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the-storming-sea · 3 years

Note

For prompts: Todoroki using every single Toshi-Izuku interaction to add to his "Izuku is All Might's secret love child' conspiracy board

Tfw its been like two to three days but Many Things have happened in that time. Oops

Uh, anyways–

"Dude. What. The. Fuck."

Sero, Kirishima, and Yaoyorozu stared, wide-eyed and nearly slack-jawed from the futon they currently sat at. Across from them, hanging off the wall was a large pinboard, polaroid pictures and newspapers articles with certain words and pictures circled in with bright red marker tacked onto different places, red string connecting each and every single one of those pictures together.

And in front of that pinboard stood Todoroki Shouto, one of the most powerful students at UA, son of the current Number One Hero, wide-eyed and wild-haired and probably, by definition, out of his fucking mind.

"Listen. I'm not crazy–"

"Literally everything that's happening now is providing evidence to the contrary."

"–but All Might is Midoriya's father."

"That's." Kirishima blinked, once, his brain attempting to process what his classmate was saying. "What?"

"All Might. Is. Midoriya's. Father," Todoroki said, slower, like he was trying to explain quantum physics to a toddler. Or to anyone.

"Todoroki, All Might's never been in a public relationship before," Yaoyorozu replied, slower. Of all of Todoroki's eccentricities, this had to be the weirdest one yet. "Not to mention, all of All Might's speculated relationships have been with men."

"Then at least one of his partners is trans, or he's trans!"

"They don't even look the same!"

"Then Midoriya gets his looks from his mother! They have the same quirk! They practically act the same!" Todoroki threw his hands up in exasperation, frost creeping on the side of his fingers. "I'm still right!"

"Bro, you've met Midoriya's mother."

"Artificial insemination! Adoption! Again, secret love child!"

Todoroki slapped his hand on the board, slightly burning the edges of one of the newspaper clippings. "Look, see here," he said, pointing to the clipping. Kirishima tentatively walked up, squinting at the headline. "Read this."

"'Mystery Samaritans Found Cleaning Up Takoba Beach.'" Kirishima frowned. "So?"

Sero's eyes brightened. "Oh, I remember that! I used to go to the beach all the time with my family," he said. "What's that gotta do with anything?"

"Look at this photo!"

Kirishima turned his eyes towards the photo, frowning. His eyes widened in shock.

"Holy shit, is that Midoriya?"

"Huh, so it is," Yaoyorozu said. "And...is that...?"

"YES!" Todoroki exclaimed, once again slapping his hand on the pinboard and startling his friends. "All Might, as he currently looks now, and Midoriya found at Takoba beach a full year before the school year starts. That means they knew each other before the school year started!"

"You repeated yourself."

"I know I know I know but why," Todoroki pressed, taking a deep breath, "why would All Might, in his weakened state before Kamino, be seen with Midoriya unless...unless that was his secret son."

He clapped his hands together just as he was finishing his point, clearly pleased by his argument. The three stared back at him, slightly alarmed.

"Or...maybe he just met him recently and they decided to clean the beach together," Yaoyorozu said tentatively. "It could happen."

"Or, or they decided to train for Midoriya's UA Exam together by lifting appliances at the beach! Or working out around the beach a year before!" he protested. "My father used to make me train by lifting up heavy objects ten times my size and pushing my quirk before the UA exam too!"

Sero frowned. "Todo, I know good parenting is a foreign concept to you, but comparing your relationship with your dad to Midoriya and All Might maybe isn't the best of ideas."

"I'm pretty sure Iida used to train with his hero brother in a very normal way," Todoroki nearly fucking pouted. The guy was really fired up– metaphorically and a little bit literally, judging by his floor. "But, but anyway, what I'm trying to say was that All Might, trying to make sure Midoriya would be strong enough for the entrance exam, made him clean up the beach because he was helping to train his son!"

Kirishima stared at him. "Bro."

"I'm right! Not to mention, why would he be in his thinner state around Midoriya if he wasn't his son?!"

"Maybe he told him about the weakened form back then by accident?" Sero said. "Todoroki, seriously. You're looking too deep into this."

"I agree," Yaoyorozu said. She loved her friend, truly, but as good as it was for Todoroki to exhibit any other emotion besides confusion and rage, this couldn't be healthy for him.

Todoroki groaned. "Okay, okay, fine. Exhibit B!" He pointed to a picture of All Might and Midoriya walking into All Might's office. "They eat lunch together! Who does that with a teacher?!"

Kirishima hummed. "Okay, I'll give you that one," he said, looking back at the others. "You gotta admit, that is a little suspicious."

"You forget, Midoriya broke his bones a lot at the beginning of the year just by activating his quirk," Yaoyorozu said, calmly. "As the Heroics teacher, All Might would want to make sure they can find a way for Midoriya to improve his quirk use without breaking his bones, so it would make sense for All Might to meet up with Midoriya out of class."

"But why continuously?!" Todoroki pressed. "Even after Midoriya got a handle of his quirk?!"

Yaoyorozu frowned. "Well, Bakugo meets with them now. Is Bakugo All Might's son too?"

"Details, details," Todoroki said with a wave of his hand. "Bakugo's practically Midoirya's boyfriend anyways. All Might probably wants to vet him or something."

"Somehow I believe that less than your 'All Might is Midoriya's dad' theory."

"They're going to get together, just you wait," Todoroki said. "Anyways, back to business. It's not just at school too! Even now that we're in the dorms, lately All Might will eat with Midoriya, alone, just the two of them!"

He pointed to another picture of Midoriya and All Might eating meat buns on a bench, no one else in sight, lightly chatting. "See! It would make sense if All Might ate with any one of us, or if there was a bigger crowd, but it's just those two! That's a normal parenting thing, right?"

"Dude how did you even get that picture."

"Irrelevant."

Yaoyorozu ran her eyes over the full board again, wincing internally. As...off-putting as her friend's efforts were, he did have a point. All Might's actions towards Midoriya were unprecedented of a teacher, Aizawa would certainly never be caught dead with any of them. And sure, they simply could be good friends who met a little before the Takoba news article picture, friends could be of all ages after all, but with the way All Might treated Midoriya daily, it was getting more and more likely that Todoroki's theory was correct. Which had some very interesting implications and also a media shitstorm on its way if it was true.

"And," Todoroki continued, now rambling as fast as Midoriya was, "did you know that All Might visited the Midoriya's to talk about the dorm system alone?"

Kirishima's mouth dropped. "Seriously?"

Todoroki nodded, eyes wide and a small smile on his face. "Aizawa-sensei told us himself back when he asked my father if I could stay in the dorms! My father asked where All Might was and Aizawa-sensei told him that they split up right before the Midoriya's!"

Sero's eyes widened. "Okay, I will admit that that's weird."

"I know right?!" Todoroki exclaimed, out of breath and restlessly pacing the floor. "Not only that, but All Might was one of the first people Midoriya texted right after he got his hero license. And Midoriya ended up interning with a hero who All Might knows directly and worked with Nighteye during his work-study who's All Might's only sidekick! And then Midoriya was invited personally to I-Island by All Might! And–"

Knock knock.

The group froze.

"Young Todoroki? Can I speak with you?"

Fuck.

Todoroki tentatively walked over to his door, opening it just enough to find All Might standing behind it, a worried expression on his face. "Are you all alright? The kids downstairs reported a lot of yelling, and I think you may have frozen and burnt through your floor?"

Todoroki looked back at his floor, which now looked slightly more like the training room back home than it did his dorm room. "Right. I can pay for that."

"No need my boy, just make sure it doesn't happen again or I think Aizawa'll have all of our heads," All Might chuckled. He then frowned, slightly opening the door more. "What on Earth is that?"

His eyes were pointed directly behind Todoroki, to the pinboard the high schooler had been deliriously gesturing towards for the past few minutes. Kirishima, Sero, and Yaoyorozu stared at each other awkwardly, shuffling their feet.

"Um...well, y'see–"

"All Might, is Midoriya your illegitimate child?"

The air paused. Everyone turned their eyes to the teen.

All Might blinked. "I'm sorry...what?"

WHAT THE FUCK, TODOROKI?!

"Todoroki, bro, you can't just ask shit like that!" Kirishima exclaimed, who now, like the many people around him, was going through all the stages of grief. "That's not one of those things you can just ask people!"

Todoroki tilted his head. "I asked Midoriya."

"YOU ASKED MIDORIYA?!"

"I–"

The kids now directed their attention back to All Might, who had managed to shake himself out of his stupor and somehow made his way to the pinboard. "I'm not...young Todoroki, believe me when I say I'm 100% sure I'm not Midoriya's biological father," he said, rapidly glancing back and forth from the board to Todoroki. "As...creepily impressive as this is," he continued, gesturing to the entirety of the board, "I've never had a child, and besides, young Midoriya's biological father works overseas, in America."

He pointed to the slightly burnt newspaper clipping of Takoba beach, looking back at Todoroki. "Is this about the Takoba beach cleaning?"

Todoroki nodded.

"Huh." All Might turned to the clipping, a strange, soft, thoughtful look on his face. "I didn't know they did a report about it." He turned back to Todoroki. "May I keep this?"

Todoroki nodded again, even slower, and a delighted smile appeared on All Might's face. The four students watched with wide eyes as he took the newspaper clipping in one hand and the pin in between his other fingers, gently lifting the pin from where it had been embedded in the pin board, lifting the newspaper clipping from its place, and placing the pin back where he had found it. Seconds passed. All Might rubbing his thumb over the picture in the newspaper with a soft chuckle. He then gently folded it, each crease careful not to tear the newspaper apart, before placing it in the pocket of his tracksuit.

Then, as if he remembered that there were other people in the room, he turned to Todoroki. "Ah, Aizawa-kun said that you had redecorated your room yourself, yes?"

Todoroki nodded, still stunned. "Perfect! The bots will be up here in a few minutes or so to repair your floor, and then refurbish your room any way you see fit." All Might clapped his hands together, a bright smile on his face. "Just try not to do it as much, alright? And please stop stalking young Midoriya and I. I don't know how many times I can catch you in the act before telling him that one of his best friend's have been stalking us to obtain proof of our non-existant biological relationship."

"You saw me?"

"Young Todoroki, I've been the number one hero for three and a half decades."

"Oh." Todoroki frowned. "Sorry."

"Just don't let it happen again, please." All Might took a heavy sigh before finally addressing the others in the room. "Young Kirishima, Yaoyorozu, and Sero, I'll be seeing you in class tomorrow. Plus Ultra!"

"See you!"

"See you tomorrow All Might!"

All Might left the room, closing the door behind him, leaving Todoroki, Kirishima, Sero, and Yaoyorozu in the room, waiting for the repair bots to arrive, silent and bewildered with what had just transpired in the past ten minutes. The four of them couldn't move, only the sound of breathing being proof that any of them were even alive. After what felt like several, long, painstaking seconds, Todoroki turned to his friends.

"Y'know, All Might worked in America for a while."

"FOR GOD'S SAKE, TODOROKI."

#thestormingsea posts #yagi toshinori #toshinori yagi #all might #bnha #todoroki shouto #shouto todoroki #dad might #mentioned midoriya izuku #mentioned izuku midoriya #mentioned deku #he doesn't take a part in this story but just in case ig #and then kirishima sero and yaoyorozu are here but they don't do much

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y0itsbri · 3 years

Text

it's pizza night at the gallagher-milkovich household!

word count: 2k

usually they order a couple pizzas from some local joint: thin crust chicago supreme for ian and deep dish meat lovers for mickey, though they steal pieces of each others' all the time (even if mickey has to pick off all the onions from ian's chicago supreme.)

but tonight ian wanted to do something different. the tomatoes and bell peppers from the garden were finally looking ripe. ian, with his green thumb, had spent most of spring and summer nurturing a row of plants in the community garden of their apartment complex. mickey had thought it was boring as fuck at first when nothing seemed to be changing, but eventually seeing the plants shoot up and seeing ian excited about all the new growth gave him a paternal kick somewhere from deep inside him. he even found himself wondering how the plants were holding up after a particularly bad thunderstorm one night. for fuck's sake -- was he a plant dad now? when the fuck did this happen?

and if they were going to make their own pizzas with ian's fresh vegetables, they sure as hell weren't going to cut any corners with the store-bought dough. though mickey would never admit it, he was getting pretty good at baking, which was something ian was both a little jealous and very proud of. at this point, mickey was basically a pro specifically at making orange cranberry bread (which ian had become immediately hooked on for a few weeks after jill brought over a loaf as a 'sorry-my-boyfriend-pissed-off-mickey' gift) and also at his favorite peanut butter chocolate chip cookies (mickey has such a sweet tooth, and ian has no idea how he hasn't had more cavities.) surely pizza dough couldn't be too much different than the rest of mickey's pretty impressive baking skills.

after work wednesday evening, mickey emerged from the shower with just a towel wrapped around his waist. he peeked out into the living room expecting to see ian zombified on the couch with the usual two boxes of pizza balanced across his legs. however, mickey was thrown off a bit as he spotted ian behind the kitchen counter rummaging through cabinets, occasionally opening the fridge, and proudly wearing his "i like to get high (quality ingredients)" apron, which had been a very appropriate birthday gift from lip.

"what's with all the ruckus in here, big bang," mickey teased. ian's wild eyes calmed a beat after they had finally noticed mickey standing in the doorframe. he checked out his husband up and down once over as a mischievous smile blossomed on his face.

"it's a surprise, but i'm gonna need you to put some clothes on," ian announced, even though his darkening eyes were saying quite the opposite.

mickey was rather hungry and curious about the shitstorm of a mess in the kitchen, so he decided not to push his luck with ian's lustful gaze and instead obediently turned around to pull on some sweatpants while mumbling something about "can't be too good of a surprise if i have to put on clothes." ian smirked from behind him.

mickey swaggered back to the kitchen wearing one of ian's old rotc t-shirts, hoping it would get enough of a rise out of ian for him to enthusiastically take it off late in the night. as if ian needed a reason.

"alright, alright, tough guy. what's the big surprise?"

ian slid his arm around mickey's waist and pulled them flush together as they stared at the array of ingredients sprawled out.

"Pizza," he stated as if it were a simple fact.

mickey's brow furrowed. there clearly wasn't any pizza on the counter. "where's the fuckin' pizza? or did you get too high," he teased, poking at ian's apron.

"ha. ha. very funny, babe. just high quality ingredients, remember?" ian winked and mickey smirked, musing at his dork. when mickey didn't counter him again ian cleared his throat and continued, "no, but for real. ya know how i've been growing vegetables in the garden here?"

mickey nodded. as if he could forget.

"well, for pizza night i was thinking that we could make our own with some of the vegetables and i was hoping," he dragged out the word and squeezed mickey's waist, "that you would make the dough, seeing that you're the star baker of the house."

mickey rolled his eyes. he didn't know where ian got the impression that he was the next best thing to a professional baker when he would usually just take the easy way out. especially when he was hungry and it came to pizza night. but he was secretly very excited to try the food that ian had spent so much time cultivating.

