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ma-tsu-the-male-goddess · 2 years

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Greg Bot FNAF au (Animatronic Gregory)

Fazbear Entertainment decides to create an army of human-looking animatronics called Greg Bots (human children of different genders, personalities, ethnicities, ranging from 11-19)

Read on Ao3 instead: Greg Bot FNAF AU

2 or 3 of them are introduced at the start of each night in the Fazbear Pizzaplex as children being brought into work for the company.

“If you are lost or scared or need help, please feel free and welcome to reach out to one of our little helpers in the purple vests. Gregory, say hi!” *wave*

“Hi guys! I’m Gregory Fazbear and I’m one of the free roaming guides tonight. Don’t be afraid to stop me if you have questions!”

They are around to help and give subtle assistance to those struggling, make the place seem more lively, and be an example to the kids. Sometimes they help collect kids out of the daycare play structures.

Different ages of kids: Gregory (11) being the youngest. Also have 13 15 17 19 plus a 21 and 24 yo behind service/ticket desks. The only human around is usually just the security guard and a couple people in maintenance and on cameras, maybe a bouncer.

However, in addition to the different models, there are also several copies of each model. So there are ~5 Gregory’s for example. Because the Pizzaplex is so large, and because each model is all on their own network frame, the Greg Bots make sure that no one sees doubles of them.

With this shared mental network, there is no need to give individual copies of the same model different names because they are functionally only one being with multiple bodies around gathering and sharing the same information.

They are seen walking into staff doors only for another one to show up out of a different set a few minutes later, giving the illusion that all the backstage doors are connected and also that the bots are taking time to eat and rest throughout the night.

Greg and co can also knock hands (high fives!) with other Greg Bot models to exchange info, looks like a hand off between shifts to other people. Notifying other bots can be done silently, and sometimes emergencies necessitate broadband communication (which can be picked up by other communication devices) or quick high five chains.

Some additional thoughts:

There is sometimes a slight pause when they are asked a question to let them search the database/web for an answer.

Greg Bots can pretend to eat but must go and incinerate/dispose of it later behind the scenes.

Greg Bots tend to have pretty severe linguistic code switches, depending on who they are talking to (i.e. very professional with the human security guards, super excited or comforting with the kids, very relaxed with the animatronics, etc.)

Regarding the Glamrocks:

Freddie, with his anxieties, actually loves when he gets the chance to talk to the Greg Bots, especially the younger ones. It means he gets to hang out with kids without worrying about being careful with his strength or words. (Angry parents terrify him unless they are actually cruel/bad parents. Then he’s ready to square up.)

Monty tends to use the Greg Bots as a barrier between him and the children as he struggles with interacting with them sometimes. He’s also been known to hang out with some of the older teen models or do little shows for the normal kids watching. He’s one of the more chill animatronics to work with.

Roxy actually really struggles with the existence of the Greg Bots. She already has insecurities about her place in the Glamrocks and a whole new model of very advanced animatronics does not help. She will play nice in front of the kids, but she definitely has some snippy words for them when they all head backstage. The Greg Bots definitely give each other silent looks when they have to work with her.

Chica loves all the Greg Bots, instant friends with each of them. The more enthusiastic Greg Bots would rather work with Chica than anyone else, and they’re often seen hanging out with each other outside of working hours.

Some Fun POVs to explore in this universe:

Animatronics

Gregory himself as he works

Freddie or the other Glamrocks

Human Workers

New security guard

New maintenance guy

New camera watcher guard

The veteran security guard

Staff moving heavy equipment who needs help from one of the scarily strong robot children

Chef who works the more expensive/substitution unit has to get one of the bots to run out and get ingredients, sometimes the bots take over back there for a short while or has to grab something hot out of the oven bc it fell (some quick maintenance might be needed)

Kids

Homeless/runaway kid who sneaks in

Scared child in the daycare

Bratty teenager stuck at a siblings bday party (perhaps a Bot messes with them, lets them see a double, and winks)

Kid/teen who gets trapped under something that needs lifting off

A lost kid separated from their parents

Deaf child/person (ASL) or Person who speaks another language (the Greg Bots have a wide range of language options available to them)

Lonely kid who comes to hang out with the bots

Teen who has a crush on one of the bots and they end up talking about what it means to feel different (during this talk, another model of the bot walks by to trade off)

Parents

Parent watching a bouncer person talking with a Greg Bot near the entrance and one of the random kids comes up and says they want to play with Greg, parent across the room watches Greg give a ‘what can you do’ smile at the guard and wander off. A minute later another version of the bot or a different Greg Bot modelstarts up the convo from where they left off. It’s very weird.

Parent who is very angry about child labor laws

Other Humans

News anchor who comes in for interviews and gets surprised by the Greg Bots stonewalling them

Somebody who tries to kidnap or bully Gregory

Someone who is pen pals with a Greg Bot from outside the company

Suppliers and shop workers who meet them when Greg Bots are sent out for errands

A cool scene:

During a major malfunction or earthquake, something(s) falls and crashes down. One of the teenbots rushes over and catches a steel beam, preventing it from hurting anyone. This happens across the whole facility and one Greg bot has an arm ripped off or a dent or rip off of the skin somewhere or a cracked out eye. One just shuts down in place because of the damage. This secret reveal requires major damage control by the company. (possible news anchor situation like above)

Also a possible scene from the game:

Freddie and Gregory run into a room full of deactivated Greg Bots. Cue Existential crisis/Freddie trying to hide it from Gregory.

#my unwritten aus #fanfiction #ao3 #writing #fnaf #fnaf security breach #read more #Gregory #freddy fazbear #glamrock monty #glamrock freddy #roxanne wolf #glamrock chica #animatronic gregory #my writing

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thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters · 4 years

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Request: “#41 with Sam + ‘going shopping’.” by @awesomesusiebstuff

Prompt: “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

Pairing: college!Sam x Reader

Word count: 1K

Warnings: Sam’s being a bit annoying but we love him anyway

A/N: Again, I apologize for the wait. I came up with the idea for this fic when the theme was a little more relevant. You’ll understand once you start reading ;)

Beta: @slytherkins

JJ’s Rockin’ 100 - PROMPTS || MASTERLIST || ASK BOX

(gif)

The mall was surprisingly crowded for the early hour at which you had decided to stop by. Your hand was holding Sam’s, not just because you enjoyed it but because you were practically forced to drag him along in order to actually get him to come inside with you. He could be such a baby sometimes, especially when he didn’t get his way. You, however, were in a very good mood and felt determined to show Sam this was worth his time.

It didn’t take you long to reach the store toward which your visit that morning had been aimed specifically. Since you had moved to Stanford for college, you had been to this mall countless times to go shopping with friends. Never with Sam, though.

Sam did not like to go shopping. And he hated Halloween.

Which was why his frown grew deeper the second you approached ‘Mr. Gregory’s Costume Shop’ and – seeing as your hand was still tightly holding on to his – by extent forced him to enter the store with you.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this,” he muttered, quietly enough for you to pretend you hadn’t heard him. His eyes roamed around the space before landing on a mannequin that was wearing a pirate costume with about every matching accessory one could think of, right down to the fake parrot on its shoulder. He looked it over a couple of times with a slightly disgusted look on his face.

You gave a tug on Sam’s hand to bring his focus back to the task at hand. “Stop flirting with the pirate, Sam. Let’s start at the back of the store and work our way to the front.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but when they landed on you, his face softened and he even showed somewhat of a smile. “I can’t promise you I’ll be any good at pretending to care about what you pick out,” he informed you. It wasn’t a snarky comment, he was simply leveling your expectations to his reality.

