hand rose up to caress your face, the cold steel burning like dry ice. Not far from you, Daryl grasped the hilt of his rondel, his daggered eyes roaming Negan’s armor to find any chinks for him to stab through, but he knew that, if he let his impulsiveness overtake him at this moment, it would only make matters worse. He had to keep what little composure he had, while he watched the scoundrel’s filthy hand assault your maidenly beauty.

“Keep your purity ready for me,” he whispered again, this time his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “I’ll be back for it.”

When he pulled away from you, you released a staggered breath of relief as your knees struggled to hold your weight. Soon, Sir Daryl’s hands gently held your upper arms. You lifted your weary head to face him with glassy eyes, while his begged you wordlessly for the answer to an unspoken question.

“I’m all right,” you whispered, though you did not have to say anything. His hand rose slowly to lift your quivering chin. It was wholly different from Negan’s touch, which was lecherous and cold. Sir Daryl touched you with concern, warmth, comfort… Love?

You hadn’t enough time to contemplate the meaning when Negan’s voice echoed through the great hall once more.

“Well, I don’t know about all of you,” he said, “but I had a great time!” He flippantly waved his hand to the knight holding Beth, who untied her restraints and removed her gag before she scurried towards your father. He took the weeping young girl into his arms, as she was always like a daughter to him. The poor thing was shivering in the king’s arms, but you thanked God she was safe.

“Leave now,” your father said. “And never come back.”

Sir Negan only laughed again. “Oh, I’m afraid I can’t do that. In fact, I’ve already cleared my itinerary to return in one week’s time. At that time, you will―and I mean will―hand over my bride―my prize―and whatever else I ask for… If you refuse, well, I’ll just have to take my prize by force, and then pillage your whole kingdom because, frankly, I’ve grown tired of not being taken seriously by you people. Actually, I might just take her by force, rob you, and burn your kingdom to the ground without even bothering to ask you first. Depends on my disposition that day, if I am feeling like giving you another chance. In any case, that woman is mine.”

He gestured his spiked mace towards you, once again tearing off your gown with his dark, perverted eyes. “Parting is such sweet sorrow,” he lamented with a smile. “Oh, well, I suppose we should take our leave, men. So long, lords and ladies, your majesty, your highness… Til next we meet.”

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deepperplexity · 6 months

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Prompt: 18. Blankets And Snuggles [C6]

Pairing: Turpin x Fem!Wife!Reader

POV: Second, Reader & Third, Turpin

Setting: Turpin’s house

Continuation of: Prompt 4. Sharing, 6. Out Of Care, 13. Shimmering Icicles, 15. Cards And Coals & 17. Bells Of Christmas

A/N: I'm sorry I'm late - IRL stuff has to come first and it's been crazy over here. Lots of things going on and even more things I have to do that absolutely need my undivided attention unfortunately. so, fandom has to take a little step back at times even if this is a daily event. I write too much for my own good, honestly. but... it is what it is and I do love it, I'm just very stressed out right now and I have finished writing today's fic as well so I'll be posting that one right after this one.

Yeah, so, diving right in again and we’re going to have some more rough smut - literally continuing where we left off last time - as the prompts lined up so damn splendidly and to get the chance to give that all-important aftercare Richard hasn’t grasped fully yet but is feeling a need for without being able to understand it himself 😂 But, yes, a little rough smut first, then we get all the cuddles and snuggles and fluff along with confessions and all that goodness! Iiiih, I’m so excited! 😍👏

Tags/TW’s: SMUT, Derogatory Language, Fluff, Aftercare, Snuggles, Rough Intimacy, Improvised Restraint, Feeling Shame, Vaginal Penetration, Bathing Together, Guilt, H/C, Confessions, Touching In Sleep (For Care)

Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name

Word Count: 2.9k+

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

⩤• You •⩥

He loved you. He truly did. His words rang sweet and true in your ears and you were desperate to reach up and hug him, but with your arms still held in place by your destroyed dress you had to resort to clawing at the sheets below instead. “Now,” he began in a deep murmur, “we shall see what my little wife can take,” he continued and your stomach flared with warmth while your heart stuttered in your chest. You were excited, a bit scared, but ready to follow his lead.

Richard straightened up while grabbing your thighs, tugging you closer still. You whimpered as his hands held on firmly and his cock was as far in as it could possibly go. You were so full, so stuffed with him your inside struggled to adjust for a second.

“You wished to be my little whore, did you not?” he purred while he jerked his hips forward harshly. You were immobilised by the dress and his grip. “Y-yes,” you confessed even if shame burned your throat with the word. “Such a sweet word,” he hummed as he began thrusting harder. You moaned, your head thrown back, exposing your throat to him while he rocked both you and the bed with his harsh thrusts.

Your dress snagged beneath you, turning tighter and locking your arms against your sides while his hands sank lower. He gripped at the very top and his thumb found your aching clit, stroking it right on the edge of too harshly. “ Fuck ,” he hissed. “What a sweet — mmh — sweet little whore I have.” “Richard,” you whined as he picked up the pace and your insides corded with the pleasurable pain of his brutal treatment. “Little slut,” he groaned. “Sweet—” thrust “—little—” thrust “—slut—” thrust “—of mine,” he said as you tried to meet his movements. You couldn’t, you were his for the taking.

You cried out as the orgasm hit you, one of his hands clamped around your throat as you whimpered and shook. Pleasure flooded your entire body and mind while he leaned over you, some of his weight pushing down on your throat while he fucked you to the brink of breaking. Your body wasn’t experienced enough yet to take any more.

“S-stop,” you whimpered. “Oh no, little whore,” he said through clenched teeth as he squeezed your throat, and another thrill shot through you. “Whores do not decide,” he continued with a deep groan before his pace turned erratic. “R-Richard,” you whispered between gasped breaths while your head began to spin. You got enough oxygen so you couldn’t understand why you felt so dizzy. “So good,” he groaned. “So — haa — fucking good,” he groaned just before he stilled. His cock pulsed within you and you shuddered at the warm burst filling you while he moaned the most delicious of satisfied sounds while releasing you and supporting his weight with his hands on each side of your head.

His panted breaths fanned over your face, his eyes closed while he drew ragged breaths and you couldn’t help but feel some pride, knowing it was your body he took such pleasure from. But you were coming down from your high, the pleasure ebbing away — leaving the pain behind.

Richard slipped out as he bent to kiss the tip of your nose and you whimpered on a hiss. You were so sore, in pain after his rough treatment of your inexperienced body. Yet, still, you couldn’t help but feel good beneath the shame of what you had just wanted and agreed to. Will he send me away now again? You hated the thought and your fingers flexed as you wished to grab him and never let go.

“You did so well,” he murmured by your ear and warmth crept along your bare chest and throat. “My sweet wife, so full of surprises.” “I… I want to hold you,” you said and his gaze caught yours. “Anything you need, love.”

He freed you of the dress while you tried not to move too much, every motion hurt in a dull sort of aching way. “Sore?” he asked, a flicker of trepidation in his eyes. You shook your head, not wanting to put a damper on the moment. “Do not lie to me,” he demanded while grabbing your chin. “Are you hurt?” “Yes… It hurts,” you confessed while trying not to drown in the storms of his eyes. “A bath, a warm bath.” He moved off the bed and your hands instinctively reached for him as you didn’t want him to abandon you alone in the bedroom.

He did not. He scooped you up with ease and nuzzled the side of your head for a second before carrying you off to the bathroom where he deposited you on the one chair in the room before he began filling the tub. You watched with your eyes roaming all over his naked body while he bent over the edge, mixed oils with the steaming water and then rummage through the closet in the corner for some thick towels.

“Ready?” he asked and you nodded before standing. “Gently now,” he ushered and you took his hand before stepping into the perfectly hot water and sank down with a hiss and groan of pain-mixed pleasure as the water engulfed your body. “Forward,” Richard said and you obeyed. He stepped in and sank down behind you before tugging you against his font where you deflated. “And for you information, this is wife treatment,” he murmured before kissing the top of your head where it rested against his sturdy chest. It made a smile stretch your lips.

⩤• Turpin •⩥

He held you close yet was gentle in his grasp. Your head lulled to the side and after another moment your breaths turned slower. You were fast asleep against him and he was alone with his thoughts for all intents and purposes.

His finger drew circles on your hip while his body soaked up the warmth of yours, the closeness you offered. He could not stop his errant thoughts, the guilt and anguish of what he had done to you in the bedroom before he ever knew you consented. Sure, you had wished to be a whore and not his wife, but he was not foolish enough not to know those were words spoken in anger and hurt — not an actual request. Yet, his own anger had made him be so violent with you, so volatile and harsh.

Some part of him had held back though, thank the lord above, yet he had still treated you roughly. Your body was far from experienced and now, as you both lay in the water, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had truly harmed you. The thought made his throat constrict and his hands hardened atop your hips before he forced himself to soften again.

When you had cried and asked him to stop he had both wished to do so instantly and to keep going, harder and rougher, to truly drive home the point you were not his whore but his wife and should not wish for it to be the opposite. He chuckled at that, thinking of how your body had reacted, how soaked and ready your perfect cunt had been to take him even if he had forced himself to enter you in a less than gentle way. Yet you enjoyed it, love… Quivering and whimpering, pulsing around my cock like a true slut. My sweet wife, ever the surpriser.

He had enjoyed what had happened, far too much perhaps, yet through it all (until you told him to do it) he had struggled with the hurt he was causing you — your tears, your cries, your pleading and whimpering. He never wished to lay harm upon you, only pleasure, yet he had forced himself to treat you how you had first unknowingly wished for and then how you asked of him to do. Some twisted, broken, dark part of him had enjoyed it to some extent. He was a depraved man, with urges and wants and likes on the rougher side. Yet, that part of him had barely been heard while he had done what he did until you consented. Everything was different with you.

Richard adjusted himself behind you and your head tipped further to the side, giving him an uninterrupted view of your beautiful body. His cock jerked and half hardened at the sight you were. The redness around your thighs from his former grip, the slight swelling of your cunt he’d taken harshly, the peaking of your nipples under the warm water just barely below the surface. Such perfection, and all mine …

He hardened further as he watched your chest rise and sink with every breath and the echo of your whiny moans filled his head, the view of you throwing your head back in pleasure while tears streamed down your pretty face had him grow solid in a matter of seconds. “What you do to me… My sweet little slut of a wife… Perfection in my arms, for my cock,” he whispered by your ear while his fingers softly kneaded your hips before travelling up along your sides only to gently cup your breasts.

He held still for a moment, and then his thumbs brushed up and down over your nipples as they fully hardened into points while you remained asleep. His plan was not to wake you or take you again, simply to pleasure your body sweetly through your well-deserved sleep. He knew that light arousal after such intensity could ease soreness and slight aches — that was his only intent as he listened to your breathing grow a tad louder while he gently kept circling your nipples.

When the water began to grow cold he held you closer and said it was time to wake up. You hummed and stirred before he felt you wake up fully. “Oh,” you whispered, “I fell asleep…” “Indeed, much-deserved sleep too.” He kissed the top of your head. “But it is time to move.”

You were both dried off a minute later and he wrapped you in a thick robe before motioning for you to sit on the chair again. After a moment of hesitation and an arched brow from him you did as he asked. Richard took a smaller towel and began to gently dry out your hair, squeezing it gently and massaging your scalp with the lush fabric. He listened to you hum in delight and a small smile stretched his lips.

He had the strangest urge to care for you, pamper you, lavish you with warmth and adoration. He had never before felt such a need. Usually, it was a harsh banging and a toss of coins before he sent the whore on her way with little to no care for her feelings or aches. The coins … He felt a debilitating sense of relief he had not fully committed to the whole whore affair with you, he had grabbed the coins, planning to toss them on the bed after he’d fucked you to only his pleasure — to show what the letters had meant about lavishing upon whores — and then for him to just leave you there on the bed after it all to truly drive home the point.

He paid his whores well, more generous in his coin spending than most but he had his reasons for it. Silence being one, the depths of his depravity and lust for violent ownership another. Whores were far more willing when they knew the price was worth their fear and pain — as he now knew, some even enjoyed such treatment. My sweet wife perhaps one in dance with sinful lust as well, can I hope for it to grow?

“Richard?” “Hm? Yes, love?” He had become lost in his thoughts for a moment. “Thank you, for being so sweet to me now,” you said and he looked at you in the mirror before the both of you. “I-, well I hated how you sent me away before, as if you didn’t care for me at all after saying such sweet things about me… As if… As if it were lies…” He watched your reflection in awe, the rosy colour spreading wildly, your lowered, bashful eyes and insecure smile. Your innocence was far too sweet but he wished to lap it up like honey.

“I sent you away to offer space, a chance for you to find your thoughts,” he said while he scrunched the strands in the towel one final time. Leaving it just a bit moist. “Don’t do that again… Please,” you asked and he watched your shoulders tense. “As you wish, love.” “I mean it, I thought you rejected me.” “Never.” “And… And how do you feel about me now?” you asked with trepidation in your shallow voice. It had him confused, why would you ask such a question when he was so gently caring for you? Something he would never do for another. Had never done for another.

“What do you mean?” “You-, you said you loved me and I—” you gulped down a breath “—feel so shameful for what we-, what you-, what I… For what happened. It’s not proper, it’s sinful, it’s dirty, it’s—” “Perfection and wonderfully brave,” he finished by interrupting you.

He stepped around you, grabbing your hand and tugging you to your feet. “Y/n, love, you are only perfection in my eyes. If you wish me to be rough with you, take from you, lavish you with gentleness, or treat you like the little slut you are when whining beneath me, I’ll do so. No matter your wish, I will gladly oblige,” he said while forcing you to look him in the eye by grabbing your chin with his free hand.