"yeah, man, let's get it." mickey leaned over the counter to turn the bluetooth speaker on and connect his phone, 'wait by the river' by lord huron playing. he grinned as he allowed ian to slide his hand down his arm and lace their fingers as they swayed together for a moment before pulling away and promptly getting to work on food prep.

ian hummed while he washed and chopped the vegetables, occasionally making comments about how he can't believe how colorful they are or how they had grown from nothing. mickey entertained his comments while he made the dough, "well not quite nothing. there was the seed and the sunlight and the shitty ass soil and you watered it a bunch and stuff. all that love ain't nothing." ian warmly smiled at how casually his husband talked about all forms of love now.

once everything was cleaned and diced and the dough was divided into two equal slabs, they got to shaping their crusts. mickey, being the little shit that he is, had extra flour on his hands and wiped some across ian's cheek. he took off behind the counter and into the living room before ian was able to even get out an agitated "what the fuck, mick!" ian was soon on his heels though and tackled him into the couch, wrestling and straddling him and pinning mickey's arms above his head with one hand and smearing flour from his own hand across mickey's cheek as he struggled.

"payback's a bitch," ian teased through his fits of laughter as mickey's face was twisted up in utter disgust, "oh c'mon, mick, can't take it?"

"you know exactly what i can take, asshole," mickey wiggled his eyebrow as he grumbled lowly. ian's face dropped in complete shock as he was taken off guard, and his grip loosened. mickey used that moment of weakness to flip ian off of him and straighten up his shirt as he stood, no mind to the floured handprints placed haphazardly all over himself, and definitely not entirely from his own hands.

"great, so pizza, then?" he smiled over his shoulder at a disheveled ian as he went to go shape the dough, innovatively using a can of beans as a rolling pin.

ian joined him behind the counter and smacked his ball of dough. "hmm"ed and paused. mickey turned to investigate the curious glint in ian's eye when he heard and felt a similar smack on his own ass.

"oh my fucking god, ian. we're never going to get anything done. i'm fucking starving," he groaned.

"as if you didn't start it!"

mickey paused for a moment. sure, fine, yeah. ian had a point with this one, "whatever." he poked ian in the side and then turned back to his pizza. after they were rolled out enough, ian picked up the spoon to put sauce on.

"nah, man! what the fuck are you doing?" mickey snapped, more with urgency than actual agitation, "we gotta cook them for a little bit first before putting all the shit on there, ya know?"

ian put his hands up in innocence and slowly backed away from both the pizzas and the oven, "my bad, chef, carry on."

mickey flipped him off before slipping the two crusts into the oven for a couple minutes. while they waited, ian picked up mickey's phone and pulled up a youtube compilation video of gordon ramsay 'critiquing' his chefs.

"hey mick, this is you in the kitchen."

they watched for a couple minutes as ian laughed his ass off.

"oh fuck off, you'd burn the place down without me," mickey retorted, carefully pulling the crusts out of the oven. ian just rolled his eyes and resumed playing the music from a spotify playlist that mickey totally did not have named 'date night🥀.'

they took turns spooning sauce with chunks of fresh tomato onto their half baked crusts and then sprinkled on some grated cheese and pepperoni, which they had picked up at the farmer's market on their last trip with a couple of the women in their complex they had accidentally befriended.

as much as mickey ate like a broke college kid when he was left to fend for himself most days, he really didn't mind vegetables (except for fucking onions -- those could rot in hell.) despite this, ian still looked on astonished as mickey piled on the veggies just as much as his pepperoni. that was really saying something.

mickey glanced up, "what, popeye? like you're the only one that gets to enjoy the shit from the garden? i gotta taste for myself all the hype that went into this!"

a look of pure adoration flashed across ian's face as he laid a smooch on mickey's forehead. mickey's felt fucking butterflies in his stomach. he thought that being married to the guy would make those feelings simmer down, but as if it was even possible, the flames burned even stronger.

as they waited for their pizzas to cook in the oven for the final time, they giggled like lovestruck teenagers as they wiped the flour off of each others' faces, making an even bigger mess than they started with, as mickey's hair was now dripping wet. they then cleaned off the countertops and packed the extra ingredients in some blue-lidded tupperware set that debbie had recommended.

ian got two beers out of the fridge, "special occasion," he reasoned. mickey scoffed. as if they needed a reason to get fucking smashed.

soon the pizzas were done, and only slightly burnt at the edges, "adds flavor," mickey reasoned. as if anything mickey actually put effort into cooking would be less than perfect.

ian sliced the warm pizzas as mickey grabbed a couple plates, pausing in his steps to not-so-subtly stare at his husband's biceps flex with the force of the pizza slicer.

they didn't even bother to put on a tv show in the background as they ate. mickey's phone was still playing some chill, lowkey romantic music, and they were just excited to dig in. at this point mickey was fucking starving. mickey quite literally moaned as he took his first bite. ian snapped his head to stare daggers at mickey, watching his throat intently.

"shiiiit. that good, huh?" ian murmured.

all mickey could manage to do was nod as he swallowed.

"might have to do this more often," ian suggested as he took a bite of his own slice. shit. this was good.

"good job growing this shit, man," mickey praised through a mouthful. he swallowed, then added on teasingly, but actually oh-so-serious, "might wanna try growing some mary jane next year if you keep it up with your green ass thumb."

"sure, mick." ian took a sip of his beer. ian would agree to anything mickey would ask of him right now, tipsy on both his beer and his fondness of his husband. as if he could read his mind, mickey reached his hand out to rest on ian's thigh, squeezing once before resting it there for the remainder of dinner.

they finished off the beers and pizzas in bliss, leaving the dishes near the sink to be tomorrow's problem. they didn't even make it out of the kitchen before ian started to tug on the hems of mickey's shirt.

#a portrait of dumbass domestic bliss #yes it was pizza night at my house tonight #i have nothing against onions unlike our dearest mick #they have a pizza slicer but not a rolling pin - priorities #my posts #shameless #gallavich #shameless headcanon #gallavich headcanon #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #shameless fanfic #shameless fanfiction #gallavich fanfiction #gallavich fanfic #fic #fanfiction #ian x mickey #ian x mickey fanfiction

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thoushallnotfall · 4 years

Text

God Bless the Children of the Beast - Part 7

Previous // Masterlist

Pairing: The Dirt!Tommy Lee x Reader

Word Count: 5.6k (kill me)

Notes: Okaaay, so this got out of hand in a lot of ways. I really have no idea what happened here. I am setting my self up for an emotional SHITSTORM.

The Razzle thing was not planned; but the more I wrote it the more I liked it and god that’s gonna be so sad later. 🥺 But we gotta suffer before we’re happy folks! Suffer! Next updates gonna a lot! ((Also…Cause of Death: Razzle’s accent. Sorry I know okay??))

Also, for the Looks That Kill video; obviously you should go watch the full music video, but here’s a picture of Tommy backstage with the actress in her outfit.

Warnings: Drug Use

1984

You and the boys had gone out to a club to party, and you were having a blast. You’d stuck with the boys in booth at first–drinking and doing some lines of coke to get the night started–but once the girls starting showing up you decided you’d rather find your own fun instead of watching the boys have there’s.

You head out onto the dance floor, swaying along to the music as you let the drugs and alcohol fuel your movements. Prince’s “When Dove’s Cry” had just started blasting through the speakers, when you hear a voice call out to you.

“Well ‘ello there!” He yells over the music. You turn to see a young man with long chestnut hair smiling at you. He was wearing a red velvet jacket over a silky, ruffled button up shirt, and a top hat. Definitely glam rock, you thought; though a different brand than your boys. “You look like you could use a drink.” He says, in an unmistakable English accent. You look him up and down, not making any effort in hiding the action.

Oh, what the hell? You were sick of the boys having all the fun.

“I think you’re right.” You agree with a smirk.

You follow him over to the bar, leaning on it as you order a bottle of Jack Daniels. He comes over, leaning on his elbow so he’s facing you.

“Are ya plannin’ to get glasses, or are we drikin’ it straight from the bo'le?” He asks, smiling.

“Who says I’m sharing?” You reply, smirking back at him playfully.

“Oof, are all American women this cold?” He jokes.

“I thought you Brits were used to the cold?” You shoot back. He laughs.

“Touché.” He leans in. “But just cause we’re used to the cold, that don’t mean we ain’t fond of a li'le ‘eat every once an' awhile.”

The bartender brings your bottle of Jack, with two glasses, and you open the it and quickly pour out drinks for the two of you; grateful for something to focus on that wasn’t the look he was giving you. You were used to the odd flirtation here and there, but you rarely flirted back, so nothing every got very far. This was new territory for you, and you had to admit, as confident as you may appear on the outside, you were feeling a little flustered. Good thing you had a little liquid courage to keep things going. You take your drink in one quick shot as he watches you.

“Wow, I’m impressed.” He says, smiling. “Though I’d expect nothin’ less from a bird who ‘angs wif Motley Crue.” He says as he takes a drink. You squint at him, then roll your eyes.

“Oh I see; you want to meet the band–that’s why you wanted to get drinks with me.” You say, pouring yourself another drink.

“Well, I would like to meet ‘em,” He starts, and you scowl over at him. “But drinkin’ wif you seems like a much be'er use of my time.” He finishes, smiling. You squint at him.

“And if I don’t believe you?” You ask. He puts a hand over his heart, raising his other up.

“Scouts ‘onor!” He replies.

“You couldn’t have been a boy scout–you’re fucking English!” You snap.

“I don’t know! It’s just what you American’s always say in movies, innit?” He replies. The two of you look at each other, and you both start cracking up.

“What’s your name anyway?” You ask.

“Razzle.” He replies, dramatically taking off his top hat and doing a sweeping bow.

“Razzle?” You repeat, laughing.

“It’s my stage name. I’m the drumma for the band Hanoi Rocks. We’re here on our first Norf American tour.”

“Uh huh. Well my name’s y/n Sixx. It’s nice to meet you Razzle.” You hold out your hand but he just looks at you.

“I’m sorry, did you say y/n Sixx, as in–”

“As in Nikki Sixx, yeah; he’s my older brother.” You smirk. “Not gonna scare you off, is it?”

“He’s not gonna murder me, is he?” He asks, half-serious.

“Probably not.” You reply with a smile.

You and Razzle hang by the bar, chatting and flirting. In spite of your best efforts, you’re actually having fun. Razzle is funny and charming; and that accent isn’t hurting anything either. He’s cute, and ridiculous, and more than anything he’s not in Motley Crue. When was the last time you’d spent any real time with anyone that wasn’t one of those four maniacs? Had you ever really? Aside from making friends with Vince’s girlfriend Sharise, you’d had basically no relationships with anyone outside the band since, well–ever, and even then she was your friend because of the band. You had no one; nothing you’d made on your own.

Eventually, perhaps emboldened by the alcohol, you decide to take Razzle to meet the boys. After all, if you do decide to leave with him, they’ll need to know where you’ve gone. You head over to the booth where the boys are, each of them–except Mick–with at least one girl sitting next to him. You walk up smiling as Razzle trails behind you, his hand in yours as you lead him through the crowd.

“Hey guys, you look like you’re enjoying yourselves.” You comment, looking around at the girls at the table. The boys laugh.

“Right back at you.” Vince says, eyeing Razzle. “Finally living a little, huh y/n? Good for you.” He laughs.

“Fucking nasty, I don’t need to hear this shit.” Nikki says, looking away.

“Welcome to my world.” You smirk at him. Tommy, sitting next to Nikki, just stares at Razzle with an unreadable expression.

“Anyway, this is Razzle; I picked him up on the dance floor–” You introduce him.

“Oh you picked me up, is it?” He interjects and you laugh, ignoring him as you continue.

“–he’s in the band Hanoi Rocks; they’re actually here on their first North American tour.” You finish.

“Why don’t you guys sit down? Join us?” Vince offers. There’s barely enough room for you two to squeeze in by Mick.

You all start talking and drinking, and Razzle easily merges himself into the group. The boys all seem to get along with him well; all except Tommy, who’s been acting weird ever since you got back.

“So what do you play man?” Nikki asks him.

“Oh, I’m the drumma.” Razzle replies, and for whatever reason you catch Tommy scoff and look away.

“How you liking the states so far?” Vince asks.

“Oh, it’s been great.” Razzle says, then he leans his arm around your shoulder, looking down at you. “But I think it’s ge'in’ even be'a.” Tommy rolls his eyes as you feel the heat rise in your cheeks.

No one has ever openly flirted with you in front of the boys before; it was–well, it was nice. Embarrassing–oh absolutely–but it also felt good to be seen as something other then a friend, or a sister; and to be wanted enough that they’d be willing to risk pissing off Motley fucking Crue–that felt, well…

“Hey,” You start, smiling over at Razzle. “You know I just remembered; I think I left the stove on in my hotel room. I should probably go check it…” You trail off. Razzle’s eyebrows shoot up so far they nearly disappear into the brim of his top hat.

“Uh, right then; well we wouldn’ wan to um, burn down the ‘otel now would we then?” He says, clearly nervous as he scrambles to stand.

“No, we wouldn’t.” You reply, raising an eyebrow. You see him swallow a lump in his throat.

“Right well, um…” He glances over at the boys, who are all looking back at the two of you with a mix of expressions. Vince can barely contain his laugher, but also almost looks proud, Nikki just looks grossed out, and Mick looks bored. Tommy looks pissed; completely forgetting the girls setting on either side of him as he glares over at Razzle. “I could give you a 'and wif that, if you like?”

“I’ll need both hands, actually.” You reply. You hear someone–Nikki, you think–choke on their drink, but you’re pretty far past paying any attention to the boys. You have to deal with groupies sticking their hands down the boys pants and giving them blowjobs under the table on a regular basis; they can live with a little bit of pregame flirting. You do hear Vince laughing his ass off; at least someone was happy for you.

“Right then.” Razzle was blushing now, probably because he was worried about you being so suggestive in front of the boys and he didn’t want to get his ass kicked. “I’ll see you around then mates, eh?” He says, tipping his hat to the boys quickly as you grab his scarf to pull him away. As you take a quick glance back at the table, you catch a glimpse of Tommy glaring daggers at Razzle.

“You kids be safe now!” Vince yells, a shit eating grin on his face. “Use protection!” You throw up your middle finger with your free hand, and you hear him laugh before he’s drown out by the noise of the club.

—

You and Razzle had a lot of fun—a lot; and surprisingly he didn’t just leave after the two of you slept together. You end up hanging out and talking most of the night; ordering room service and getting to know each other while taking frequent breaks to make out. By the time you finally pass out, covered in nothing but the sheet and Razzle’s arms, you felt the stirring of something new forming inside you.