“Come on, look around you!” you said, letting go of his hand to make wide gestures at the costume-packed clothing racks. “There has to be at least one thing in this entire store that you’ll like. Look alive, Sammy!”

“If you wanted me to look alive you shouldn’t have dragged me out of bed so early,” Sam was quick to strike back.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. Usually, he was the one having to wake you up because you were the queen of snoozing your alarm and being late to all of your early classes. You had a feeling he had hoped the same thing would happen today with your shopping trip. But you were too excited about this all to let your bad habits ruin any of it. You wanted to have enough time to try on different costume options and pick the perfect one while still being able to make it back to campus in time for your 11:00 AM lecture.

“What about this one?” you asked as you held up one of the more colorful options that had immediately caught your eye.

Sam just raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips, waiting for you to catch on.

“All right, I get it. You don’t care,” you sighed as you put the costume back. “At least you know I’m not getting anything ‘slutty’ just like ninety-nine percent of the other girls at the party will probably be wearing.”

You weren't against those kinds of outfits, you just weren’t really into it yourself. Before you met Sam, when you went to what would become your last Halloween party until now, you had dressed as a knight, with your best friend as the damsel. Your impressive armor had given you full coverage, along with a huge struggle whenever you had to use the bathroom.

Two months later, you started dating Sam, and from that moment on he had always been able to somehow persuade you to stay home during Halloween. Until this year, that was. You had finally won the battle of never-ending nagging, and you were planning to celebrate your victory by showing him how much fun this was truly going to be.

Sam was letting his fingers graze the black fabric of a Zorro costume, and for a second, you could have sworn it seemed as if he was actually considering picking it off the rack. Then he cleared his throat and turned back to you.

"You know I don't care about that kind of stuff," he reminded you. "It's your body, no one else but you should have a say in the way you dress." A grin crept up on his lips when he had a thought. He stepped his large body closer and leaned down so his lips were at your ear. "As long as I get to be the one helping you out of your costume when we get home."

You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth and pretended to mull it over. “That depends, Winchester.” Your hands pressed against his chest to make him step back and look at you. “Will you behave during the party?”

“You mean, will I act normal and avoid standing in a corner somewhere with a long face the entire evening?” he scoffed. “I told you, the only reason I’m doing this is for you.” He grabbed your hand and pressed a kiss to the back. “In other words; yes, I shall behave, my love.”

You chuckled at the theatrical manner in which he concluded his promise. “Why, thank you, my kind sir,” you responded before picking up the invisible skirt of your invisible dress and bending your jean-clad legs in a small bow.

That seemed to help Sam’s mood brighten up a little. He grinned and pulled you into his side to tuck you under one of his arms. “All right, let’s do this,” he said with an unforeseen tone of determination in his voice.

The two of you set off, side by side, further into the maze of mismatched colors and sparkling accessories, ready to embark on a quest to find the perfect outfits.

#JJ's fics #JJR100 #supernatural #sam x reader #spn drabble #fluff #college!sam #halloween themed #sam winchester #sam winchester drabble #spnfanficpond

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billie-ford · 4 years

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1 2 3

What Comes After

The morning sun rolled over the Hilltop colony like a warm blanket; a golden shine of reassuring hope that today would be better than the last. The rays that shone over the tall walls of the community made the smoke of Billie’s cigarette almost entirely opaque as she brought it to her lips for another drag.

It was the first sense of peace she’d felt in days despite the underlying melancholy that had become her, soaking in the warmth that touched her skin as a gift opposed to a nuisance for the first time since that awful morning while she watched the community come to life.

“Would you be bothered if I asked how many hours of sleep you got?”

Billie watched as Sasha emerged from Gregory’s mansion and approached her trailer, taking a seat on the stair below her before lighting up her own smoke when the box was offered.

“Not as bothered as you would be by the answer.”

Sasha’s smiles were always so warm. Warmer than the sun. She donned a fresh pair of clothes gifted by Hilltop’s resident laundry hanger and the already worn in appearance led Billie to believe that Sasha was losing hours of sleep too.

“You know,” Sasha’s chest swelled with a deep sigh, “it’s been hard to close my eyes for more than a second since the other night. Much less fall asleep for more than a minute.”

“It plays over and over again in your head doesn’t it?” She nodded. “Yeah...me too. You been in to check on Maggie yet?” Billie took one last deep drag of her cigarette, her first of many for the day, and stubbed the butt out on the traction of her boot.

“Not yet. I passed Dr. Carson in the hallway and he said she was still asleep.”

“What about..uhm..them?”

Sasha frowned, eyes falling to the ground as she shook her head. “I haven’t really been able to stomach it. We should wait for Maggie to wake up..then we can all go together.”

“Sure, guess we can.”

Twigs snapped and leaves crunched under Millie’s heavy boots as she walked down the long, deserted road. The coming of Autumn made the already dismal roads that much more gray and with the new addition of crunching leaves and wind blown twigs, that much more dangerous too.

Dawn had barely broke when she began her journey; tip-toing carefully throughout the house she shared with Eugene and Rosita while packing her bag and running through the streets of Alexandria as quick as she could to avoid being spotted. By the time she had hopped down from the community walls her clothes were already splattered in blood, burying her old aunt’s bowie knife in skull after skull when the crunching leaves beneath her boots gave away her position to the multitude of walkers roaming around the other side. She had walked for miles by the time the sun had fully set in the sky, checking her wrist at every street sign; the directions to Hilltop scribbled down her pale skin in blue ink.

She missed her aunt, her godmother, her guardian now that her father was dead. Being home without Billie was almost unbearable. Since that night, nobody in the community treated her the same; crossing the street when she approached, refusing to look her in the eye, stumbling over their words when they so much as mentioned his name. They were either avoiding her or they were overbearing, and their apologies and eulogies just barely clung to their tongues. She was looking for any excuse to get out, and going to see her father’s grave was just excuse enough. It troubled her deeply that she never got to say goodbye to her dad, not even a last glace. Sasha had been quick to obscure Millie’s vision when the first blow of the bat landed and as the days rolled on a part of Millie was thankful for it - but a part of her also resented Sasha for not giving her that closure.

As she trekked along she wondered if he was buried or burned. If a memorial of flowers and other trinkets had been placed in the wake of the fallen. She remembered that Billie had hand carved a sign for Kenny’s cat when he eventually died, she would do the same for her own brother. Something told her Billie wouldn’t let anyone burn her brother, and it was that feeling that drove Millie to make the journey to Hilltop.

The infirmary was empty when Sasha and Billie entered, Dr. Carson looking up to the door when it whined on its hinges. At the far back of the sickly white room was Maggie, just a lump of steady breathes beneath her just as white sheets.

Her eyes cracked open ever so slightly upon the feeling of Sasha’s hand on her arm and she smiled weakly at the two who had worked tirelessly to assist her here. She was frail, her eyes sunken and her skin so pale it edged on blue. She had just barely the energy to lift an arm to clutch Sasha’s hand.

“Welcome to, beautiful,” Billie patted Maggie’s leg, “’member us?”

“Unfortunately.”

“How ‘bout Dr. Carson? Resident life saver here at the Hilltop?”

Just over Billie’s shoulder stood the striking doctor with a kind smile of his own when his patient looked at him. “How long have I been down?” She asked.