“Seeing you like that, all for me to take however I please… There is nothing but beauty in that for me.” “But it’s so wrong,” you whispered. “Nothing is wrong between two consenting adults, love. I will worship you, go into the depths of depravity to please you, and it pleases me greatly to find you willing to be taken like that.” “It’s not wrong of me?” “Darling, no,” he affirmed before kissing you swiftly on the lips. “There is nothing wrong with you and there will be no shaming between us, ever.” “You promise?” “I promise.”

You were in his arms the next second, sniffling into his shoulder while he held you tightly. “Tell me what you need to feel safe,” he said. “I— Just you,” you answered. “I want to be close to you.” “I want to care for you, as I have never cared for another, sweet wife.” He parted your bodies and took your trembling hand in his larger one. “Let me care for you,” he continued before tugging you to move with him.

He told you to lay on the bed, atop the cover as the sheet was a mess, while he rummaged through the closet for blankets and pillows. He carried them all over and got another round of them from the closet. He fluffed the pillows before laying down, dragging you into his side while wrapping his arm behind and around you and pulling the blankets up over your bodies still dressed in the robes. He held you close, kissing the top of your head, nuzzling into your head before kissing your temple as well with a delighted hum. Never had he felt so at peace, so warm, so perfectly at ease.

⩤• You •⩥

Not long ago had you said to Miss Lowel that the man you were now cuddled up to couldn’t possibly feel a thing for you, that you weren’t even sure he had the capability of feeling positive things. How wrong you had been, how harshly you had misjudged him, and how you loved that. Had you been right, you would have forever been forced to live as a wife to the man you loved without ever receiving a scrap of affection in return. What a terrible existence it would have been. It’s not my forever, it’ll never be that way now.

Richard tugged the blanket closer to your chin, holding you tightly against his warm body. It felt perfect. Never had you felt so safe, so warm, so certain life was to become warm again, warmer than ever before. Blankets and snuggles, it was perhaps to become one of your favourite things — after… well, after… A small giggle left your lips as a fresh blush coloured your skin. It would take a while for you to be comfortable even thinking about the adventures among sheets you and your husband could have.

“Comfortable?” he asked, the deep drone of his voice like a caress for your senses. “Far more than comfortable, husband of mine,” you admitted and he stiffened for a second. “Something wrong?” “That is the first time you have termed me in such a manner.” “No, I’ve said you are my husband several times, Richard.” “Indeed, but never husband of mine ,” he mumbled and, as you glanced up from where your head rested on his upper chest and shoulder, you saw the smallest hint of a rosy tint to his pale cheeks. Your heart positively fluttered at the sight. “Husband of mine,” you whispered before reaching up your hand to cup his cheeks. He leaned into your touch and you felt yourself melt fully for him. He cared, he loved you, he wished for none but you, for you to call him yours and yours he was — as you were his…

…To Be Continued…

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: Uffh, gosh, it felt good to write this after the last fic - like, don't get me wrong, loved last prompt's fic so much but getting to the emotions and the aftercare and the fluff after what happened with these two last just feels so good 🙈👏❤ Also, a reminder, this is fiction - this story (especially the smut parts) is not how it should be in reality. Consent always needs to be there - like Richard says, two consenting adults! You obviously already know that, but I do always feel it should be said just for clarity 🥰

Also, I am beyond exhausted. Like, I'm sorry I'm late but... This month is draining me 😂 It's not so much Rickmas (even if that obviously adds a lot to the pressure and stress) it's more everything else. Gosh, wish I could turn off the world and be in my fanfiction bubble for all of December, would have been frikkin nice 😅

Q: If you had to force-feed a Rickman character 100(!) gingerbread cookies in one sitting - who do you think would be able to handle it the longest? 😂😂😂 A: I honestly have no real idea, I feel like Nottingham would do his damnedest to go through it if you dared and taunted him enough about it though 👀

TAGLIST: @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet @flowerdementia @marvelschriss @once-upon-an-imagine @ravennight41 @caseydoodles98 @slytherinprincess03 @theconsultingdetectiveswife @grimmyhild @monster-energies @myobscureimaginarium @snowblossomreads @eternal-silvertongued-prince @cherryglossie @setsuna-meiou31 @helena211 @a-queen-and-her-throne @justsaturn0 @turvi @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @sunnylikesfrogs @mamawolfsmith16 @dianilaws @sassanoe @snapesrn @bernadette-peters12 @sammy-13 @smartowl999 @castleofthorns @serenanight87 @leah1243 @elizabeth-baelish @all-art-is-quite-useless @severuslovebot @yellowbadgermole @impulse-anchor @writewithmarites @yan-senna @writewithmarites @lokisbjchnl @ladykardasi @mamawolfsmith87 @snowblossomreads @ladykardasi @a-queen-and-her-throne @eternal-silvertongued-prince @lyrixsnape @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @daddythanatos

Want to be tagged? 💚 You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you! 😍

[Dec:2023]

#rickmas2023 #rickmas #judge turpin fic #judge turpin #judge turpin x reader #judge turpin x you #alan rickman #rickmaniac #christmas fanfiction

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themultifandomgal · 4 months

Text

From 2010- Modest Management Suck

2012

Part 20

“We’re about to go out and do some signing” Harry says to the camera

“We’re at Natick Mall in Boston. It’s gonna be really fun, we’ve heard there’s loads and loads of people and we’re very very excited” Niall says as I laugh at Louis pretending to walk down stairs behind us

“Let’s go!” Liam and Harry shout at the same time. We stand behind a door waiting for it to open

“Anyone else feeling nervous?” I ask feeling a slight tingling in my toes and fingers. I can also feel my heart racing

“It’s excitement, you’ll be fine” I hear Richard say. Nodding my head I watch the doors open and I put a smile on my face. I walk behind Harry and in front of Niall just trying to focus on my breathing as we walk through the Mall where so many people are screaming. We all sit down shocked that this many people have come out to see us. The security then let the fans in small groups come over to us. We sigh the books that we had released late last year.

Throughout the whole time I try to keep smiling and my heart racing at bay, but I can always count on my boys for noticing when somethings off. So when we have a little break for something to eat I sit down on the sofa breathing in deeply

“What’s up?” Louis asks frowning as he sits next to me

“I don’t know, my chest hurts” I almost sob “I- I can’t stop shaking, but I’m not cold I’m really warm”

“Paul I don’t think YN should go back out there” Liam says

“No, but Simon…”

“Fuck Simon and what he says” Niall says sitting on my other side

“She’s going out there even if I have to drag her out there” Richard crosses his arms

“Look at her, she can barley breathe” Paul defends

“I think this is makin’ her worse” Harry kneels down and takes a shaking hand in his and gives it a squeeze of reassurance

“She’s going out there and that’s final” with that Richard leaves the room

“Hey jus’ look at me and breath with me” I try to match Harry’s breathing to calm myself down.

Another day another performance. This time is for the Today Show. We arrive on a bus which stops at the Rockefeller Plaza. We all jump off and run to the stage as music is already playing

“New York City make some noise!” Harry yells into his microphone. Immediately WMYB starts playing

“You're insecure, don't know what for. You're turnin' heads when you walk through the door. Don't need makeup to cover up. Bein' the way that you are is enough” Liam starts singing. Harry then turns to look at me and gives me a little encouraging smile since I’ve been feeling so worried and stressed recently

“Everyone else in the room can see it. Everyone else but you”

We all sing the chorus, then it’s Zayn’s turn then mine

“I don't know why you're being shy and turn away when I look into your eyes”…

“One Directions first album has hit number 1 in 6 countries and they could make it 7 this week when Up All Night is released here in the United States. One Direction is Zayn Malik, Niall Horan, Harry Styles, Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson and YN YLN. Good morning guys”

“Morning” we all say in unison

“What do you like best about American girls?” the interviewer asks and I roll my eyes at the question. I then spot Richard off to the side shaking his head at me

“They’re very very loud” Liam says which causes everyone to scream

“YN what’s it like for you? Your living every girls dream right now being close to these boys all of the time”

“Your right I am living my dream, but it’s being on stage and singing. I’m just lucky I get to do that with these guys I can call family” I reply

“What’s the best and worst part of this sudden fame?”

“I think for me and I know these guys will probably agree, but I’ve made 5 best friends” Zayn says “the only down side would be that we don’t get to see our friends and family as much” or that our every move is controlled, is what I would love to have added on. We continue on the interview and sing a few more songs.

I stand next to Louis and Harry while our choreographer puts us in our places for rehearsals for the Kids Choice Awards

“I want YN and Zayn to switch” Richard says hands on his hips “we can’t afford more cheating rumours so during this song you have to stay away from each other”

“And what happens when the press say YN and Liam are dating or YN and Niall?” Zayn asks

“We will deal with that if it happens. Harry I’m looking into getting you and Taylor Swift together. Boots both of your careers”

“Are you serious?” Zayn raises his eyebrow “this is ridiculous” he huffs

“Simons wishes, keep rehearsing” Richard then leaves us to carry on rehearsals. I take in a deep breath just as I feel an arm around my shoulder. I look up to see Zayn

“I know, me to” neither Zayn or I have ever liked Richard, but we’ve always tried to keep the peace but it’s getting harder and harder.

#harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x oc #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #6th one direction member #sixth one direction member #one direction x reader #one direction

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tracih87 · 1 year

Text

My Rammstein Encounter (in Bern)

After a long travel to Bern (travelling from the Highlands of Scotland is never easy) I arrived at my hotel entrance feeling extremely hot from the weather but feeling really excited about the Rammstein concert the next day, my husband asked me as we entered, “did you see the young boys standing outside the hotel?” my reply was “what young boys?” in my haste to check in and get rid of our luggage I didn’t notice them, so he went on to tell me there was two young boys waiting outside clutching onto Rammstein records, perhaps the band is staying here! I thought to myself, surely not?!

After checking in and doing all the boring unpacking we decided to head over to the stadium, I’m the kind of person who likes to know where the feuerzone line is and know the route back to the hotel when its dark. Once outside, we spoke to the two young boys and they told us the band were indeed staying in the hotel! I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and seeing the young boys clutching their records with Pauls autograph did make my heart swell, it was a cute sight, they were so happy!

After doing the long walk to the stadium and being really brave and taking the tram back it was time to chill out, get some dinner then sleep ready for the concert!

We left really early in the morning and got our place in the feuerzone line at roughly 8am, there was already nearly 50 people there, the wait was long but, my god it was worth it! 4pm came we scanned our tickets and ran for the rail which we got at Richards side of the stage! It was so hot all day and it felt even hotter once inside the stadium, it took a couple of hours before the staff realised that we would need water but since it had not been pre planned they could only provide small amounts but it goes without saying that show was absolutely amazing and any tiredness/dehydration completely melted away when the music started! I could not even try and begin to explain what I felt during the show but I am quite sure it’s the same as any other Rammstein fan!

We got the tram back to the hotel from the stadium, we couldn’t enter the hotel straight away as Paul and Schneider were getting out of their car and going in, they went straight into a doorway, I am quite sure it was the staff lift which is not for guest use, after a short wait outside we got into the foyer and went straight to the bar to quench a crazy thirst! Sitting comfortably and rehydrating ourselves, we seen Anar Reiband (Tills manager) coming out of one of the lifts then we seen Jens Koch and some other crew retiring for the evening. Suddenly in came Flake with a security guard, I couldn’t believe my eyes! I got off my chair and went over to them both, I was greeted by two smiles, my heart was hammering in my chest, I could not believe I was standing in front of Flake I politely asked if we could have a photo, I looked from Flake to the security guard, Flake said “yes but please no internet”, I promised both Flake and the guard that I would not post it on the internet, the photo was taken and Flake looked lovely and smiley in it! I then proceeded to tell him how amazing I thought he was etc etc!! I kept my promise and did not post it on the internet, it was then time for bed as we had night two in feuerzone! Safe to say I went to bed grinning, I just met Flake and had an amazing time in feuerzone!

Next morning, we decided to take it a little bit more slowly, I have a dodgy heart and blood clotting issues so made sense to take it easy and not go for the rail again. We walked in for breakfast and sat at a table, across from us was Paul and Oliver with two ladies (unsure who they were) then another larger table with crew. There was something very surreal having breakfast with Paul and Oliver on the table close by which is really silly as they are human have to eat too! So I composed myself and set about having my breakfast and chatting to my husband about the show last night and what time we should go to tonight’s show. During breakfast, Flake also came in for his, he sat at the larger table with crew and I noticed Paul had gone over to sit there too (I did notice how at ease Paul is, he is like a social butterfly going round chatting and laughing with everyone, including the hotel staff 😊), we finished our breakfast and left the breakfast room, after sorting out some things in the room, I headed down to go outside for smoke (or vape my case!) I got outside to see Paul and Jens standing straight in front of me, just like with Flake my heart started hammering in my chest, I took a big deep breath and took two steps forward… “Paul” I managed to stammer out, he looks at me and smiles and I manage to ask him for a photo, he grins and says “of course” before I can say anything back to Paul, he asks, “where are you from?” I replied “Scotland” I also joked about my funny accent and Paul replied “oooohh I love your accent” and laughed, by this pointed I am shaking so badly but grinning like the cat who got the cream!! I had my phone in my hand and I’m not sure if Jens could see me shaking but he took my phone off me to take the photo, so not only did I get to meet Paul, Jen Koch took the photo!! My brain has gone to mush, there is so much I would of liked to say to Paul but I only managed to thank him so much before it was time for him to go into his car, I also spoke to Jens for a small while but I won’t go into detail about that as it was more a personal conversation about shyness, he is a very sweet man! Jens left, I walked a few steps away leaning on a wall trying to process what just happened, my husband came out the door and could see my beaming face, I had tears in my eyes, I was just so overwhelmed with happiness! (nothing was said about posting the photos on the internet but I decided not to post the photo online, even though the cat was out of the bag so speak and word had gotten out where the guys were staying, it just didn’t feel right to do so).

