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livefastdrivefaster · 4 months

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I Love You! | LN4

Pairing: Lando x Fem!Reader

Summary: The early stages of your relationship with Lando. Meeting his friends and saying "I love you" for the first time! Fluff (also a bit of suggestive language).

Word count: 1.2k words

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You had been dating Lando officially for nearly a month and a half now, and he had decided it was the right time to introduce you to his friend group. One of Lando’s friends were hosting a birthday dinner at their flat in Monaco, and he had spent a week convincing you that you needed to come. You felt uncomfortable at the thought of inserting yourself into his group, but you were new to Monaco, and would appreciate meeting more people your age there. You had met through a mutual friend, who would be at dinner tonight, but you had never gotten to know their extended circle.

You didn’t live in the same apartment, but you lived close enough where you decided to finish getting ready at your boyfriend’s penthouse and travel to his friend’s party together. You were in Lando’s bathroom, struggling to put your earrings on when you heard him call your name from the kitchen.

“Y/N, are you almost ready to go love?” He calls.

“Yeah!” You respond enthusiastically, cautiously treading out of the bathroom, still trying to put your earring on.

The backing finally clicks when you come into Lando’s line of sight, and you feel a blush creeping up on your cheeks as he unashamedly looks you up and down.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he says with a low voice, pulling you into him “Maybe we should just show up a little later?” He asks suggestively, placing a gentle kiss on your collarbone. You seriously didn’t mind the idea, considering how good he looked himself right now.

“I can’t let us be late to the first time I’m meeting your friends, Lando.” You laugh, wrapping your arms around his torso.

“Why do you have to be so sensible.” He sighs into your neck.

“One of us needs to be. Come on, the Uber is outside.” You say, tentatively pulling away from him. He takes your hand in his and dramatically marches forward, guiding you out the door.

- - - - - - - - - - -

The two of you were stood outside the address, bickering about who should knock on the door. You desperately didn’t want to, but Lando thought it would be good to build your confidence before meeting his friends.

“Please Lando, just do it for me.” You plead, giving him a laughable attempt at puppy eyes.

“Be a brave girl.” Lando says, lightly pushing you towards the door. You sigh loudly, raising your arm to the door.

“I am so getting payback for this.” You say threateningly, which is only met with laughter from Lando. Disappointed he saw right through your empty threat, you knock twice at the door.

“Coming!” A voice calls from the inside, and you hear footsteps approaching the door. You take a step back, letting Lando’s arm circle around your waist.

Suddenly, the door swings open and you are greeted with the face of the birthday girl.

“Y/N!” she exclaims excitedly, “You are even more gorgeous in person, come on in.” She says, pulling you into a tight hug.

“I’m here too.” Lando says sarcastically.

“This isn’t about you.” She quips back, leading you inside the flat. Lando rolls his eyes, following the two of you into the main party area.

Your arrival brings about cheers from the group, as about five people offer you a drink at once, desperate to get to know Lando’s new and elusive girl. Eventually, the energy of the party shifted into a low-key vibe, with people congregating on the couches discussing their favourite movies.

“I’ve heard enough about the Wolf of Wall Street,” a girl, whose name you find out later to be Ria, exclaims, “what about your favourite movie scenes in particular?”

“Jordan Belfort’s big party in the Wolf of Wall Street.” A guy calls out jokingly. A few groans go around the room.

“That scene in ‘Perks of Being a Wallflower’ where Emma Watson hangs out of the car in the tunnel, listening to David Bowie” You cut in, followed by awkward fumbling with your drink.

A symphony of agreement rises around the room, particularly from the girls in the group. You settle back into your seat, trying to fight a proud smile from growing on your face, happy that your comment went down well. Lando squeezed your side lightly, giving you a silent congratulations.

The conversation flowed well through the rest of the evening, and you involved yourself more, easily fitting into the lively group dynamic. Eventually, the party wrapped up, and you and Lando decided to Uber back to his, potentially to fulfil his request from earlier.

“How did that go, do you think?” You asked him, placing your head on his shoulder.

“They loved you.” He said simply.

“Yeah?”

“Well, I think you’re pretty great. And they trust my judgement.” You smiled softly at this, nestling your head deeper into the crook of his neck.

- - - - - - - - - - -

You and Lando had just finished celebrating your six-month anniversary at one of Monaco’s nicest restaurants, when you both climbed into his convertible McLaren to drive home.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, Lando’s free hand placed on your thigh. Suddenly, Lando takes an unexpected turn, leading you away from your apartment.

“Lando this isn’t the way back to mine.” You say, looking at him confused. His eyes remained focused on the road ahead, but his mouth widened into a cheeky grin.

“I know, I thought we would go the scenic route tonight.” He said casually, as if it was such an obvious thing he was doing. He takes his hand off your thigh to press a button on his centre console, causing the roof above you to open, revealing the midnight blue sky above the city.

“Let’s hope I timed this right.” Lando says to himself, and you again look at him confusedly. The song playing through the car’s sound system ends, and you hear the familiar opening notes to “Heroes” by David Bowie coming through the speakers. Your eyes flick to the road ahead of you, and you realise you’re heading towards the Monaco tunnels.

“Lando…” Your voice trails off, touched at the thoughtfulness of his gesture.

“Save the thanks for when we get home. Hop up baby, we are nearly at the tunnel.” He smiles, patting the area of the car behind your head.

You perch yourself on the flat top behind your seat, enjoying the cool air wrapping around your body.

“Are you sure this is okay?” You ask Lando cautiously.

“Of course, love. There aren’t cameras through here, and you know I will drive carefully.” You feel like a rebel, testing the law a bit. As the music swells into the chorus, you raise your arms to your side, recreating the iconic scene you talked about so long ago.

Your eyes flicker between being open and shut, wanting to take in the most of the moment, but also not daring to look away from Lando for too long. Watching his curls being tousled by the wind, you instinctively lean down to him.

“I love you!” You yell, the words leaving your mouth before you had time to stop them. Lando looks at you through the rear-view mirror, beaming a wide smile.

“I love you more!”

#ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando x reader #lando4 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lando norris f1

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bladeinthedark · 1 year

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Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x female!reader Request: hi! could i request a nikolai x heartrender reader where the reader helps comfort/take care of nikolai after he turns back to himself after turning into the monster one night? tysm! <3

Summary: When everything is falling apart around Nikolai, you’re there to support him and bring more peace into his life. Words: 4k Warnings: mentions of blood/injuries, lots of angst

You had been in the King’s service for quite a while. When you had first joined the Second Army as a child, you never imagined to one day find yourself in the King of Ravka’s inner circle, but now you were one of the first to be called to the King if he needed help.

The help you could offer was mostly connected to the powers gifted to you. Being a heartrender secured lots of different tasks in the King’s service for you, but there was one task given you that was the most important.

Countless times you had sat on the King’s bedside, your fingers moving over his palm as you slowed down his heartbeat. Nikolai’s dishevelled blonde hair was spread over the pillow, his eyes losing focus again and again as he desperately tried to look at you. “It’s alright, moi tsar,” you whispered, your voice reflecting the desperation inside you. It hurt you to see him like this. Over and over again.

When his eyes closed, his heartbeat slowing to a sleepy rate, you stayed for a bit longer than needed. How many times would you have to do this again?

Today had been a slow day at the palace. Genya had left this morning to head out to a First Army camp, Zoya leaving to take a ship to Kerch for some private business she had. That meant you and Nikolai were basically alone in the palace for a few days. At least when it came to your friends.

David was still there, but he didn’t like to come out of his workshop anyway, unless Genya made him.

However, just because your two closest friends were away didn’t mean you didn’t have any work to do. You had a heartrendering lesson to teach today, out on the grounds of the Little Palace, with the teens this time. You didn’t have a preference when it came to teaching different age groups, but all of them had a different way of listening to you and then learning from the moves you made.

It was a stormy day today and the clouds were dark, heavy with the upcoming rain. You liked to train outside and teach with the fresh air around you. It was a calming atmosphere for a lot of students and for you as well.

Yet your time was cut short. It soon started pouring rain, thunder roaring in the sky and you quickly directed everyone to get back inside the palace. “We will continue the lesson tomorrow,” you assured them. You wanted to teach a new unit and it wasn’t worth it trying to gather everyone in a room again. Until silence would have settled, your time would already be over.

So you spent the rest of your day going over letters that had been sent to you in your office. You cut them open neatly, read through them and then made two different piles. The one on your left would be for letters that didn’t require a response and the one on your right would be the ones that you had to get back to at some point. The right pile ended up being much higher than the first one.

You dipped your quill into a small bottle of ink, starting to write your letter to a Commander of the First Army. He had requested a few Second Army troops, but you couldn’t give him what he wanted at the moment.

A knock on the door made you look up from the parchment. “Come in,” you said, but you already knew who it was. You would recognise that heartbeat anywhere. It was the one you so frequently looked for, calming it, gifting this heart a well needed rest.

“Moi tsar,” you greeted the King when he closed the door behind him. He was wearing his uniform, blond hair slightly dishevelled, a few strands hanging down onto his forehead. He pushed the sleeves of his brown jacket up as he made his way over to you. Your desk was standing by the window, the lightning outside illuminating the scene every now and then.