Razzle left the next morning to join back up with his bandmates, but not before peppering you with kisses and sweet nothings. You rolled your eyes and hit him with your pillow, laughing. As he leans away, you grab his scarf and pull him in for one more long kiss, before finally sending him on his way.

You’d both compared tour schedules and you each knew the names and locations of the next hotels the other was staying at; if one of you wanted to call each other, you very easily could. But would you? Would he? You were willing to admit he was a nice distraction and he seemed like a good guy; but would you go all the way and admit to yourself that you may have developed a bit of a crush on the charming Brit?

Your own hang ups aside, that would be complicated; you were touring with the boys, while Hanoi had their own tour, so not a lot of time to get to know each other. When your tour was done and maybe you could try to spend some time with him, he’d be back in London; kinda of far to try and start anything. If there was anything, of course. Still, you’ve seen crazier things work; you were touring with them right right now. Then there was the boys to consider: could you leave them behind for someone else? If it ever came to that?

You realize you’re being ridiculous. No matter how much you may think you like him, it was still only one night; no need to worry about it right now. If you did ever see him again, then you could work something out. Maybe you could go visit him when he went home or something; just for a little while. You had always wanted to go to England, and maybe a little time away from the boys would be good for you after spending three years solid with them.

You remembered to ask Tommy about all the attitude he gave Razzle the next day on the bus. He didn’t seem that thrilled to talk about it; outright denying it at first, before playing it off after you kept pushing. Finally, he said that he was 'just being a good friend.’ When you questioned him further, he said he just didn’t think Razzle was a good match for you; said the rockstar lifestyle isn’t a good place to pick up a committed boyfriend, and that you’d have to uproot your whole life. You couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“Dude, first of all I know exactly what rockstars get up to–you don’t have to tell me, I’ve seen it.” You reply “But then what about you? Aren’t you a rockstar looking for true love?”

“That’s different.” He says, looking away.

“And what’s this uprooting my whole life business? Didn’t you tell me your mom came here from Greece when she didn’t even know English because your parents were so in love? I’m not looking to elope with the guy, but at least if I did ever go visit him we’d be speaking the same language.” You laugh.

“Barely…” He mutters under his breath.

“Ugh, I seriously don’t get you!“ You say, shoving his shoulder in frustration as you sit next to him. “You bug me for years to date, and I finally show the slightest bit of interest in a guy, and suddenly everything in the world is wrong with him?” You ask.

“No dude, it’s just–“ He says, leaning his head back against the seat. “You just deserve the best, that’s all; I don’t want you wasting your time with someone who isn’t good enough for you.” You smile and grab his hand, and he lifts his head and looks at you.

“Tommy, that’s sweet, really–you know I appreciate how much you care about me, and I feel the same way about you. But I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself.” You squeeze his hand, holding onto the moment for a little longer, before finally letting go. “Besides, you should really be taking your own advice there bud; I’m not the one with a string of crazy ex-girlfriends. Maybe instead of judging my taste in partners, you should start trying to be a little more selective with yours, hmm?” You joke, and Tommy groans.

“They really do always start out so great though.” He whines.

“Yes Tommy, I’m sure the sex is great with a hot girl with a lot of experience; but you really need to learn to look past that and see the signs that these women are just using you for your fame, money, and good looks.”

“You think I’m good looking?” He asks, smiling.

“Your one redeeming feature.” You joke, pinching his cheek.

—

1984

How did this happen?

You watch in the mirror as the stylist finishes applying your make-up. You look at your face under your mane of hair; as wild and big as they could possibly make it. They’d given you make-up like the boys; foundation obviously lighter than your skintone, your eyes were lined black, and your eyeshadow was smokey and expertly done. You had a dark berry blush spread across your cheekbones, and a matching lipstick on your lips. Under the large, silver prop tiara that spread across your face you looked intense to be sure. Again, you had to wonder: how did this happen?

“How’s it coming along in here?” Doc asks, popping his head into the room. You turn your head to look at him, and you were sure the gust of wind caused by your giant wall of hair would probably cause a hurricane in China someday. “Ha! You look fantastic!” He says, coming fully into the room and throwing his arms up.

“Yeah, great–remind me again why I’m the one doing this?” You ask.

“The actress who we originally booked for the role called in–said she had some emergency and couldn’t make it.” Doc explained.

“And so why are we not using one of the other post-apocalyptic actress chicks as a stand-in?” You ask as you hug your arms around your exposed midruff; your costume leaving very little to the imagination.

You were dressed in a black, red, and silver 'armored’ bikini. The top was a tube that attached to a shoulder guard on one side. There were a lot of belts and chains incorporated into the outfit, and your legs were covered by holey fishnets tights. You also sported a thick red collar around your neck, and some ankle high, black heeled boots.

“When the guys heard I guess one of them suggested you would be good for the role, and then the rest thought it was such a great idea they refused to consider any alternatives.” You scowled at him, and he shrugs. “You know how they get; when they’ve made up their minds there’s no talking them out of it.” You sigh, knowing he was right. “Anyway, we should head out that way; they’ll need you on set before too long.“

The boys had already been filming for awhile, getting some of the first few shots done. They were apparently having to reset and reshoot a lot, and they were expecting to have to be there most of the day.

Great, you were so looking forward to walking around all day in a bikini with your ass hanging out.

You walk out on set, arms still wrapped around your exposed midriff. The boys were all hanging out together, waiting for the crew to set up the next scene. Tommy is the first to spot you, his eyes going wide as he takes you in. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring at you: eyes wide, mouth open. You start to feel a little self-conscious as you walk up to them, then Vince notices you.

“Damn y/n! I knew you’d look good in that costume but shit–if I’d have know you were gonna look this good, I’d have paid you a visit in your dressing room earlier.” He jokes, and you smirk.

“Keep that up Vinny, and I just might have to have a conversation with your wife.” You quip. The boys all laugh.

“You do look fierce in that outfit Sixx; like something out of Mad Max.” Mick says.

“Yeah, if Mad Max was a porno.” You mumble. He chuckles. “Thanks Mick.” You quickly add, realizing he had found a way to compliment you without being a creep like Vince.

“I’m not really looking forward to this; it sounded funny at the time, but now it’s just weird.” Nikki says, his nose wrinkled. “I’ll let Vince do the handsy scenes; I’ll just tell the director to only get shots of me and my bass.”

“Seconded.” Mick says, clearly not loving the idea of having to touch you. Oh right. You’d kind of forgotten the script had them physically touching you a few times.

The general premise of the video was some vague, probably post-apocalyptic world. The boys would corral a group of girls into a pen, then you’d bust throw a wall up on a hill, free the girls, then the boys would chase you into some futuristic hallway. This is where they’d actually put hands on you, even if it was only for a second or two each time, before you’d slip away from them. Then they’d team up and somehow smite you, leaving behind a burning pentagram. There were a few scenes you were worried about; some closeups where you would have to actually do some facial acting, the one where you had to hold a large shield that had actual fire on it, and some physical stuff. But you hadn’t considered the fact that you’d have to be sexy with the boys while dressed in a skimpy bikini.

“Those scenes don’t last very long, right? I can do that; and we can just use Vince and Tommy. It’ll be fine.” You reply.

“Huh? Oh, yeah–yeah right. That’s totally fine.” Tommy says, looking down.

—

You watched the boys film until it got to be your turn to go on. You were nervous, but found yourself actually pretty excited at the same time. It took a couple takes to get into the swing of things, but once you got the initial jitters out of your system things started moving along smoothly. You managed to get half your scenes with little issue; even getting through the flaming shield scene without getting burned. They cut for a break when they had to move the sets for the new shooting location, the futuristic hallway, and you all finally had a break. You spot Tommy walking around with two middle aged people, showing them the set. When he sees you, he smiles wide and waves you over.

“Mom, dad, this is y/n!” He says, squeezing your shoulder. “Y/N, this is my mom and dad!”

Great, you’re meeting Tommy’s perfect suburban parents dressed like a post-apocalyptic hooker. Isn’t that just swell.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you Mr. and Mrs. Bass; Tommy talks about you all the time.” You say, smiling at them politely. You wanted Tommy’s parents to like you, but you weren’t really used to parents.

“Shut up, dude.” Tommy whispers, nudging you with his elbow. “I do not.” You laugh.

“It is nice to finally meet you y/n.” Tommy’s mother says, smiling at you warmly as she comes over to give you a hug. You’re surprised, but you reciprocate, wrapping your arms around her. Her dark, curly hair tickled your face as she holds you; she smells like vanilla. “Tommy is all always telling us stories about you when he calls.” She says, still smiling warmly as she lets you go.

“Oh gosh, that’s, uh–that’s embarrassing.” You say.

“Oh no, not at all; we appreciate you taking care of Tom. We sleep better knowing our boy has someone out here who really cares about him and whose’s looking out for his wellbeing.” His father says, wrapping an arm around his wife. Looking out for him? What had Tommy been telling them?

“Come on pop, now that’s embarrassing.” Tommy whines.

“No more embarrassing than what you're used to causing yourself everyday.” You joke without thinking. You throw your hand up, looking at his parents, who both laugh.

“And you keep him on his toes I see–Tom said you were funny.” He dad says. “And clever.”

“I don’t know if those were my exact words.” Tommy grumbles.

“But Tommy, you did not say she was so pretty?” His mom says, smacking her son lightly on the arm. Even though there’s no way it hurt him, he rubs the spot where her delicate hand made impact.

“I don’t see how that matters?” Tommy asks.

“Y/N, do you have boyfriend?” Tommy’s mother asks, grabbing your hands. You feel a fire burst in your cheeks.

“Um…” You didn’t even no where to begin with that question.

Technically speaking–the answer was no, you didn’t; but it was a bit more complicated than that. After your night with Razzle you admit you thought about him more than you had expected to that next day. Then that whole night. Then the next morning. So it was a total shock when, your resolve nearly broken, he actually called you first.

If one of you hadn’t called you might not have spoken again for some time; not knowing exactly which hotel the other would be in next. He admitted he had been thinking about you just as much, and the two of you exchanged hotel info again and agreed to call as soon as you got to your next destination. And you did. You kept calling, at every hotel you went to you called, or he called, and you just talked. That’s it. You were sure he was probably still sleeping with groupies, but you couldn’t be mad at him, because he wasn’t your boyfriend; he was just a guy you talked to every day. And that’s all it could be–for now.

Then there was the other half of his mother’s question: Tommy. First of all, she was only asking because she wanted to set you up, which just, no. Tommy was your best friend; every girlfriend he’d ever been with had made this mistake and it’s no surprise his parents would make it too. You were close, and of course you loved him, but not like that. It was sweet his mom would actually think you were good enough for her son, but that wasn’t ever going to happen. Not in this lifetime.

The more pressing issue here, was her asking if your single seemed to indicate she thought Tommy was currently single. That meant she didn’t know about Roxy; Tommy’s new girlfriend. She was some groupie Tommy had picked up from some other band the boys had played with. She saw her opportunity with a bigger, more successful band and she’d pounced. And of course Tommy–sweet, stupid Tommy–had fallen head over heels for her.

“Mom! Come on, don’t even start with that!” Tommy says. Before his mom can argue, Doc walks up with Nikki in tow, looking a little disheveled. “Oh hey, here’s someone else I want you to meet. Mom, dad meet the Sixxter.” He says, walking over to Nikki and giving him a high five.

“So nice to finally meet you.” Tommy’s mother says, giving Nikki a hug. Nikki looks awkward as he hugs her back, clearly not expecting the affectionate greeting.

“It’s a pleasure.” Tommy’s father says, giving Nikki a firm handshake.

“Hey, Nikki, y/n; we could fly your family out for the next LA gig.” Doc says.

“Yeah that’s a great idea Doc.” Nikki replies sarcastically. You can’t help but hide a laugh behind your hand. You’d say something too, but you don’t want to ruin Tommy’s time with his parents by speaking ill of your own.

“Oh guys I want you to meet somebody else.” Tommy says, calling someone over. You suddenly see the expression on Nikki’s face change to one of surprise. He quickly hides his face behind his hair when Roxy walks over, and you instantly know what that means. You feel a hot ball of rage start burning in the pit of your stomach. You swallow, holding it down until the conversation is over and you can get Nikki alone.

“Mom, dad this is Roxy; my fianceé.” Tommy says. Your head snaps to Tommy.

“What?” You can’t help but say out loud. Everyone looks at you. Roxy scowls. You stammer, trying to backpedal. “No sorry I just–I, I hadn’t heard; congratulations.” Roxy looks back at Tommy’s parents.

“Nice to meet you.” She sticks out her hand, which Tommy’s mom grabs, clearly in shock. Roxy quickly takes her hand away, Tommy’s mom still staring at the girl.

“We’re getting married!” Tommy announces with excitement.

“What’s the rush Tom? Marriage is a big decision.” His dad says, clearly disapproving despite his best efforts to try and sound supportive.

“Exactly! You purposed to mom the night that you guys met and she didn’t even speak English. That’s love dude! And that’s what I’ve always wanted! And now that’s what I’ve got.” Tommy says, looking down at Roxy. There was adoration in Tommy’s eyes, but you didn’t see it reflected in Roxy’s. She was using him, and everyone could see it except Tommy; too blinded by his own love. You ground your teeth as you looked at them, but said nothing.

“So, how did you and Tommy meet?” Tommy’s mother asks Roxy, trying to be supportive. She was such a kind woman; nothing like your own mother. You could see now how Tommy turned out the way he did, with such supportive and loving parents.

“Well, I was actually hanging out with this other band but then I met Tommy and it was totally meant to be.” She replies, not putting much effort into selling the emotion behind it; but at least she used the words Tommy liked to hear. He was all about that true love and destined lovers nonsense.

“Oh, I know this word, um–groupie, right? Is that how they call you?” She asks. She acts innocent, as if she doesn’t know what she’s just said, but you have a feeling she knows exactly what’s she said, and you think you may need Tommy’s mom to adopt you now. You laugh through your nose, throwing up your hand to hide the action. Roxy glares over at you, turning on her heels and storming off.

“Mom, that’s not cool.” Tommy says.

“I do not understand, you say this word all the time like it’s the best thing in the world.” She replies.

“Tommy–” You start.

“No, you are not helping.” He says, before chasing off after Roxie.

“Wasn’t really trying to.” You mumble under your breath. You turn back to his parents, who look at each other with worried expressions. You aren’t really sure it’s your place, but you feel like you should say something.

“Look, I wouldn’t worry about it too much.” You say, smiling at them. “Tommy likes big romantic gestures and he’s constantly chasing after his dream of finding true love, but he always picks these awful girls. I admit the engagement was a surprise, but this whole scenario’s not new; it’ll all blow over soon.” They glance at each other, then look back at you.

“It sounds like you know Tommy well.” His mother says, smiling.