Back inside the hotel, still grinning, myself and my husband ordered some Coco-cola (full sugar which is unheard for me but hell I needed the sugar!) After a while we thought we better head to the stadium, he had forgotten his sunglasses so left to go to the room, I sat there for a few moments reliving my moment with Paul and Jens when Oliver appeared, he had come from the lift behind me, I stood up and said “Hello Oliver”, he looked at me and I proceeded to ramble to him how amazing he is (oops, trust me to ramble) then asked if it was okay to take a photo, he nodded yes and we took our photo, I thanked him for his time, a small nod again and he walked out the reception/bar area door! Sitting back down my inner fan girl was screaming and doing cartwheels! Never in a million years did I think I would meet a member of my beloved Rammstein and now I had met 3 of them!

My husband arrived back and after composing myself once again we decided to head to the stadium for our second night in the feuerzone! Again it was another spectacular night, it was slightly different to the first night as some of the fans around us started to argue and fall out but I was quick to zone them out and absorb myself into the show! Then back to the hotel bar for our usual refreshments before bed, we seen Flake and Anar in the bar area, then Jens arrived which I gave a small wave to him, he smiled back which was nice 😊

Next morning, we headed for breakfast in the hotel, we had the whole day in Bern to ourselves to thought it was best to fuel up ready to explore our beautiful surroundings! We walk in and see Oliver sat at a table with the same two ladies as before and the table next to them had crew and the nice Rammstein security guard that we quite often seen during our time in the hotel, there was also other Rammstein fans having their breakfast, this time it didn’t seem so surreal and we set about selecting our breakfast items. Jens came in and ate during our time and while he was leaving I looked up and our eyes locked, we both smiled and said “good morning” to each other, my husband laughed at me playfully as the huge grin was back on my face! We got up to settle our breakfast tab, as my husband was doing so, I turned round to look out the window when I seen Flake, Paul AND Schneider sitting at the window table, Schneider looked over at me and smiled, it was such a warm smile that reached his eyes and of course I grinned back and gave a small wave, Paul was sitting across from Schneider so had his back turned to me but he turned around and also smiled, by this point our breakfast tab was sorted and I skipped out the breakfast room!

A small time later, I was downstairs waiting for my husband returning from our room so we could start our exploring, Schneider and came into the bar area/reception shortly followed by Flake, I thought to myself, this is once in a lifetime opportunity so I approached him again heart hammering in my chest, he smiled so warmly as I asked for a photo to which he replied “yes of course, Flake come over for photo” Flake laughed and told Schneider he had a photo with me but he still came over and gave a beautiful smile along with Schneider. So the selfie with Schneider and Flake was taken, I felt elated and so overcome with more happiness, Schneider carried on smiling as I once again rambled how much I loved him and thought he was so amazing! Then he left with Flake into the lift. By this point it obvious the guys were leaving so we decided to hang around and watch them leave, Paul, Oliver, Flake, Schneider left, I seen Richard leave also but he wasn’t stopping for autographs or photos, we decided to go outside for a smoke as there were other fans outside too, Joe Letz was heading out the door at the same time, my husband was in front of him and I was right behind him, I felt so small compared to him, he is a very tall man!

Once outside there was about 15 Rammstein fans waiting along with a few police officers plus a couple of security guards. The fans were all clutching records and pens waiting for Till, so I thought I would join them in the hopes maybe I could get Tills autograph, we waiting for 10 or so minutes and we seen Anar coming out and going into the waiting car, then perhaps another 5 or so minutes Till came out but he didn’t stop for any autographs, he kept his head down and walked to the car but all the fans were super respectful and kept their distance, no rushing towards him just a few calling his name.

After that we enjoyed the rest of our time in Bern, I posted my photos online but I did keep one back special just for me, of course with social media you have to take the good and bad comments but I shall focus on the good comments and not let the bad drag me down.

I can honestly say it was a trip of a lifetime and I have been gifted memoires that will last me a lifetime

Thank you to my wonderful husband

Thank you Rammstein

Thank you universe

#rammstein #till lindemann #richard kruspe #oliver riedel #paul landers #christoph schneider #flake lorenz

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dolleholic · 1 year

Note

Headcanons for being Anais' (The Amazing World of Gumball) best friend? (Child reader)

꒰ 🥛 ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ ANAIS / CHILD READER

( TYSM Anon!! I’m very happy to be giving you some headcanons for this!! I bet it’s really fun )

;; Y/N is a human in this, and is the same age as Anais! ;;

Introductions!~ ;;

— You guys met at school, as you were the new kid

— yes, you were the second probably 6 or 7 year old to make it into middle school. Like Anais.

— And, out of coincidence, you both had the same science class with Mr Smalls.

— You gave her some side glances and she gave you some side glances.

— you guys didn’t even talk or wave to each-other. It was just glances..

— You and Anais were paired up in a science class due to ‘how similar you both are’.

— Yet, you guys didn’t get along.. like.. at all

— sure, you both were very smart, but you both had different chemical properties and reactions. Yet, you both did it right.

— that caused a big argument, really. “how did this happen?! We both did it right!” “No you didn’t! You probably added more salt!”

— You guys sort of got physical too.. but you both are very weak.

— The next day, you told the teacher on why you both had different types of reactions— turns out, you both were wrong

— You both were using regular kitchen salt. You guys had to use Pink/Himalayan Salt

“ohhhh”

— You both turned to each-other, embarrassed and worried

“I’m sorry we got into a fight.. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” “I’m sorry too, can we be friends?..” “.. yeah.”

— It hung off from there, and Anais was very excited. She’s never had a friend before!

— Anais was practically stuck to your hip, going everywhere you went and asked if you were okay with it.

— of course you were okay with it! You didn’t have many friends either, so it was relatively a match made in heaven (platonically)

Head-canons!~ ;;

— Anais helps you a lot with work or homework you struggle with! She’s the best teacher

— you help her with bullies and other issues she might have, so you’re the best protector!

— You guys probably get in a ton of fights, but you always make up afterwards

— If course you guys play with dolls, but it’s always interrupted with Her brothers barging in and adding on with their part of the story

“princess daisy! I-I’m so sorry!” “No, it is quite alright. You had no ide-“ “JOHN CENA-“

— You tell her mom about it :)

— One time you guys were on a play date and Anais lost her plush, so you guys ran around the park to find it. Pretty cool adventure!

— you guys probably like to stay out of trouble, and when you guys do get in trouble.. you tell her brothers.

— Her brothers probably interrogated you to see if you had any evil plans with their sister.. D’aww!

“why are you here and why are you with our sister?!” “To.. have a playdate?” “LIAR-“

— I like to think when it’s just Anais and you, you guys write bad words into a book Anais keeps. But it’s words like ‘Piss’ and ‘Booty hole’

— Like- you guys are on her bed on your stomachs as you guys giggle and wiggle your feet as you write in a big glittery pen ‘PISS’

— I think you like to play dress up.. it’s a cute thought tbh and it’s most likely Nicole and richards clothing

— Nicole treats you like her own btw

— it’s up to you to decide if that’s good or not

— Same with richard

— Overall, Anais is a very smart and fun little girl! Treat her right, or you’ll face the pain of her brothers!

#tawog anais #tawog #darwin watterson #gumball watterson #anais watterson #x child reader #x reader #x nb reader #nb reader #x y/n #x nb y/n #Anais is so cute #She’s so girlboss!!!

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feelingsareforweak · 9 months

Text

I have seen a lot of Irondad and spider son aus which are great cures my depression, reduces my acne all that jazz but listen,

Peter parker! Tony stark science clone, like maybe somebody (cough sheldra/ oscorp cough) gets wind of Howard stark having a special place to store his brand new super soldier serum ("you will always be my greatest creation tony") and like somehow they like get tony's blood/semen to make a perfect soldier, test tube babies made and experimented on (bonus if results in horrifying diseases, body defects, cross animal genes showing up etc etc) and then a stark dna is brought and baby is made and it kind of results in okay baby? Like a human looking baby, no genetic deforms or serious genetic defects AND has a very active brain activity for something not even 6 months old but u know the baby is kind of weak and under weight and has tons of allergies maybe diagnosed with long term asthma and other normal defects found in normal babies but not in the experimenter so scientists are getting so excited that they are so close to getting perfection that next one is on but somehow they get bursted? Idk what happens but in the end two of the main scientists end up with that baby who like in the end up decide to raise the baby to see what may actually happen to this baby and also like to kind of avoid suspensions so two birds in one stone or more like two problems in one baby raising

The baby is named Surprise Surprise you got it right Peter and to avoid suspensions Mary marries Richard and like move in near his brothers house where they often take peter to baby sit along with his wife may cuz they are often busy with work and all that jazz so peter never really knows his parents or his condition at all

In the end after their death all he knows they were never there for him and ben and may were always his parents anyway

Fast forward to peter getting a spider bite and ben dying and becoming spiderman but tragedy tragedy may dying within a few months so during cps evaluation he finds tones of file about himself and getting an identity crisis cus he is a genetically modified a goddamn tony stark clone who going by the files should not be in any way alive but he is. Peter is both horrified fascinated and disgusted with himself and having a quater-life crises at this and kind of like spirals?

(I mean not really but mild horrified fascination that he is a clone!! of Tony Fucking Stark!!!! And he has genetic mutations!!! Enhanced abilities!!! Cuz ill be real if he is a bit on the animal side he may not really get human morals and shit, I want him a bit more on animal side here like he is sunshine daisies but not really understanding of concept of human moral compass cuz his brain was experimented on early and his iq is size of fucking mount everest and he is bored in high school)

Fast forward six months of foster care with ned and post civil war era where Tony doesn't recruit him cuz spiderman started late and is not really on his radar where SI is giving out free scholarships partnering with MIT, Harvard and other big college names that i have not researched enough to name rn and peter applying to it.

Cue ppl being horrified of this pint sized kid blowing all the tests and exams out of the wind and being like this is so freaking easy wtf is this what college teaches nowadays I don't even want to go to college if this is what it is. Scientists are screaming, professors are crying And some of the ug students are throwing up cuz like that was one of the toughest tests I have ever studied for and written in but this chilli sized horrible puns shirt kid comes and does this what even is his life now!???

Now this small packet is blowing college courses like one blows the wind and obviously this gets Tony's attention and somehow he gets roped in mentoring this kid but he is fucking hot mess who has 101 health problems and don't even ask bout his mental or emotional health okay but somehow he agrees okay

Now Peter is in foster care and doesn't want ppl to know he is spiderman (here spiderman is kind of criminal, he steals, he threatens and blackmails ppl but he also saves ppl in broad daylight, helps tourists find directions, helps grandmas cross rides, climbs trees just to save kittens stuck up there like a weird mix of vigilant, assassin and hero who is never known to kill but always subdues cuz he learned that human lives are precious that needs to be preserved after taking away his only source of maral compass and care and love after discovering his science experiment of existence ) so he graduates high school at 14 and gets bachlers from MIT, Harvard, Cambridge in STEM subjects with the young minds programme at the age the age of 15 and is on fast track of getting atleast 5 phDs by the time is of age to vote.

Tony is fascinated and worried for this kid who has managed to become his personal intern but his heart melts everytime he sees hero-worship in the kid's eyes for him, The hot mess™ Tony goddam Stark cuz it doesn't matter if he is a Tony Stark clone, he has always looked up to him from the time he remembers and Iron Man had saved him in Stark Expo okay don't judge him he is still 79.45% human and technically Tony Steak shout be his father anyway

Somewhere along bi weekly lab days and constant checking on this kid who is a star wars fanatic, makes absurd snack monstrosity to eat, is a total lego nerd and being a weird teenage mess this orphan of a kid makes his way along his non existent heart and discovers his genius of an intern is a stupid teenage dressed in onsie that fights crime on daily basis while making bad jokes and help everyday ppl but spiderman maybe loved by Queens but spiderman is kind of criminal so Ironman publically takes Spiderman under his wing.

After all this shit imagine Tony discovering his wayward son's origin story and imagine Tony being emotional mess but Peter is like its okay I'm alive I'm fine but tony is like no its not. It's a rollercoaster mess of emotions, discovering what it means to be a human, forming relationships, real life communication and identity crisis where in the end its kind of ambitious with morgan being born and all that Irondad and Spiderman fluff and jazz

#I mean there are many heir peter fics but there are not ammy him actually taking over SI I know #I mean I want SI inner workings #SI employees kind of terrified of this baby #Tony giving ridiculous nicknames to Peter in SI files where nobody knows hoe to actually adress this kid #where spiderman is ridiculously overpowered #where peter parker is a fucking genius and it shows #where tony being a proud dad #where Irondad is real #where infinity war never happened and thanos is never real #aand in the end SI taking over the world #that is my jam #go SI take over the world ill will fully support you #iron man #spider man #irondad and spiderson #mcu #marvel #genius Peter parker #genius Tony Stark #heir peter parker #super serum carrier tony Stark #science experiment peter parker #clone Peter parker #a bit of superior universe #morally kind of grey peter parker #morally kind of grey tony steak #world domination #SI takes over the world

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twistedtummies2 · 5 months

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Year of the Bat - Number 29

Welcome to Year of the Bat! In honor of Kevin Conroy, Arleen Sorkin, and Richard Moll, I’m counting down my Top 31 Favorite Episodes of “Batman: The Animated Series” throughout this January. EPISODE QUOTE: “The final stunt IS the best.” Number 29 is…The Ultimate Thrill.