“A little over three days,” Carson answered. “You suffered from the condition abruptio placentae; it’s a separation of the placenta from the uterus. It’s unusual this early, but uh, could be brought on by severe trauma. Possibly the bruises on your abdomen-”

“Did I-I...lose..?” Maggie exhaled sharply, almost too afraid to ask. Even more afraid to hear the answer.

“No.” She let out her held breath. “Thanks to your friends. Had they not got you here when they did things might have looked much worse.

Baby’s heart rate is normal but you’re going to have to take it easy for a few days. You don’t want to exacerbate the separation any more.”

“Where is he?” Maggie asked, looking between her friends. “Where are they both?”

“I took care of it.” “I want to see them.” “You heard Carson.” “Billie, please.”

Billie looked to Carson, sharing a look of concern with the doctor. He cleared his throat, “just make sure she goes slow and get her straight to bed afterwards.”

Before he could say any more, Maggie was throwing her covers to the floor and standing on shaky legs as the two raced to either side of her to hold her steady. Much like the morning they had arrived. ‘Easy, easy, easy.’ Billie cooed.

“Straight to bed.” Carson reiterated as they guided her out of the door and into the hot sun.

Billie sat on a rock as she watched the two stand over the graves she had dug, slicing her breakfast of a single green apple with her hunting knife before chucking the pieces between her teeth dispassionately. Her frown was heavy and her eyes almost burned at the sight of the graves she wished she could forget. It was like a nightmare she couldn’t shake; vigorously digging her own brother’s grave before rolling his headless body into the dirt before doing the same for one of her best friends. She reached into her pocket, feel the brass chain cool her fingertips as she pulled the pocket watch from the place it had been nestled for the last three days.

“Here.” She called out to Maggie, reaching out and dropping the accessory into her open palm. “It was in Glenn’s pocket,” she scoffed, “all Abe had was a cigar..”

The pain was pronounced. For all of them. Tears welled in every eye of the trio as they tried in vain to make any sense of it - how they would go on without their leader, without the ones they loved.

Maggie placed the watch over Glenn’s grave lovely as Billie wondered if back home, in Alexandria, there was anything left to honor her fallen soldier with. There had to be something more than a smelly old cigar now stained terribly with near black blood.

Sasha’s eyes darted over Abraham’s grave, searching for an answer she wouldn’t find. “Everything feels so wrong..”

“Not everything.”

Maggie’s optimism was admirable and Billie felt she was once that way; able to find even the tiniest of gems when she dug through all the dirt. But now, now she just felt irritated by the glimmer of hope in Maggie’s eyes, and when a Hilltop member peeked in to whisk her away she leapt at the chance.

It was Bertie who had recognized Millie first when she was stopped at the gates of Hilltop and smiled at her before running off to fetch Billie. Billie’s eyes widened in shock when she saw her niece walk through the gates and ran to gather her in her arms, checking her for injuries and swiping at the splatters of blood painting her skin. It wasn’t her own, Millie promised. “Are you- what are- Why are you here?”

“I missed you...all of you.” “Millie?” “Hey, Sasha!”

Sasha appeared at Billie’s side with the same surprised look before hugging the teen tightly. It was a relief to see her alive and well after the night they all suffered, but one more Alexandrian in a community they weren’t supposed to know about meant one more person to hide when the saviors finally rolled around for their pick ups.

“You can’t be here, Mills. It’s not safe for you, you have to be home.” A look flashed behind Millie’s eyes, a sadness that sunk her shoulders and clenched her jaw. It baffled Billie just how much she looked like her father when she did such a thing, how their twin hues of blue in their eyes would darken like a mood ring and their lips pressed into a thin line. So much of how they were feeling could be conveyed in their eyes alone. Billie sighed. “I came to see him, didn’t you?” She nodded.

The women shared a look and Sasha, the woman who was well on her way to becoming her step-mother, grabbed Millie by the hand gently. “I’ll take you.” She spoke softly. “We can go back to Billie’s trailer after and I’ll make you something to eat. Sound good?” Millie nodded and with one last yearning look to her aunt she went off with Sasha to finally see her father’s resting place.

Billie watched them disappear beyond the grove before dashing behind the guards post and sinking to the ground with accelerated panic. With Maggie’s oncoming pregnancy, Millie’s sudden appearance, the looming shadows of the saviors and her own grief she has yet to properly deal with, it was all becoming too much for Billie. As her breath became harder to catch and a fresh round of hot tears reached her eyes, Billie realized she was officially having a panic attack.

Jesus had just emerged from the mansion, the tips of his ears hot from another argument with Gregory when he spotted the woman across the grounds, the same woman he was just defending up in Gregory’s office. He rushed for her, dodging community members to be by her hyperventilating side.

“Billie! Hey, hey, hey...” He squeezed her arms softly while they shook from her sobs. “Billie, can you look at me?”

Jesus had seen many panic attacks within the Hilltop walls; new comers barely getting a grip on life within the walls, losing loved ones, just life in general. Yet seeing it now, with her, felt completely foreign. This wasn’t the person he had met on the road just weeks ago; who had pistol whipped him when he tried to steal supplies from herself and her brother, who had gotten into a sarcasm battle with Gregory and won, who had snapped Andy’s arm when he got into a fight with Abraham. This was just a shell of that person.

Her eyes met his, half-lidded bambi eyes ringed with red. She bit her bottom lip between her teeth to stop its quivering.

“Just watch me okay? Breath like this, in,” he inhaled, “and out.” After a few repetitions she followed, her gaze breaking from his to his hands on her wrists as her breathing steadied and her heart slowed to a normal patter. He released his gentle grip before sitting back in a crisscrossed position. “May I ask what that was about?”

She shrugged. “I’m just...overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed generally means someone needs a break.” “I can’t take a break. Too many people need me.”

Jesus sighed, looking off into the community. “I don’t think Sasha or Maggie would hold it against you for looking out for yourself. You aren’t sleeping, that much I can see...it’ll only make things harder for you if you don’t take a step back now.”

Billie kissed her teeth, rolling his words around in her head. “S’at your professional opinion?”

“Personal. We’re just friends here.” He smirked. “One can only hold so much before they start to crumble, Billie. That’s what community - family - is for. We share the load when some of us start to crack.”

Knowing it and hearing it were two very different things. She knew she was taking on too much, she always did, but someone else knowing it and seeing it...it made her feel too vulnerable. Being seen made her feel vulnerable. Billie liked Jesus. He was a pain in her ass when they caught him on the side of the road but since introducing them to Hilltop, showing them that there was so much more in the world, she’s considered him almost a brother.

Their gentle interaction was suddenly disrupted by the roaring sound of engines and Kal’s boots above them stomping along the wood of the guards post.

“The Saviors are coming!”

The pair jumped up from the grass like a fire had been lit beneath them and Jesus grabbed her by the wrist roughly, throwing caution to the wind as he pulled her quickly behind the trailers. If she was seen by any of the Saviors that were on the road that night they’d know the communities were colluding. Knowing they were colluding meant consequences for both of their communities; consequences including their death.

“Come on, I know a place to hide.” They were now dashing along the wall of the colony as the gates opened and trucks of Saviors flooded in.

That dreadful panic settled back into Billie’s stomach as she ran in time with Jesus as she wondered where Sasha, Maggie and Millie were. Where they inside the mansion? A trailer? Still at the graves? She feared they got caught up with Gregory, knowing that if it benefited him he would sell them out in a second.