“You still call me that every time,” Nikolai chuckled, pulling the chair from your dressing table over to the desk. He sat down opposite of you, a grin on his face. “What is my favourite heartrender working on, huh?” He seemed to be in a good mood. Just a few nights ago you had visited his chambers to free him from his pain again. To free him from the hold the monster had on him even after it visibly disappeared.

Nikolai had become more than just your prince or your king over the years. He had become a good friend, a best friend. You trusted him with your life and he trusted you with his.

After the monster had settled inside him after that fateful fight, he came to you for help. He knew you couldn’t make it go away, but you could grant him a little peace every time that dark storm raged inside him again. He trusted you, to make this your shared secret and to look after him in some way. This situation made your bond even stronger, unbreakable. Whenever his body ached, his heart dared to burst out of his chest and he was haunted by visions and nightmares, you were there to bring him calm, like the sound of soft ocean waves hitting the shore or the birds singing outside of his window.

Nikolai wasn’t too sure if what he was feeling in his stomach sometimes, when he looked at you, was only the feeling of relief, someone coming to help him. It felt more like something that reached a lot deeper.

He had so much admiration for you. Even when his limbs were filled with pain, when his hands felt like they were on fire, shivers sometimes ran through his body whenever you touched him. Your soft fingertips running over his skin left a mark on him no one else could. He wanted to carry that feeling around all day, at all times.

“Just answering some letters. There have been quite a few letters from the First Army,” you explained to him, but placed the quill down to make sure Nikolai knew he had all your attention.

“And what is my favourite king doing on a stormy day like this?” You asked, a smile on your face. Talking to Nikolai always felt so easy, so natural. There were no secrets between you two.

Except for the yearning deep inside you. The urge to kiss his forehead whenever you helped him fall asleep. The desire to lace your fingers together whenever he put his hand out to you. His pink lips looking so inviting when you came to check up on him in the morning.

Everything about Nikolai was admirable. His looks, his personality, even the way he carried himself. Yet you felt like giving in to these feelings, your deepest desires, would be a death sentence for your friendship.

For you, Nikolai was a good friend. For others, he was their king, representing a country that had been divided for centuries. He had more important things to do than form a deeper relationship with a heartrender in his service. There was enough space for you in his life to be a friend, but your love might be too big to fit his chest in times like these.

You could still dream about it at night though. Every now and then.

“I’m your favourite king? I didn’t know there was another one,” he chuckled and then picked one of the grapes from your fruit bowl. You always kept something to eat around when you were working on your desk.

“I started to-” he said with a full mouth, but then paused to speak clearly again. “I started going over some documents as well. Was really boring though, so I’m here now to check up on you.”

Nikolai did complain about his work load sometimes, but you knew that he would do even more if he had to. He would do anything for this country and make it a peaceful, balanced place again after all the chaos it had to endure over the years. The Darkling’s terror was over, as was the horrible irresponsibly of his father. The young king was here to put things right again.

“Well, I’m glad you’re keeping me company. The palace is a lot more quiet when Genya and Zoya are gone, don’t you think?” You leaned back in your chair, crossing your legs while Nikolai continued to eat some of the grapes.

“Yeah, it is. I don’t see David getting dragged around as much as usual.”

You let out a chuckle at his answer, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “He needs to get out of the workshop sometimes, you know that.”

“I do, I do,” the blonde man insisted, eventually playing with the letters you had deemed as unimportant. “So, will you join me for dinner tonight?”

Dinner? You didn’t know when you had dinner alone, just the two of you, for the last time.

“Just us. Won’t even drag David out of the workshop.”

A tingling sensation spread in your stomach. A dinner for just the two of you sounded almost too good to be true. But it was surely a thing between friends. Catching up on recent work, enjoying a day inside since the weather was so horrible…

“I would love to,” you agreed eventually, nodding reassuringly.

A grin spread over Nikolai’s face and his eyes lit up. Not only due to the lightning that basked your room in light again.

“Then I will see you at the usual time, my favourite heartrender.”

Then he was gone, leaving you with a fast beating heart and the urge to count down the seconds until dinner.

Dinner with Nikolai never came.

You sat in the dining hall at the long table, in your usual spot, right next to the King’s seat at the head of the table. The rain was still splattering against the window rapidly, the candles on the table were reflecting their light onto the polished plates in front of you.

Your hands fumbled with the sleeves of your red kefta, a sigh leaving your lips.

The white and golden walls of the room were starting to make you feel trapped in this room. Guards were standing outside, but the room itself, it was empty, except for you.

The eerie silence was only interrupted by the pitter-patter of the rain and the thunder roaring outside. Your gaze travelled over portraits and expensive furniture, over all the gold and glamour you were surrounded with.

Anything to distract you from the pressure in your chest.

Did Nikolai just forget about your meeting? No, he wasn’t someone to do that.

Did he deem something else as more important? Maybe, but he would have told you. He would have sent someone to inform you about any changes in his schedule, especially if there was something planned with you.

Did something happen to him?

The thought alone sent a wave of nausea through you. Your fingers tapped against the polished table, feeling continuously nervous. You couldn’t just sit around here all night.

You pushed back the chair and then stormed towards the large double doors that led back into the hallway of the palace.

“Miss-”

It was probably one of the guards wanting to stop you from leaving. He probably had some kind of excuse on his lips why you should stay, but you knew that something must have happened if Nikolai didn’t appear at the promised time.

Too much time had already passed. He could be dead by now. And you had been sitting around, waiting for the food to be served.

When you turned the corner, wanting to head straight to Nikolai’s office to look if he was there, David came rushing towards you. His hair was even more dishevelled than usual, sweat was pooling on his forehead and he was out of breath by the time he reached you.

“Where is Nikolai?”

It was all you said. He must know.

“He’s in his chambers. I was about to call you for-”

You didn’t need another explanation. Without waiting a second longer, you left David standing in the hallway and your feet took you to Nikolai’s chambers as fast as you could. The walls around you seemed to be spinning by the time you arrived in the other wing of the palace, standing in front of the king’s chambers.

“Saints,” you breathed out, already being able to hear Nikolai’s rapid heartbeat.

You slipped into his room, locking the door behind you.

Nikolai was sitting on the edge of the bed, blood running down his temple, claws still present on his hands. He was shirtless, his chest filled with bruises and scratches.

Your heart almost stopped. You didn’t like to see him in pain. Then there was the overwhelming urge to take it from him, to tend to his wounds somehow, even if you weren’t a healer.

“Nikolai,” you breathed out and he turned to look at you. He seemed to look right past you for a moment, until his eyes seemed to fill with tears. “My favourite heartrender,” he croaked, lifting his arm to reach out to you.

In a few big steps, you were by the bed, in front of him.

You knew he had turned into the monster again. He had probably fought with an animal, maybe losing himself between tree branches again, their sharp ends poking through his skin. Your hands found his and he visibly tensed up again.

“The claw-” he started, but you were quick to interrupt him.

“I don’t care, Nikolai. I don’t care,” you whispered, voice breaking as tears welled up in your eyes as well. All this pain for a young man with already too much weight on his shoulders.

For a moment, you closed your eyes, focusing on his heart rate once more. As you had done so many times before. His heartbeat was a familiar sound in your ear, a sound following to your dreams as if it was pounding exactly like yours.

Nikolai relaxed, his heart slowing down once more and his breathing regulating again as well.

“It’s alright,” you whispered and kneeled down in front of him. His claws slowly disappeared and you watched him close his eyes for a moment. His jaw unclenched and a single tear ran down his cheek, but you were quick to wipe it away.

“Everything’s alright,” you reassured him, slowly getting back onto your feet and grabbing a towel from the nearby dressing table. With precision, you wiped the blood off his temple, before sitting down next to him on the bed.

Nikolai didn’t look at you for what seemed like an eternity. His gaze was fixed on his hands as if they were displaying a horror he had never seen before. His breathing stayed the same but you could feel his heartbeat slowly rising once more. Your hand found its way onto his back, trying to keep him calm, using your powers to assist that goal.

The lightning outside lit up the room again. You could see more blood stains on Nikolai’s arms and his chest. His blonde hair was darker from dirt gathered in it. A sign of his journey, of the fate he was haunted by.

The monster would always be a part of him.

And comforting him would always be your priority.

“Want me to run you a bath?” You asked softly, fingers gliding over his bare back. Under different circumstances, you would have used the time to enjoy the view in front of you. Seeing his bare skin, his hard chest and wondering what it would feel like to let your lips meet his soft skin.

But this was far from any of the scenarios you wished for in your head.

A nod from your king.

You left him in his bed for a moment as you prepared the bathtub in the adjacent bathroom. You also got some fresh towels ready as well as some thin pants for Nikolai to sleep in, together with his night robe.

By the time everything was prepared, Nikolai was standing in the door already. He seemed a bit more collected now. “I need that bath,” he mumbled and started opening his pants. You turned around, staring at the wall in front of you with burning cheeks.

When you heard Nikolai settle in the bathtub, you dared to turn around again. The bubbles and foam were covering enough so you could only make out parts of the man’s chest. It still didn’t stop your own heartbeat from rising. Tending to his wounds was usually less intimate than watching him lean back in the bathtub, arms resting on either side of it.

“I will wait in the bedroom,” you assured him, but you were just by the door as his voice sounded through the room again.