This is widely regarded as the most…um… “suggestive” episode in “Batman: The Animated Series.” While the show was not above a few innuendos and implications here and there, they were usually pretty subtle. This episode, rather infamously, basically turns any undertones into overtones: subtlety is not part of the game. You can decide if that specific element is a good or a bad thing, but it certainly makes it memorable. Regardless, that’s NOT the real reason I love this story. “The Ultimate Thrill” focuses on the exploits of a character named Roxy Rocket: an original villainess created for the DCAU. She actually got her start in some spin-off comics for the franchise; the creators enjoyed the concept of the character so much, they finally gave her an animated outing with this story. The basic plot is pretty simple: Roxy teams-up with the Penguin, stealing jewelry for him while he acts as the fence, paying her for her work and then pawning off the baubles to the highest bidder. Penguin gets fed up with Roxy’s overzealous thrillseeking, however, and – out of fear she may cause trouble for his business at the Iceberg Lounge – tries to have her assassinated. Batman must now try to capture Roxy, before Penguin’s minions get to her first. It's the two villains who make this story so memorable. In Penguin’s case, this is the only really major story he had in the New Batman Adventures era of the show. He popped up frequently throughout season four, but it was usually as a cameo or just a minor supporting role. In this story, he’s the main villain (not the main ANTAGONIST, but the main VILLAIN; there’s a difference), and I really like the way he’s used here. By this point in the series, Oswald Cobblepot had seemingly reformed and was running a prestigious nightclub called the Iceberg Lounge…but was secretly still a villain, doing his dirty deeds out the back window. It was great to see that character concept in full action here.

Roxy, however, is the one who truly makes this story. Her origins are only described, not shown, but setup for the character is really great: once upon a time, Roxy was a movie stuntperson, and an aspiring actress. However, her stunts became increasingly dangerous, to the point where no one wanted to hire her for fear of either herself or others being hurt in the process. Roxy thus turned to a life of crime, figuring that nothing could be more thrilling than the life of an outlaw. We’ve had other villains who enjoyed the thrill of the chase, so to speak – Catwoman is a good example, for instance – but none quite so…intensely as Roxy Rocket. To say that Roxy is an adrenaline junkie is putting it far too mildly. It’s made pretty darn obvious that she basically “gets off” on thrills; that’s where so much of the more suggestive side of the story comes from.

Even ignoring that specific angle, though, it’s just interesting to see HOW MUCH of a thrillseeker Roxy is. She will do literally ANYTHING, it often seems, just to get some excitement. From very simple things, like mock-gambling, to outright taking pleasure out of the thought of her own possible demise, it seems like she’ll try just about whatever, short of murder, simply for the sake of a little excitement. On that note, yeah, Roxy’s also not really depicted as outright EVIL, but simply a thrillseeking lunatic: in both this episode and her comic appearances from the DCAU, she’s consistently depicted as being much less violent and cruel compared to a lot of other baddies. There are even hints of a sort of self-deluding naivete to Roxy: she describes herself out loud as “the heroine of the story,” and seems legitimately shocked when other characters turn against her. When Penguin tries to kill her, she’s absolutely flabbergasted. When Batman snaps the cuffs on her at one point, she’s genuinely confused why. I love the different layers of this character, and I really wish we could have seen more of her…but you can certainly say that her single appearance (barring a Superman crossover) was a banger. Did I mean it “that way” when I said “banger”? Maybe, maybe not. With Roxy Rocket, neither would be surprising. Ha Ha.

Tomorrow we move on to Number 28! Hint: “Sometimes there are no happy endings.”

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bookaddict24-7 · 7 months

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REVIEWS OF THE WEEK!

Books I’ve read so far in 2023!

Friend me on Goodreads here to follow my more up to date reading journey for the year!

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204. The Parasite by Richard Paul Evans--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I can't believe we get more MICHAEL VEY stories! I was in love with this series when I did my re-read and I didn't know we were going to get a sequel series with them being in College until I saw this one pop up at work last year. Although it's a wholly new adventure, the suspense and fun is just the same.

Although it reads more like YA like the other books in the series, the characters are definitely older (wouldn't be surprised in they're at least 20). I liked this side of it because it felt more proportional with the violence they experience.

I also mainly loved reading this book because while it was fun, we got to have the opportunity to see how the characters were doing beyond the initial series, which is something so rare. AND it is a great story, too, it's not some sad attempt at writing yet another MICHAEL VEY story.

The team goes back to the site of one of the places that started it all because one of their old teammates has gone missing there, and two other have been abducted. It was nonstop action and intrigued.

If you haven't read this series, I highly recommend it. I think it's good for any ages because it's just pure fun. (My review rambles because I don't want to spoil anything LOL).

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205. The Traitor by Richard Paul Evans--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

The way I always devour these books. Since I waited to read the last book in this series, I was able to read this one immediately after.

I loved the twists and turns, and the constant adventure. I also almost cried during this one because it feels like the impossible has happened near the end of this book. I'm not going to say much because of spoilers, but I'm left with questions and I'm eagerly waiting for the next book, since this one left off on a cliffhanger!

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206. Come With Me by Ronald Malfi--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I've been meaning to read a Ronald Malfi novel because I came across a couple of his short story collections that looked really good to me. I wanted to see if I vibed with his writing and while it took me a little bit to get into it, I think I'm going to enjoy his stuff.

COME WITH ME dealt with not only a chilling mystery to be solved after the tragic killing of the MC's wife, but also the shadows of grief that haunt us when we're stuck in that immediate loop of not being able to cope with the new reality that loss paints for us. We see the personification of this grief in Malfi's novel as the MC struggles to find the answers his late wife had secretly been hunting for while she was alive.

This is definitely one of those horror books that masquerade as a ghost story, but is actually a tale of human-created horror and the haunting of grief. The actions of several people, including police officers, is another one of the chilling topics brought into focus in COME WITH ME.

It took me a while to get into the book because the first few parts are about the MC's reality shifting and in retrospect, I think that it was a very necessary introduction. We are being brought into the MC's very real horror story and then we start exploring the true crime aspect of this book.

I think what made this book all the more compelling was how consistent Malfi was throughout the story when it comes to grief and the horrible things humans do to one another. Even the ending was a jarring reminder of this.

COME WITH ME leaves you with questions like "Why?" and "What now?" and I have zero regrets about finally reading this book. I've read a lot of iterations of grief and how it can be explored in fiction. I think Malfi does a great job and I'm excited to read more of his work!

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207. Hello Stranger by Katherine Center--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I'm a huge fan of Katherine Center. I've enjoyed pretty much every book she's ever written and that hasn't changed at all after reading this new one!

HELLO STRANGER was such a cute and unique story following a woman who loses her ability to recognize faces after a life-saving brain surgery. She's an artist and while she's struggling with her new (and potentially temporary) reality, she grows closer to the resident playboy (or is he?)

I loved seeing their banter, her hilarious take on certain situations, and how obvious the conflict was--but in the funniest way possible. This was truly such a sunlight of a book during the scariest of months.

Center's writing is always such a joy and HELLO STRANGER is perfect proof of that. It's not smutty, so know that, but it does focus on a classic and fun will they/won't they romance between two enemies (maybe?). If you like stories that feature a guy who falls first, but let's the FMC do her enemies bit, then you're going to really enjoy this.

Also, much like Center's other books, the MC also has a complex storyline. Her complicated relationship with her family, the grief that has helped shape her as an artist, and her need to be the best friend possible make her a fun narrator for HELLO STRANGER.

Add this one to your TBR if you want a fun romantic comedy with a little puppy, an evil stepsister, and a sexy man who just wants to be helpful.

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208. The Fate of Ten by Pittacus Lore--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Well, that ending was...I'm very glad I'm reading these years after they've all been released. I don't know if I'd be able to handle having to wait a year for the the final book after that ending.

Much like the rest of this series, this was a fantastic book. Will always be a fan of how the characters have grown so much and the complex relationships between all of them. They all work off each other so, so well.

I liked the twists and there were definitely moments where I thought the storyline was getting really cool. Not going to lie, series like this one make me feel like a kid again. The fun of them, the emotional weight of them, and the "will they actually succeed?" urgency of these stories hook me every time.

I can't say too much because they're super easy to spoil, but if you've been on the fence about reading this series, I highly recommend that you give yourself a few days off to just sit and read these (or listen to them). They're that good and addicting. Even though I'm giving myself breaks in between each book, I am always thinking about them!

Seriously can't wait to get my hands on the next one!

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209. The Ferryman by Justin Cronin--⭐️⭐️⭐️

It has been a LONG time since I've read anything by Justin Cronin. I remember that summer, years ago, when I fell into THE PASSAGE--the bible-thin pages taunting me--and completely falling in love. I didn't know what to expect from THE FERRYMAN, but the concept seemed interesting and I wanted to read something new from Cronin that didn't have to do with his spooky tome of a series.

Long story short, I thought THE FERRYMAN was...okay?

I THINK I understand what Cronin was trying to do with this one. I even see this as a bittersweet love letter to grief. Grief over a future lost; grief over what could have been and is actually a completely different existence. The whole experience was like a manic dream highlighted by the grief that the characters carry in their hearts. This aspect was powerful and honestly so heartbreaking.

One of the things that I recalled from THE PASSAGE were the parental undertones when one of the children lacked a parent to help guide them in their scary new world. This is another part of THE FERRYMAN that I think Cronin did well.

What I think was a flaw in THE FERRYMAN was the structure of the story and the at-times wordiness of the story, even though this book was much shorter than THE PASSAGE. We kept jumping from one storyline to another, and another, and another. Just when I thought I was getting a grip of where the story had jumped to, we were thrust into another new reality. The structure was akin to an onion full of layers--metaphorical layers that made me cry with frustration because understanding was such a slippery concept. Thankfully, the ending really and truly helped me understand what the hell was going on, but the journey was admittedly exhausting.

I'm happy I read this because it was different and challenged me, but the exhausting nature of it also makes me happy I made it to the end. (I don't foresee a re-read in my future.) Overall, I enjoyed the messages in this, but the execution could have been done better (unless disorienting the reader was the goal, then bravo!)

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210. Time to Shine by Rachel Reid--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I received a copy from the publisher. This did not affect my rating in any way!

I LOVED THIS BOOK.

Listen, I haven't stayed up until 5:30AM listening to a book in FOREVER. Rachel Reid hits us again with another incredible M/M hockey romance! I simply adored this--in the "kicking my feet with joy" way.

The himb0 MC is the cutest person I have read in a book in a long time. One of my favourite lines he says is "Sometimes he had thought ideas were great and they turned out to be terrible, like the time he stirred peanut butter into his coffee." (Quote is from the ARC.) My sweet summer child. This quote pretty much paints a perfect idea of how he his. He's the sweetest and most...sexual guy ever and I fell immediately in love.

The second and quieter MC is this tall and shy badass goalie who is the biggest cinnamon roll. I wanted to hug him (after asking first) and take on some of the grief and guilt he carries with him for a good chunk of the book. His anxiety and adverseness to his talkative counterpart was hilarious and watching him slowly open up was the absolute best.

One of the best things about this book, which I have already told a couple of people, is the communication between the two characters. Consent is always important and it is definitely highlighted in this book.

TIME TO SHINE is an apt title, not just because we see these characters grow to be the brightest people they can be (in their worlds), but because this book is a like a ray of sunshine full of important topics, but most importantly, such a pure and sweet love.

I giggled, fell in love, and sweated my way through the smut.

I'm in love and I hope there's more coming in this world (or at least from Reid!)

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211. The Wild Robot by Peter Brown--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I listened to the audiobook and this was an incredibly great choice. The production level was incredible and I can see younger readers falling in love immediately. I almost wish the sound effects had played throughout the whole book.

The mini storylines of how Roz the robot made friends and survived on the island were so sweet that I couldn't help but smile throughout the whole book. I especially loved the storyline where she was the mom to an orphaned little goose. It made my heart feel so warm and fuzzy--it was just so, so cute.

Now I understand why so many little ones come into the bookstore looking for this series! It has a lot of great messages of forgiveness and the complexities of the topic, friendships, different kinds of parents, never judging someone before getting to know them, and how family isn't always blood-related but can be made up of those around us who love us. It's an incredible wholesome book.

I think this would be a great book for an even younger demographic than 9-12. I think I'd recommend this for as young as eight or nine--especially when one considers what some kids are reading now. This is a wholesome read with very, very minimal violence and a whole lot of love.

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Have you read any of these books? Let me know your thoughts!

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Happy reading!

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reapers-lover · 1 year

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Keith Richards x Fem!reader

~Fluff~

The last bell for the school day rang and you quickly grabbed your bag and walked home. It had been a very long and stressful week so you were excited that it was the weekend and you could finally relax.

When you got home you walked into your kitchen to find your parents sitting and talking.

"Look dear, her grades are decreasing. I bet it's that boy she keeps hanging around." Your father said.

"I know darling but what are we supposed to sa-

Before she could finish you cut her off saying "hi mom hi dad I'm home."

"Oh darling great please come sit down we need to talk." Your father said as he pulled out a chair for you. You quickly sat down and looked at your parents.

"Y/n, we don't want you spending time with Keith anymore." Your father said sternly.

Your heart sunk. Keith was your best friend. He was the only person who truly understood you, you couldn't just let him go.

Your father continued, "your grades are dropping from A's to B's, and we think that Keith is why you aren't doing well in school. So we decided that it's best you lose connections with him."

It felt as though the world had stopped. All you could hear was your heart beating too loudly in your chest. Like a ticking time bomb just counting down the beats before you explode.

"Ok.." you mumbled quietly. You didn't want to say much more because you knew that your voice would crack and you would start to cry. So you quietly got up from your seat and left to go to your room.