“Here.” Jesus stopped along the wall furthest from the gate, standing in front of a large crate of wood. “They don’t know about this.” Before Billie had the chance to question him he was lifting the logs, revealing a secret bunker within. She supposed it was made for this very reason; hiding for something that shouldn’t be in the colony. “I’ll come get you when they’re gone. Two knocks. Stay quiet.”

It was a tight fit, scratching the walls and bearing splinters in her biceps while Jesus watched over his shoulder. He casted one last look her way, bright blue eyes filled with worry before shutting the top and encasing her in darkness.

Her breath was ragged, terrified, and she held it periodically when she thought she had heard something. It felt like hours spent in the pitch black bunker, rocking in the cold dirt, nothing to be heard but the rushing adrenaline beating in her own ears between short bursts of breath. Steady footsteps from above made her lurch back further into the darkness, holding her breath once again. The voice was muffled as it approached, whistling a familiar tune that caused a wave of nausea to settle in Billie’s stomach.

Whoever was above her was not Jesus, and she feared whoever it was knew just what they were looking for.

#what comes after #chapter four #writing #fanfiction #twd #billie ford #sasha williams #maggie rhee #millie ford #paul 'jesus' rovia

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inhumansforever · 6 years

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Ms. Marvel #25 Review

spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers

The ‘Teenage Wasteland’ story arc begins here as Kamala’s buddies try to pick of the super heroing slack during Ms. Marvel’s mysterious absence. From the creative team of G Willow Wilson, Nico Leon and Ian Herring Recap and review following the jump.

Ms. Marvel is missing and Jersey City has been left unprotected. Kamala’s good friends, Zoe, Nakia, Mike and Gabe are all quite worried that all manner of mayhem might ensue were the all the bad guys outer to discover Ms. M’s absence. Hence they have hoisted it upon themselves to take up Ms. Marvel’s mantel, dress up as her and keep the denizens of Jersey City safe and believing that their hero is there to protect them.

And the city may very well need this protection, for the weird and evil scientist, Dr. Gregory Balthazar Knox, has just been granted parol and has been released from prison. Knox is actually the super villain known as ‘The Inventor’ and is one of the first major adversaries Ms. Marvel tangled with in her short career as a costumed hero. It looks like Kamala has chosen the wrong time for her sabbatical in that The Inventor is sure to be up to all manner of dastardly deeds now that he’s free.

Elsewhere, Mike is roaming the rooftops of downtown Jersey City trying her best to fill Ms. Marvel’s shoes, and uniform, and there’s also a cheap wig (which she forgot to remove the price tag from).

Mike spots a robber (who is very conveniently dressed as a robber) trying to pilfer some priceless pearls from an older woman. Mike jumps onto the scene, using a rigged-together inflatable device to mimic Ms. marvel’s embiggoned fist. At first the robber laughs at this un-intimidating display, but laughs no more when the inflated fist wallops him into next Tuesday. Her job accomplished, Mike attempts to make a dramatic exit which results in her falling off a rooftop and into a dumpster.

Back at Gabe’s basement hideout, Mike exclaims that she’s had it. Playing the role of Ms. Marvel has been rather difficult and she has sprained everything that she has left to sprain. It’s someone else’s turn to take a shift. The others lament that this would all be easier were Kamala there to help. None of Kamala’s pals know that she and Ms. Marvel are one and the same; the fact that Ms. M and Kamala have both gone missing at the same time seems to strike them as little more than a mere coincidence.

In any case, Zoe agrees that she’s be next at playing the role of Ms. Marvel… she’s confident that it’ll go well; you know, since she’s been doing some cross/fit of late (plus she has a copy of ‘Pakour for Dummies’ so it’s certain to go fine).

The next day at school, their classmate, Neftali, has come looking for Kamala. It’s Wednesday, sandwich day, and Neftali has brought with him a deluxe kosher hoggie for his pal. This is the character’s first introduction in the pages of Ms. Marvel, but apparently the two are friends and usually share sandwiches on Wednesday. He is perplexed by Kamala’s friend’s seeming lack of concern over Kamala’s whereabout.

Nakia and the others have grown rather accustomed to Kamala disappearing for long spats at a time. Between Ms. Marvel’s adventures as a solo hero coupled with her participation with both The Champions and Secret Warriors, Kamala likely misses a lot of school and the others seem to have just become used to it. Neftali, however, doesn’t like it at all and sets upon finding out where Kamala is and delivering her her sandwich (or be mildly inconvenienced in trying).

Fortunately, Neftali has a pretty boss scooter that he uses to shoot over the Khan household where he finds Aamir in the process of loading up a moving van, prepping for his and his new wife moving into an apartment of their own. Aamir appears to know what’s up with his sister; she’s taking a break and Aamir is not about to spill the beans on her whereabouts. Aamir is not about to get on his sister’s bad side; he and his wife are expecting a baby any day now and Aamir is going to need all the help (and babysitting) that Kamala may have to offer. Still, Aamir is able to convince Neftali that Kamala is okay and that he has no need to worry about her wellbeing.

That night, Zoe has donned the Ms. Marvel garb and wig and doing her part to patrol the city and assure the citizenship that Ms. Marvel still has their backs. Smartly, Zoe has chosen an affluent, low-crime neighborhood to patrol. It is here that Zoe is approached by Laal Khanjeer, The Red Dagger.

The Dagger sees right through Zoe’s disguise. He knows the real Ms. Marvel quite well and is rather certain she doesn’t have blue eyes and caucasian skin. He demands to know what has been down with the real Ms. Marvel, but Zoe is able to turn the tables on him by asking why it is he’s so interested… The Dagger has a big ol’ crush on Ms. Marvel and he bashfully goes on the defensive, explaining that things did not go so well between them on their last adventure together; he’s been quite worried about her.

Zoe and The Dagger’s conversation is cut short when a screaming old man rolls by on his slow-speed motorized rascal. Newly arrived from Karachi, The Dagger is not sure whether or not such an occurrence is a normal thing here in the states. Zoe has to admit it isn’t and she catches up with the old-timer to see what the problem is. The man explains that he’s escaped his assisted living home because someone there has been locking up the residents in a science dungeon.

Concerned that the old fellow might be suffering from some type of age related cognitive issue, Zoe and The Dagger escort him back to the Sundown Senior Sanctuary. Whist doing so, The Dagger laments that in his home country they would never treat their elders in such a way; one’s grandparents deserve respect and should be cared for by their families. Here here.

Despite the old man’s claims of peril, the Sundown Senior Sanctuary seems to a nice enough place. There’s a spirited game of checkers going down as well as an old codger who appears perfectly content chucking a bunch of stuffed animals out the window (which does look rather fun).

Despite the apparent lack of any danger, The Dagger insists that he and Zoe have a look around just to be sure. Begrudgingly, Zoe agrees and as they look around they encounter Bob the orderly who demands they vacate immediately. This ‘Bob’ is quite obviously Dr. Gregory Balthazar Knox. Yet, in his guise as a super villain, Knox wore this weird bird costume so neither recognize him (although Zoe does sense something familiar about him).

Quite suddenly, a mechanical arm crashes through the wall, its mechanized hand grabbing Zoe and picking her up. The Dagger tries to rescue her but they both end up falling down to the side of the building. Fortunately they land safely in the pile of stuffed animals that old dude had been chucking out the window. Thanks gramps!

The two get up and see before them the creature that had attacked them: some type of giant chameleon cyborg! Uh oh!