“Stay here.”

You turned around to face him and there was a desperation in his eyes you hadn’t seen before. They seemed to be pleading with you to stay, to not leave him alone.

“I will.”

His expression relaxed once more and then he reached out for you. Your legs felt weak as you made your way closer to the tub, eventually letting your hands meet. His fingers intertwined with yours easily, as if they belonged into that position. Your eyes met again and the pain in them was gone. It had made space for something else – adoration.

His hazel eyes closed for another moment and when he opened them again, tears were dwelling on the edges, but a smile was on visible on his lips. “Thank you for doing this. For… all of this,” he whispered, his voice almost being drowned out by the sound of the rain outside.

You slowly knelt down to bring yourself to about the same height as Nikolai in the bathtub. Your other hand went to cover his as you kept it in a strong hold. You could feel the pulse in his arms, the loud beating of his heart and you knew that he was enjoying this moment just as much as you were. It just raised the question inside of you where all of this would go eventually. Would you be able to confess your feelings for the King? For someone you had sworn to protect and serve, but had found a good friend in instead?

His hand let go of yours and for a moment, you felt disappointment sink into your stomach. But Nikolai’s hand soon found the back of your neck, warmth spreading there and goosebumps making their way to every part of your body. You held your breath for a second as you felt a slight pressure on your neck. Nikolai moved you just a bit closer as he leaned forward as well. You were able to feel his breath on your lips, a shiver running down your back. You were so close – close enough to kiss.

“Can I?” His voice was barely more than a whisper.

The words were stuck in your throat, so all you did was nod, too afraid to destroy the moment and the silence between you.

Then his lips were on yours, light as a feather, but it seemed to shake you to your core. It felt wonderful, almost like flying, and as if a heavy weight was finally taken from your shoulder. The heat in your cheeks was rising, your hand finding its way into Nikolai’s blonde hair, slightly wet from the bath.

The pressure on your neck increased, so you moved forward a bit, enough to make it easier for the kiss to become deeper, more passionate. Kissing someone had never felt this good and when your hands cupped Nikolai’s cheeks, you could practically hear his heartbeat jumping. His hand stayed in your neck, a sign that he didn’t want this to end. Maybe ever.

Only when you had to breathe again, did you dare to pull away. His eyes were darker, filled with a tint of lust, but more importantly, his breathing had changed. It was faster, like his heartbeat. “You don’t know how many times I had wanted to do this.”

His confession was unexpected, but very welcome. “Me too.” It was just fair that he knew your feelings as well. For a moment, you regretted not saying something, or doing something, sooner, so you could have enjoyed this a lot earlier. But everything was perfect the way it was.

Slowly, with wobbly legs, you stood up again, but your eyes never left Nikolai’s as you walked over and grabbed a bathrobe and towels for him. “As much as I like kissing you, I think you need to wash all the blood off and get into your bed. Then maybe, you can get another kiss?”

A grin appeared on the King’s face at your words. It was filled with love, adoration and most importantly, he seemed happy. His shoulders didn’t look as tense anymore and the horror in his face had left, traces of the monster inside him fully retreated.

“Then I must get to bed immediately,” he agreed and as he slowly lifted himself out of the tub, you turned around to give him his privacy.

You watched the lightning outside, seeing the branches of the trees shaking in the wind. It was a beautiful sight, but you shivered at the thought of Nikolai being out there earlier, flying through the storm, coming back with wounds and blood all over him.

Arms wrapped around your waist, Nikolai’s head resting on your shoulder as he pulled you closer against him from behind. The bathrobe felt soft against you, but his breath at your cheek was enough to make your legs feel weak as well. A kiss was planted onto your cheek and you could feel Nikolai’s heartbeat slowing down more and more. He was relaxing, finally getting some emotional rest. But you would have to get him to bed as well, so he can let his body regenerate.

“Let’s go to bed,” you whispered, before turning around in his arms. Hands found their way to your hips as you looked at the man in front of you. The smile was still apparent on his lips, the same excitement and love in his eyes as before. “I can’t even say no to you when you say it like that,” he smiled, taking your hand again as he walked back into his bedroom, eventually getting into bed himself.

You sat down on the edge again, taking his hand into your own and moving two fingers up and down on his arm. “Are you going to make me sleep again?” His voice was soft and you would have thought it might indicate that he did not want to sleep yet, but his tired eyes, now struggling to stay open, spoke another story.

“If you want me to,” you answered, not forcing anything upon him. When the beast didn’t let go of his heart, making it race over and over, and he wasn’t able to calm down, then you did force him to sleep once or twice. But Nikolai seemed alright now, not in need of heartrending-induced sleeping.

“I do. But only after you’ve given me a kiss,” he demanded, sitting up a bit in bed again as he leant forward to you. A smile on his lips, he pursed his lips, expecting a kiss from you.

You were certainly not going to deny him that.

Leaning forward, your lips met again, the same intoxicating feeling making its way through your body. Your hands cupped his warm cheeks, smiling into the kiss as you fully enjoyed the goosebumps, the shivers, all the sensations this was giving you. Nikolai’s lips felt like heaven, there was no doubt about it.

When you pulled away again, his cheeks had turned a darker colour, but he let himself drop into the pillow with a satisfied smile.

“Goodnight, my favourite heartrender,” he whispered, smile on his lips as he closed his eyes.

You couldn’t hold back your own smile and the content feeling in your stomach become even more apparent.

“Goodnight, Nikolai.”

You sat there for another moment. You would always keep him safe.

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orangesand-lemons-234 · 2 months

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DERRY GIRLS AU

derry girls is genuinely one of my favourite shows and newsies is my favourite film, therefore this was bound to happen eventually.

so uhm here's a moodboard :D

AND HERES A RUNDOWN!

Jack Kelly - Erin Quinn

Aspiring artist and goal-driven student, Jack Kelly wants nothing more than to get out of his hometown of Derry.

He's currently living with his mother, Medda Larkin, and his baby brother, Benjamin, in a small house next to his cousin Racetrack and Aunt Hannah, who honestly spend more time in their house than their own.

Jack is desperately trying to get a good enough education at Our Lady Immaculate College to get out of Derry and to travel to Santa Fe, though this is proving to be difficult with all the trouble he's gotten himself into with his friends.

Racetrack Higgins - Orla McCool

Maybe coming across to others as a little ditzy or overly happy about almost everything, Racetrack isn't the open book others think he is.

Never knowing his father and living primarily with his ma and cousins his whole life, he's started to cover up the usual disappointment with this cheery and maybe a bit ridiculous personality.

While he may not be the smartest book-wise, street smarts are his A-game, being known for his chaotic personality and carrying a lighter wherever he went, just cause he likes burning stuff, y'know?

Albert DaSilva - Michelle Mallon

Albert, despite his mother being a nurse and wanting him to follow in her footsteps, is the reason the group gets in most of the trouble they get into.

After his brother was sent to jail for manslaughter and his parents split up, he entered what some would call a rebellious phase, but his best friend, Jack, would call it Albert finally stepping into his true self, though maybe the circumstances in which he did wasn't the best.

Katherine Plumber Pulitzer - Claire Devlin

He isn't really sure what he wants to do yet, maybe due to the fear he won't be able to do it, but for now, he knows that he finds great fun in mucking around with his friends and causing trouble around the town.

Katherine may be a little high-strung and a little over-the-top, but aside from good grades, her friends are the most important thing to her.

Being known to her peers as "The Wee Lesbian" after coming out accidentally in her section of the school newspaper, she's well liked by many of the younger students in the school and is considered an older sister to them.

She moved to Derry after her mother passed away, and her father agreed it was better to restart in a new place. She thinks it was a good idea and knows her late mother would be proud of her for making so many new friends.

David Jacob's - James Maguire

After his mother left him for the UK, David's been living with his cousin Albert and trying to find his way through Derry without accidentally killing himself by saying the wrong thing to the wrong person.

Maybe it was his pretty thick English accent or the fact he has no idea why people enjoy the popular chipper, Jacobi’s, but he isn't exactly well liked to others who aren't his friends, who even then tend to pick on him frequently.

It could also be his obvious growing crush on Jack Kelly that's bothering everybody, especially Albert, who's extremely embarrassed about how obvious he is about it.

#this was bound to happen #i absolutely love derry girls guys #its always been my favourite show ever #newsies #uksies #newsies au #jack kelly #david jacobs #katherine plumber #katherine pulitzer #albert dasilva #racetrack higgins #derry girls au

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cloudninetonine · 1 year

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The Hero of Nature was the youngest of the group, both in terms of timeline and physicality and bore similar attributes to his Hero Link counterpart in more ways than one. You knew, ignoring the fact the Gerudo man was a Ganon, Wild would have loved to meet the man and cause their feral chaos together like the destined soulmates they were. A piece of home in a way, you clung to him quite quickly also, pulled into his wacky shenanigans and his fun little messes that had the group groaning in distaste.

"You're insane." Like now, certainly, something that would have had your favourite brooding monarch throwing a fit even a child would wince at. "Seriously, Nat, this is fucking crazy."

The bear's head raised at your whisper and you both ducked down a little more.

The redhead looked at you, confused. "You've never wanted to ride a bear before? Not even once?"