“I guess so.” You shrug. “Look, all I’m saying is I wouldn’t be shopping for any wedding outfits just yet.” You say, and his father laughs.

“We’ll keep that in mind.” He replies.

You say goodbye to them, more hugs are involved, and quickly make your way across the set. You see your brother talking to Mick. When they see you approaching, they can instantly see you’re pissed.

“The fuck’s wrong with you?” Nikki asks, looking bored.

“We need to talk. Now.” You say, glaring daggers at him. He stares back at you, saying nothing. Finally, he concedes, silently following you as you lead him to your dressing room.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You ask, practically spitting venom with every word.

“You want a list? Or are we talking in general?” He quips.

“Cut the shit Nikki.” You hiss. “You fucked Tommy’s girlfriend, you asshole!” He scowled at you.

“So?” He replies cooly.

“So? What the fuck do you mean so?” You yell.

“She’s a fucking groupie y/n; who cares if I fuck her?” He spits back.

“Oh I don’t know, how about her boyfriend? You know, your best friend Tommy? He would be fucking heartbroken if he ever found out!” You reply, your own heart aching at the thought.

“Better Tommy break up with that bitch now than marry her! I did him a goddamn favor by exposing her for the cheater she is!” He shouts.

“You know he’s gonna break up with her either way, you fucking prick! Don’t try to make yourself feel better by making up bullshit excuses for sleeping with your best friend’s girlfriend!” You scream.

“You’re the one making up bullshit excuses; acting like you give a shit about that English fuck, when it’s Tommy you really want.” Nikki accuses, pointing a finger at you.

“Oh god, this bullshit again? I can’t believe even you’re buying into that crap.” You say rolling your eyes. “I’m not on trial here, Nikki; but for the record, I don’t want to fuck Tommy. Though you just did, you fucked him good; when you screwed his girlfriend. Oh no, I’m sorry–his finaceé. I bet he’ll ask you to be his best man too; how fun do you think that ceremony’s gonna be, hmm?”

The two of you stare at each other in silence for a long time, neither one of you wanting to speak first. You refused to back down this time; you knew Nikki was in the wrong, and you weren’t sure if you would ever forgive him. No, you knew you couldn’t. Finally, he sighed, breaking the silence.

“So what? You gonna tell him?” He asks quietly.

“No, of course not, don’t be stupid.” You reply, scowling. “I already told you; he’d be heartbroken.”

As much as you didn’t want to hide the truth from Tommy, you also didn’t want to hurt him. You want to protect his heart from ever having to experience the pain of betrayal. You had felt disappointment, sadness, heartache; you never wanted Tommy to feel those things. All his breakups were so superficial, sure they hurt, but only briefly. Nikki betraying him? That would cut deep; deeper then anything he’d ever felt before. He might not ever recover from that. You couldn’t let him feel that, even if it meant betraying him yourself and lying about ever knowing. A small, miserable part of you hated Nikki for putting you in this position; if he hadn’t done this stupid, horrible thing, then you wouldn’t have to lie to Tommy about it. This was Nikki’s fault, not yours. Even if you were lying, you were only doing it to protect Tommy; that didn’t make you a bad person.

Did it?

“So what then?” Nikki asks.

“Look, she’ll be gone soon one way or another; that’s only a matter of time. Hopefully, she won’t say anything about the two of you when she goes, then that will be the end of it.” You explain.” Just, from now on, don’t sleep with you best friend’s girlfriend; which is not something I should need to tell you.” You add, exasperated.

“Uh huh, thanks for the tip.” Nikki says, walking towards the door.

“And Nikki?” You call after him.

“Yeah?” He asks, his hand already on the door handle.

“I’m never going to forgive you for this.” You tell him plainly. There’s a long pause.

“Yeah, I know.” He finally replies, before leaving you alone in the room.

#tommy lee x reader #the dirt!tommy lee x reader #mgk!tommy lee x reader #the dirt x reader #the dirt #tommy lee

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thatsthewrongwallcraig · 3 years

Text

Behind The Fence

- 10 - That Bitch

Summary: After the little adventure with Baz you return back to the Cody's and not all of them are that jolly about this incident.

Pairing: Female!OFC x Craig Cody

Content warnings: The Cody's dirty language, mild violence

You can read Part 9 here!

Check out my Masterlist!

Craving some off-story thirst? There you go!

Still very much feeling the pure rush of adrenaline pulsing through my veins, I pulled up into the Cody's driveway. The large electric security fence had already opened up, because Baz arrived a moment ahead. Awaiting our arrival, J, Pope and Craig gathered up in front of the garage.

"Man, you really got Deran in on that? How did you manage that?" Craig blurted out, throwing his hand up in the air.

"I didn't." Baz smirked, after pulling off his helmet and leaving his bike.

"What?" Pope chimed in, with his usual blunt tone that now was ever so slightly laced with tension.

Out of the front window I looked at J, who hadn't said a thing by now. He was just pinching the brige of his nose, apparently able to put one and one together. Baz turned around to face the van and with him all of the brother's attention focused on the car. Now that everybody was waiting on the big reveal I got a bit scared to step out of the car, because until that point I haven't had taken Popes very likely displeasure about this into consideration, let alone Smurf's as soon as she would hear about it. I calmed myself with reassuring me that Baz got me into this and that the shitstorm, which was about to come without a doubt, would go down on his account, not mine. After taking a deep breath and getting myself out of the seatbelt I mustered up and stepped out of the van.

"Jesus..." Pope scoffed upon the sight of me.

J only let out an annoyed sigh which got accompanied by an eye roll that left no doubt about him being a part of this family.

"Babe, what the hell?"

After throwing the car door shut I turned towards Craig and before I could swallow the sentence I threw him a rather cold: "Oh, shut up!"

Fairly amused by that Baz grinned at me.

"Well done, chica! Honestly, I didn't expect anything less from you." He seemed to be the only one who was still having a jolly good time over this. Ignoring the mumbling and groaning of his brothers Baz swiftly stepped up to me, crouched down to grab me by my thighs and threw me over his shoulder.

"Baz!?", I shrieked out and hammered the palms of my hands against his back "What the fuck are you doing? Stop! Let me down! Now!"

"Oh, I don't think so." He giggled and went ahead towards the yard, past Pope, J and Craig, which where looking at us in utter disbelief. With him walking straight towards the pool I got an inkling what Baz was about to do, but it was past the point of sliding off his shoulder somehow.

"Baz, please!" I begged, but it was too late. We already arrived at the pool and I felt Baz lifting me up by my waist to yeet me into the water. For the blink of an eye I flew through the air and eventually hit the water's surface with my back first. My impact was so strong that it almost hurt and I felt my suddenly slowed down body close to reaching the pool's ground. Nonetheless, the cool water surrounding me was a welcome change to the burning summer heat, but I would've preferred to embrace it wearing a bikini, not a full set of clothes that soaked themselves heavy in an instant. Gasping for air, that got forcefully ripped out if my lungs upon hitting the water, I dragged myself back up to the surface and wiped a wet bunch of hair out of my face.

"Thanks, asshole!" I panted towards Baz, who was standing at the side of the pool, grinning like the idiot he was.

"You're welcome." He laughed while Pope stomped in his direction, appearing as if he wanted nothing more in this world than to send his brother after me.

"Sit your ass down, we gotta talk!" He growled at Baz, grabbing him by the shoulder to push him towards the table where J had already seated himself.

"Would someone have the decency to explain to me what this screaming is all about?" Janine scoffed from the side, holding two plates stacked with barbecue meat and visibly irritated by the action happening in the yard. Except J everybody went silent at her appearance.

"Seems like Baz pulled Craig's girl in on the next job." He stated with a dull voice, that was as unimpressed as it was calculating.

You little shit, I thought to myself, I got a name too and am not just someone's girl. But that's the way this family worked. You had the inner core and everybody else was just a mere accessory to the scenery. An unnecessary gimmick to keep Smurf's sons happy and entertained.

Although I knew these people for quite some time now the hostility within this family never failed a chance to strike me once again.

"Oh, baby...", Janine turned herself to face Baz "I think we should talk about this immediately." As per usual, that woman's voice was drenched in mistrust and a certain, stinging undertone of disappointment. Even I got the chills from that, which then got followed by the need to get my ass as far away from her as I could, but unfortunately I was still floating in the Cody's pool. I swam towards it's edge to get out of the water and while watching the situation around the table I hadn't noticed Craig taking Baz' place by the pool, lending his hand to help me up and out. I didn't take it, instead I pulled myself out of the water and got to my feet next to him on my own. I wanted him to feel that I was pissed about the shitshow he pulled at Deran's bar. Without even paying attention to his annoyed sigh I got out of my boots and went ahead to get myself into some dry clothes before joining the lot at the dinner table.

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

After I had dried myself off sporadically, threw on my bikini and wrapped me in the summer dress I had originally planned on wearing today I got back to the table, where all the Cody's except Deran were waiting on me. Due to him not showing up I had two free seats to choose between: One next to Craig and the other one next to Baz. Being arguably petty, I went with the chair next to Baz. Although I knew it was something overly childish to do and although it didn't even feel that good I hoped that Craig at least would get the hint that way.

The general atmosphere at the dinner table wasn't exactly amicable, but by far not as bad as I would've expected it to be.

"Thanks for the dinner, Janine." I said, trying to start this conversation as friendly and light hearted as possible, but that didn't get me all too far. Going straight over my head, she addressed Baz, her voice snappy as ever: "Since when do we get outsiders in on jobs?"

Baz, right next to me, lowered his cutlery down to the plate and pierced her with an unimpressed stare.

"She's not in on the job, mother , she just helped me run the errands."

"How much does she know already?" J threw in, ripping bite sized pieces out of a bun. Gosh, I absolutely had nothing in favour for this mouthy dipshit. He used to be nice and polite as a kid, but since Smurf had to take him in his once rather charming character crumbled to shreds. No wonder puberty hit wrong when you found yourself stuck with these people.

"I don't-" I intended to explain myself, but got run over by Baz immediately.

"Lilly doesn't know shit, okay?! I told her to pick the van, she did and that's that, cool?"

"No, that's not cool, Barry.", Smurf spat back at her son "Why didn't you ask any of your brother's... you got plenty of them!"

Baz sighed deeply before he turned his head towards Craig, who was sitting in front of me.

In a stern, accusing voice he answered: "Maybe because she was looking damn sad and worn out. I thought it to be a good idea to get her out of here for a moment."

"Hey, carefull here, man.", Craig grumbled, whirling a fork full of steak around "It ain't my fault she got shitfaced with Deran last night, kay?"

Sinking deeper and deeper into my chair I threw him a look that was stripped from any emotion. At that Craig just shrug his shoulders in a very "Tell me I'm wrong!" manner and continued eating.

A moment of chewing and rattling cutlery followed as I took a drag from my bottle of beer, not at all drawn towards any of the different dishes and salads around me.

"I'm not a fan of it either, but Baz had his reason.", Pope suddenly added to the conversation "It went smooth and could we all please stop talking about Lillian like she's not here?"

His words came as a nice change of tone in all of this and I appreciated that, even though I knew his intentions focused more on eating in peace than stepping up for me.

"Geez, thanks, Andrew!", I sighed and nodded in his direction "I'm neither deaf nor stupid."

Picking up on this in the absolute worst way, J spilled: "Oh, well... apparently stupid enough to bang the dumbest one at the table." In a matter of seconds he had everybody staring at him and his grandmother rewarding him with a well deserved, juicy slap in the face.

"Joshua Cody!", Smurf bellowed at him in a voice that had all of us flinching "Who do you think you are to talk like that?!"

Throwing a gesture at me, he scuffed back: "Who the fuck she thinks she is?!"

Snapping myself up from the table, before anybody could take that from me, I jammed my palm onto the wooden furniture and rose my voice for the bunch to hear loud and clear: "I'm quite obviously that bitch three grown ass men and a gnarly little boy are currently losing their mind over!"

For the moment I've had enough with all of them, not just Craig, who was starting at me with his jaw almost dropping to the floor. "And now please excuse me, while I wait for any of you to grow a pair."

Before leaving the dinner table for good I looked at Smurf, assuming that she was about to come after my ass for snapping at her beloved boys like this, but instead an amused, if not even impressed smile played around her shiny, lipgloss smothered mouth.

-----------

Taglist:

@ysmmsy

@demotalias

#animal kingdom #ben robson #fanfic #animal kingdom tnt #craig cody #craig x reader #ak #craig cody crack #scott speedman #j cody #Spotify

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karlnapity · 3 years

Text

God Bless This Perfect Shitstorm:

Chapter 1: It’s not a problem if I never get caught.

(tws: alcoholism/addiction, serious self-deprecation)

Schlatt hadn’t realized how fucking boring being sober was.

And hell, it’s not like he can even call it sober yet. It hasn’t even been twelve hours, and damn, he can still feel the alcohol in his veins, the last few drops making their way painstakingly out of his system.

It had been a bit of a snap decision, a promise to Quackity when he’d been the furthest thing from even trying to be sober, but damn, Quackity had decided to hold him to it.

He’d practically busted down the door, waking Schlatt from what might be the last good sleep he gets for a while, if the jittery feeling is anything to go by, and had told him, “This is the day.”

Fuck, man, he hadn’t even remembered making the promise.

But it’s boring. The only thing getting him up in the morning is a sip, or a shot if he’s feeling like making particularly bad decisions. Depending on the strength of the liquor, that can get him through the first hour or two, or at least until the end of the first meeting. Then lunch, plenty more booze, and if he’s lucky he’s completely wasted by afternoon. Fucking obviously he can’t pass out until at least the end of the day, but sure, no harm in being a bit out of it for the last few hours. The cabinet can handle whatever the fuck.

Not much time for being bored in the middle of that, but what the hell is he supposed to do now?

Quackity’s dragging him to Niki's bakery. he’d been horrified to hear Schlatt didn’t eat breakfast, though Schlatt doesn’t really get the big deal of it all.

His head’s pounding already, a hangover that would usually be remedied by now. He’d forgotten how stupidly fucking painful they were.

(It could be solved real easily.)

Quackity’s chattering about something or other, so thrilled about the coming day, but Schlatt’s not fooled, doesn’t miss the way Quackity’s so obviously trying to distract him from the way he’s already gritting his teeth.

Niki’s surprised to see them, but she’s courteous enough as Quackity oohs and aahs even as he comes here every fucking day.

Schlatt lets him pick. His stomach’s already roiling anyways, rebelling against the lack of liquor and at the smells of baking bread. He feels sick.

He doesn’t say anything. It’s a bit of a bitch move to feel so shit already, and as much as he thinks this is a stupid fucking idea, he’s not gonna ruin Quackity’s fun.

They leave, Quackity calling a goodbye over his shoulder and Schlatt trying to resist the urge to throw up in the flowers, and make their way to the White House.

(He wouldn’t feel this sick if he just had a little. Just a little.)