And it is here that the issue concludes with the promise of continuation.

It’s an interesting and fun irony that an issue that doesn’t feature a single appearance of the real Ms. Marvel should feel so unequivocally ‘Ms. Marvel-esque’ in tone, style and substance. The quippy but authentic dialogue, continued strong character development, and fun but still perilous adventure is all here… it’s only Kamala herself who is missing. Yet I don’t miss her too terribly in that I love her supporting cast and am quite happy for a story arc putting them in the center spotlight.

Zoe especially shined in this issue. She is such an intriguing characters in that she has transformed so much from her first appearance (where she was a one-dimension and stereotypical cheerleader mean-girl) to her current status as a wholly unique, fully fleshed-out, interesting and relatable character. Zoe is merely a component of Ms. Marvel’s supporting cast, yet she has more depth and development of personality than most characters who star in their own book (or books plural). It reminds me of the Lee/Ditko era of Amazing Spider-Man where Petey’s pal, Harry Osborn, Gwen Stacy, Flash Thompson and Liz Allen all played pivotal roles in the stories, making Spidey’s world feel real and multidimensional.

Zoe and The Red Dagger make for a great pairing. Outside of their shared concern for Kamala, the two have almost nothing in common yet they play off one another in a wonderful fashion. G Willow Wilson’s skill at providing her characters such a unique and idiosyncratic sense of voice makes the dialogue such a treat to read.

I also appreciated the addition of Neftali to the crew. It’s difficult to say what the story is with this guy, where he’s been all this time and how it is that he has access to such highly coveted sandwiches, but I’m definitely interested in learning more. The scene between him and Aamir is particularly intriguing... not because of what is said, but rather what is not said. I like that there can be a scene between one character who is quite obviously Muslim and another who is quite obviously Jewish and the matter of culture and religion is not at all a factor.

Also, as a Jewish guy myself, it is always nice to see a fellow Jew introduced as a character. I can already hear the haters lamenting the overtly political correctness of Kamala’s running crew being so very diverse, but representation does matter and it just feels good to see someone like me as a part of the Ms. Marvel cast.

Likewise, I’m glad to see The Inventor make a subsequent appearance. As a comic, Ms. Marvel really needs to start accruing a more stable rogues gallery; and the Inventor’s return is an excellent step in that direction. It makes for an interesting twist that he has gone from targeting shiftless teenagers to setting his sights on shuffled-away senior citizens. It’s sinisterly clever that he always goes after those who are pushed off to the fringes, who may be the least likely to be missed. Based on his prior appearance, The Inventor has expressed a particular animosity toward those he see as not contributing to society; perhaps he feels the same way toward the elderly. He’s just a bad dude.

A lot of the fellow Ms. Marvel fans I’ve spoken with are still holding out hope that Kamala/Bruno might still happen. Although it’s a shipping I respect, I actually much prefer Kareem. Of course I would also be fine with Kamala not having a love interest at all. She’s just a teenager and anything outside of holding hands is likely to be more than what she is currently interested. Still, I think the Red Dagger is super cool and I’m psyched that he’s going play a central role in this adventure.

Artist, Diego Olortegu, had illustrated the previous two issue. Mr. Olortegu is a very talented artist, yet I didn’t feel as though he was a particularly good fit for Ms. Marvel. This issue is illustrated by Nico Leon who is much more apt in capturing that distinctive look and aesthetic that has come to be something of a hallmark of the title. Similar to Adrain Alphona and Takeshi Miyazawa, Leon absolutely excels at providing the kinds of facial expression, panel layouts, detailed backgrounds, sight gags and all the fun little tidbits that makes the series so special. In particular, I liked Gabe zipping about his basement on a hover-board, Zoe’s reading ‘Pakour for Dummies,’ and the sign at the Sundown Senior Sanctuary reminding residents not to feed cake to Fluffy the dog.

I’ve long-since run out of ways to laud Ian Herring’s color work, so I’ll just repeat once more that it is flawless and Mr. Herring’s coloring has remained just as crucial a component to the specialness of Ms. Marvel as the wrting and illustration.

Another fantastic read and highly recommended. This is the last issue of Ms. Marvel for 2017 and I can say once more that the series has easily earned a spot on my top ten best comics of the year. A must read. Five out of Five Lockjaws.

#Ms. Marvel #Kamala Khan #G Willow Wilson #Nico Leon #Ian Herring #spoilers #review #Inhumans

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negans-network · 7 years

Text

Pull My Hair Part 1 - The Wanderer

Summary: For @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash and her 2nd Negan Writing Challenge, this is for the hair-pulling kink prompt introducing OFC Susan.

Word Count: 5421 (Sorry, I got carried away)

Warnings: Foul language, Sexual References, Language, and Imagery (No Smut yet), Slight Gore, Really Bad Humor

Author: @genevievedarcygranger

At first, she didn’t make a point of leaving, but life forced her hand. One of the first large groups she had found had been terrible. Composing mostly of men, they made far too many attempts to get into her pants, and feeling too uncomfortable and unsafe to sleep she slipped out one night and ran away with a backpack full of goods so she could make it on her own.

For a while she was fine – they hadn’t even bothered to pursue her – but she spent too many nights awake, waiting for danger. After that she found another group, but the group was dissolving at the seams when she joined them. They didn’t have a community, and roamed around much as she had done. The area they were scouting lacked supplies and they were forced to disperse to find enough food for themselves.

Again, Susan was on her own and forced to travel long distances. She went north to escape the weather and find areas that haven’t already been picked clean; and she ran into another group in South Carolina. Susan was with them for the longest after the end of the world, around three months or so. Among them she had forged friendships and there was this one cute guy named Jay. He was just a friend, and she had been trying to work up the courage to admit her interest to him. Unfortunately, though, as the world and life normally does to Susan when things are looking up and going well – it went to shit.

Mistakes were made somehow – Susan doesn’t know how and she doubts she’ll ever know – and the Dead came in huge packs. The group was separated by force, and Susan watched Jay get bit before she killed him. It wasn’t until later that she realized the cruel irony of the situation. She had crushed the skull of the guy she had had a crush on.

Jay was still human when she killed him, but he wasn’t the first human she has killed. Susan wasn’t sure how many she has killed, only that she has. It was an effort to forget, so why bother remembering? Sleep was hard enough to come by anyway.

That being her third strike at living with people, Susan struck out on her own, resolved to harden her heart against others. There were bouts of loneliness, of course, moments where she thought she was going crazy. In her heart, though, she firmly believed that isolation was better than making connections with people who were just going to die anyway. Maybe it was her fault that groups fell apart; at this rate, she could believe it.

The fourth time she joined a group was against Susan’s will entirely. Susan was too careless, too clumsy, and broke her wrist escaping from the Dead. Fate had quite literally forced her hand (until her wrist broke) to find a community or group for safety. She found one, a group she had been distinctly avoiding once she entered their territory. They were friendly enough, accepted her, but as soon as Susan was able she left. While there she didn’t talk much, trying not to make enemies or friends. She succeeded and they let her leave without a fuss.

Winter came and she was in North Carolina, approximately. Not use to the weather and lacking supplies, she fell sick, but this time a group found her. Once she had rested up and gotten over her illness, she left again. By now, she was starting to see how hopping to group to group could benefit her. No attachments, but the benefit of resupplying and resting for a little while. Less of a chance of going crazy by herself, too.