"Of course, I've wanted to." You snapped like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "But you know what I also want? To keep my guts inside me rather than splattered on the floor."

Hours spent listening to the wonderful voice of David Attenborough had instilled both a fear and a fascination with the Earth and its inhabitants, while bears did indeed look friend shaped a small 'fun fact' from the broadcaster about how a bear's claws, teeth, running speed, size ect, etc. Was enough to deter you from getting even the slightest bit close to then- even now was pushing your "I don't want to die this way." Boundaries miles away, the boundary line was a dot in the distance, a star in the sky, an atom to a microscope-

You yelped when the man threw you over his shoulder, huffing out air at the impact as he leapt over the log you had found refuge behind and raced towards the beast, laughing at its guttural growls and roar.

"Nat, Nat, NAT!"

Screams were drowned out but the sounds of the bear as the man hopped onto the great creature, bucking feverously to rid you of its back and make you its next meal for your very rude disturbance.

Oh, but Nature certainly wasn't going to let that happen, dropping you onto his lap and digging his hands into its fur. He certainly was pleased with himself, laughing like a madman as you were both thrown about, a dizzy spell hitting you fast as the mammal continued to try and throw you both off, groaning in distaste.

A minute or two passed, a headache forming as your brain slammed against your skull violently at each jump and turn, eyes straining to see the forest in front of you as you made a last ditch effort to stop this 'fight'.

You leaned over to gently massage the bear's ears in pure desperation.

And slowly but surely, the bear began to real, the buck reducing to shaking and the shaking reducing to stillness as the creature panted to catch its breath in the middle of the dense woodland. You were rigid, from both pure fear and pure adrenaline running through your veins, icy cold while Nature laughed something impressive, patting the giant creature between the ears.

"That was amazing!" He praised, gently nudging you. "I haven't seen a bear relax so fast, how did you- (Name)?"

The Gerudo man poked you quizzically, your body bopping to the side before falling off the creature, petrified.

"Oh no."

The man's stomach dropped as he thought about Tide's reaction, hopping off and letting the beast step back, still panting as he shook you wildly, calling your name in a frantic voice.

Oh, he was dead. Dead for sure. The old man had already grown protective, a parent claim over you from those days of your fever while he nursed you back to health. You were delirious of course, muttering something or other that had the elder man soft with empathy as he patted your hair and wiped away the sweat.

"I think they should come with us."

And despite the argument that transpired with a few not wanting such a decision, Tide stood firm and that was that- you were part of the group.

A great decision really, no one else was crazy enough to join his escapades.

"Nat…" Your voice was but a whisper, the man perking up in relief. "I need…to ask you something…."

The man leaned closer, concern still written over his face as he nodded for you to continue, holding your hand gently.

"Why the fuck is the bear licking my hair."

#linked universe imagine #linked universe #linked universe x reader #lu #a player's aid #player au #mess au

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batsarebetterthanpeople · 8 months

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im so sorry to send you this but im confused. i thought izzy hands was obviously homophobic while i was watching the show but now people on the internet are telling me that calling him gay and homophobic is a conspiracy theory. i want to trust my instincts on this as a queer myself but they say it so much i think im starting to believe it. i know literally none of this matters but its genuinely bumming me out. maybe we all just have slightly different definitions of homophobia?

I would love to answer this for you. Your instincts are correct. Izzy is gay and homophobic. You should trust your gut on this because it's important for you be able to identify guys like Izzy irl if you're someone who might be on the receiving end of homophobia.

What happened is that back in June of 2022 everyone fully agreed that Izzy was one of those repressed gay men who's internalized homophobia rotted his soul and became externalized. We wanted to put him in a jar. We all interested in how this weird little freak got this way. Then everything changed when the canyon formed. Since then it has been a mad dash to beat the allegations. Unfortunately an actor has validated them in a way that makes me really wonder about him frankly, because he seems to be operating under the impression that people are saying that Izzy is a "homo sex is sin" Style homophobe when nobody was saying that, what we were saying is that Izzy is incredibly weird about and hateful towards feminine men and he believes that Stede is corrupting Ed with his foppishness, which is still homophobia it's just a different brand of homophobia than the religious right's obsession with the mechanics.

Tbh tho I don't actually care about that actors' take because he's not a writer, he has a history of not being very good at reading the subtext given that he fully didn't realize it was a gay show for half the episodes, and David Jenkins has liked multiple metas on twt about Izzy being a homophobe so I'll trust that lol. The only consequence that Con O'Neill being publically wrong has had for me is that people occasionally do an unearned victory lap when he says something.

But also I low key sometimes feel incredibly unsafe knowing that there's a substantial group of people who claim to be queer and against homophobia but who can't understand that the whole subplot with Lucius in episode 5 and the thing with Ed in episode 10 is laced with bigotry against feminine gay men. I don't think admitting that means you have to think it's his only motivation or that it's contradictory to the read of him being attracted to Ed and Lucius or with the concept that he's mostly just power hungry, but it does sort of mean that I have to move through the world knowing that there are people in my own community who would fully blame me if something happened to me. I don't fucking like it. That's why I get so upset about this so publicly. It's like so what happens if I get attacked but the guy calls me a namby pamby or a bitch instead of a faggot. Are you gonna be like "well we don't know~". It's just an uncomfortable thought. I don't understand why they're so desperate to beat the allegations either, like he's fake. People who have experienced things like what Ed and Lucius went through at his hands are real. The argument that gay people can "do something to (someone)'s brain" is written into legislation trying to ban trans people from public life. Nobody wants you to stop liking Izzy we just want you to stop saying shit that's harmful

And I don't necessarily think that everyone who chooses to put more emphasis on Izzys obsession with Ed wouldn't be able to identify a hate crime, I just have seen more than one piece of meta that goes "Izzys not homophobic he just thinks Stede is a mincing fop who's corrupting Ed with his frilly whiles there's nothing homophobic about that" and I just have to block them for being homophobic themselves because what else do I do with that? When I vague post about this shit I'm talking about specific ass things that I've seen that have made me feel very uncomfortable and unsafe not generic canyon trends. I just really feel like we need to calm down about Izzy. Like you can feel empathy towards a gay guy that hates himself and write a bunch of fic about him getting laid without deciding actually he did nothing wrong and everyone who can see that that's not true is making shit up to oppress *checks notes* people who like a fictional character. I don't get why that's so hard to do.

#the izcourse

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lust4life01 · 4 months

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Promise You'll Remember That You're Mine.

Warning- Cheating, forbidden romance, mentions of blood, FUTURE smut!

Pairing: David Loki x f/reader

Summary: You were working your average night shift at the hospital when a dishevelled handsome man came in with a small girl in his arms yelling for help. Turns out he was far more than a patient.

The night was hectic as usual in the emergency room, if it wasn’t drunken assholes who had their faces smashed in by another drunken asshole, it was some ten year old kid who had broken their leg playing ice hockey.

Your shift was almost over for the night when you heard a man crying out for assistance in the lobby of the hospital. You didn’t have anything to attend to at that moment so you rushed over to help. By the time you had gotten there you saw a group of your colleagues rushing to help a young blonde girl who had now been placed on a bed and was in the process of being wheeled down the corridor. After managing to pull your eyes away from the poor girl you noticed your boss who was helping the man sit down in one of the lobby chairs.

He started to check his eyes with a flashlight and you stepped closer to see if he wanted anything done to help at all.

“Sir? Is there anything you need me to do?”

The man in the chair looked up at you after hearing your voice. His head, face and eyes were covered in blood but he somehow looked eerily familiar. The way his eyes lingered on yours for a second, it seemed like he might have felt the same about you. However the gaping wound on his temple seemed to be a more pressing matter at that moment.

Your boss snapped his head around to you promptly.

“Yes actually, if you could see to this gentleman that would be great. I need to get home to my wife and kids.”

Your boss was a bit of a self obsessed ass who didn’t really care about anyone else so it wasn’t unusual for him to take off at the mere second his shift was over.

You grabbed a bunch of doctors to help the wounded familiar looking man and went on with your shift. For some odd reason you kept thinking about him, how on earth did you know him? Does he know you? His face, especially his eyes, burned into your head for no apparent reason. You were just trying to bandage up a very tipsy patient's thumb and you found yourself comparing their injuries. Or the other patient who had brought his young daughter and all you could see was him and the blonde girl. It was getting exhausting.

A couple hours later you got called down to a room to administer care and to place in some stitches instead of consoling a drunken severed thumb woman or an agitated hostile drunken man in the ER.

“Hello sir, I am (y,n) I’ll be the one who will look at your stitches-“

You stopped in your tracks after you peered up from your paper and to the unfamiliar familiar looking man. It was him, the injured man from earlier.

He stared back at you for a moment until you looked back down at your clipboard nervously. He’d been staring since you walked in.

You managed to gather yourself together, reminding yourself that you were a professional. So what he looked familiar he’s probably been here a few times or something, but it also didn’t help that he was very attractive. Attractive not in the way charismatic people are, but quiet and intriguing.

You desperately wanted to know more. One of the fellow nurses had said he was some sort of cop and he saved that little girl, but she was the type of girl to believe that Tupac was still alive and the Queen was a lizard, so you took that piece of information with more than just a pinch of salt.

You walk over to the edge of the bed where he was sitting and dabbed some antiseptic onto a cotton ball.