They’re early, hours earlier than Schlatt usually arrives, and they’re the first. Quackity grins and invites him to sit on one of the chairs. He wonders whether he can sneak away, and inwardly chides himself on it. No pussy shit today, no hiding away and taking a shot or two, even as his heart soars at the mere fucking thought.

He sits.

“How’re you feeling so far?” Quackity asks, taking a bite of his pastry, and Schlatt cringes at the genuine concern on his face. “Not looking too good.”

Schlatt waves his hand. “I’ll be fine. Just gotta soldier through.”

Quackity’s face pinches. “Tell me the truth, ok? I know you’re all about this cold turkey thing, but let me know how you’re feeling. We gotta make sure nothing serious happens.”

“Yeah. Whatever.” He resists the urge to snap at him, and instead grabs a pastry and takes a firm bite.

At this point he’s usually tipsy at the very least. He’s a lot worse at conversation than he thought, and Quackity doesn’t seem quite sure what to think either. He can’t quite sit still, bouncing his leg idly and pulling at the tie around his neck.

(This would be a lot fucking easier if he was drunk.)

The others start to pile in soon enough. Fundy’s first, obviously trying to hide his surprise that Schlatt’s in the common area and not already holed away in his office already.

(There’s a cabinet in his office calling his name.)

Tubbo’s next, taking a pastry with a grin and sitting beside them. He makes easy conversation with Quackity, and Schlatt tips his head back on the couch and lets himself relax for a minute.

It doesn’t last long, the pounding and the jitters and the fact he still can’t stay still wreaking havoc on his body. He feels like he can’t quite think straight, things not right, not the way they’re supposed to be.

“Schlatt?” that’s Quackity. He sits up and the whole room spins, and goddamn does he feel like throwing up. He steadies himself, and his eyes focus on the man in front of him.

Quackity raises his eyebrows. “you ok?”

Tubbo is staring at him with wide eyes. He wants to yell at him to take a fucking picture. He doesn’t. He really wants to.

He shakes his head. “Yeah, fine. What, am I not allowed to relax?”

He wants to tell Quackity he’ll get a wrinkle between his eyebrows if he doesn’t stop frowning. Is he still fucking drunk?

Tubbo leaves not soon after. He has no fucking clue what the two of them were talking about.

(If he was drunk he wouldn’t care.)

“Alright, big guy,” Quackity says, the nickname he usually only uses when Schlatt’s so out of it he can’t even move. “What’s for today?”

He has the sudden, distinct urge that he wants to cry, which is odd, because he can’t remember when that last was. He hates this.

He puts his head in his hands, and the couch dips as Quackity sits next to him, rests a hand on his shoulder. He wants to pull away, he doesn’t like to be touched, but he’s so fucking exhausted he doesn’t.

He’s not quite bored anymore.

“Want to go to your office?” Quackity asks quietly, and it’s probably because he wants him out of the public eye, because Schlatt prizes his privacy and Quackity knows that.

But he can see it. he can see it, because he has a real nice bourbon in there and wine he doesn’t drink because it doesn’t get him there fast enough and vodka he’s been meaning to finish and some whiskey he bought just because it was fucking expensive even if it tastes like shit, and he wants it so fucking badly, he doesn’t care what it is, he just wants to stop feeling this way and his entire body fucking craves it and he feels like he’s dying.

His hands are shaking so badly, and he’s pretty sure Quackity’s calling his name but he can’t focus on anything except how badly he just wants it all.

He doesn’t want to be sober anymore, he really, really doesn’t. This was a stupid idea, and Quackity’s a fucking asshole to even suggest it, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to make it, and he can’t, so what’s even the fucking point.

"Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, let’s do the office.”

Quackity, or someone, removed the stock he had on display, and even in the main cabinet, but they didn’t check everywhere.

Addicts are fucking smart, and they should’ve known to look elsewhere. It’s something he learned back when he was still doing the pill shit, but he’s kept it with him.

His hands are shaking so badly it’s hard to pick up much of anything, and he’s reached the fucking disgusting sweating part of it. He’s only reached this stage a few times before, when he was so fucking poor he couldn’t even afford cheap vodka, and it brings up a few memories he really, really doesn’t want to remember.

But he’s got a small bottle of whiskey hidden behind a few books, and it has never, ever looked so appealing, even if it’s the cheap shit.

It’s gone in only a few minutes.

Quackity’s gonna be fucking pissed, they all are, but he genuinely could not give a shit. They shouldn’t have left him alone if they didn’t want this.

It’s their fault.

Quackity’s more than pissed. Schlatt had just barely gotten to sleep again, head down on his desk like most nights these days, and he wakes up to the sound of glass shattering.

“Are you fucking serious?” Quackity’s yelling, and he’s pretty sure he can hear the sound of Tubbo trying to placate him, but he’s not sure.

The whiskey wasn’t enough. What time is it? He’s usually passing out at this point. His head hurts.

“Oh, good, he’s awake,” Quackity exclaims, storming into the room. “Finally awake, asshole? What the fuck? I thought you were on board.”

Schlatt resists the urge to put his head back on the desk. “Can you keep your voice down?”

Quackity’s face contorts in a grimace. “I don’t know why I even fucking try. You’re impossible.”

“There’s no point.” Schlatt waves a hand, spinning a bit in his chair. “There was no fucking way it was gonna work. You just gotta accept the facts.”

Tubbo frowns. “You hardly tried, though.”

“I fucking tried,” He sneers, putting a hand on the desk, hard. “You realize how much I fucking drink in a day? That bottle you just threw out? That’s fucking breakfast. Don’t tell me I wasn’t trying. You don’t know how it works, you don’t know how hard it is, how much it hurts.”

For the second time that day, he feels tears prick his eyes, and this time he can’t stop it.

He was always an angry crier.

Quackity crumples like a doll into one of the chairs, puts his head in his hands in a similar fashion to Schlatt, earlier.

“I’m sorry,” he says into his hands. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I get it. Maybe not with alcohol, but you know how I used to be. I know how it is for people not to be understanding, and I’m sorry I put you in that situation.

I’m genuinely trying to help, Schlatt. I care about you. I know how long you’ve been dealing with this, and I want to do what I can. But you have to talk to me. If you’d told me there was shit in here, I could've taken it out. If you need to reduce in increments, that’s fine, I can help you moderate as best I can. but you’ve got to help me help you.”

Tubbo nods. “Me too. Just tell us what you need, ok?”

Schlatt’s lip quivers. He’s never been good with this.

(And he’s too sober for this. He can’t laugh it off.)

“Tomorrow,” he says. “We try again then.”

They grin.

#personal #mcyt #jschlatt #quackity #tubbo #dream smp #dsmp #fundy #l'manberg #l'manburg #l'manhole #lmanburg #lmanberg #schlatt #manburg

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queensofthekastle · 3 years

Note

For the dialogue prompt -- how's about 42?? :]

HOLY SHIT OK IT TOOK ME A MONTH BUT I'VE DONE IT. FINALLY. Life was just happening everywhere, thanks for waiting me out. 🙏

TW: descriptions and references to racist police violence.

The prompt was "I'm only here to establish an alibi." I was totally stuck--what could be blamed on Frank that he wouldn't have actually done? Canonically to the comics (though I commend the show for not giving a flying fuck about whether Frank went after glorified DHS cops who were dirty) the only things Frank won't touch are bystanders, cops, and active duty military.

And then I had it. Because 2020 has been A Year and I'm still processing some shit. So, here we go.

-Stellar

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

The door rattles under a succinct knock at 2:45 am—just when Karen had been so close to falling asleep, caught in that limbo of vague consciousness and wandering thoughts just on the cusp of falling into dreams. So, it’s with more irritation than concern that she drags herself out of bed after the second round of door-bludgeoning. It being post-closing time on a Friday—well, Saturday now—she's fairly confident what she’ll find through the peephole will be a drunk neighbor with the wrong apartment. It wouldn’t be the first time, nor, probably, the last.

A cautious look through the peephole does not reveal one of her gregarious bar-hopping neighbors though, but a still figure; hood pulled close around his face to shadow shifting eyes that look black as ink in the low, shit light of the apartment hallway. Frank has a lovely mouth, but it’s set now in a tense line. Karen’s heart picks up speed, a fullness in her chest and a pressure in her veins—middle of the night, tense Frank is never a good sign. Though he doesn’t seem to be bleeding from anywhere, which is more than can be said for some of his other visits.

She undoes the door chain, and she’s quietly but earnestly asking “what’s going on?” before she even has the door open wide enough for him to see her face.

“Nothing.” He says, voice rough and low, but calm. “I just need someone to know it’s nothing.”

He looks askance, looks at her. She allows herself a sigh.

“What does that even mean, Frank?”

He shifts his weight and looks at her from under the shadow of his hood.

“I’m only here to establish an alibi.”

“Because you didn’t do something, or because you did?”

“Didn’t,” he says, and she believes him. She always does. It’s one piece of why he’s so dear to her: Frank never lies to her, and she never lies to him.

“This should be interesting,” she says, and opens the door far enough for him to step through. When she’s closed it behind him she asks if he’d like a drink. He answers without looking her in the eye, mind working on something else far away from her little apartment—he asks for his usual, of course. Only Frank would suggest coffee this near to 3:00 am.

“Not sleeping tonight?” she asks. He shrugs one shoulder.

“Guess not.”

“Uh-huh. So you didn’t do anything, but you’re pulling an all-nighter in my apartment? I’m going to need an explanation here soon, Frank.”

He hovers beside the hutch that acts as her kitchen island without looking any more settled than he had out in the hall. His jaw works for a moment before he answers.

“I don’t know how much you want to know. Let's just say I ran into someone with a mission about like mine and I’m giving her space to work.”

“Oh. God. A Punisher copycat? Jesus, Frank. The law turns a blind eye to one of you, I doubt you’ll get away with two.”

“Nah,” he says, “nothing like that. I’m it. This is a one-time thing—lady's got some things to get out of her system. I only found out because she was after the same supply chain I was.”

“Supply chain?”

“Ammo,” he says flatly. Karen holds her next blink a little too hard and a little too long. But he is what he is—she accepts that again every time she opens her door to him—and she doesn’t comment except to ask:

“Who is this person after that you aren’t?”

“It’s probably better you don't ask. If someone comes sniffing after me about it you should be able to say you didn’t know anything.”

“So if one of your Homeland ‘friends' shows up to see if you’re testing their good graces what do I tell them, then? That you just showed up at three in the morning for a chat? No one is going to buy that.”

He shifts, not quite shrugging, looking off into space with the raised eyebrows of feigned innocence.

“Just say I saw your light on, came to say hi.”

“Right. And you were walking around Hell’s Kitchen to see my light on in the first place because . . .?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Hoping maybe if I tried my luck with a walk I’d find you up.”

Karen sighs, turning away to pour his coffee. She’s made it thick as hot asphalt for him, in part because she knows he likes that, in part because she’s so damn tired she’d lost track of how many grounds she was piling into the coffeemaker. Frank takes the mug she offers him with a low “thank you.” And sure enough, after a sip, he smiles.

“You always make my kind of coffee,” he says.

“It’s an easy recipe,” she says, leaning over the counter opposite him, “just make it so no sane person would drink it.”

He laughs, a very short, low sound that rumbles in his chest and rasps in his throat.

“Dare I ask what you were actually in the neighborhood for?” She asks. “If insomnia is your alibi?”

“Probably shouldn't. Let’s just say I had a meeting.”

Karen quirks an eyebrow, conveying as much skepticism with the look as she can.

“Meeting as in you’re probably accessory to whatever it is this friend of yours is doing?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

Karen fixes him with her best piercing journalist stare. He drinks his coffee. They stalemate that way in silence for a minute or so before he meets her eyes and speaks.

“There are some things I don’t touch,” he says. “People doing their jobs, following shit orders and shit training and fucking up in the process—shit I’ve done, Afghanistan . . . I wouldn’t have a leg to stand on. Would be a hypocrite. It’s not my place. And I guess you could call it self-preservation, too. Doesn’t mean I don’t think about it, though.”

“Think about…?”

He takes a long drink, eyeing her over the top of the mug, making some calculation she can’t guess at.

“You know any Latin?” he says finally. “Quis custodiet ipsos custodes mean anything to you?”

It does, and for a moment, she’s sure her heart has stopped.

“Oh, no,” she says. “Who watches the watchmen. Tell me this is what I think it is.”

“I’m not telling you anything, don’t worry.”

“Frank,” she hisses. She doesn’t need his sarcasm right now. She thinks she knows what it could be that he won’t touch and still endorse: with Frank it’s always either war or justice, and every headline for the last month has been about the absence of justice on a battlefield where he could never hope to win. Cops in the city conveniently overlook Frank. He gets the ones they can’t, they have no vested interest in handing him over so long as he doesn’t mess with them. It’s an unspoken arrangement that lets Frank do what he does—and what he does lets him stand to live. Karen knows that. They’ve been over it enough. The police let Frank slip through their fingers and he doesn’t pick a fight in exchange.

But it’s been a long summer, and every day of it has been a fight with police for the thousands of protesters gathering over and over throughout the city. In early June a beat cop—White, of course—used a kind of handheld Taser repeatedly on an unarmed Black man “resisting arrest" for a crime he didn’t commit. Cell phone footage from witnesses made it online despite the NYPD's best efforts, and all anyone saw when watching it wasn’t a criminal resisting, but a victim on his knees, clutching his chest, begging please, please, I have a heart condition, I have a pacemaker, before the cop shocked him again. And again. Until he wasn’t on his knees but prone on the ground, gone still and silent.

The officer was reinstated after a paid leave six days ago. The DA declined to prosecute.

And yesterday, the innocent man, having spent weeks in a coma induced by heart failure, was declared dead.

Frank looks Karen hard in the eye, an unflinching stare that says he knows she understands. She puts her face in her hands.

“There’s shitstorm coming, isn’t there?” she says.

“Probably.”

She shakes her head, drops it into her hands again. She can feel him watching her. A minute ticks by. Maybe two.

“Karen.”

She lifts her eyes just enough to meet his.

“You feel you gotta do something with this?” he asks. It neither a judgement nor a threat. She worries her lip for a moment before answering.

“This person you know of,” she says slowly, “they won’t implicate you?”

“No.”

“And do you know enough of their plan that you could stop them? Tip someone off?”

He takes a long drink, holding her with those deep inkdark eyes, and for the first time, he lies to her.

“No. Nothing.”

She knows it’s a lie. She knows he wants her to know. She could call him on it and he wouldn’t deny it. But she doesn’t.

All she says is “then I guess there’s nothing we could do,” holding his eyes while she speaks, making sure he understands what’s happening here.

Frank nods. It’s enough.

Karen looks away, stares at her hands folded in front of her, tracing the patterns of veins under pale skin.

After a moment she asks, “would you like anything stronger?”