So, when she came to Virginia and stumbled upon a walled community, she decided she would stay for a fortnight. The Hilltop welcomed her, and she was put to work, which she didn’t mind at all. Susan only bothered to learn two names: Gregory, the leader of the community who referred to her as ‘Sally’ or ‘Sweetie’ and Jesus, the guy she went out on runs with. He taught her a few tricks, but other than that maintained his distance. Though he genuinely cared about the wellbeing of the community as a whole, he kept his distance from people. Susan could appreciate the concept and considered herself lucky that he wouldn’t try to get too close to her. She kept her word and left after a fortnight without telling anyone. Additionally, she stole some supplies for herself.

After her stint with the Hilltop, she avoided most people, just in case it was anybody looking for her and the supplies. It was about a month or two – the days blend together after a while when you’re alone – and Susan was found by men wearing riot gear on horses. They spoke with shitty ‘Ye Olde Englishe’ accents and offered her a place at their Kingdom. Running low on water, Susan shrugged and went with them, already making plans to leave in two weeks. She met their King, a rather handsome man, and his tiger, a rather pretty big cat. Physical and emotional distance were required. Some of the knights were nice, like Jerry who made her laugh, but Richard was a bit of a dick. He was suspicious of her. Susan avoided him and enjoyed the cobblers and choir singing for as long as she could. When her two weeks were up she almost changed her mind to stay for a few more days, but she was too afraid. So, again, she left without saying goodbye to anybody; and again, she stole supplies for herself.

That was about three months ago. Susan knew it was three months because it was summer time now, and she had run out of feminine products and needed to go find some more somewhere. Birth control pills had run out long ago. Squinting her nondescript brown eyes into the general direction of the sun, she oriented herself in the direction of a pharmacy. It had been difficult to avoid the Kingdom after she left, but she kept them running in circles and stuck around the area enough to learn a few places. If she headed north, she could find a Walgreens or something, and surely, she could find what she needed there. She would need them soon. Ducking her head down and stubbornly trudging forward, she caught sight of how much browner she was. Well, she had always been brown, but never this dark – and not all of this grime could make her so dark either. Perhaps she should find some sunscreen, too, then.

Susan sighed and continued to walk down the middle of the street. The side of the roads were crumbling, and she’d rather not risk snapping her ankle. Additionally, she would be closer to the tree line, and she didn’t want one of the Dead to sneak out and surprise her. She was starting to feel lonely again. On a whim, in an effort to bolster her spirits, she started singing,

“Oh, well, I’m the type of guy who will never settle down.

Where pretty girls are, well, you know that I’m around.

I kiss them and I love them, because to me they’re all the same.

I hug them and I squeeze them, they don’t even know my name.

They call me the wanderer. Yeah, the wanderer.

I roam around, around, around…”

She trailed off as she started to cough, stopping for a minute to get her water bottle from her backpack. It was her last one. Another reason she should find some store or pharmacy. The pollen wasn’t helping her cough either. Would people think to loot pharmacies for allergy pills? Maybe not and she could get some. Susan perked up when she heard a harsh noise, and with a sigh she took the blunt pipe out of her backpack before she zipped it back up and slung it back on.

One of the perks of being alone was that she could sing without having to argue about the song or lyrics or being told to stop because she was a terrible singer. Of course, there was a downside, like how the Dead just loved her singing and always came running to take a bite of her.

Looking over her shoulder, she spotted one of the Dead lumbering out of the tree line, heading in her direction. It was ugly, dead for some time now, and the Sun had melted its flesh off of its bones until its eyes were gone. It had found her by sound and (ruefully she sniffed her armpit and wrinkled her nose accordingly) smell alone, it seemed. She deliberately continued singing so it could lock in on her location.

“Oh, well, I roam from town to town.

I go through life without a care.

I’m as happy as a clown,

With my two fists of iron and I’m going nowhere.”

Remaining where she stood, she hefted the pipe in her hand experimentally, waiting for it to come closer to her. Susan was bored, there was no other reason for her to do this. Finishing off her water, she gasped appreciatively, and then she neatly chucked it at the Dead and it bounced off its sunken chest. Old Susan would’ve never littered, but New Susan knew this world was already dead.

As she listened to the Dead’s guttural, grating groans growing louder as it hobbled closer, she winced. “Look, buddy, that song I was singing,” Susan stepped forward and swung the pipe at its skull, “Was –” Blam! “Not –” Blam! “A duet!” Blam!

The Dead fell lifeless for sure and for good measure, she flattened his caved-in skull with her heel, grinding it into the hot asphalt of the road. Panting slightly, she glanced down at the sprinkles of blood on her shirt. Damn, she really liked this shirt. Susan swung her pipe, flicking away the extra blood, and picked up singing again.

“Oh, well, I’m the type of guy that likes to roam around.

I’m never in one place, I roam from town to town,

And when I find myself falling for some girl,

I hop right into that car of mine and ride around the world.

Yeah, I’m the wanderer. Yeah, the wanderer.

I roam around, around, around…”

Taking all the time in the world, she swung her backpack off again and rummaged through it. Slipping off the spoiled shirt, she wrapped it around the pipe to keep from the blood from staining anything else and stuck it back in her backpack before looking for another shirt. Since showers were limited, changing clothes often was the best way she could prevent herself from getting sick. Thankfully, not a lot of clothes store were looted at the end of the world or even now. Maybe the pharmacy would have a spare scrub shirt or two for her. Not really paying attention, she repeated herself.

“Oh, yeah, I’m the type of guy that likes to roam around.

I’m never in one place, I roam from town to town,

And when I find myself falling for some girl,

I hop right into that car of mine and ride around the world.

Yeah, because I’m a wanderer. Yeah, a wanderer.

I roam around, around, around…”

Susan trailed off as she thought she heard something. It would be her luck to be more of the Dead, but she couldn’t be sure. She sat up straight, hesitantly looking around. It wouldn’t do well to be caught with her pants down – or rather, in her case, to be caught with her shirt off. Not hearing anything else, she sang again.

“Because I’m a wanderer. Yeah, a wanderer.

I roam around, around, around…”

Her head jerked up and this time she knew she heard something as she fell silent. There, there was the sound of engines – multiple trucks. “Oh, great.” She shook her backpack and dug around in it faster, but she could see dust stirring just around the bend of the road… Not taking any chances, she booked it for the tree line where the Dead just came from. Just her luck, she tripped over the water bottle that she had thrown at the Dead, and dropped her backpack. Not having time to get it, she continued to run until she reached the cover of the trees. Ducking behind a tree, she prayed that the trucks would just drive by and leave her backpack so she could go back and get it.

That backpack had kept her alive so far and carried a lot of stuff. She had used that backpack in college, and there were still a few decorative patches on it despite its general wear and tear. Even though it was faded, that purple color still stood out on the side of the road, and the Dead one in the middle of the road was just as suspicious. Maybe they wouldn’t notice a damn thing if she were lucky, though.

As if summoned by her thoughts, a convoy of trucks came around the curve, and Susan swore that they were going too slow. The longer she watched, the slower the trucks went, until they stopped less than ten or so feet away from her. “Of fucking course, they would,” Susan muttered sourly.

At the head of the convoy was a blue pick-up truck, the one made for flinging up mud. Was the truck really blue? There was too much pollen to tell for sure. A really tall man with a mustache – even from the tree line she could tell he was tall and his mustache was huge and black – hopped out of the truck and called to the others, “We’re stopping here to refuel!” There was a flurry of activity like an ant-hill that had been stepped on as even more men clambered out of their vehicles, some toting red gas containers as they refueled their respective vehicles.