“Sorry, this is gonna sting a little.” You spoke quietly, it was involuntary and also slightly embarrassing. Seriously you’d interacted with attractive men before, why on earth was this random man affecting you so much?

He said nothing but looked up at you through his brows with a small smile, which soon turned into a wince once the damp cotton ball touched the bloody mess.

As you started to clean and stitch up his wound, there was a compulsion to ask how it had happened, to know more about this man.

Curiosity got the better of you so you deceive to inquire in a friendly joking manner.

“So how’d this happen? You sleep with your best friend's girl or something?” You ask with a playful smile.

He let out a chuckle whilst shaking his head. His eyes looked you up and down briefly before replying.

“Nope. Definitely not as pleasurable as that.”

Ah he does speak.

“So how did it happen?”

A pause followed, shit.

“Not that you have to disclose anything to me or anything-“

“It’s in the file. I don’t really feel like talking about it right now.”

You didn’t know whether to apologise or if you should say nothing. You had just finished anyway so you decided it was better to keep quiet.

“Okay um all done. Is there anything you need?” You ask sweetly, feeling slightly guilty for being so intrusive.

“A coffee would be great, thanks.”

You smile and nod at his request and take his chart from the bedside table so you can mark down that his stitches had been done and all the information that went along with it.

You thought it’d be easier to sign it in the cafeteria while waiting for the coffee due to the slightly awkward atmosphere you’d created.

As you waited for the coffee to brew you opened the file and a wave of shock washed over you. You double checked the page to make sure you had read the name right.

David Loki was printed at the top of the page.

You knew you knew him. You couldn’t believe it, he’d changed so much. He was nearly unrecognisable. Shutting the file you paced up to the counter and grabbed the two coffees situated on the top and hurried up to the room.

On your journey a million thoughts flew through your head. Did he remember you? Is that why he was staring. And omg the joke you made. The way he reacted. Jesus, he must have recognised you too.

You entered the room, a slightly concerned and confused look across your face. The coffee holder in one hand and his file in the other. His blue eyes skimmed your expression and then fixed on the file placed in your slightly shaky hand.

Did he know that you knew? Did he know that you knew he knew? Why wouldn’t he say anything if he did?

As you placed one of the coffee cups on the nightstand he watched your every move.

“Thanks Princess.”

Princess. This mother fucker. What a tease.

Your eyes snapped before him, an amused look spread across your face.

He couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

“I’m sorry but I had to call you that for old times sake.”

You laughed and scoffed, a face of shock still possessing you.

“You asshole, you knew who I was and didn’t say anything?”

He now had a shit eating grin plastered across his face, clearly finding this situation very amusing.

“Hey, you were the one who didn’t recognise me, or remember me at least.”

You pointed at him while smiling “nope I recognised you. Kinda. But why didn’t you say anything?”

“I thought it’d be more entertaining to watch you figure out who I was. You looked great by the way”

You shook your head, still totally taken back by the situation at hand. “Thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself. You look very different actually.”

“Ah I’m surprised you even remember what I looked like, back then you were always so infatuated with that jackass Adam.”

You grimaced at just that name alone and hid behind your hands giggling, trying to conceal your embarrassment. God that was a name you didn't miss hearing.

“Yeah well that ‘jackass’ was your best friend, and for the record I did see you. I thought you were pretty cute actually.” You looked down at your shoes. “But I'm sure you knew that.”

He didn’t reply with words but his gaze and grin said more than he could have in that moment.

————————————————————————

You weren’t lying. Back when you were teenagers you did think he was pretty cute but he was your boyfriend's best friend. It was weird. you didn't really speak a lot back then considering you were in a pretty close circle. He wouldn’t really speak to you all that much, truthfully you thought he hated you. Apart from one night, there was a house party with a bunch of drunken teenagers everywhere. You and David were awkwardly sitting on the couch together, both of you pretty tipsy. After it felt like hours of awkward silence and tension had passed you decided enough was enough. You turned your head to David who was sat at the other end of the couch. You moved closer as he turned towards you looking confused.

“Hey David, you wanna smoke?” You produced a half crushed poorly rolled blunt from your pocket. You figured if both of you were out of your minds the tension would be relieved. The blunt was kind of a peace offering in a way. For what, you didn't know though.

He stared silently for a minute, just looking at you. Finally he shrugged his shoulders and sweetly smiled at you.

“Sure why not.”

The corners of your mouth turned upwards, feeling completely giddy that for one he might not hate you as much as you thought he did, but also that you had someone to smoke with.

You felt around in the back pockets of your jeans trying to find a lighter, which eventually became apparent you did not have. You let out a sigh of defeat after desperately trying to find your lighter.

“Hey it’s fine. I’ve got one.” His voice was calm and he produced a lighter from his back pocket.

“Ugh my hero” you giggled, the alcohol in your system clearly taking over.

You placed the joint between your glossed lips and he lit the joint. The closeness of your faces with the small flame lighting up your features killed him. You were his best friend's girl. It was wrong for him to want you so bad, even if he knew his best friend was a complete ass who didn't deserve you. It was something he had kept to himself ever since you and Adam had started dating. There was just something about your energy, the way you were. Plus the fact he thought you were drop dead gorgeous didn't help. As a result he decided it was best to stay away from you as best as he could.

After time passed and you two had been sharing the blunt, giggling and drinking some more, you had gone to grab the blunt from his lips. However in your stoned and drunken state you tripped and practically fell onto his lap. He caught you before you completely fell into him. Now you were face to face and there was an odd feeling in your stomach. You knew he felt it too. Your eyes were locked tight. The desire to move your lips slightly closer so your lips would be pressed against his was eating you alive.

But then reality set back in. Snapping you out of whatever lust head rush just consumed you, you stood up and backed out of his grip. You stood awkwardly for a few seconds, feeling completely guilty.

“Um, I’m gonna go find Adam.”

Before he even had time to reply you had snuck out of the living room and was making your way up the stairs.

You called out for your boyfriend a few times while stumbling around but he didn’t reply. You tried the bathroom and a few bedrooms but he was nowhere to be found. That was until you tried the last bedroom.

Stumbling into the room you yelled out “Adam, are you in here?”

The first thing your eyes saw was the figures of two naked humans in the bed. The sounds of the headboard slamming against the wall was even louder than the blasting music from downstairs.

In shock you went to leave the room feeling like a perv, that was until the man looked back at the door. It wasn't just any man though.

Your heart sank. The bastard. How could he?

Your boyfriend wrapped the bedsheet around him and ran towards you, shouting your name.

“(Y,n) Please. It’s not what it looks like! Princess come back!”

You ran out the house with salty tears streaming down your face and that was the last time you ever saw Adam or David.

Until now of course.

————————————————————————

Just as you were about to continue the conversation your pager bleeped, an indication that you were needed elsewhere.

You sighed to yourself, feeling pretty devastated you couldn't stay and chat some more.

“Well, um that's my cue to leave I guess.” You smiled at him, he could tell you wanted to say something more but you just couldn't.

“It was nice seeing you David.”

He gave back a sweet smile whilst nodding his head in agreement. “You too (Y,n)"

You turned your back and went to exit the room, that was until you heard his footsteps approaching behind you. You felt his soft grip on your wrist. You turned around taking in a deep breath.

“(Y,n) Can I see you some time? Please?”

With the way his brows were furrowed and the desperate look in his eyes there was no way you could say no.

“I'd like that alot, David.”

(Part 2 should be up shortly!! I'm sure you will be pleased to know there will be smut, hehe)

#jake gyllenhaal smut #david loki #David Loki fanfiction #Prisonersmovie #eventual smut

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uptightcitizensbrigade · 2 months

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About All Born Screaming

“All Born Screaming”

There is a figure staggering down the street, lurching through a skewed landscape toward a grim new beginning. Rabid, man-sized; disconsolate and grieving in the violent daylight, the smell of death alive on her clothes. No mask, no costume. In fact—though try not to stare—her office wear is somewhat askew. Even her language is ruptured: what was once tightly refined is now impressionistic and felt. No wonder: “I find myself at the precipice of life and death, and reckoning with that,” says Annie Clark, the musician better known as triple-Grammy-winning iconoclast St. Vincent, on the cusp of releasing her seventh album.

Ever since she covered Big Black’s “Kerosene” live in 2011 and the subsequent cataclysmic 7” split “Krokodil”/”Grot,” fans have known that some evil lurked in Clark’s guitar. (Take it back even further if you like: This is someone whose college noise band was named Skull Fuckers.) On All Born Screaming—the first half, at any rate—that lacerating aggression possesses a St. Vincent album for the first time, unleashing a reeling thrash laced with the formative DNA of Albini at his most corrosive and the ugly, spectacular catharsis of Nine Inch Nails, and opening up a brand new fracture in her songwriting. “It’s my least funny record,” says Clark with knowing wryness.

Brawny lead single “Broken Man” is unhinged by loss and lust, unveiling our debilitated antagonist in a desperate confrontation that begs “lover nail yourself right to me / If you go I won’t be well / I can hold my arms right open / But I need you to drive the nail.” “Reckless” loses its footing in the post-loss oblivion. The mischievous “Flea” casts all-consuming desire as an invasive pestilence. “Big Time Nothing” is a mordant catwalk sashay through the deafening assault of self loathing. “There is the feeling: I want everything because I feel nothing,” says Clark. “I am bereft. I am in love. But I want more love too. There’s no drugs and abstraction on this record. It’s cut to the pink meat, hungry for life, even if it’s brutal. Because life is brutal.”