You didn't want to think or feel anything. You just needed to see Keith. You needed to be hugged and held and told everything was going to be ok. So you packed a small bag with enough clothes and essentials for the weekend and walked back down into the main room where your parents were seated.

"Cassi invited me to stay at her house for the weekend. May I please go?" You asked politely.

"Yes dear have fun and stay safe." Your mom said not even looking up from the book she was reading.

You thanked her then quickly walked out of the door and headed to Keith's house. You finally got to the door of his house and knocked. When it open Keith was there with a bright smile thst dropped once he realized something wasn't right.

"Y/n, are you ok?" He asked you. You were able to hold it together the whole walk to his house but just hearing his voice made you crack and you quickly started crying.

"Oh Y/n come here" He said holding his arms open for a hug. You accepted it and buried your face into his chest. His hug was warm and tight which made you cry even harder.

He pulled away slightly and looked at you. "Let's get out of the doorway and go to my room, ok?" He asked you sweetly.You nodded and followed him inside.

"Keith! Who was at the door?" Doris, Keith's mom called out.

"Y/n! We are going to go to my room she needs someone to talk to!" He shouted back.

"Ok dear, I'll let you both know when dinners ready!" She shouted once more before going back to whatever she was doing.

You finally got to Keith's room and he quickly closed the door then turned back around to face you.

"Come here." He said once more pulling you into a hug. And you broke down in his arms completely. You stayed like that for a while. You cried into his chest while he whispered sweet words into your ears. Once you calmed down a bit he led you over to his bed where you both sat down.

"Whats bothering you, Y/n?" He asked while taking your hands in his.

"It's just been a really long week and when I finally got home ready to just relax my dad said he didn't like how my grades dropped. He blamed it on you and said I wasn't allowed to see you anymore. So I lied and said I was staying the weekend somewhere else." You cried out leaning forwards to cry onto Keith.

He embraced you and started rocking you side to side. "Shhh, it's ok love. I promise we will figure this out." He whispered into you ear.

He bent down and kissed you lightly on the forehead. This was new, he had never gotten that affectionate with you. It made you feel butterflies. You've liked Keith for awhile now but you mostly just ignored it. But you couldn't stop your face from turning a bright shade of red.

"Looky here, someone's blushing" He teased making you sit back up and laugh. You wiped you eyes drying them off then opened them to see keith was red too.

"Says you!" You teased back, "you look like a tomato by how red you are!"

"Oh you're gonna get it" He challenged playfully. Before you could even realize what was going on He had gotten on top of you and was tickling you. You tried to push him off but you couldn't stop laughing long enough to muster up the strength.

After a minute or so he stopped and dropped beside you. Both of you were still laughing like maniacs. However you laughing fit was cut short by Keith's mom calling you both for dinner.

You and his family ate and made polite conversation throughout the meal. And afterwords you all said goodnight and went your own ways.

Soon enough you back on Keith's bed talking with him about whatever came to mind. After awhile you quickly got into the topic of music and you watched him talk on and on about it. He was so passionate about it and you loved watching his eyes light up every time he got to talk about it.

You made a quick decision and grabbed his chin and turned his face to yours. Then you leaned in and kissed him. He stayed frozen for a second, clearly not expecting it but then came back to his senses and started kiss you back.

You both pulled apart and looked at each other. "Keith, I really like you." You admitted. You looked down, not being able to hold eye contact. He placed his hand under your chin and made you look back into his eyes.

"Well that's good because I really like you too." He whispered before leaning in and kissing you once more. You smiled and accepted the kiss. Haply to know he felt the same way.

And that night against your parents wishes you fell asleep in the arms of the man you loved.

#keith #keith richards #Keith richards imagines #fluff #fanfiction #the rolling stones #keef #keef richards

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bookshelfmonkey · 5 months

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October reading wrap-up

A Memory Called Empire- Arkady Martine- 2/10/23- 10/10 A really exciting and original sci-fi novel. I never wanted to put it down.

Last Night At the Telegraph Club- Malinda Lo- 2/10/23- 8/10 Very emotional and well-written.

American Sonnets For My Past & Future Assassin- Terrance Hayes- 4/10/23- 8/10 Reminded me why I love contemporary poetry.

The Seige of Macindaw- John Flanagan- 6/10/23- 10/10 Exciting and fast-paced. John Flanagan really knows how to write battle scenes. Also pretty good disability rep.

Antigone- Jean Anhouilh- 6/10/23- 8/10 Most retellings wish they could be this: true to the original but relevant to contemporary context as well as being genuinely interesting to read.

The School For Scandal- Richard Brinsley Sheridan- 6/10/23- 4/10 Oscar Wilde if he wasn't funny.

How to Break a Dragon's Heart- Cressida Cowell- 7/10/23- 10/10 Things got darker in this book and honestly Cressida Cowell manages it so well. Oh, the eternal optimism of youth.

The Witch King- H.E. Edgmon- 9/10/23- 10/10 A solid chunk of this book was just the MC being absolutely dedicated to fucking shit up and I was so here for it. Then things got a little more messy and emotionally complicated and I was also so there for that.

How to Steal a Dragon's Sword- Cressida Cowell- 10/10/23- 10/10 This book breaks my heart in the best way possible.

The Odyssey- Homer (trans. Emily Wilson)- 13/10/23- 8/10 I didn't expect to enjoy this as much as I did.

The Echo Wife- Sarah Gailey- 15/10/23- 8/10 Lots of plot twists, some emotional fuckery, generally pretty thrilling. I just wish it had explored the mental side of it a bit more.

Frankenstein- Mary Shelley- 15/10/23- 8/10 It was over for me the moment I started empathising with the creature.

The Kings of Clonmel- John Flanagan- 19/10/23- 10/10 I'm shocked that John Flanagan hadn't run out of ideas by this point, but evidently he hadn't because this book was just as fun and exciting as the ones before it. Also we got some Halt backstory which is always fun.

A Raisin In the Sun- Lorraine Hansberry- 26/10/23- 7/10

The Two Towers- J.R.R. Tolkein- 29/10/23- 8/10 The pace actually picked up in this one and I started to see why people like this series so much.

Inferno- Dante Alighieri- 29/10/23- 7/10 This is just self insert fanfiction that Dante managed to convince us was a classic. He's so real for that.

Paradise Lost- John Milton- 29/10/23- 5/10

#my posts #books #bookblr #reading #book #my posts books #book reviews #book review #reading wrap up #knowing me knowing queue

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eco-lite · 9 months

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Okay, I had A LOT to say about this volume, specifically the last two cases. So here we go!

“The Sought-After Topaz”

* Lol Seigi being so bitter that Hagino clocked his single status immediately.

* Finally, we get the full recipe for royal milk tea! 😭🙏🏼

* “Richard took a sip of the tea without saying a word and started eating the pudding like a well-behaved preschooler who had been waiting patiently for his afternoon snack” (42). I’m obsessed with this description.

* I haven’t had much to say about this story but it became clear to me by the end that Teiichi and Hagino are yet more mirrors for Richard and Seigi. Specifically in how Hagino understands Teiichi’s idiosyncrasies so well and knows just how to deal with them. Even if they do get into arguments, they ultimately want each other’s happiness, and can learn to compromise to achieve it. Maybe foreshadowing for some argument between Seigi and Richard? Both Seigi and Richard clearly see something in Hagino and Teiichi’s marriage that they want for themselves.

* I don’t think Richard’s “thank you” was a “thank you for not prying.” I think it was a “thank you for taking care of me,” however hard it is for Richard to say that.

“Unsettling Turquoise”

* I don’t doubt that Seigi’s pudding skills are good, but I don’t think his pudding is anything amazing. I think Richard likes it so much because Seigi made it for him.

* It’s always been clear that Richard is holding a lot of himself back. Excited to find out more about that.

* Richard was a theater kid?! Yeah that makes sense, actually.

* “The Gangster Odd Couple” gdhdjsk

* Woww, dark!Richard activated!

“The Jade Inheritance”

* I love that Seigi just carries around sweets to appease Richard when he’s in a bad mood. 😂

* “‘I see you’ve given up on finding happiness with your own kind, so you settled on a foreigner this time’” (118). This Singh Ganapati Bertuccio asshole definitely thought Seigi was Richard’s foreign boyfriend. He clearly knows something about Richard’s romantic history. I already hate him, but I’m living for this Richard lore.

* “I was angry because he wouldn’t let me worry about him” (121). Good job realizing that.

* “‘Thank you for being considerate. You always were a very sweet person. Almost like a man getting cold feet and pulling back just before going in for a kiss’” (125). OKAY, Richard. Aren’t you always telling Seigi to hold back from asking blunt and intrusive questions? I guess that doesn’t apply to himself, especially since he told Seigi to ask him anything he wants. It’s clear that Richard wants Seigi to know him, to receive this intimate information. He equates the emotional/intellectual intimacy of being known with the physical intimacy of a kiss. It’s understandable that Richard is frustrated that Seigi chickened out asking about his past. But for real, you can’t get mad at somebody for taking your own advice!

* YES SEIGI! Stand up for yourself!!

* The fucking unabashed flirting on page 136… I have no words.

* How the fuck can Seigi still be this oblivious to how people view his relationship with Richard? Heteronormativity is still clutching him so hard.

* Bag boy Seigi: “Richard, hold my bag.” 😂

* Love that Richard has a specific face for when he’s trying to put Seigi at ease.

* So much flirting…

* Just like every other side character, Hiromi immediately thinks Seigi and Richard are dating. Because it’s so fucking obvious from the way Seigi talks about Richard that he’s attracted to him! But I would seriously pay so much money to read about Richard coming to visit Hiromi with Seigi for a nice home cooked meal.

* I feel like since Seigi is the narrator, it’s easy to let it slide and focus on learning more about Richard. But Seigi’s really not saying much about himself either. For example, how did his relationship with his mom deteriorate so much that he calls her by her first name?

* SEIGI. What you feel for Richard is nothing like how you should feel for an older brother!

* “Richard was somewhere in this city, too. And that was enough for now. That was enough for me” (166). 🥲

“Angelic Aquamarine”

* “‘Is the answer to your romantic troubles written on my face or something?’” (176). I meannnn yeah.

* TANIMOTO AROACE QUEEN

* The word “bitch” coming out of Tanimoto’s mouth feels so wrong.

* Okay but the absolute gut punch Seigi must have felt when Tanimoto said she hates when friends confess to her because she has to distance herself after. 🙁

* Hhhhh the motivation to get married so you don’t have to deal with romantic confessions… Bruh.

* Really though, it’s so refreshing to see a friendship written between a man and woman where they have conversations like this. Even though Seigi is romantically attracted to her, he’s never once pushed that, and really cares about her feelings and happiness, regardless of whether she’s happy because of him. It’s really rare to find relationships like that in media. I’m glad Tanimoto feels comfortable enough with Seigi to be having these kind of conversations.

* “I love her. I know that for sure. That’s why I want to do whatever I can to help her do what she thinks is best for herself” (194). I think this is the most mature we’ve ever seen Seigi. I’m really proud of him. And I’m really happy for Tanimoto that she has a person in her life who cares so much for her.

* Pages 192 to 205… I simultaneously have no words and could write a whole essay on this scene. Holy shit, these guys are frustrating. I’ll just say that this is the first time I’ve been this frustrated with Richard. I know he’s just kicking himself about his own past, but his previous situation and Seigi’s situation are completely different. Seigi absolutely should not force his feelings on Tanimoto. He’s not being a coward for letting her go. He’s respecting her feelings and being a great friend. And I know how hard it is to listen to the person you love talk about their love for someone else. But you fucking know that Seigi has feelings for you, Richard! It was absolutely not fair to accuse him of using you as some substitute to project his feelings on. People can be romantically attracted to more than one person at the same time. Seigi just doesn’t understand his feelings for you quite yet, but he’ll get there. Please be patient with this deeply closeted man. (This just turned into me yelling at Richard lol)

* Okay, I’m not a fan of the interaction between Seigi and Tanimoto in the museum. I don’t think Seigi should have let her enter a marriage of convenience, but telling her to not give up on romantic love was not a cool move. As an ace person myself, it feels very patronizing to hear “maybe you’ll change your mind in the future,” and shit like that. Maybe Tanimoto will experience romantic attraction in the future; sexuality is fluid, after all. But right now, she understands herself well enough to know that she does not feel romantic attraction. PERIOD. You do not argue with somebody about their sexual/romantic orientation. Richard was really projecting onto Seigi big time—Seigi never should have gone to the museum. What a fucking mess!

“Fluorite By Your Side”

* “If you never let people know that you care, you might as well not have cared at all” (235).

* How refreshing to have a break from Seigi’s POV! I wish this nice airport lady a wonderful reunion with her sister.

#the case files of jeweler richard #jeweler richard #nakata seigi #richard ranasinghe de vulpian #tsujimura nanako #these two I stg #everything’s going to shit

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jpwenvs3000f23 · 7 months

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Unit 10: Nature Interpretation's Role in Environmental Sustainability

Describe your personal ethic as you develop as a nature interpreter. What beliefs do you bring? What responsibilities do you have? What approaches are most suitable for you as an individual?

It is hard to believe that we are at the last blog as this means we are coming to the end of the semester. Coming from England as an exchange student, I have wanted my time here to go as slowly as possible, so it does not all rush by. Luckily I have another semester here to enjoy as much of the famous Canadian nature as possible. It is after all, one of the reasons why I picked this country.