Already breathing heavy from her impromptu sprint, Susan started to panic. The longer they moseyed around her, the more likely they were to find her. She couldn’t leave without her backpack, that had everything she owned. On top of that, she couldn’t continue through the woods on foot, defenseless, without a shirt, too. Anxiously, she watched the men and hoped that they wouldn’t see the backpack.

One of the men, rather handsomely dressed in a shiny black leather jacket, whistled; and Susan immediately zeroed in on him like a dog. His black hair was slicked back and she immediately thought of The Outsiders and Grease. Part of her absentmindedly considered if he could sing and dance. He had a red scarf – an ascot maybe? Like Fred from Scooby Doo. More importantly though, he had a wooden baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire, so shiny it glinted in the sun and nearly rivaled the shiny glint of his slicked back hair.

Actually, take that back, his smile was the brightest thing on him. Did he loot pharmacies for whitening toothpaste and mouthwash? Dental hygiene seemed important to him. Also, the most important thing on him had to be his smile after she caught sight of it, it contrasted so starkly with his small beard of grey, black, and white. He was like a dream out here, there was no way someone could be so real as him. No one smiled at the end of the world, but there he was as he surveyed the men around him. Mystery man – or rather more affectionately dubbed, Smiling Man – had to be the leader of this little brigade then. Despite her interest, Susan willed Smiling Man to round his boys up and leave this place quickly.

Against her will, though, Smiling Man just paced leisurely, swinging his bat so playfully as if he were a pimp and that was his cane. He came to a stop right at the remains of the Dead she had taken out. The Smiling Man inspected it, pointing his bat at it, with a curious look on his face. His smile was still there, but now he had pinched his tongue between his teeth, evidently thinking hard about how one of the Dead could get its skull flattened so recently when they had not passed any trucks on the road. Susan bit her lip, partly to ward off her anxiety and partly because he looked so particularly handsome with his head cocked like that with his tongue just so.

While she was distracted by Smiling Man, Susan had neglected to pay attention to two men who approached her hiding spot. She didn’t notice them until one of them said, “Hurry up and piss, David. I still don’t see why you need me out here with you.”

Immediately, Susan ducked back around her tree and flattened herself against it as she heard David’s answer. “Gary, didn’t you hear about what happened to Dwight? Some guy just straight up bit his dick. I don’t want one of those things to bite mine off. That’s a bad way to go.”

“Whatever, David. Just piss.”

Susan was nearly about to piss herself. Part of her wanted to laugh about a guy getting his dick bit, but then the rational part of her knew that David and Gary were way too damn close for comfort. David could piss on her for all she knew, he sounded close enough to do it as she heard the tell-tale sound of a zipper.

“Hey, wait, David. Zip it back up, man.” Gary’s suddenly hushed voice interrupted David before he could even start.

“What, Gary? You see something?”

“Yeah, check out this cool backpack I found.” Susan distinctly heard the man rustle around her bag and she had to bite her tongue to keep back her fury. At least he thought her backpack was cool. “David, look at this bloody pipe. It’s fresh.”

“Those panties look pretty fresh, too.” David commented, and Susan hoped to God that he did not just snatch her good panties out of her backpack.

The sound of a baseball bat slamming against something metal – a truck? – interrupted the men’s conversation. “Ho! Davey, Gary, you finished jerking each other off yet? We will leave without you slow fucks!”

Susan inhaled sharply. Not Smiling Man. Don’t call him over here.

“Negan, we found something!”

Damn! Is that Smiling Man?

“You fuckers better have found some good shit to waste my damn time like this,” confirmed Susan’s worst fear. Well, not technically worst fear. Smiling Man was attractive after all, but here she was shirtless and not exactly in the best shape of her life.

The crunch of leaves underfoot broke her out of her reverie as she heard the men approach the tree line. “See if you can find some more shit out there for me then. And Davey? Put the fucking panties back in the backpack, you sick fuck. You don’t even fucking know where those have fucking been.”

When she was a child, Susan use to pretend that she was a tree-nymph. Being one with nature, she could feel its pain. She was a regular tree-hugger hippie. Well now, Susan really wished she could just melt right into a tree. Holding her breath, she scrunched her eyes nearly shut, and watched as both David and Gary passed on either side of her tree, not noticing her at all. Lady Luck, fickle bitch that she was, was on Susan’s side for once it seemed. Susan exhaled noiselessly through her mouth, nearly sagging to the floor in relief. Now she had the problem of avoiding being seen when they would come back.

A sudden twig snap startled her, and Susan knew it had to be one of the Dead. Both David’s and Gary’s heads swung in the direction of the Dead and started towards the noise. Taking that as a sign to slip away, Susan slowly edged out from behind her tree, eyes fixated on the retreated backs of the men. Once they were out of sight, she sighed with relief and then looked away.

And, of course, there was Smiling Man. Keegan? Negan? Yes, that was what they called him. He was inside the tree line like she was, but he hadn’t seen her yet. Like the other men, he was examining the contents of her bag, rolling the pipe around in his gloved hand. He only had one gloved hand. The dreaded baseball bat was propped against a tree within easy reach of him.

Debating with herself, Susan considered if this was how she could escape. Smiling Man was tall, but not particularly big as he was very slim. Maybe she could overpower him through surprise, but not without killing him. If she killed him, the group would chase her for revenge she was sure. He was a figure of respect and fear, and killing him would warrant no mercy.

Not seeing any other choice, Susan silently tread forward, taking advantage of his attention being elsewhere, and grabbed the bat. “Please, put the pipe back in the backpack, drop it, and move away.” Susan didn’t hold the bat threateningly, not wanting to appear too aggressive. Mainly she grabbed it so he wouldn’t. His only weapon would be that pipe, she knew. The baseball bat had the advantage of length and distance. She was therefore at the advantage until those men come back or if he screamed. Smiling Man didn’t look like a screamer, though, at least not a pussy screamer. Maybe pussy could make him scream… she’s getting off track. “Didn’t you hear me? Do it now, please. And don’t turn around.”

She watched as Smiling Man stiffened and slowly turned around, defying her instructions. Once he caught sight of her, he smiled, and God, if she didn’t melt into a puddle then. Boy, was Smiling Man living up to his unofficial nickname or what. “Well, hello there. I’m Negan. And you are?”

Racking her brain for something clever to say – clever? Why did she want to impress him – Susan blinked rapidly, testily swinging the bat. “Shirtless. Tired. Hungry. Dehydrated. Hot. Thirsty.” She stopped herself before she said something too revealing. “Look, please, just gimme back my backpack and I’ll go. Here, I’ll trade this for the backpack. I don’t have guns or anything good. No pomade for your hair or bleach for your teeth. Nothing. Please gimme the backpack.” She lifted the nose of the bat in a pleading gesture, not lifting the bat any higher than knee level to him. It was a little hard to lift the bat one-handed, but her other arm was wrapped protectively around her midsection as a shield.

Surprisingly, despite her loose lips, he was still smiling. “Well fuck,” he harshly chuckled, though the sound was rather pleasing to Susan’s ear. “I guess you are all of those fucking things. Especially hot, huh?” If it was possible, his smile got even wider, his eyes pleasantly crinkling in the corner. What pretty eyes…focus Susan! “That there that you’re holding is Lucille. Be careful with her.” He dropped the pipe to the ground to appease her, and Susan lowered the bat again.