Frank looks at her with cool appraisal that says what he won’t out loud—that somehow, on some level, he helped with what’s to come. And he knows she’s letting him get away with it.

“No thanks,” he says. “But you go ahead.”

And she does. She falls asleep beside him on the couch, drunk with her head resting on his shoulder, sometime after 4:30, an economy bottle of wine that started full and is now half gone still out on the coffee table.

On Monday, Ellison will ask her to look into the story of a body found charred beyond recognition in an NYPD patrol car.

She’ll tell him there was nothing she could dig up, and never mention it again.

#kastle #kastle fic #BLM motherfuckers #queensfic #someday someone at Marvel will have the guts to put Frank up against a precinct of horrible cops #and on that day my only request is they let Garth Ennis write it

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barnesbabee · 3 years

Text

an (actual) apology

I gotta own up to it when I fuck up so I have to say this even though I didn’t want to bring up the issue again.

When I made the godforsaken list I didn’t mean for ANYONE to get hate, even if some of the people on the list hated on us after that. I didn’t mean for anyone to get hate messages or anything like that, but people went out of their way to send hateful messages to gif makers that 1. weren’t even mentioned and 2. don’t even hate on anyone in the community.

And I wanna make something clear:

There are gif makers that support all types of writers (wether it be sfw or nsfw).

That being said, I’d like to apologise and say sorry to whoever I’ve hurt that has nothing to do with the situation. This isn’t just for good looks, I’d apologise personally (and I have) but I don’t know who I’ve hurt so I wanted to make it public that I don’t regret the list, but I do regret the outcome that came out of it. I am so sorry to whoever got attacked by this, and I understand that a lot of people from that community might hate me now, but I still owe them an apology.

If you guys want a writer-friendly gif maker I suggest @prkseonghwa she makes great content, shower her with love please, cause she was caught in the shitstorm that I created (sorry again vivi :( )

Feel free to drop more writer-friendly gif blogs in the comments or whatever, unfortunately I don’t know many to put here!

For clarification: I don’t regret the list, the list was made up of people who hated/disliked writers. If I was in a list of ‘people who hate Trump’ I wouldn’t be mad/offended cause it’s something I stand by. I did NOT make the list for gif makers, I made the list for people who wanted to know who hated on writers for people not to end up being boo boo the fool (like I was) for supporting people that in the end hated them.

This being said, I’m putting the issue to rest, I never wanted to bring it up again because it caused way too much drama and I never expected it to have that much attention, but this needed to be done.

Thanks for the attention, and sorry again

Babee

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johannstutt413 · 4 years

Text

(requested by calligomiles)

“Ahhh.” Zima finished her bottle of vodka with a flourish. “Alright, that’ll do for tonight. Wallet’s already hurting from that shitstorm from last night - not naming any names.”

Beehunter shrugged. “I didn’t say you had to fight me in the bar, Zee, just that we should spar sometime. I blame FEater for actually using her gloves.”

“Your fists are your weapons - why shouldn't use mine? I honestly think the whole ‘use the table as a moving platform’ idea was what got us thrown out.”

“Heh...that’s fair.” Leto chuckled. “Hey, Bee, don’t you have another bottle of the good stuff at your place?”

FEater and Zima shared a glance. “Good stuff?” The general interjected.

“Honey straight from a mom-and-pop joint out near the Ursus capital. She got it-” At that point, there was a bread roll firmly lodged between Leto’s teeth, so she was unable to spill Bee’s source.

“Hmm...Fee, are you getting in on this?” She scratched behind her ear. “Never had this stuff before.”

The ex-actress shook her head. “It doesn’t do anything for me, and I’m doing something with the Doctor in a little bit, so I’ll pass.”

“Alright. See you next week, I guess.”

“Yeah, you girls have fun!” FEater smirked. “I know I will...heheh.”

With that totally-not-ominous declaration of purpose, the other three went on their merry way. Beehunter was all smiles. “So, Zee, you’ve neeeever had honey before?”

“Not a drop. What’s the deal with it, anyway? I heard Gummy talking about it the other day.”

“You ever see that Ch’en lady out with her girlfriend, and how she gets after a couple drinks?” They all had, and it deserved a chuckle. “Well, since it takes a hell of a lot of alcohol to get an Ursus like that, we’ve got honey instead. It’s sugar-sweet and a real treat, but not something you just find out on the street.”

The general nodded. “Alright, then. What was that Fee was saying about it not working on her?”

“It doesn’t work for everyone - actually, I was kind of surprised it worked on Lee. Boy, does it work on Lee...”

“Hey!” She swatted at the cage fighter, who simply laughed. “I don’t go around embarrassing you, do I?”

Bee shook her head. “Nah, you don’t, I guess. Alright, we’re here. No shoes on the carpet!”

“You say that every time, but you still don’t have a carpet.” Nonetheless, Zima did still take off her shoes (a custom she’d picked up from Rosa, not that she’d tell anyone that) and joined Leto and Beehunter at the kitchen table, where the fabled honeypot was kept.

“Rules are simple - start with a shot, give it a slosh to see what it does, and enjoy the trip.” Bee and Lee leaned back in their chairs to watch the show. “We’ll be here to make sure you don’t go haywire.”

The general scoffed. “Me? Go haywire? I save that for the battlefield for a reason.” She poured herself a shot of honey, waited for the other two to do the same, and downed it like Swire at Nickel Shot Night.

“Sooo...How ya feelin’?” Leto, ever the lightweight, was already feeling it enough to loosen up.

“That’s pretty good. Why don’t they make alcohol out of this?”

Beehunter shrugged. “Some places do...but it messes with the effect for us. Not really worth it for us.”

“Aww...bummer.” She leaned forward in her chair. “Hey, Lee?”

“Yeah?” Leto was already pouring her and Bee’s third shot.

The general gestured for a fill-up, which was promptly given. “Nm nm nm nm nm...Ahh~ So what’re you two like drinkin’ this stuff?”

“We both crash pretty hard after a while,” Beehunter replied, yawning. “She’ll talk your ears off if you don’t tell her off.”

“I’ll listen to her...Come over here, Lee. Tell me a story.”

She raised an eyebrow at her. “You really wanna hear me talk?”

“Yeah, just come over here.” Zima pushed her chair back and patted her thighs insistently. “Please?”

“Oh, alright.” Leto walked over and sat in her lap.

Beehunter chuckled. “Now this I gotta...zzzz...”

“Wow. You wer’nt kiddin’.” The general set her head on her friend’s shoulder. “Alright, Lee. Tell me a story.”

“Hmm...Well, ya know the one I was tellin’ Bee the other night - ya know, about Peterheim and our time there, so what story do I have for you...I’m gonna need to think.”

Zima squeezed her a little. “That’s fine. Take your time~”

“You’re getting kinda handsy, Zee.” Leto chuckled. “What would Rosa say if she saw you right now?”

“She won’t mind. Besiiides, you’re so huggable. I just wanna snuggle with my teddy-Lee~”

She leaned into her a little. “Heheh. Is that all you wanna do with your teddy, Zee?”

“Keeheeheehee.” The general kissed her cheek. “This isn’t my place, though.”

“It’s mine, itn’t it? She can’t tell me what to do...Buuuut if you wanna, I wouldn’t mind~”

Zima looked over at the firmly asleep Beehunter. “Okay, but we’ve gotta be quiet, mmk- mmm~”

-- -- --

“...Oi.” Beehunter nudged Leto. “Time to get up.”

“Ahh~ Why do I feel so good this morning?” She glanced around, looking for an explanation-

-and a hand pressing on her thigh got her attention as the general sat up. “Hmm...This isn’t my room...Oh yeah. Last night.”

“...I’m going to the gym.” Bee left, leaving Lee and Zee to sort themselves out.

“Eh-heh-he...Um.” Leto awkwardly looked at Zima. “So, was last night fun?”

The general looked at her for a minute before collapsing against her. “Mmhmm.”

“Are you still feeling it?”

“Mmhmm.” She shook her head back and forth against Lee’s chest. “Call in sick.”

The former second-best brawler in Peterheim blinked. “Sorry?”

“Call in sick. I’m not done with you yet.”

“Do you really think-” Actually, come to think of it, she had a couple vacation days she could burn. “Alright, I can do that. You really sure?”

Zima’s unusually soft eyes stared into Leto’s soul. “Completely.”

“Okay, then...Um, you’re gonna have to get off me so I can make the call, Zee.”

“Oh. Right.” She sighed and, as she watched her get up, even pouted. “Hurry back~”

Lee chuckled as she walked to where she’d left her phone the night before, thinking as she dialed the number, ‘Whatever happened last night sure put her in a good mood...I wouldn’t mind making a habit of this~’

#arknights #zima (arknights)#Beehunter (arknights)#leto (arknights)#this uh...this might not be what you meant by affectionate calli #but i mean can you blame me?#arknights fic

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negans-wifeyy · 4 years

Text

Shake Hands with the Devil pt.1

Summary: Laila was hungry for revenge ever since the death of her sister. The only way to fight the monster who killed her is to confront him in his natural habitat: the Sanctuary. As she infiltrates the kingdom of the leader of the Saviors in the hopes to kill him, things will not go the way she thoroughly planned. What will she do now that Negan has gotten her in the palm of his hand?

Pairing: Negan X OFC

Warning: None for now but eventual smut

Tags: revenge, hate, possession

Word count: 2361

A/N: Hi everyone! This is the first fiction that I ever post anywhere, and I chose Negan as the male protagonist because I’m literally obsessed with his character. I also chose a black protagonist because I couldn’t find ANY good fics pairing Negan with even a person of color on Tumblr, fanfiction.net or even Ao3. Since there wasn’t anything I could identify myself with, I decided to write my own thing. Hope y’all enjoy. PS: English is neither my first or second language so please be patient and correct me if there are mistakes or it’s not coherent. Also, the text in italics is in the past and time-lapse are separated by asterisks.

A/N 2: This is a repost from the @thoughtsandthotsss blog. I wanted this fiction and other content to be on a blog focused solely on TWD. So there you have it again and make sure to like and follow again :)

———–

For the past weeks, I’ve been doing everything possible that was asked of me to do in the Sanctuary. Attending to my duties, keeping my head down, staying away from trouble and most importantly, avoiding the leading man of the Saviors. But here I was now, sitting face to face with him in his “office” and waiting for my faith.

“Well, well, well” Negan started as he stood up from his seat. “Here we are again, Laila. Just you and me. Last time we were here together, you infiltrated my kingdom, killed a dozen of my best soldiers and then, came to this very room with a gun pointed at the back of my head to avenge your sister’s death.”

I avoided his gaze and stayed silenced. Just being in his presence made me sick to my stomach. Unlike everyone around here, I didn’t fear the man with the barbed-wire bat. Whatever reason he called me in here for, good or bad, he could just get to the point, so I didn’t have to converse with him any longer than I wanted to.

“So, you’re just gonna stay quiet? I remember you being pretty chatty the first time we spoke.” He snickered. “Don’t you wanna know why I called you in here?”

“Not really. Whatever sick, twisted mind game you feel like playing today, I don’t think it’s going to require me to respond back to you.” I finally broke my silence.

“Still quick-witted huh? With your track record, I wouldn’t be so mouthy with me. I mean, I did spare your life and let you become one of my hit women. My most reliable one too.” He responded as he got to the seat closer to me.

“I don’t know how grateful I can be after everything that you’ve done” I caught my breath remembering the terror he caused this past year to me and my entourage. “You kept Sasha captive, you used her life to blackmail the Alexandrians and you led her to kill herself. Oh, and let’s not forget you terrorizing and murdering the members of my community. “

“I thought that we buried the hatchet on your sister’s passing sweetheart. And also, on the deaths of your Alexandria buddies.”

“You mean like Glenn and Abraham? They are not my ‘Alexandrian buddies’ they were my family. And no, I still haven’t let that go since I can’t give anyone of them proper justice.” I said angrily to Negan who just stared at me grinning.

“Don’t really remember the two others but I do miss that strong-headed Sasha from time to time” He said which made my blood boil even more. “Could have used her warrior skills here. Good thing you’re here the replace her memory.”

“Leave her name out of her mouth.” I fired at him. His words were really getting to me.

Talking about my big sister again was making me so emotional but I didn’t want Negan to see me vulnerable, so I held back my tears and stare right back into his sneering eyes. I needed to be as fearless and strong as the day I was going to kill him. Even if it was weeks ago and I clearly failed my mission, I still remember that day like it was yesterday.

Negan was wandering by himself in his office where he holds up his meeting with some of the Saviors and probably torture some others. I peaked through the crack of the door and as soon as his back was turned, I sneaked in with my AK-47 directing at his head and locked the door shut.

“Don’t you move now motherfucker” I spat at him as he raised both his hands up to surrender. Even in that position, I could still sense the smirk from that bastard.

“Can I at least turn around to see the face of my perpetrator?” Negan eventually said. “I wanna match the face to the sweet voice I’m hearing”

“Empty your pocket first ” I ordered.

“Bossy. Just how I like em” He said as he threw on the floor all his weapons.

“Don’t be smart with me. I’m gonna search you now and I better find nothing” I patted him down to his ankles in all the usual hiding spots and found a pocket knife that I threw with the rest of his armoury.

"I usually don’t need to use this one. Forgot I had it on me. Sorry sweetheart”

“Don’t give a shit. Turn around and stop calling me sweetheart.”

As soon as he saw me, he immediately recognized who I was. And that infamous grin of his slowly faded away.

“Remember me?” I asked, my voice getting angrier from seeing his face so up-close. “The name’s Laila. Not sweetheart or whatever pet name you tryna call me”

“Ok. Laila, it is then. I do remember you; you’re Sasha’s sister. I think it’s pretty obvious now why you’re here.”

“Yes, I am. I’m going to fucking kill you. For Sasha and every single person that I cherished that you killed over your ego power trip. You fucking psychopath. “ I snapped at him. His smirky little face might have gone away but he still was unfazed about whatever I was saying to him.

"Darling, if you want to end me for some sort of revenge, you’re gonna have to take a number” He said back mischievously.

“Don’t call me darling either!” I barked at him as I charged my rifle at him.

“Wooah woah Laila!” Negan shouted finally shaking in his boots "Even though I know you’re very much capable of doing it, you don’t really wanna kill me”

“What makes you think that? I want your head on a stick more than anything”

“Well, with the massacre that you already caused downstairs, adding me to the list would make you an even more disgusting person that I am”

“You and I are not the fucking same. You knew about the damage I literally just did to your people inside the Sanctuary and chose to stay in your own little space, turning a blind eye. How can call yourself a leader after that?” I said to him even more furious than ever.

“Maybe it was all part of my plan” Negan confidently said with a malicious smile.

“What pla—” I didn’t have time to finish when a sharp object hit the back of my head.

As I fell on the floor, the two last things I saw in between two blinks were Dwight behind me with a gun in his hand and a walkie under the table that was open during this entire encounter. After that, everything was blank.