Simply, my personal ethic as a nature interpreter would be to get other people as excited about nature as I am. I feel I have done this job well in the past with friends when we go on holiday. They are usually determined to stay in the bars and drink the week away, but I have encouraged them to go on hikes to actually see the country itself. Call me old or boring like they do initially, but afterwards, they are glad they have done it. Last week I visited a friend doing his exchange year in Victoria, BC, and I had to convince him to walk through a park instead of just going to the pub first. While we were out, we managed to see deer and an eagle which is a bird we never see in the UK. We both ended up very glad we did that, and not start drinking earlier.

I watched an interesting video the other day that summed up, said when we are gone, we will eventually be forgotten and our possessions like our car or house will either be used by someone else or destroyed. This may seem daunting, however, the point of the video was to say that when we are here, we should not worry about 95% of the things we waste our time thinking about. At the risk of sounding corny, I believe that by appreciating the world we are in, particularly the nature side like the mountains, coasts, and wildlife, this is how I believe we should live our lives. Through nature interpretation and passing down the knowledge and passion of the natural world, is the best way for this.

For me personally, the best parts of a trip away are the outside activities (only if it is not raining) like walking and beach activities if it is that type of holiday. I believe each country is unique or in this case, each state or province is. My ideal approach for nature interpretation would be to be involved in filming a show or film that involves nature in any way. I do not necessarily have to be the one holding the camera or be in the shot, but to be involved in any way would be enough for me at this stage. I really do not want to be stuck in an office job every day. If I am able to travel and in some way be part of spreading the knowledge and love for nature, I would be satisfied.

After watching the video of 'David Suzuki and Richard Louv at the Art Gallery of Ontario discussing how to reconnect to nature', this further supports my approach to nature interpretation. As I said earlier about wanting to be part of filming, this links to the idea of when they discussed technology in the video. Children these days rely on technology even more than we did which is a shame but understandable with all the changes going on in the world. They explained that it is harder for children to appreciate the nature especially if they are in growing urban cities. Therefore, it is through technology that they can get some sort of experience of it, until they are older hopefully when they can go out and experience it for themselves like we do. This would be another reason to do what I want to do through filming etc. In this modern world, this would be one of the more effective ways to share nature interpretation.

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dekusleftsock · 2 years

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Okay, this is random but you always have interesting thoughts so I decided to ask. Despite being a girl, I've always had a difficult time relating to female characters in stories. As a child I preferred male characters over girl characters, as I often found them rather annoying. There have been a few female characters over the years that I've related to and liked though, so I started to analyze why I had such a short list. I finally concluded it was because I found most female characters to be poorly written. What do you think? As a little kid, most female characters felt more like cardboard cutouts than people to me, and due to that I was often unable to relate to or become invested in their stories. I've seen people in the past wonder why ao3 tends to neglect female characters so much, in particular lesbian couples. For me at least, it was often that I did not find any of the female characters interesting enough to read/write a fanfic about them. When I talked to other girls in various fandoms, they felt the same way. However, I've also noticed that girls tend to have higher standards for female characters than they do for male characters. In my own experience, that's been fairly true. I've noticed in general that female fans often have more sympathy for male characters and their struggles, but less sympathy for female characters and their struggles. I say this both as an observation of others and of my own behavior. I'm always working to become better, but often as a child I had far less sympathy and patience for female characters, especially when they did something I disliked. I don't know exactly why this happens, but having asked others girls/women, I found this all to be generally true. Why do you think this happens?

OHHH IVE BEEN SO EXCITED TO TALK ABOUT THIS!

Couple of things I wanna establish. The male vs female gaze and the cringification of femininity/“childlike” things.

Quick cw, I do mention a quote that talks about slavery. It dips its toes into some of the horrors of it in American history so please keep that in mind.

The thing with toxic masculinity is that it doesn’t just affect men. A patriarchal society will ALWAYS RESULT in the demonization of femininity, calling things that are romantic or pretty “childlike”, “unrealistic”, or “simple”.

So when we see very simple or annoying girl characters, it’s because men only see this idea of femininity as what women are. When, in reality, women and men are complex. Fitting people into these stereotypical ideas of masculinity or femininity IS the simple silly ideas that men create and women support. So, femcells don’t exist, pick me girls are a result of men taking away women’s individuality, and women are more complicated than romance or silly makeup.

But let’s take a step back and talk about the female vs male gaze, which I think is really the main issue here. In America and the west at least, the male gaze tends to have an actual cookie cut out idea of the perfect and attractive woman. This being, a nurturing woman who is white/lighter skinned, has a small nose, semi decently sized lips, a soft but not fat jawline, etc etc the list goes on. Here’s some images within the fine art world of women made by men.

Art made by Nenad Vasic

Art made by Richard Young

And finally, art made by John Collier

All of these women out of the male artists I found on the site, barely had even slightly diverse women. It was all skinny, slightly less skinny, white women with brown or blonde hair, maybe red if you pushed it. And this is even shown in the tumblr sexy men vs tumblr sexy women!

Urban dictionary defines a tumblr sexy man as, “A male character who goes viral on Tumblr for perceived attractiveness based on an established formula. Usually white, tall, dresses fancy and is evil or has a ‘dark side.’ Though the character can be non human or non human and anthrofied to fit the said formula. Most of the time, said character isn’t really as attractive as Tumblr weirdly makes him out to be.”

Examples off the top of my head are sans, bill cypher, dr. Habit, regan, megamind, plankton, aizawa etc. For tumblr sexy WOMEN the beauty standard is much more linear. Hatsune miku, catra, bowser woman(?), sombra, etc.

When you look at fine art or of tumblr sexy men, there’s a much more… individualistic approach to the female gaze. How people view men. In fact, the standards for men are much lower than women (though still bullshit) because most of the actual beauty standards are ones made up by men in their heads. They DECIDED what women liked, not taking into account that it’s much less centralized when making the “perfect man”.

I think the shows you watched also played a part into this. A lot of it depends on where you live, so like, in the US Cartoon Network and Disney channel stuff would have been common. (Ofc pbs too)

In a lot of “older” shows in the west like teen titans, any Disney movie, or dexters laboratory, didn’t necessarily make their women.. bad? Per say? More just, simpler. They fit into set tropes a lot of the time, like Raven being the goth mean girl or Velma being the super smart short haired girl.

It’s not that any of these shows were bad either! It’s just how the gender binary works.

I also feel like part of this plays into internalized misogyny. I dealt with it for years and based on what you’ve said I’m gonna say you probably did too. I hated pink, dressed totally tomboy, stepped as far away from femininity as possible, and now I’m inching back towards it. Pink is my second favorite color.

A lot of the girl characters I used to hate were just insecure and liked pink a lot of the time.

Anyway, I tried my best not to psychoanalyze you out of nowhere odhdijdodjdidn sorry

The thing with why society hates femininity is that the binary gives women humanity. The term “female” is just, disgusting to use, but why? Why do we see this term as inherently inhuman? There’s this quote that I love from a book I’ve been planning to read. Book is called “Females”, by Andrea LongChu. Page 45, “In the United States, the man known as the father of gynecology, J. Marion Sims, built the field in the south operating on enslaved women in his backyard, often without anesthesia or, of course, consent. As C. Riley Snorton has recently documented, the distinction between biological females and women as a social category, far from a neutral scientific observation, develops precisely in order for the captive black woman to be recognized as female. Making Sims’ research applicable to his women patients and polite white society, without being granted the status of social and legal personhood. Sex was produced in the other words, precisely at the juncture where gender was denied. In this sense, a female has always been less than a person.”

As stated in the quote, this term of “female” as opposed to “woman” or “girl” has always been used as a way to dehumanize SPECIFICALLY enslaved black women. Femininity and the gender binary, no matter how much I hate it, gives people in western and white society, humanity. When you demonize the very things that define your binary, or even call them simple, stupid, or arrogant, it is feeding into the idea that womanhood and therefore your humanity, should not exist. That, is why men and society hates femininity.

You must see women as people.

#ahhh this got in so many different directions I should have elaborated on but ITS JUST SO MUCH #The gender binary in the west is just #so interesting #anyway #femininity #indomitable human spirit #leftsock rambles #feminism #toxic masculinity #humanization

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safyresky · 9 months

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ELLO! It me ☺️

SO sorry for the enoooormous delay, but I rly wanted to ask the Top 5 Q thingy (I can't find the post, but I'm pretty sure it was Top 5 Somethings!! *Insert Somethings here*. V sorry if I've totally misinterpreted/misremembered!)

What are your Top 5:

-- Places

-- Songs

-- Characters (from any media)

-- Memories (as in, fave memories!)

SO SORRY for the MAHOOSIVE DELAY! the past 4 days have been an ADVENTURE???? THREE DAYS! SUCH AND ADVENTURE IT HAS FELT LIKE 4. AH! But finally we have finished the busies and the sudden wallet hunt has ended (with the wallet successfully tracked down) SO NOW I AM REPLYING TO THIS ASK PROPER. AH

This ask was for this post right here: "put top 5 anything in my asks and I'll answer, go!"

so here we GO (under the cut since I'm prone to ramblies)

Places:

1) the beach! any beach! the god tier beach fave would be the beach I'd play on as a child staying at my grandparent's summer home! it's the NOSTALGIA, you feel? A couple weekends ago, we were by Lake Huron and found a quaint little side beach entrance and it was actually SO CUTE and also, I was serving looks (and so was the fluffs!):

2) the willow tree that used to be on the lot my OTHER grandparent's cottage is on. i loved running under there and hanging out under the boughs, but my aunts always fretted bc it was very close to the road and they couldn't see me! I also loved playing on the water tank garden, but we were never allowed up there (which only made me want to climb up there more >:).

But it was a giant (to me at the time) mound of dirt put over the water tank with the flat stone platform on the top of the dirt, the water tank access on top of it. There were little stepping stones leading up and they, of course, faced the road so the water truck could fill the tank! anyway bc of the road proximity it was yet ANOTHER place I wasn't allowed to go but by GOD did i LOVE IT

3) on the way TO said cottages, there was a little garden/statue store that had a side room called "the secret garden". it was short, but LONG, and had cute little statues with little flowers and stepping stones and was painted very colourfully. i loved going in it and running up and down the room and pretending it was my very own secret garden!!!

4) Niagara-on-the-Lake/St Jacob's are tied for 4th. I love me a little town with shops and markets 🥰🥰🥰

5) numero five is the hill Forth Henry is on at night! Lately when Richard's been having a bad time (breakdown) we go for a lil drivey to the hill and breakdown while staring down at the city. It's nice!!! The ghosts don't even bug us but the random people ALSO on the hill sure do! It's like, y'all, this is OUT breakdown time?? GET BENT

Songs:

okay so these aren't my top five of all time, just my current top 5 atm

Wobble by Patent Pending and Awsten Night (this shit SLAPS)

In the Blood by Darren Kobb and Ashley Barrett

Move by Saint Motel

Ice Storm by Lindsey Stirling

Bang! by AJR

Characters. My GOD. There are so many blorbos and so little time??? Uh. who's been on rotate in me head recently. That ISN'T an OC. b/c let me tell you. Jacqueline has been doing somersaults like you wouldn't BELIEVE all up in there and goes "weeeee!" every time she does one. (in very over the top high pitched voice) MY LIFE IS SOOOooOOOOoooOOO HARD :( (/sarcasm) OKAY. LET ME THINK.

Luci from Disenchantment is a fave. Bean, too! She's so funny! OH MY GOD AND OONA! Deffs the fave side character there lmao. We've made it to Part 4 which is where I stopped watching like 3 episodes in so it'll be exciting to get to part 5. I hear she sees the mermaid again and that's got me SO excited for her 🥰🥰.

Danny himself of Danny Phantom fame. Jack Frost, of course. From tsc3, though I am fond of rotg Jack Frost. But like, in an "I want to protect him and see him engrow" kind of way?????? (if you haven't watched the jenna marbles video involving a comment that was like "you need to water your cermit so he can engrow" you need to. It's hilarious. Very quotable. idk if her videos are still up. but if they are. that ones a good one.)

Korra from Legend of Korra. She is the BAE. UGH. Most character of all time, she's EVERYTHING. I love her SO MUCH. Bolin was a fave from that too! He's just a silly little guy!!!!!

And Peridot from Steven Universe, she's ALSO a funny little guy. Her arc was EVERYTHING to me and I do a pretty alright peridot impression (it's fun to call the husbando a clod and have him cackle bc the peridot voice gets him good >:)

And Oliver Putnam, he's gd hilarious. The ladder bit in yesterday's episode had me cackling like a madwoman!

This is more than 5, but you know what? It's MY ask box and I DO WHAT I WANT!

MEMORIES! AH! Okay here are some top 5:

-i once had a v bad day at home first thing in the morning and got to school sobbing and richard spent the entirety of our homeroom outside the classroom comforting me and it was one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me 🥰 he is very comforting!! and soft!!!!