Glancing at the bat, Susan didn’t bat an eye that he named it. It was a pretty name. Wait, was she envious of the bat? Never mind that now. “Quit stalling, Dapper Dan, and gimme back my stuff, damn it.” Her frustration was bleeding through, and she hoped she didn’t sound too unfriendly. “The least you can do is pass me the clean shirt from there.”

“Fucking dapper, huh? I prefer mind-fucking-numbingly sexy.” He was ignoring her now. “I could pass you a fucking shirt, but I’m fucking enjoying the fucking view for fucking free while I fucking can. Besides, I didn’t see a fucking shirt in here.” He lifted and shook the bad for emphasis, the added effect almost comedic enough to make Susan laugh if she weren’t in a hurry.

Remembering her vulnerability again, Susan wrapped her arm over her stomach more tightly. Her breasts she was proud of, but her midsection? Not so much. “Smiling Man, please,” Susan let the nickname slip as she grew more desperate. “Don’t make this too hard. I’ll give you Lucille and those panties for my shirt and the backpack and everything else in it. Let me go.” She knew that there had to be a shirt in there.

“I am very hard in general, and as for your fucking offer,” he trailed off. Leaning back on his heels as if he were about to fucking limbo, Smiling Man just tilted his head to one side like an adorable puppy dog and smiled at her. “Nope!” He popped the ‘p’ and quickly glanced behind her. Susan immediately whipped around, raising the bat defensively in case David and Gary had snuck up on her.

In so doing, she lost her upper hand, and Smiling Man pounced on her like a cat. His gloved hand wrestled Lucille away from her grip while his ungloved hand caught her hair and yanked it hard like the reins of a horse. Susan stilled, pliant, hoping he wouldn’t rip her head off, and Smiling Man dragged her against his chest, pressing her against him from rear to her head that leaned against his shoulder. She felt his hot breath wash over her face – minty, confirming her suspicions about dental hygiene – and the arousal she had for him flared in interest once more. Against her will, she groaned and hoped it sounded more like genuine frustration that the actual sexual frustration that it was.

“Now, how many fucking nicknames do you have for me?” Smiling Man asked her, dipping his head until his lips nearly brushed against her ear. With one hand in her hair, the other hand Lucille in front of them horizontally like a bar. She held her hands up helplessly as if to ward off Lucille’s attack.

“Um, mostly just Smiling Man, Dapper Dan, and right now Asshole.” Why did she say that? Well, if she was going to die, she would make the most of it.

“I’ve heard Asshole before,” Smiling Man huffed his laughter directly into her ear and the dampness she felt from his breath was reflected on another part of her anatomy. “But I’m fucking Negan.”

Gulping, Susan decided it was her time to die, and what a way to go when she’s scared as hell and wet from arousal rather than piss. “Well what if I want to be fucking Negan, too?”

Behind her, Smiling Man tensed, muscles coiling like a snake. Surely, this was the end of Susan. “Well, you can be fucking Negan, too, I guess.” He tugged on her brown hair again, more to keep her attention than anything else. “Listen here, you can either be like one of these men – a Savior – where you scavenge for me. You will go by Negan whenever anyone asks.” Again, he repeated the tug and Susan felt herself gush in correspondence. She didn’t know why the hair-pulling was getting to her, it just was. Maybe it was because of him. “Or you can be one of my wives, and then you’ll really be fucking Negan, fucking me.”

“Um,” Susan hummed. This wasn’t what she was expecting. She was ready to die, but now he was offering her career choices. Either she could bring home the bacon or be a trophy wife. Briefly she had the internal struggle of going against the rules she had made, the rules of not staying longer than she has to. But maybe now it was time for a break again, and she could sneak out. Well, if she was going to leave after a fortnight, and this was to be a vacation from the road, then she knew which position she wanted. “I’ll fuck you, Negan.” Oh, yes, she knew exactly which positions she wanted.

There was one more tug, and Susan felt like she was going to cum. Then Negan promptly released her. “Good fucking girl! I like you, you’re fucking smart. Charming, sexy little feisty thing, yeah! You’ll fit right in.” He spun Susan around and she felt dizzy, this encounter head-spinning for multiple reasons. He was smiling. “Say, what’s your name then since you’re not gonna be Negan?” Being smart, he stuck his tongue in the corner of his mouth mischievously, and his eyes were glittering with good humor. He was too handsome for his own good, or more precisely for Susan’s good.

“Uh, Susan.” She numbly answered, and her hands came up to wrap around her chest and stomach. This motion wasn’t to cover her decency so much as it was to keep the butterflies still in her stomach. Susan told herself it was just normal sexual attraction. No romantic feelings, no problem. Fucking him for two weeks couldn’t make her love him. She’d caught how he said wives, plural, too. There was no way she could make that much of an impression that he’d care so much when she leaves.

With fluid grace, Negan scooped up her backpack and handed it back to her. “Well, uh Susan – can I call you Suzie?”

“No.” She answered him shortly, gratefully accepting her backpack.

“How about Suzie Q?”

“No, I’ve heard all that noise before. No thanks.” Taking her eyes off of him again, she started searching for her extra shirt. Did she really not have one? She could’ve sworn she had at least one cute red one.

“What about Sue?” Negan asked, watching her intently, gently tapping Lucille against the heel of his boot.

Susan paused, remembering how she was singing when the trucks started to roll up. There was no way that he knew that. “I would prefer Susan.”

“Well you had a billion and fucking one nicknames for me. Turnabout is only fair play, Susan.” He waited a moment and then continued, “You don’t got a fucking shirt, do ya? Told ya.”

Trying not to whine, Susan answered, “Well, I thought I did, I’m sorry.”

“That’s fucking fine with me, Susan. But I don’t think you’d want everyone to see your girls, so here.” Negan started to unzip his jacket, and Sue’s mouth watered. Funny, she thought all the moisture in her body had gone to wet her other pair of lips. As soon as he was standing there in his white shirt – sans leather jacket – tucking his red scarf into the back pocket of his pants, Susan confirmed that he was particularly slim and still all the more handsome. “Wear this until we get to the Sanctuary.” Like a fucking gentleman, he handed her his black leather jacket.

“Sanctuary?” Susan parroted back to him as she pulled the jacket on. It fit her entire wrong. It was too long, but couldn’t hang over her too-big ass, so instead it bunched up on her hips. She could barely manage to zip it and she didn’t want to risk breaking the jacket of her new husband when she had just met him, so her ‘girls’ as he put it were still practically handing out. The enjoyable part was how the sleeves came down to her the palms of her hands, her fingertips and too-long nails just hanging out. That was the only part she could deem attractive to him in her eyes. Honestly, she’s surprised he proposed marriage and seemed agreeable to fuck her. Maybe her luck was turning around.

“Yes, Sanctuary. You’re new home, Susan.” Negan’s eyes roved over her form once more and he snickered. Her stomach dropped correspondingly, ego plummeting just as low. “You look fucking cute.” Stomach and ego returned to their places, and Susan relaxed at her false alarm. She didn’t want her vacation cut short because he found her lacking as a wife. That would make escaping harder.

“Okay then, dear husband,” she lightly sassed him. Susan clutched her backpack to her chest and looked up at him, admiring his smile. “Take me home.”

#negan #negan's thirst squad #ash's negan writing challenge #NTS #NTS fics #negan fanfics #fanfiction #twd #the walking dead #submission

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