For that reason, All Born Screaming is Clark’s first entirely self-produced record (having co-produced all of her previous records). “I had to walk through the fire with this one alone,” she says. “There was no way to find it except sitting with yourself in a room, singing, playing with modular synths, turning knobs, moving electricity around and trying to find those six seconds of lightning in a bottle that I could build an entire song around. I’m obsessed with production. I’ve obviously done it on all of my records, but this time, I wanted to be the first and final filter for this material. It meant sitting with a lot of self-doubt—like Bowie says, ‘when you feel that your feet aren’t quite touching the bottom, you’re just about in the right place to do something exciting.’”

Production 101 is knowing the right people for the job, and All Born Screaming boasts “a tight little wrecking crew,” says Clark. “A curated group of rippers.” On “Broken Man” and “Flea,” that’s Dave Grohl on drums. (If we’re tracing this virulent seam back through Clark’s work, recall the surviving members of Nirvana inviting her to help induct the band into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2014.) “Dave is one of the greatest drummers ever because he’s a great songwriter,” says Clark, noting that Grohl heard the “Yes-style prog section” of “Flea” just three times before he knew “every phase and turnaround. My engineer, Cian Riordan, has a video of me in the studio when Dave was playing. I’m in my chair hearing the first take, and I immediately stand up and, like, my hair is on fire.”

On the immaculately restrained, Portishead-narcotic opener “Hell Is Near” and the dreamily gone “So Many Planets,” that’s new Foo Fighters drummer Josh Freese. There’s Justin Meldal-Johnsen (bass), Rachel Eckroth (keys), David Ralicke (brass), Mark Giuliana (drums), and Stella Mozgawa (drums). Then there’s the invaluable contribution of Welsh creative genius Cate Le Bon, who yanked Clark out of the weeds during a period of frustration and self-doubt, and offered stalwart reinforcement, helping her to surmount a few key obstacles. Case in point: Cate shines on the title track, "All Born Screaming,” a near-seven-minute epic closer propelled by a bassline so perfectly suited that it’s impossible to imagine the song without it. "I had that guitar part but was struggling with the song's overall tone. Cate listened to it and said ‘Give me a beer, a bass, and three hours’,” and worked out the title track’s puckish low end. “She’s my favorite modern songwriter, period,” says Clark, hinting at future collaborations to come.

As for the life and death we’re dealing with here? The details are immaterial. This isn’t music-as-true-crime designed to be picked apart for clues. On the album’s pivot into the second half, “Violent Times,” we’re waking up and understanding the stakes have irrevocably changed, and who hasn’t felt that these past however many years? The difference, in the album’s back end, is the realization that we must love one another or die, set to an expansive, enveloping palette that steps back from the guitar offensive: Gainsbourg-worthy grandeur on “Violent Times,” the “what if someone who loved 2 TONE did it all wrong?” of “So Many Planets,” about the stumbling search for a place to call home. “The first half is reckoning with loss and how life is basically impossible,” says Clark, “but the second half is: but we get to live it so we better fucking dig in.”

Perhaps compassion and hunger can light the way: “The Power’s Out” is a classically gorgeous St. Vincent portrait of a city’s pushers, parents, racers, and queers waking up to some disaster but finding beauty in the slo-mo confetti cloud of debris. And the racing valediction of “Sweetest Fruit” exalts individuals who attempted to stake out life’s outer reaches. “Take a big swing and fail, but my God, at least you were trying for transcendence,” says Clark.

Perhaps love can, too. The still life of opener “Hell Is Near” marks “the beginning / our beginning / begin again.” “That’s the only reason to do something, the reason to live,” says Clark. “Maybe I go the long way around saying that in this record, but at the end of the day it’s a very dark record about love. I have great love in my life. I’m so lucky. I’m not the rat in the maze in that regard any more.” It comes into focus on the back of priority shifts, shuddering sudden dislocations from the culture’s priorities, old disguises dropping to the floor on the title track’s skittish, happy shrug, “all of the wasted nights fighting mortality when in the ashes of Pompeii lovers discovered in an embrace for all eternity”, as she sings on “Violent Times.”

Unlike the ‘70s cosplay of Clark’s previous album, here, there’s no aestheticizing pain or conceptualizing loss. On Daddy’s Home, Clark says she needed to “become the music my father loved in the hope it would heal me, give me the agency as ‘daddy.’ That was probably largely misinterpreted, but I have no regrets—it’s what I needed to do.” With this record, she says emphatically, “I want to fuck people up.” As the title states, we’re All Born Screaming. It’s both a horrifying condition and whaddya-gonna-do acceptance. “If you’re born screaming, that’s a great sign,” says Clark, “because it means you’re breathing. You’re alive. My god. It’s joyous. And then it’s also a protest. We’re all born in protest in a certain way. It’s terrifying to be alive, it’s ecstatic to be alive. It’s everything.”

#annie clark #st vincent #all born screaming

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stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale · 5 months

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Hey CJ, you mentioned that you disagree with a lot of your old TWDG opinions, any that stand out you wanna share? Also i agree with what you said about wanting to play the series for the first time again with no prior knowledge - i would love to meet louis character for the first time again.

Yeah, some opinions have changed with time and moving on from being a hardcore, active fan in the fandom. I'm pretty sure I've talked about some of them more recently, like how I used to not like Jane but now I've become something of a "Jane apologist," if you will.

I was also super vocal about hating the Clementine comics when the 12-page comic dropped, and I'm pretty sure I was shitty about Tillie Walden... which I look back on now and feel embarrassed. In fact, I specifically remember calling attention to the fact that Skybound turned off comments on the first book trailer and on their instagram, twitter, etc. and being like, "look at these COWARDS! they know we hate the comic and that Tillie's a bad artist, they're trying to shut us up!" ........but then I heard they turned them off because Tillie was getting threats, and it caused me to dig around and see the vile shit fans were saying.... It gave me pause to think things through and I feel very differently about it all now.

I've also changed my mind on Minerva. Like Jane, there was a loooong period of time where I didn't like her, but now? I think she's great. A real tragedy.

In fact, real talk, I think my perspective on most of the female characters in TWDG has shifted dramatically. I've done a lot of thinking on this just in general; I'm much harder on female characters than male characters. I can pretend like noooooo I was always soooo fair... but no, not always. I'm sure it's from some deep-rooted, internalized misogyny I have that I'm working on, but I also think the games sometimes neglect those characters, too. Which makes it easier to brush them off as just "poorly-written" and "bad characters" if I don't like them when that's not always the case.

Or let's be real, we all know how this goes; the games give us a flawed male character and fans are like "he's my blorbo, here's a 50k essay about why he deserved better and a list of my headcanons and the twenty AUs I've written for them-" but then a female character's just as flawed and fans are like "lol she's poorly written, here's an essay on why-"

Don't look at me like that. I know I'm guilty of this. I know y'all remember Mitch. Back in the day, Mitch was my boy and I used to write about him all the time but like... god forbid I put that much effort into writing about Violet or Minerva, right?

Or even look at Kate, for example. Past CJ would've talked about how much she doesn't like Kate and she hates the forced romance with Javi, she's just there as a way to make David and Javi fight, etc. But you ask me about Kate now and I'm like, "Girl, ANF did you so dirty, you didn't deserve this."

Or how about Bonnie in S2? We all love to hate on Bonnie, but like... she's such an interesting character?? She's a recovering drug addict so desperate for a place, and you can see Carver's manipulation at play in the way she talks about him to Clementine. It takes seeing him physically beat Kenny within an inch of his life before she's like "Yeah no, fuck this, we're leaving tonight." And we give her shit about Luke's death and being mean to Clementine but frankly? Yeah, she's mean to Clementine and that's fine.

What, it's okay for Kenny to lash out and call her a stupid kid when Sarita dies because he's your poor meow meow and it makes his character soooo morally gray and complex? But Bonnie lashes out about Luke's death and suddenly she's just a massive piece of shit? No complexities or anything? There's no grey morality? No underlying motive or emotions behind the choice to abandon the group with Mike and Arvo?? She's just a bitch??

And do I even need to talk about Sarah? Hmm? We all know how Sarah was received and how fans still talk about her. Again, Sarah has a complete meltdown over losing her father and people get hurt, and fans wish death upon her... but Kenny has a meltdown and brutally beats up Arvo or threatens to smack Clementine or a number of things.... "that's fine, he's just really upset, he lost his family, y'know? everyone keeps trying to GASLIGHT me that he's bad but if you really think about it, Arvo totally deserved to be abused and it's actually Clementine's fault Kenny hit her because she tried to stop him-"

I just... the lengths we go to justify and defend this violent, toxic character but then act like Jane is the worst, I can't-

It's so funny to me whenever I see someone in the fandom complain about wanting more morally grey, flawed female characters because like... y'all couldn't even handle Jane. Or Lilly. Or Sarah. Or Bonnie. Rebecca. Eleanor. Christa. Minerva and Violet, in a lot of cases. So like... what do you actually want?