-when i saw the very first fanart lmelodie ever did for crystal springs. it was like, the day before richard and i's 9 or 10th anniversary??? and when I saw it I was like HOLY SHIT THAT'S SO SWEET. then more came. and more. and then you messaged me like "whoops, my hand slipped1 here's MILLER'S LAW" and that is a very nice memory that still has me like, heart eyes TO THIS DAY (party city pimp lives in my head rent free)

-when I was 16 we drove from Mississauga, ON all the way to FLORIDA to go to Disney. Halfway there I was SO grumpy, and we were in One of the Carolinas, at a pioneer village kind of thing (which I LOVE, LOVE GOING TO REENACTMENT HISTORY VILLAGES) and my gOD was I grumpy. My dad had the camera and kept trying to get a photo of me being grumpy but every time. EVERY TIME he moved the camera my way I KNEW and would spin about with a big old smile. There's one where I was holding a map with a little hat on and he tried to sneak a photo of grumpy pants Dani and I looked up and did a lil smile and he was like I THOUGHT I HAD YOU and I was like GUESS AGAIN, POPS. that's a fun memory, easily top 5

-Richard's reaction to my dress and everything during our first look! And ALSO his face when I told him in our vows that he's the blaise to my winter. Killed him dead >:) (metaphorically, lol)

-the new year's eve that ana messaged me like, TEN YEARS OR SO AGO asking if she could borrow Jacqueline :3. It was like, kind of an annoying new years eve bc my parents were like NO FUN ALLOWED. SIT HERE WITH US UNTIL THE COUNTDOWN. thankfully, i had a laptop! and yes, the parental units did complain but i had 0 interest in the show leading up to the countdown. Anyway, while sitting and waiting there was a pm on ff dot net from Ana asking about Jacqueline and well, we've been buds since! :)

Thanks for the ask, K! and again, sorry for the delay! Between bday celebrations all weekend, and the work event I did saturday, and then the wallet shenanigans monday, and then the ACTUAL BDAY yesterday, I have not had time to look at this ask UNTIL NOW! BUT I DID NOT FORGET! AH!

#ask box shenanigans #definitelyy-not-a-vampire #dani answers #THE WORD VOMIT #AH #but damn i looked good that day by the lake!#hey look it's the fluff!#it's a me dani #richard also looked good but also. im biased. he always looks good to me #well. most days #some days he looks like a TRASH GOBLIN

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the-girl-in-the-box · 2 years

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This Much I Know

A/N: Day 6! I'm sliding in with my last entries really last minute here, since I've got one more to post tonight, but I'm super excited about it and hope to end Day 7 on a lighter note! For this piece, please be advised that it will generally be a bit spooky, but there is a content warning for gore and death at the end. That said, I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Richard goes to visit Thomas at Downton Abbey, but discovers a lurking threat that could change their lives forever- if not end them outright.

When asked if he believed in ghosts, Richard’s answer was an easy ‘no’. Being that he had never seen one, nothing had ever challenged him on that score. Well, there was his gran, who insisted they were real and she had even seen one once, but who could ever be sure about those accounts? No, if asked, Richard would say, “Ghosts aren’t real, this much I know.”

The first time he’d visited Downton Abbey, everything had been wonderful. He’d gotten to spend quite a lot of time with the butler there, Thomas Barrow, who he was currently there to visit. It had shocked him when he’d been intercepted by Lady Mary upon his arrival, and offered use of one of the guest bedrooms in the house. Thomas had almost seemed a bit relieved that he was to stay on the bachelor’s corridor, which Richard found odd, but maybe that meant to Thomas that he’d been accepted by the family.

Whatever it was, Richard wasn’t much thinking about that as he sat downstairs in the servants’ hall with Thomas, enjoying some tea and biscuits Mrs. Patmore had made up for them. Richard had actually been back a few times since the initial royal visit, and each time he found the staff at Downton just as welcoming as the last, until now even the family were welcoming him.

He turned a biscuit over in his fingers, and asked Thomas, “Why do you suppose I’ve been hosted in the gallery this time? Did Lady Mary say anything to you about it?”

“Not particularly,” Thomas said, shaking his head. “But I think it’s a good thing they’ve accepted you like that.” He took a glance around, smirked, and added, “I think it’s a good thing for us.”

Richard returned the smirk, but before he could say anything else, an older woman walked into the room, one he didn’t recognise. But he could tell from Thomas’s sudden shift in demeanor that she wasn’t someone he liked, and so he frowned. Who was she, and what had she done to get Thomas against her?

The woman frowned and looked Richard over, before going and sitting toward the end of the table on the other side of it. “Oh, don’t mind me,” she said. “Thomas, are you going to introduce him?”

Richard could sense the anxiety radiating off Thomas, and he watched him carefully as he answered her, “This is Richard Ellis. We met when the royal visit happened, and he’s been back a few times since.”

“Has he now?” she asked. “Always your guest?”

Thomas swallowed and answered, “Yes.”

She hummed briefly and nodded. “Sarah O’Brien,” she said to introduce herself to Richard. “I’m filling in for Her Ladyship, since her usual lady’s maid is away pregnant.”

“I see,” Richard replied. “Well, it was good to meet you, Mrs. O’Brien.” He couldn’t be exactly sure why, but it was obvious enough that Thomas was very uncomfortable with her, and he didn’t really want her hanging around more than was necessary. “Thomas, would you mind showing me to my room?” he now requested in order to get them away from her.

“Of course,” Thomas replied, and the two stood.

“I hope you know I’ll want a word with you later,” O’Brien spoke up, looking to Thomas. He frowned at her and sighed.

“Very well,” he acquiesced, then finally gestured for Richard to follow him.

As soon as they’d gotten out of the servants’ stairwell and into the main house, Richard found himself asking Thomas, “What’s the deal with her?”

“She’s been a pain in my side ever since she got back,” he said. “And since longer ago, still. Almost got me fired, once. When she left, I thought everything might be okay from then on.” He paused to chuckle darkly. “Apparently not, as she’s back to bother me again.”

“Bad history then?” he questioned, and Thomas nodded.

“Very bad.”

He followed Thomas on into the bachelor’s corridor, where he was offered a comfortable room with red damask wallpaper, and a rather comfortable looking bed centered against the wall. As soon as the two had gone in, Thomas shut the door behind them, and Richard smirked.

“Alone at last,” he teased, and turned to wrap an arm around Thomas’s waist, pulling him closer to himself. “Hello, love.”

Thomas’s cheeks flushed pink and he melted in Richard’s arms, his hands coming up to rest against his shoulders. Moved by this, Richard felt a warmth spreading through his chest as he looked down at his lover, and his grin softened to a smile. “I missed you,” Richard confessed softly.

“I’ve missed you too,” Thomas replied, reaching up to cup his cheek.

Richard didn’t waste another moment before leaning in to kiss Thomas, pulling the other man tightly up to himself so that there was little room between them- if any. He didn’t want to waste a second of his time with him, and he wanted to make the most of their reunion. So, no, he wasn’t planning on letting Thomas go until morning. In fact, he was also planning to keep him in bed all night, something he made perfectly clear as he pushed him onto the mattress and followed close behind. No, he didn’t think either of them were leaving any time soon.

By the time morning came, and Thomas was sneaking to the attic so no one would realise he’d stayed with Richard all night, it became obvious that he had been right. The butler of Downton Abbey was smiling all the way there, unable to help himself as he thought back on everything they’d done last night.

He almost walked right into O’Brien, and the smile was wiped right off his face. “You have gone soft,” she accused him.

Thomas rolled his eyes and huffed a bit. “I have not gone soft,” he said. “I just don’t have the desire to keep this up the way you do.”

“The desire?” O’Brien repeated, indignant. “I don’t have any sort of desire to keep this up. But it’s what we’re stuck with, and we’re not going to finish it if you don’t deal with that.”

“We’re making it quick then,” he insisted, and the way she smirked at him made his gut twist.

“Oh, I don’t think we’ll have too much longer until we’re done,” she said. “How long is your Mr. Ellis staying, did you say?”

Thomas’s blood ran cold.

He remained on edge all day, and Richard had noticed it every time they interacted. That night, while he was bathing, he kept thinking back on how strange Thomas’s behavior had been. He could tell clearly that O’Brien was putting him off, but why exactly, he couldn’t quite nail down.

Something in his room clattered to the ground, and Richard frowned, looking back out his bathroom door. “Is someone out there?” he called. He thought he could hear a groan, so he got up, and wrapped a towel around himself as he walked out into his bedroom. There was no one there.

Still, he had a rather unnerving feeling that he was being watched that night, up until Thomas finally joined him. It was only then that the feeling passed, and when he mentioned it to Thomas, the other man waved it off.

“The house was built in the seventeenth century,” he had said. “I shouldn’t worry too much about anything like that.” Richard tried not to worry, let Thomas distract him until they were both well worn out, and he finally fell asleep- content with the warmth of Thomas’s body pressed up against his.

The gardens? When had he walked out here? Richard frowned and walked around confusedly, until he came across a young woman sitting on a bench reading a book. “Excuse me,” he called out politely, but his heart stopped when she turned to look at him.

Her red hair was entirely unbound, skin paler than was healthy, and her eyes were dulled, as if she hadn’t seen sunlight in… well, he couldn’t quite guess. She almost looked sick. Sick, or dead. But she couldn’t be the latter, could she?

The woman stood from the bench slowly, as if she might fall when she did. Why was she so weak? Should she even really be outside? Richard got the feeling she really needed to be in bed. But then, she was wearing a nightgown. Had she left her bed to come sit out here? And why didn’t she have any sort of shawl wrapped around her shoulders to cover herself, or at least a robe? Something was off here.

Richard offered a hand to help her steady herself but instead of simply taking it, she wrapped her fingers around his hand and lowered it, so that they were both pointing toward the ground. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Down?” Her fingers felt like ice on his skin.

The woman nodded, and when he looked up, the clouds were moving by suddenly far too fast, the sun almost racing across the sky, until blue turned to black and stars filled the dark expanse above. When he looked back, she was gone, and his hand was still lowered to the ground.

Richard woke with a cough, startled by the very strange dream he’d had, and feeling again like he was somehow being watched. He turned to look at Thomas, make sure everything was alright with him, but found that he was alone. Well that was odd. And even odder, that strange feeling that he was being watched had returned, and Richard sat up slowly to look around. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that the woman in his dream had been trying to warn him about something, and combined with the feeling he had now…

He got up out of the bed, and walked further into the room, skin downright crawling now from the feeling. The air was thick, threatening almost to suffocate him, and the feeling he was being watched began to suddenly shift into feeling like he wasn’t alone. “Is there someone here?” he called out, frowning slightly. There was no answer, except that the feeling grew stronger, the air thicker. Heart pounding, he tried another approach. He stretched out his arm and said, “If there’s someone here, touch my hand.”

Silence. He waited, waited, waited, and nothing happened. The feeling began to dispel, and Richard started wondering if perhaps he was just unnerved from his dream. That would be a relief, although he figured it didn’t explain Thomas’s absence. But what was to say that he hadn’t just gotten up to go to work? He hadn’t exactly checked the time, so for all he knew it wasn’t any earlier than five in the morning. Yes, that probably explained it.

Something wrapped around his wrist and yanked him all the way to the ground, making Richard cry out when he fell. That was a clear enough message, combined with the dream. Down. He needed to go down.

Scrambling back up to his feet, Richard grabbed a candle and lit it, and started for the door. When he walked out, he found further silence, a still house as if nothing had been disturbed. It sent a chill down his spine after what he’d just gone through. Then, he heard a sound, what sounded like a groaning man dragging himself along. If he hadn’t had to know, he would have ignored it, gone on about his business, but the timing was too perfect. Too wrong. He couldn’t walk away without looking.

Richard shouted in shock at the injured, dying man crawling down the hall, blood oozing from a gash in the side of his head. For all intents and purposes, actually, he shouldn’t be alive. Or… was he alive?

The closer the man got, the more Richard began to realize he had a strange sort of transparentness about him, as if he really wasn’t there at all, but was in fact an apparition of some kind. A ghost.

He spoke then, a raspy, terrible voice echoing through the halls that called out his name. “Richard…” It sent a chill down his spine to hear it, but when the man started to crawl up from the ground, pulling himself to his feet, Richard began to back away. Dread had already gotten quite a grip on his heart, but it was exacerbated by the spirit’s warning. “His blood will be on your hands.”

That was what it took for Richard to finally turn and bolt down the stairs. At this point, he no longer cared what was supposedly down there, what the ghosts from before had been trying to guide him towards- he just needed to get away.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he collided with another person, finally feeling some semblance of peace when he saw who it was. “Thomas, thank God,” he breathed. “There’s a man in the corridor upstairs there, he looks like he’s been hit by a car.”

“Hit by a car?” a woman’s voice called out from behind Thomas, and he frowned when he looked around him and found O’Brien standing there. “A man who’s been hit by a car wouldn’t be alive, much less wandering around the bachelor’s corridor.”

“She’s right,” Thomas agreed, though he did seem a bit disturbed. “You must have dreamed about it.”

“I didn’t,” Richard insisted. “Something was there.”

Thomas sighed, and laid a hand on his back. “It’s almost four in the morning,” he said. “Let’s just get you back to bed.”

Richard allowed Thomas to pull him away from O’Brien and return him to his room, but he still frowned a bit. Why wouldn’t Thomas believe him? And… well, if it was only nearly four in the morning, he wasn’t up for work. Why, then…? “What were you and O’Brien up for this early, anyway?”

Thomas shifted uncomfortably and gave a vague answer of, “This and that. She needed my help with something.” That did little to settle Richard and he swallowed, but didn’t question it further as Thomas took him and helped him back to bed. Once he was there, Thomas explained, “I’d come back to bed, but if I don’t get woken up in my room this morning they’ll question where I was all night.”

Well, that made sense enough, but Richard still sighed. “I will miss you,” he said, and Thomas gave an affectionate chuckle.

“I’ll miss you too,” he said, and it struck Richard as odd that Thomas seemed a bit sad as he spoke, and brushed his hair back out of his face.

“It’ll only be a few hours,” Richard reminded him.

Thomas nodded and forced a smile. “I know,” he said. “I know.” He leaned down and kissed Richard’s forehead, then his lips, and he was gone.

He’s acting a bit strange, Richard thought to himself as he tried to fall back asleep. I hope everything’s alright.

The next day, Richard decided he wanted to try and talk some more to Thomas about what had happened the night before. He waited until he had the other man alone, and once he did, tried to bring it up in such a way that it wouldn’t flag him as an odd thing to ask.

“How old did you say this house is, again?” he questioned curiously, gesturing about.