I woke up possibly hours later tied up to a chair in a small dark room. The daylight coming from the small window brightened the room which meant that I was unconscious all night. In the corner to my right, Simon was standing there waiting for me to wake up. I immediately started squirming and moaning in pain when I saw him calling Negan with a radio. I tried to scream for help but the clothe wrapped around my mouth prevented me from it. It wouldn’t have amounted to anything anyway since Negan’s tall figure entered the room as I was struggling to loosen my restraints.

“Morning sunshine!” Negan exclaimed as he approached me doing his signature “leaning back” jig with Lucille tightly gripped in his hand. “As much as I love the sound of your voice with your mouth gagged right now, I’m really curious to know what you’ve got to say for yourself after the shitstorm you caused yesterday.”

He gestured to Simon to leave us alone and took off the cloth to let me speak.

“Fuck you, you prick.” I said to him without even a flinch. He could bound me all he wants but he wasn’t going to take my dignity, and I could see that it was getting him mad. Negan took his precious bat to lift it up underneath my chin.

“It’s not a habit of mine to put my hands on a woman but if you keep disrespecting me like that, I’ll make an exception. Got it? “He threatened me with the most dominating expression I’ve ever seen. Knowing what he could do, I just nodded.

“Now here’s what’s gonna happen. I’ve seen some of your work on the guards that you executed on your way to kill me and I gotta say, I’m very impressed. I don’t usually do this type of thing with perpetrators who try to gun me down but for you sweetie, I’ll bend the rules. From now on, I want you to be a part of this community as one of my hitmen or should I say hit-woman.”

“So, you want me to kill other people for you, even though I tried to kill you? Thanks, but no thanks ”

“Well, I don’t think you really have a choice sweetheart. It’s either you work for me or I feed you to the walkers that we keep in a cage at the back of the Sanctuary”

As he said that, he pushed Lucille harder into my chin. I definitely felt more threatened and trapped. With my hands tied, both physically and figuratively, I had to accept his offer.

“Fine. I’ll do it”. I finally said feeling like I fell right into the trap of the big bad wolf.

“Good. Here are the conditions: You’re going to work solely into protecting the Saviours which means no going behind my back to help the Alexandrians or to try to kill me again. If you don’t respect this, I won’t be afraid to use my Lucille here. Are we clear?”

“Yes..“ I surrounded. As soon as I did, he let go of Lucille off my chin.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Negan said a leaned closer to me and put his hands on the handles of my chair. “Whatever pet name I feel like calling you, you’re gonna have to accept it. It’s my kingdom after all and if you’re gonna be part of it, you’ll live by my own rules. Got it, sweetheart?”

I just nodded back and at that point, I didn’t know if I was more disgusted by his cruel behaviour or by myself for being a sellout.

And just like that, I became one of Negan’s executioner. Although, from my perspective, I became one of the killing monsters who did Negan’s dirty job for him. Any enemy, walker or human, who is a menace to the Sanctuary gets a bullet right in the skull from me whether I like it or not.

The first week was the hardest. I was so miserable being stuck in this place. It wasn’t because I failed my initial mission or even because I was away from my group with no news from them. It was just the daily apprehension of possibly having to gun down Alexandrians who could try to sneak into the Sanctuary like I did. With me going missing and Rick’s thirst for vengeance as strong as mine, it was very likely to happen. Fortunately, another Saviour told me that the day after my infiltration, Negan paid a visit to Rick and the members of Alexandria to tell them that I was now part of the Sanctuary. He also warned them that if any of them tried to come to my rescue, they would risk their life and mine.

It might not have come from the heart, but I still feel like that threat was a gesture from Negan to ease their minds and mine. So that I could accommodate myself better to the situation, I guess. And after that, I didn’t hear from Negan until today.

“Alright now, I won’t speak of her again, especially since she’s not the reason I wanted to meet you today.” Negan said after our back and forth about Sasha. I didn’t understand why he would talk about her knowing how it would make me feel. God, what an asshole he could be.

“What is it then?” I asked him indifferent about whatever he was going to respond.

“Usually, when I meet Saviours in this very room, it’s generally to punish them after they did something wrong, to betray me perhaps.” He said with a deadpan look in his face. At first, I didn’t care about the reason he wanted to meet me but, with those stern eyes staring right back at me, I couldn’t help but gulp. As soon as he saw me sweat a bit, Negan chuckled lightly to himself. “Don’t worry honey, it’s not your case, you can relax”

This motherfucker. He couldn’t help himself but to toy with me a little for his own sadistic pleasure I can only assume.

“You have nothing to worry about precious. Your situation is quite the opposite actually. All I’ve been hearing from everyone around here is how great you’ve been doing. And honestly, their opinions don’t really matter since I’ve been keeping an eye on you daily” Negan surprisingly said.

“Like spying on me?” I asked quite unsettled.

“Not spying on, just keeping an eye like I said.” He corrected. “It’s not like you’ve been doing anything shady babe. I observed you from afar and all I saw was a great warrior protecting her community.”

“You mean forced into protecting it? The Sanctuary is not my community.” I told him very truthfully.

“Whether it was intentional or not, I saw how well you fought and I wanted you to know how pleased I am to see that. Which brings me directly to the point of this meeting”

“I thought we were never gonna get there. Why did you call me here?”

"Hush sweetheart. I’ll tell you eventually, but I need you to keep an open mind”

“Ok..”

“I wanted to promote into a position that will give you the best accommodations you can get in the Sanctuary while still being my main hit-woman”

“What position is that?

“I want you to become one of my wives”

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justjessame · 4 years

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The Deal Chapter 3

Waking up in Daryl’s arms made the rest of the shitstorm of our day almost worth it. Almost because that was the day we all nearly REALLY died. We should have LISTENED to Dr. Jenner when he said the doors wouldn’t reopen. We should have listened to the tiny little voice in all our heads screaming that this was too easy, too safe, too good to be true. We didn’t, which is how we all nearly blew the hell up.

Thank God Dad had that fucking grenade. Thank God that Daryl can scare damn near anyone into opening most things up. And thank God that I wasn’t as stupid as Jacqui and Andrea. I think Dale’s made a horrible mistake saving Andrea. She wanted to die? Then let her. I don’t care what he sees in her. I see a problem that’s going to bite us all in the ass sooner or later.

After Dr. Jenner did a little audio visual of the virus that creates walkers, he basically tossed out the fact that the entire building was set to self destruct. The asshole did warn us not to come in, but still, my baby brother and Sofia shouldn’t have to deal with that kind of fucking fear. Wasn’t the fear of dying by a walker bad enough? Now they wouldn’t trust anyone. Asshole. Luckily we made it. With one that didn’t want to live, and a shit ton of us that did.

Daryl decided to ditch the truck, so it was the choice between curling my body tight against his on the bike, or the RV with whiny Andrea and Shane. Difficult choices. Riding away from the wreckage of the CDC, I clutched at Daryl’s hard abdomen and felt him twitch under my touch. “Does this bother you?” I asked in loud enough for him to hear me. My fingers tightened against him and I felt him inhale deeply. “Should I stop?”

“Only if you don’t want me to wreck us.” He laughed back at me. “Feels amazin’, Jess, but dying before we get to experience the entire thing might suck.”

I grinned into the wings on his vest. “I love you, Daryl Dixon.” I shouted, not caring if anyone heard, because we survived and had another day together.

“I love ya, too, baby girl.” He said back, weaving through the roads as we headed for whatever we’d come to next.

HOURS LATER~ CAR CLOGGED FREEWAY

What we came to next was a clogged highway with too many cars and not enough space for the RV to find a path. Daryl and I scouted ahead, must to my dad’s worry, but finding that we could move further was at least worth it.

We came back to relay the information and the decision was made to raid the cars for supplies before moving them out of the way. Of course a horde of the creepy crawlies found us. Carl, being sensible for his age, stayed put under the car Lori hid him under. Sofia, didn’t. Well, shit.

T-Dog had a horrible cut. Daryl was pissed off at the entire situation, and now Dad had run off to find Sofia. Daryl looked at me and I rushed to his side. “Should I go after them?” He whispered when I got close.

I shook my head. “No, Dad will come ask if he can’t find her.” I was sure of it. He’d been right behind her, so he should have found her and be out in minutes. The time ticked by and I was growing worried. I was about to tell Daryl that we should go in, when Dad came out-alone.

“Daryl?” He asked, and Daryl walked to him. I followed. “No, honey, not you.” I started to protest, but Daryl agreed. Well what the hell? “I need Daryl to track her. You need to stay here and keep everyone calm.” What about Shane, I thought.

“OK, Dad.” I looked at Daryl and wanted so badly to grab him and kiss him. And make him promise to stay safe and keep my dad safe. Instead I touched his hand. He nodded at me. “Stay safe.” It was a blanket statement, for the two of them. And then they disappeared back into the forest.

Carol was understandably upset, and Lori and Shane were tiptoeing around one another. I worked to keep everyone calm, and keep an eye on Carl. He was adamant that he should have a weapon, and I agreed with him. Just not on the type of weapon he wanted. He wasn’t ready for a gun, I told him, not yet. Why not find something stabby? And he nearly got eaten to find one. Then Lori and Shane argued about whether he could keep one or not. For fuck’s sake.

A full night and no Sofia. Dad and Daryl returned, Daryl checking on Carol in the RV and trying to maintain some kind of certainty in the uncertainty. I’d found a spacious minivan and when I tucked the seats down, I had a pretty decent bed. I grabbed my sleeping bag from the Jeep Dad was driving and made a nice little bed. I figured Daryl would keep his distance, since Dad and Lori were sleeping nearby, but he surprised me, tapping on the window as I was looking at the stars through the open sunroof. I smiled and opened the hatchback.

“Thought I’d join ya for a bit.” He whispered, crawling inside and over top of me. “Feels like forever since I’ve kissed ya.” His lips met mine and I sighed in agreement.

Soon the van was steamed up, even with the opening in the roof. I was clutching at his back, his mouth hungry against mine. God in heaven, if I died like that, I would have died happy. He pulled back, too soon for my liking, and smiled down at me. Even sweaty and dirty from the road and the swamp, he was the most gorgeous thing I’d ever seen.

“Ya don’t honestly think our first go is gonna be in a minivan, do ya?” He chuckled and rolled off of me to lay beside me. He pulled me against him, so he could hold me again. “Nah, girl, our first time’s gotta be memorable.”

I giggled. “Pretty sure every time will be memorable with you, Daryl.” My head was in the crook of his arm and I felt his lips on my forehead. “What do you have planned for our first time?” I asked, wanting a better version of a bedtime story.

He sighed and shifted so we were face to face. “Our first time should be under the stars.” He whispered, brushing my errant hair away from my face. “Cause they’re the only thing that can compare to how beautiful you are to me.” I smiled, who knew he had a poet’s heart? “So, somewhere with soft grass, even with this damn sleepin’ bag I want ya to have some cushion under ya. A cool breeze, because you’re skin and mine, together, feels like fire.” I nodded, swallowing at the picture he was painting for me. “And I want to see all of ya. Every tiny bit, and I want ya to see me. We’ll need a full moon for that.” I was drifting off as he continued. “We’re gonna need a long night, cause I don’t wanna have to stop for the sunrise.”

I woke up alone and groaned. I hated this nonsense. I heard the others talking outside, so I refolded my bag and tossed it back inside the Jeep. Stretching I felt his eyes on me. I looked up and sure enough, he was standing with Dad, but watching me like he would prey. I smiled and walked over to join them.

Dad kissed my temple almost absently, but included me in the planning. Everyone was searching today. Grid search, I asked, and he confirmed. OK, I thought, we’d all participated in one of those back home. Even Carl had, because Dad was absolutely certain every hand on deck meant every hand on deck. Once everyone had a part, me with Daryl thank God, we started off. T-Dog and Dale were staying back, to work on the RV and to keep an eye on things. Andrea, gun toting idiot, was giving Dale sass for saving her, sass for refusing her gun rights, and sass for everything that her life didn’t offer. I rolled my eyes.

Shane, Dad, and Carl were together and I was worried. That wasn’t a good idea. Not even close. When we heard the pealing of the bells, everyone’s hope grew. It wasn’t what we’d hoped for, the church held nothing but dead inside and an electronic timed bell outside. After we killed the dead and Daryl checked things out, Carol took a moment to get right with God, I thought about how my life could have been if the world hadn’t turned to shit.

Would I have met Daryl? Would our paths have ever crossed? I would have been attracted to him, of that I was certain. Every girl has a type, right? Well, he was definitely mine. I hadn’t dated much, remember I had to fight for summer camp, but when I had, there was a certain roughness to the guys I preferred. Men who weren’t afraid to get their hands dirty. Men who could hold their own anywhere, but also had a softer side. Sure, I was usually one of the few who could see that side, but knowing it was there was enough. So, Daryl would have been my type no matter what, but would we have met? I glanced up at Jesus on the cross and felt the most peace I’d felt for months. And that was my answer. Yes. We would have.

I met everyone outside as we waited for Carol. Shane, my dad, and Carl were going further on, but the rest of us were heading back to the vehicles and preparing for what comes next. Daryl and I rolled our eyes at Andrea’s bitchiness toward Lori having a gun when she didn’t, and I nearly high-fived my stepmom when she offered it to her and told everyone off for being irritable with Dad. I agreed with her, and dared Andrea to come at me.

“If you’d stop being so pissed about being alive,” I glared at the blonde, “you’d realize that you can totally die out here, all alone, and I’d happily leave your ass laying.” I offered, raising my bow as I felt Daryl’s hand on my arm.

She glared back at me and stomped off back in the direction we’d started from. Bitch. Lori looked at me like I was a stranger, but you know what? I didn’t care. We had enough trouble without a bitch with a death wish. Daryl and I kept the group moving and he tried to keep me calm. I was tired of it. Her attitude with Dale, her irritation with the rest of us. And why? Because she was useless in this world? Well, fuck you and toughen up. I kept going, eyes alert even if I was angry. I felt Lori come up beside me, but before she could say a word we heard the gunshot. Fear clutched my heart, a chill ran up my spin and I prayed that I wouldn’t lose one of my family members.

We waited a beat, before Daryl had us crossing a meadow, then a woman appeared on a horse with a baseball bat screaming Lori and my names. We looked up at her as Daryl held her in his sights on the crossbow. She was making little sense, but we heard Dad’s name and Carl’s then Lori climbed on the horse and I ran beside it. I glanced back at Daryl and I knew he understood. My family needed me. God, please don’t take them.

#The Walking Dead #daryl dixon x ofc #rick grimes daughter #eventual smut #slight au #angst

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tslasvegas · 3 years

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Finale Episode: “This has been AMAZING.” - Pat

Drama? Caused. Immunity? Mine. (hopefully) Maybe I should've just voted Liv to cause a super messy re-vote but this was an okay outcome I suppose. Now I just need to win immunity OR convince Keegan and Pat to vote with me for one more round. :) Balls to the fucking wall. I'm here to win.