Note that I'm guilty of this, too, and I've asked myself that question... haven't fully worked out the answer yet.

That's the major thing that comes to mind about opinions I had that I've changed my mind about. I think a big factor in that is letting twdg go and getting invested in other fandoms, doing a lot more reading, getting back into writing, etc. Obviously I've really gotten into the Dragon Age fandom and that's what triggered this "journey of self-reflection~" when it comes to how I perceive female characters. Like, you want flawed, morally-grey ladies? That's your series... assuming you can actually handle it.

But I also recently finished a playthrough of Fallout New Vegas and remembered my love for Veronica Santangelo, like... I don't care that the game doesn't technically have romance, that's my girlfriend, I love her. Then the other night I finished my first playthrough of Life is Strange True Colors [I know, where the fuck have I been, right?] and I spent 40% of the time looking at flowers, 10% being sad about Gabe, and the other 50% trying to figure out who I liked more, Steph or Ryan.

I've also been reading a lot of wlw novels which is just..... THAT'S a whole mess I won't get into because this is already long enough and you didn't ask. Just know that's also another factor in this reflection.

And to answer the other part of your ask: I miss Louis. I would love to play TFS again for the first time again, that was a fun time.

#asks #twdg clementine #twdg jane #twdg bonnie #twdg kenny #twdg violet #twdg minerva #twdg louis #twdg kate #long answer #haven't posted in a while but i was browsing my inbox and this one caught my attention #this has been on my mind for a while and it's something i'm looking at differently y'know?#and i'm sure there are other things i'm just not thinking of that i've changed my mind about #lemme see..... oh i made that whole post about 400 days! i look at that way more positively than i used to #there ya go that's another one

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tankshaw · 6 months

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Theory about Deon + David's Conversation

The warning about William has me really interested, especially because of what Porter said about the Summit being a game of sorts. Deon approaches David of his own volition, seemingly not wanting anything in return other than Quinn's death. He says:

"You’ll find William is a valuable ally, but only to a point. None of the Houses claim Quinn as a member, but he came from somewhere. And you can bet that “somewhere,” he has friends. At least of a sort. Don’t trust William to be able to keep them at bay. ... "Because he’s a horrific judge of character. Adam Jessup flew completely under his radar in his own House. He constantly shields and excuses Alexis and her misgivings. Even the golden prince, Vincent, has spent most of his afterlife as a covert-risking menace to the region. And I needn’t mention Porter. William knows how to throw a fabulous party, but he can’t seem to surround himself with the right people. And apparently delights in trusting the wrong ones. From one concerned group to another: don’t let William ruin this. Your Pack and his House aren’t the only ones who want to see Quinn burn. Make sure he does."

This on its own is concerning. It isn't that far of a stretch to assume Quinn has allies of friends of some sort. He's charming and could definitely know some other vampires that are of a similar mindset as him. We know he doesn't have progeny, but he has to have a maker. A powerful one. In "Vampire Tends to Your Injuries," Sam says:

"My clan leader, William, he did some digging, asked around. Quinn is pushing fifty and he was turned by old blood."

This brings two things to the table: 1) is that Quinn was turned by old blood, someone who probably has some connections. Someone who is probably powerful. Someone who could still be on good terms with Quinn. 2) William was the person who found this out. Which begs the question who was William asking (if he was asking anybody) and how they would know this information. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, there are probably other Houses who had interactions with Quinn and knew more about him that he was able to ask. However, with everything that's coming to light now about William, it calls many things into question.

Also, Deon says that William won't be able to hold off Quinn's friends, not because he's incapable, but because he's a terrible judge of character. Which begs the question, if Quinn has friends, where would they be hiding. If someone was trying to break Quinn out of department holding, where would they go. If William is a known bad judge of character, what's stopping one of Quinn's friends from getting on his good side. William hired private security to watch him. How much effort would it take for someone to earn his trust, get the inside scoop on this security, and infiltrate it. Quinn is dangerous and likely has some powerful allies, especially if Deon is warning David about it. This wouldn't be completely unfeasible.

Who's to say that there isn't someone doing exactly this under their noses? Who's to say there isn't someone aiming to go after the Shaw pack in retribution for getting Quinn locked up?

In that audio where Darlin' finally confronted Quinn, had he truly come to terms with his death, or did he know that there was still a way to get out of this. Sure, he was angry at seeing that Darlin' had moved on from him, but wouldn't that make him all the more desperate to get out?

#theories theories theories #im not gonna get my hopes up cause there's every change the quinn storyline is wrapped up #but im also not gonna delude myself into thinking that its all gonna be okay until we get confirmation that the motherfuckers dead #redacted spoilers #redacted summit #redacted audio #redacted darlin #redacted quinn #redacted asmr #redacted [redacted]

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citylawns · 3 months

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i’m trying to ”get into” ambient/electronic music, do u have any recs (albums etc.) that are ur favorites ?

Absolutely!!! I’ll try and recommend artists that touch on both or are tangential. I have to say I hate super ambient stuff like chill wave

The first artist and album you have to listen to is Aphex Twins Selected Ambient Works 85-92. This is a great essay on the album in my favourite music publication (shout out to John Doran) https://thequietus.com/articles/32306-aphex-twin-selected-ambient-works-85-92-anniversary.

Another foundational artist and albums is Brian Eno and his Ambient 1,2,3 and 4. My favourite is Music For Airports. Aphex Twin was obviously very derived from him but adds influences from rave culture which makes it more engaging for me. I haven’t really explored Eno’s work further than that actually, but I love the song Strange Overtones from the album he did with David Byrne from Talking Heads. Not ambient but unmissable.

I also really love Boards of Canada recently, been listening to two albums: 1998 Music Has The Right To Children and 2002 Geogaddi.

Onethrix Point Never are great, I saw them live last year and it was actually a really engaging show for me but others in my group weren't too fussed. Check out the soundtrack to Good Time and the album R Plus Seven.

Lemonjelly are a great band too but more Trip Hop actually. though if you’re getting into ambient music which is specifically electronic you might like it too as there’s similar elements. It’s stuff like Massive Attack and Portishead and I Monster. These were the bands my parents played all the time when I was a kid because 90’s lol.

Also to go to the very start listen to WENDY CARLOS. Literally The Mother of Synth. She’s pulled all of her albums from the internet I believe, she’s a massive recluse bless her because she was tormented by the press for being trans (been meaning to look into them actually) but I just read this essay on her and she’s incredible - literally pioneered synth music by helping to build the Moog. She was the one who composed the score for The Shining, A Clockwork Orange. She’s 84 now, literally a hero.

Other iconic/introductory tracks: The Orb - Little Fluffy Clouds Orbital - Halcyon On and On Moby - Porcelain

I will recommend some other artists that have either ambient or electronic elements that I like:

Grouper (ambient, sorta folk) Air Crystal Castles (electronic, also an awful and very sad history but mean a lot to me and I am desperate for my bfs band to play at the same festival as Alice this year so I can try and bump into her backstage lol) Slowdive Yves Tumour Spiritualized Tirzah Duster Grimes (lol) Delroy Edwards Dean Blunt

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fur-claws-and-eyeballs · 7 months

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The Lost Boys and DnD

First of all, Sam and the Frog brothers are huge freaking nerds. You KNOW they get into DnD at some point. Maybe there's a local group of DnD-ers that use the backroom of the comic store to host their games that gets them into it. Maybe Sam discovers the Players/Monsters/DMs handbooks being sold in the store one day and gets curious.

Maybe the Frog brothers market it as a way for vampire hunters to mentally prepare themselves for the strategies and horror of war. (The Curse of Strahd campaign wasn't released until like 2016, but we can pretend it was released 20 years earlier, lmao...Or it's just a Homebrew campaign, maybe even set in Santa Carla...)

I honestly feel like Edgar would be a really good DM because he would get so into storytelling and character voices. (He also gets frustrated as hell when Sam does something stupid/clever and completely bypasses a big battle or event that he had planned)

They tried having Sam DM, but his campaigns included more puzzles and diplomacy than battle, and having the Frogs just brute force their way through every session was disheartening.

"We clearly need at least one person with a functioning brain in the party," says Sam, retiring from DMing permanently.

But they're only three people so Sam begs Michael to join them. And listen, Michael is VERY aware of how people might perceive him, and he is not about to join his little brother and his dweeb friends in nerdom.

But Lucy, because she's wonderful, lets the boys run their campaign in the kitchen on Saturdays, and Michael, despite his best efforts, finds himself lingering in the doorway. He keeps stopping to look at the board, being drawn into Edgar's storytelling, and Sam's overly complicated plans (plans that fail and inevitably end up with him rolling for bluff, AGAIN), and Alan's insistence that they ignore diplomacy in favor of just killing everyone. (Don't get it twisted though, Alan is a master of the dice, he knows exactly how to stack his advantages and buffs for the maximum amount of damage/success.)

Michael probably can't help but chime in on occasion, "Did it occur to you idiots that the mysterious key that you found in your tavern room has a purpose and that it might go to the padlock that lets you into the Mayor's house?"

"Well, let's see you do better, Mikey!"

So Michael inevitably joins and now it's the four of them. Slaying Vampires and solving mysteries. But then...