Thomas looked around it and thought for a moment, before guessing, “Three… maybe four hundred years old? Why do you ask?”

“I was just thinking after my dream last night, someone must have died in here, old as it is,” he said, speaking mostly truth. “Do you know?”

“We had Spanish flu after being a convalescent home,” Thomas pointed out. “If we didn’t have anyone die here then, I’m not sure anything else would have done it.”

Richard chuckled a bit. “Did you know any of them very well?”

Thomas seemed to think for a moment, as if debating something, and then he nodded slowly. “Knew a few of them, yeah,” he answered. “I was the valet for Mr. Pamuk, Turkish diplomat who just died in the night and no one knew why. Miss Swire, she was engaged to the heir, Spanish Flu. William Mason had gone before that, during the war… Then there was Lady Sybil.” He paused, glancing down at his hands. “That was a nasty business. Eclampsia.”

Richard swallowed and nodded a bit. “Did the child survive?”

“Mercifully, yes,” he confirmed, smiling. “Sybbie, Mr. Branson’s little girl. He named her after her mother.” But then his face fell, and he swallowed. “Lady Sybil was supposed to have a little brother though, few years before that- he’s the one I never did meet of all the ones who died here. Mr. Matthew Crawley was living here when he died, don’t know if that would count.”

Richard blinked. “Any more?” he deadpanned.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

Even though the situation was rather serious, Richard still found himself cracking a bit of a grin. Looking at them, one might think they weren’t talking about anything more serious than the weather last Sunday, as opposed to death and any ghosts which may remain in the house. That said, Richard still had further questions. “What were they like?” he asked.

Thomas began to describe each person in depth, almost as if he had a personal stake in doing so, and Richard listened closely to see what he could determine about the ghosts he was convinced he had seen. From the sound of it, the pale woman in his dream had been Lavinia Swire, and the man in the hall had been Matthew Crawley. The other, whoever had pulled him to the ground and been moving around his room, he couldn’t yet identify, although apparently he was staying in the room which Kemal Pamuk had occupied and been found in, so that was his main theory. Especially as ill tempered as the man sounded, he would have been a bit rough in trying to show Richard what he needed to do, where he needed to go.

“Then there was Lady Sybil…” he said, and smiled a little. “Sweetest spirit under this roof, she was. Maybe the best woman I’ve ever known. She was gentle, kind, beautiful, good… There wasn’t anyone I think she wouldn’t have helped. She loved people. She didn’t let anyone tell her what to think or do…”

“Almost sounds like you were in love with her,” Richard teased, and Thomas chuckled a bit.

“I’ll tell you, if I’d been disposed toward women? I think I might have been,” he confessed. “There hadn’t been many people in my life who’d been kind to me, up to that point, but she always was.”

Richard smiled a little. “She sounds lovely,” he said, and Thomas returned that smile, though his eyes still seemed a bit sad.

“She was. She really was.”

That night, as Richard and Thomas laid down to sleep, Richard kept thinking back to their conversation. He couldn’t help but wonder just what was going on here. All those people had died… within the last twenty years. Six people in the house in twenty years? How strange, indeed.

He woke at around three in the morning just like the night before, and found that Thomas had disappeared once again. But there was the sound of a baby crying somewhere in the house this time, and that was what drew him out of his bed. He went out to see if he could find the source. Following the sound, he wandered down the hall toward the gallery, where he found a young woman standing and cradling a baby, her dark hair cut short above her shoulders, and neck swollen as if… well, as if she had died with eclampsia.

Sybil paused what she was doing and looked up at him, still silent even as the baby cried. Richard held his hands up defensively. “I know who you are,” he told her. “Lady Sybil, right? And this is your baby brother?” She tilted her head, indicating for him to continue. “The spirits in this house are trying to tell me something,” he explained. “The only trouble is, I can’t quite tell what. It seems they want me- you want me- to go down. But down to where?” He watched her extend her hand to point down toward the library, and with a grateful nod, started off.

Richard moved silently, not wanting to disturb whatever it was the ghosts meant for him to find. When he got there, he frowned at the sight of one of the book cases being pulled away from the wall, and the thin ray of light streaming out from within. Some sort of secret passage..?

He slipped through the crack and followed the somewhat dingy path down underneath the house, until he finally heard the sound of two people arguing. What he heard made his stomach drop, as he could well make out who each voice belonged to.

It was Thomas and O’Brien.

“It can’t be him!” he heard Thomas snap. “Anyone else in this bloody house, I will deliver to you personally, but I will not let it be him.”

“Don’t you see?” she answered. “That’s why it must be him. You’ve gone too soft, Thomas. I knew it when you wouldn’t handle Matthew Crawley. Which one was it that broke you, hmm? Was it Sybil?”

“Don’t say her name!” Thomas shouted. “You tried to make me handle her, and you tried to make me handle Matthew, and I told you I was done! But if it means you will spare Richard, I will handle anyone else in this house.”

There was a long silence as Richard imagined they were standing off, and his heart beat wildly in his chest. What did Thomas mean, he wouldn’t deliver him to O’Brien? And handling Sybil and Matthew? Sparing him?

“He’s here for two more nights, isn’t he?” O’Brien questioned. Thomas didn’t answer. “His last night, you do it. If you have to slit his throat in his sleep, do it. It’ll be kinder that way, at least.”

“There’s nothing kind about being murdered in your sleep by someone you trust,” Thomas hissed.

“No, maybe not,” O’Brien agreed. “But at least he’ll never know it was you, and we’ll be through with this nasty business.”

When there was again no answer, Richard swallowed, debating with himself what to do. If he interrupted, who knew what would happen? Would he be attacked then and there, and never be found again? Or would Thomas try and defend him from O’Brien, who had clearly made her mind up? Then again, if he was discovered listening, he doubted that would go much better. Maybe he should just go, and leave in the morning instead, make up some reason he had to hurry home. But where did that leave him and Thomas? Where should this leave them? Thomas was helping to plot his murder, after all!

Well, no he wasn’t. He was trying to stop it, even if he’d plotted other murders, and even committed them, from the sound of it. But he was drawing a line in the sand now, from the sound of it. Still…

Finally, there was an answer. “Find someone else,” Thomas almost growled. “I won’t have it be him.”

Footsteps started toward him, and Richard realised he needed to act quickly. Unfortunately, he acted too quickly, and when he revealed himself he crashed right into Thomas, who was in the process of trying to leave. They stared at each other with wide eyes for a moment, and then Richard saw fear settle in Thomas’s face. “Thomas-” he tried to interrupt, but then he was being turned around, and Thomas was trying to shove him out.

“I don’t know how much you heard, or even what you heard, but you need to go now,” he said quickly, panic lacing his voice.

“I heard enough,” Richard said, and turned back toward Thomas, taking his arms in his hands. “I don’t understand what’s going on, but I think I need to. What’s going on, Thomas?”

The pair were interrupted by O’Brien’s approach, and Richard levelled her with a hard glare when she smirked at them. “What’s going on here, since you’ve heard, is that Thomas has to kill you, Mr. Ellis,” she said.

“No, I’ve refused to do it,” Thomas argued. “I wouldn’t-”

“I know,” Richard said. “I heard enough.”

Thomas swallowed, starting to breathe heavier and more anxiously next to Richard, who kept O’Brien under a careful gaze. “It’s nothing personal,” she told him. “We made a mistake years ago, and now we’re paying for it.”

“Paying how?” Richard questioned.

“With blood,” she answered.

“Well, you won’t be paying with mine, and I’m sure you don’t need Thomas to pay it off. We’re going now, and you can figure it out for yourself.” He took Thomas and started back for the exit, but that would have been a far too easy escape.

O’Brien lunged at them, and before Richard could pull Thomas away, he’d jumped between them and cried out in shock and pain. It took Richard a moment to register what had happened, but when he saw O’Brien pulling back a crimson soaked blade, it sank in that Thomas had just been stabbed. To protect him.

“Fine,” O’Brien growled. “If you want to pay the debt yourself, by all means.” She raised her blade to strike at Thomas again, but this time Richard jumped between them and shoved her away. They clattered to the ground and the knife fell, as Richard tried to slam her head down on the stones beneath them.

She dodged and made a swipe for the knife, grabbing it and slashing furiously at Richard, who jumped up and glanced at Thomas, who had drawn himself to sit against the wall, holding his side where he’d been hit. He needed to draw her away from him, so she wouldn’t finish him off. He made a split decision-

Richard would be the bait.

He took off at a hard pace, bolting from the room and feeling relief flood him at the sound of her rushing after him. It had worked.

Richard soon came flying out of the passageway, and when her arm came out to try and slash at him, he shoved the door shut on it. The action made her drop the knife, and he was quick to reach down and grab it before running off again. The first place he thought to run, then, was out. She’d expect him to run down to the kitchen to arm himself better, or to hide. But if he was out, he could wait in the courtyard until he saw her in there, then go back for Thomas.

He made it out there to hide behind one of the many columns in the house’s architecture, keeping an eye and an ear out for any movement or sound in the kitchen. Fortunately, he was right, and soon he heard the door be flung open as she came into the courtyard, and he made his move.

In any other situation, Richard would have been appalled by this sort of violence, but his and Thomas’s lives were on the line, and that was far more important. As soon as O’Brien was close enough, he whipped around the corner and attempted to stab her, but she caught the blade in her hand and held him off, making Richard wince at the way it must have been cutting into her fingers. Instead of trying to push the knife forward again, he pushed down against her hand and pulled it back, cutting into her fingers which made her cry out. He took the chance to try and run again, and when he thought he’d lost her, he ran back to Thomas.

The bleeding butler was still laid out down beneath the house when Richard got there, and he let out a relieved breath once he saw him. “Thomas, thank God,” he said, kneeling down beside him. “She didn’t come back.”

“Not yet,” Thomas groaned. “But she’s determined to sacrifice one of us now, and she’ll probably get us both to cover her tracks.”

“Why the sacrifices?” Richard asked with a shake of his head. “I don’t understand…”

Thomas swallowed and looked up. “We messed with something we shouldn’t have years ago, and in order to set it right, we had to make six sacrifices. We’ve done five so far- Pamuk, the baby, Lavinia Swire, Lady Sybil, and Matthew Crawley. O’Brien decided you needed to be the last one since I’d gone ‘soft’ and didn’t want to keep on with it. That’s why I was so happy when you got moved to the gallery- without my help you’d be a lot harder a target to get to. That’s why she started pushing me to do it, because I had access to you.”

Richard was stunned, hearing this, and he asked Thomas, “Why did you have to do it? The sacrifices? What happens if you don’t complete them?”

“We won’t really be able to leave Downton Abbey,” he explained. “We can try, but we won’t be able to be gone for good. The house will always call us back, we’re bound to it until…”

“Alright, alright, calm down,” Richard said soothingly. “Let’s get you out of here for now, and we’ll figure that out once you’re well.” Thomas nodded a little, and let Richard lift him to his feet so they could start for the exit.

O’Brien cut them off.

Richard was startled by her appearance and the fact she immediately began trying to slash at himself and Thomas, but he still managed to get Thomas behind him so he could shield him from her attacks. He needed to end this now, so he could save himself and Thomas.

It struck him as strange, how out of control she had become after having been so poised when they’d first met. But desperation was a funny thing, and could easily pull apart even the most reserved person. He figured killing five people- or pressuring someone to help you kill them- couldn’t have been beneficial either, and all that must have come together to explain this change.

Richard shoved O’Brien up against a wall in an attempt to stop her attack, but unfortunately miscalculated quite severely, and soon found himself struck in the gut. The severity of the wound made him stagger back until he hit the wall behind him and slid down it, collapsing at her feet as she approached to make the final blow.

But there were ghosts in that house- angry ghosts who wanted her stopped before she could be freed from her debt, and Richard called out to them. “Help me,” he pleaded with the house. “Help us, please.”

O’Brien sneered at him, brandishing her knife as she stepped slowly closer. “No one’s coming to help you,” she said. “You’re on your own now, and it’s time for you to pay the final debt.”

Unbeknownst to Richard, Thomas had pulled himself back up to his feet and picked up the knife Richard had dropped after being stabbed. He got up to his full height, at which point Richard could see him, and he nodded. “Do it,” he encouraged. “Just do it.”

“Stop trying to beg for help,” O’Brien growled. “You’re alone. There’s no one left to help you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Thomas said from behind her, and Richard watched as realization dawned on O’Brien’s face. “He’s not alone.” O’Brien turned around to face Thomas, whose eyes were set like ice as he stared her down.

She spoke his name once, the purpose of which Richard would never guess, and Thomas shoved the knife between her ribs. “I sacrifice your life to satisfy the last of the blood debt we owe,” he hissed. “With your blood spilt, I am free.”

As if by some incantation, O’Brien’s skin suddenly turned pale as if all the blood had left her body, and she collapsed at Thomas’s feet. It was done.

Richard immediately forced himself up to get to Thomas, catching him in his arms and using their combined momentum to keep them both off the ground. “Come on,” he panted. “We need… hospital.” Thomas nodded minutely, and Richard adjusted his grip on him to start shuffling toward the door with him.

When he pulled his hand away for a moment to do so, he frowned a little at what he found. His hand hadn’t been coated in his own blood before, which meant it was now slick with blood that wasn’t his- blood that was… Thomas’s.

His blood will be on your hands…

When asked if he believed in ghosts, Richard’s answer was an easy ‘yes’. Being that he had now seen them, nothing would ever again challenge him on that score. Well, there was his mum, who insisted they weren’t real and she had never seen one that couldn’t be explained, but who could ever be sure about those accounts? No, if asked, Richard would have only one thing to say.

“Ghosts are real, this much I know.”

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