So final 6 tribal council was a bit of a shitstorm. But I’m still here so it turned out not too bad and Kailyn, the one person I’ve basically never talked to got the boot. Pat played an idol I didn’t know he had, Jaiden played a legacy advantage on himself and Livingston played an idol on me. Bless his heart. Liv is the best. If I can’t win he absolutely deserves to. And now we have a stupid endurance type challenge that requires 6 hours of dedication and I don’t want to do it, because I feel like I could make better use of my day tomorrow but whatever. We’ll see what happens. I would ideally love to have Jeff gone next, and then Jaiden. If it’s a final 2, I’m going with Liv, whether or not he beats me I don’t care. There’s a case to be made for taking Pat out instead of Jaiden. But we shall see how this challenge goes.

....five seconds later

I hate this challenge

....five seconds later

Why'd this challenge have to be 6 hours? I get that we're at final 5 but man this is awful. Sorry Dan, Sorry Jake but I hate this challenge.

Okay so I don't really remember when the last time I gave a confessional was. So we're just gonna cover the Xavier tribal and hope I didn't already do that lol. This tribal was extremely good for my game, and along with likely the John/Super Idol tribal, will be the time I use as my defining moment in the game, as it shows that I wasn't entirely reliant on Jaiden to get me places, because that seems like the most likely argument against me winning. I could very well see people coming in with a preconceived notion that I was in some way carried by Jaiden, or the fact that I'm alive is because of him. This tribal, where Jaiden thought he could take me out since he knew what the vote count would be with my vote steal, is evidence of that. Luckily for me, I had one more card up my sleeve with the extra vote. And this is why no matter how much you may trust someone, always have an ace in the hole. But on top of that, blowing nearly every advantage in the game, while also being vulnerable at that tribal, is about the best that things could've gone for me. It shows that despite voting out Joey, I still had the trust of Keegan and Liv, and it shows that I had plenty of my own agency in the game. With the next challenge being a logic puzzle, I was not feeling confident going into it. I'm alright at them, not notably great, but when I was practicing, the average times there were something like ~2-3 minutes, which I was just not able to match the pace of. But I did the challenge, and managed to pull off a clean 4 minute time, plenty to spare to win the challenge which I was happy about. This also gave me some breathing room after being to close to going home for comfort. Going into the next tribal, I do know that I have to be wary of Jaiden. The way he talks about him having received legacy from Xavier, saying that Xavier went home with an idol, a lot of his actions there were very sus and I know that I can't take everything at face value. Because of this, I decided to take advantage of being immune, and tried to get Liv on board for a potential F3 of Pat/Him/Me. The caveat would be that Keegan goes home here, just because he has strong potential of winning challenges, which is very true. Liv seemed skeptical, and said he'd sleep on it, which really should've been my first inclination that something is wrong. But I asked him again the next day, and he said "he was open to it". That should've been strike 2, and I'll admit, I was being a little over confident. At that point, Jaiden starts talking to me and is really paranoid about things going wrong, acting like he's going to get voted out. But he insists he has legacy, so everything is fine. I'm just letting him be paranoid, but I also explain that if he's not going to be straightforward with me about what he's thinking for tribal, I'm not particularly interested in exploring possibilities that can hardly be considered possibilities. Come tribal, and what do you know, Jaiden was right. 2 idols and a legacy get played, and Kailyn goes home. Which even if a roundabout way, is what I intended on happening if Keegan had had an idol, so I was not upset about the outcome at all. This also works to my advantage, because it gives Jaiden an "I told you so" moment, and should make him be more confident in going to FTC with me, should I lose these immunities. I just need to get to FTC and I can tell a great story on why I should win. Making it there is the hardest part though

Really gonna go 6 hours posting every 5 minutes. I hate this.

General thoughts on how I think end game should play out from my perspective: My main reasoning for why I think I’ll win though, is just who my alternatives are. Liv won’t win the game. Too small of a player, too defensive of moves. Could be considered an underdog, but in general not pulling much. Keegan, probably too quiet, and like Liv, too defensive. The ideal “contrarian” candidate though, due to general likability and not really doing anything wrong. Pat, should in theory be a budget version of me. From what Jaiden says, he’s less social than me, although admittedly, my social game has fallen off hard throughout the end. It’s difficult to keep up so much though when I don’t have a life to speak of for myself. Jaiden, the clear other option, at least from my perspective. Had had many failed moves, not always a clear direction on what he’s doing or where he’s going, could be seen as second fiddle to me. I think that FTC would mostly come down to, in a me vs Jaiden scenario, which of us people see as the second to each other. People could take my survival as due to Jaiden keeping me safe, but Jaiden calling the shots. People could take me as being the one really in the middle, controlling moreso how each vote turned out. Personally I think the thinking in my favor is more likely/reasonable, but Jaiden has the personality that people will want to support as well. If jury is more game oriented, I probably win. If they aren’t, Jaiden may come out on top.

I feel like this is my Tumblr Survivor breakthrough. I finally made it to the final four. The finale episode. I'm not on the jury quite yet. The end is so close I can literally taste it. But my work isn't done just yet. With Jeff gone, I oddly feel a lot of weight lifted off my shoulders and I can finally breathe again. It wasn't the primary or even secondary plan I had going into this, but if I want a chance to win this game, I have to take care of him first. It also seemed as though there was an opportunity for me to create a little chaos in the event that this game becomes a final two instead of a F3. People are going to want to cut me at the first chance they get I think, but now that it's a F2 they can hold it off one more vote, no? I tried to plant a seed into Pat's head that Livingston and Keegan are a tight duo and while we could totally get rid of Keegan tonight, we could do Livingston instead and have better odds at the F4 because Keegan/Jeff are going to be laser-focused on going after each other. But then Pat went and told Jeff everything in the chat we have together so I flipped it around and made Pat responsible for going after Livingston. So now I go back to Keegan and tell him that Pat was doing whatever it took to keep Jeff safe and that I was the person keeping Pat on focus to get rid of Jeff. It became way more logical after Pat started throwing Liv's name out there for real for me to get rid of Jeff, because either Pat votes Liv and looks like a fucking shady bitch in the F4, OR Pat votes Jeff with me and we share the blame for getting rid of Jeff equally. Keegan owes me - I just saved him from getting voted out. I could've easily voted out Keegan tonight! I could've left two guaranteed votes in his direction but I didn't. Pat owes me - I convinced him the necessary moves and walked him through two big plans heading into tribal, but I kept him up to date on what he wants. At the end of it, he still begged me to tell him what we needed to do - he flipped back to Liv and then told me, then begged me to tell him what he should do, and I told him to do Jeff. He voted correctly because of me. Livingston owes me - As far as he needs to know, Pat and Jeff were going to vote his ass out of here with me had I not turned Pat's vote back and kept Keegan on close watch. Livingston and I have a decent relationship, but I've now saved him more times than I've voted against him (again, as far as he knows) and that's gotta count for something. This season wasn't about making best friends. It was about winning Tumblr Survivor, so yes, I've backstabbed along the way and voted people out mercilessly. But if I make it to the final two, I kept it real with the friends I made along the way but also put my game first. I feel like I can justify that because I made it this far without anybody ever writing my name down and everything I've done, whether its voting out Kailyn or using the powers of suggestion to drive a deeper wedge between Pat and everyone else, has had a bigger purpose than just surviving one more day. It has felt like a huge house of cards up until this point. I didn't play the simplistic "speaks for itself" game that I wanted in the beginning. Instead, I am going to have to justify every single move if I even make it to the final two. It's crazy. I expected to go home tonight had I not won immunity, and now I'm expecting to go home every night until I reach the finish, but like I said there's no more stress now. I'm fully galvanized here. I've been through the worst of the worst, now all I have to do is close my eyes, exhale, and let go. If I can pull off just two more challenges, I think I'm going to be the winner. You know, it's funny, I didn't come into this experience wanting to play a perfect game. It's so.. unrealistic especially with the type of game that I play, but it might happen? I'm not entirely sure. It would be such a good gift to me on my birthday if I do it because its looking like the FTC will happen on my birthday so umm.. Tumblr Survivor gods I know I've been praying to you a lot this season, but truly, please let that happen LOL

So Jaiden won immunity which is fine. Because Jeff didn’t win and that is all that matters at this point. So after some discussion and some Jaiden freaking the absolute fuck out, we ended up unanimously voting out Jeff. And for some odd reason, Jeff decided to switch a vote from me to Livingston. So I currently only have one vote against me and it was blocked by an idol. Yahoo!! I am in a very precarious situation at this point. Liv and I have a final 2 deal. Jaiden and I have a final 2 deal. Liv and I also agreed to vote out Jaiden in 4th place once Jeff was out. So.... I’m actually hoping that Jaiden wins this next immunity challenge so that can’t happen. And at that point we just vote out Pat and everything is good. That’s the absolute best case scenario at this point because it guarantees I make the final 2 regardless of who actually wins the final challenge. And believe me, if that’s the case I’m throwing the challenge LOL Liv will take me. Jaiden will take me. Why should I win? So yeah, fingers crossed that Jaiden wins this Cards Against Humanity game so we can have the best case scenario happen in this game.

JEFF IS VOTED OUT AT F5

If I don't go home tonight I will be completely shocked

JAIDEN IS VOTED OUT AT F4

Final 3! One more challenge to go! And I win a fire making challenge. Suck on that! Also don’t come to my DMs whining that I voted for you when you voted for me too. And we’re just playing your game? Honey, you wouldn’t have had a game without us there. There’s this thing called threat level management. Learn it some time. Glad us three undeserving Palazzo members are the final 3. Time to win this final immunity challenge.

Y'all really thought my extra ass wasn't going to write one last confessional? Yeah right! This is probably the last one I'll ever write in a main season so let's make it good. First things first, some acknowledgements. I want to scream this from a mountain top, I really am just so thankful for the opportunity to play and Jake and Dan have my whole heart forever for giving it to me. I can't thank them enough and I really think this will be a positive experience that I hold in my heart forever. So yeah!! If you're reading this (but who is, really?) just know that Dan and Jake are KINGS!!! I also want to acknowledge how lucky I am to have gotten to where I was in this game, because luck did have a lot to do with all of this. I know that my game might not have been as good as it could've been in particular moments and maybe I boxed myself in at the end in a couple different ways, but luck always found a way to get me out of some sticky spots and I am humble enough to admit it. After I got voted out, I wasn't particularly upset with myself because I knew that if I didn't win the immunity, I'd be going out in this spot. I'm surprised that I had to make fire, but I wish that I had spent some time learning how to do slide puzzles really quick because honestly my performance in it was pathetic. Either way, not mad about it, that's just how the cookie crumbled and I probably would've lost to Livingston, too. The relief to all of this is that I got to join the jury full of people that I genuinely wanted to talk to again because I didn't have anybody left in the game that I particularly found great interest communicating with anymore. Keegan treating me like I didn't just spend my valuable time actually being his only friend was probably the lowest moment of the entire game for me. I wasn't even mad that I was losing as much as I was mad that he lied to my face when I confronted him with the truth, then called me a bitch because I told him I would have kept my word to him had he not tried to take me out. For me, that was fucking awful. The petty side of me wants to make final tribal particularly awful for Keegan, but the new and improved side of me wants to just tell him off and let him lose like about a thousand other Tumblr Survivor flops have over the past several years. When I came into this game, I didn't fully expect myself to make it as far as I did and have really had this gigantic transformation like I did. At the same time though, I'm not surprised that I did because I was living the transformation for like two years since I last showed my face in this community. The Jaiden seen in Las Vegas is the Jaiden that I'm finally in love with. It's the player that I've never been stable enough to be for almost five years now, and I am so proud to say that now. Without a doubt, I dominated this season. I know that. So many outcomes went the way that I had set them up, from getting rid of Stephanie to Joey handing me the legacy advantage. Even when they didn't go my way, I didn't become the next big target even though I said I was going home literally every single tribal since the beginning. There's a lot more gamewise that I could say, but I know Dan and Jake are aware of that and they're probably the only people even reading this now. So I guess that part will just stay between me and them. When I made my entrance to the jury, I was a little surprised to see such an overwhelmingly positive response from people like Kailyn, Joey, John, Xavier, and Andrew. It made me feel so validated as a player, a feeling that I have literally never had before in my whole entire time playing these games. It's so great how much that boosted my real-life confidence. After being part of the org community for like seven years by now, I've been able to separate the real world with the online world pretty well, but while devastating losses in the past haven't truly rocked my real world much, this positive reception will have a lasting impact on me for a really long time. I can't say how much it all means to me, because it's so profound and I can't explain it all in words. It just makes me feel optimistic despite being a chronic pessimist. Phew! Although I'm not the winner that I should've been, I am truly proud of myself. I feel like I've finally rolled that fucking stone ball up the hill and thrown it down the mountain on the other side, letting it tumble and kill my enemies on its way down. I think I came into this thinking that I was Sisyphus, but by now I've realized that I'm actually Kratos, the divine personification of strength and power. So maybe my story of never feeling complete from these silly games was never the problem I was looking to solve. My journey was about finding the strength and power I never knew that I had before. The confidence of being able to be at my lowest in games and real life, and somehow finding my way out of the darkness of both realms in tandem. I am basically living in the golden hour of my 23rd year of life, and this game just happened to take part in the midst of that. Good and bad, I am so thankful to have had these experiences shape what this period meant to me. I am living in a world now where the truth is that I am worthy. Not only because of this silly game, but like I said, the confidence gained here affirms that truth. I will never forget it. I'm not at all a religious person, but there's one verse in the Bible that I've always felt drawn to, and more so right now than ever before. John 8:32 - "Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." And now, with this last confessional to wrap my journey up, I am free.

LIVINGSTON IS VOTED OUT AT F3.

This is it. This is the end. I’ve done everything I can do and now it’s up to the jury to decide. This game was a blast, a true gamble actually playing. I’m proud of what I’ve done and how far I made it. I’m no longer a 5 time flop!

I cannot believe this season had the end game that it did. Winning final immunity was a check off my bucket list, but getting there how I did was very well done in my opinion. I really hope that’s it’s respected by the jury. It’s nerve racking when the other person winning is valid. I hope o shows my impact on the end part of the game being influential enough to get votes. I may have been messy by being incorrect but I think I did well over all. I just want Jeff to know that that his vote off was really the hardest of the season. I hope lulu really was a benefit to me winning by making a final appearance. Queen lulu. Honestly no matter what happens I am so proud of myself. I know I’m getting at least one vote so that’s means good things, if I win this game I will be ecstatic because it’s been five years since I entered this whole community through tumblr survivor. I hope my game is respected and that I am to be rewarded. Thanks everyone for an amazing game this has been AMAZING

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