"Hey, Michael, me and the Boys are going to a party at the abandoned cannery on Saturday, you in?" asks David one day.

"I, uh, already have plans with my family on Saturday, man, sorry," answers Michael, desperately trying to keep images of miniatures and dice out of his head.

Except, this is the fifth Saturday in a row that Mikey has begged off of hanging out with the gang, and now they're getting a little suspicious...

...

Anyway, time skip and give me Bard Paul trying to fuck the dragon.

Sam: "It would literally kill you."

Paul: "But what a way to go!"

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #DnD #dungeons and dragons #text post #writing #fanfiction #fanfiction ideas #writing prompt #what if

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panelshowsource · 7 months

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this was my first time seeing tim and also getting a chance to say a brief hello! (though, i’m not particularly keen on meeting celebs or comedians and rarely take the opportunity, tim just seemed so approachable and that "this really could be my only chance ever" feeling hit hard, so i did it!; that said, i am incredibly disappointed having missed richard osman's book signing last month, but now i’m digressing…) he seemed so, so chuffed at the show being sold out and people being so happy to see him, it made my heart happy 🥹 and, yes, totally polite! (and quite hairy?) i said this before, but one of the best things about nyc shows is watching artists brim with pride — nyc brings out the 15-year-old dreamer in them that they used to be, you can see the "holy shit i really did it" in their eyes... never gets old!!

(this is a follow-up to a question about which 3 comedians i’d want to have dinner with!)

i think people would typically approach this question one of two ways: you want to meet the people you really, really love no matter what or you want to meet the people you really, really want to know more about. those two things can overlap, but sometimes a person you adore has already shared so much, written so many books, created so much, done so many interviews and answered so many questions that you might feel it's a greater privilege to see behind the door of a fiercely private person instead, if forced to choose. stephen fry and simon amstell are great examples of people i've loved so long, respect so much, find endlessly funny and interesting and inspiring — but they've been so generous with their lives and thoughts that there are other comedians & writers i'd never know 1/100th as well even after a three-hour dinner and their undivided attention, and i may selfishly, desperately want to. i say "may" because i don't really blame anyone who would prefer to live in ignorance about their favourite comedians & writers and just enjoy them through their work. sometimes i think that's how i feel about victoria; she's so witty and so smart and represents so much of what i respect about women in her industry that i love her to bits, but because her opinions can be so strong and even acerbic i'm intimidated by the reality that we may clash in some of our ways of thinking — and, selfishly, i don't necessarily want to face that. anyways—

if we were having dinner all of us together, i think it'd be nice to pick 3 people who are friends and would have a lot to talk about amongst themselves — since i'd mostly be there as a voyeur, or to ask a question to spurn on more stories. there are also comedians i'd pick in this scenario because they'd do much better amongst their own kind than a one on one with a normie...

do you ever regret asking me these kinds of questions bc my answers are always so long and qualified and boring like i type this shit out thinking "who would ever read all this or care even half as much just list the fucking comedians" im so sorry for who i am

...like, really, someone like alex horne...he'll be much better in a group, with his friends to play off of...but fock he's kinda hard to fit in with my other faves...

OKAY

i think for a group dinner i'd enjoy so much seeing catherine tate, lee mack, and david tennant. how epic would be that? the oldest of friends, who used to be in a group on the circuit as kids, and the long-time colleagues and icons, who have ruled tv culture with their talent and their charisma; three open, warm people, all legends in their own rights, with endless stories, who may not otherwise show lower-key sides of themselves. i'd sit at that table forever, i think, learning about the comedy scene, the acting scene, television and movies, how the industry circles have overlapped and evolved and helped and hurt. i could sit at that table forever, i think.

as for one on one dinners, it's too difficult not to say david mitchell (is that so predictable ╥﹏╥ ), who is someone who feels close but far; i think — apart from his love of history — he's offered many more scratched surfaces than deep dives, and i deeply appreciate the spectrum of his career and interests. i couldn't keep him too long because i don't think he appreciates going on and on about himself, and i'm sure i couldn't be too interesting, but man what an experience that would be no matter if it was just a short tea! otherwise, i would say sean lock and...as a kind of wild card...richard osman. i think a lot of people will relate to sean, just wanting to see him again, just wanting a moment of his humanity, his great balance between accepting the harsh and coping what we can. richard is a strikingly fascinating person — the younger brother of a famous rockstar and a massive comedy nerd who went on to become one of the richest comedy tv producers and now a crime author? talk about containing multitudes. he's been around for so long but really hasn't given much of himself away — i'm so curious about his life! and he seems such a polite, gentle, intelligent, insightful person, i think the conversation would just be so enlightening!

as you can imagine i have about 15 other people i'd be dying dying dying to have dinner with but i stuck with the prompt!!! sorry i was so word vomit about it >.<

the thing is julian has 0% dad energy — what he has is INTENSE rich childfree aunt energy. she’s gonna come around for dinner once in a while and wear that fake smile around the kids that makes it very obvious she’s not into them but is happy for you and talk about her recent trip to paris and after about two hours she has to leave 1) to go to the theatre but mostly 2) for her own sanity. as for lucy and sam, i saw an amazing exchange (i think on tiktok?? idr) discussing the quite serious difference at the foundations of james acaster’s and sam campbell’s comedy, since they’re being often erroneously compared, and someone made a point that went more or less like this: “the basis of james’ comedy is the fact he is a deeply angry, self-loathing and mentally ill person. sam is just a toddler who has had way too many lollipops.” and…that’s it. older sister lucy and younger brother sam have had too many lollies — you can even find some in their hair 🍭🍭

well you know what i watched an episode of pointless where THIS FUCKING CLUE got 86!!!!!!!!!! 14 people didn’t get sheep!!!!!!!!!!!!!! so frankly i don’t trust this audience anyways!!!!

hahaha no i just threw it together for that ask post that’s why it’s so sloppy 😂 you can use it if you want!

BONK

aw anon that's so nice! like i said, someone else made that action and i would love to know who (well, i know their name is ana, but have never found their blog in all these years) — the whole community is built on sharing resources and tips! hope you're having fun :')

get out of here!!! these were so sweet. thank you so much. to echo my answer to the anon before these, it's a huge community effort and the people who rip this content are my heroes. i'm happy you have some resources to help you smile and laugh 🥹

—

WATCH LINKS MASTERPOST / FAQ / TAGS / ASK

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themarginalthinker · 3 months

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Tlb question for you! How do you think the boys met/turned into vampires? 👀

Oh boy, this is gonna get a little Long, lmao.

So, a preface: when we talk about the Boys in pretty much any of our works relating to the canon, we're using these basic 'universe rules' - ie, this is going to be their backstory for anything we write, unless specifically stated otherwise, the rules of the worldbuilding of our universe is what we're assuming.

Also, sorry if I don't include details or it seems like I'm missing things? I hope I'm getting this across. All their backstories are complicated, and some things make more sense in the story, but if you have any other questions, feel free to ask!

Alright, that aside:

Also - realized that this. Never sent?? Sorry about that too. Here you go!

David Williams: Appearance: 19, Year of death: 1879.

David was the son of farmers and those settlers pushing into the northern Great Plains just after the American Civil War. David was living in what would become Colorado (which was then literally just the Colorado Territory) when his parents both pass, leaving him and his sister Rebecca, only a year younger than him, on their own. David, being no one from no where, with few skills other than how to farm, ranch, and train horses, as well as having fairly disruptive dyslexia, cannot provide for the two of them much. Rebecca gets married to a wealthier man looking for a wife and leaves, David and her promising they'll see each other by next Christmas, when David has some money saved. That is the last time David ever sees her.

Not long after the separation, David does indeed try to get the money...and gets desperate, losing most everything in the process, turning more and more to petty crime to get by, until he messes with the wrong gang and it comes to a head. They chase him, shoot at him (our David's left hand is actually quite fucked up from being shot through just before his turning.) David ducks into an alley to hide, and something decides that this human will do.

Max has been in America for a little bit, and despite it being touted as 'the great frontier', he's found it actually rather full of other vampires already. Max wants a brood, for his own future plans, and well, no time like the present, no place like the here and now. David was simply...convenient. Nothing special. Just a checkmark on Max's to-do list.

But he becomes so much more as the years go on, and David suffers for all his sire's 'love.' For some of what that looks like, read the drabble 'Whiteout'.

Dwayne: Appearance: 20, Year of death: 1900.

Dwayne, as you may have seen, has no last name. This is because Dwayne doesn't use the English surname that was forced upon him, and only used the English first name because he quite literally cannot remember his birth name. Dwayne was born to the Haida people of the island groups off the coast of what is now British Columbia Canada. He was taken from his family and sent to a residential school. Dwayne doesn't speak much of any part of this time of his life, though the scars, both physical and mental, remain to this day.

Dwayne too was somewhat on the lam when he was turned. Dwayne at the time was running people and goods places, usually outside of the law, across country borders, or with few questions asked. They paid him, and that's what mattered. He was then paid, one night, by a young man with strawberry blond hair and the palest eyes Dwayne thinks he's ever seen, to run him away from here. As far as Dwayne and the dollars he pays are willing to take him.

Dwayne does, because he never asks questions, and he tries to take the boy, whose name he learns is David, wherever he wants.

Long story short, because we ARE trying to save a little for the story lol, Dwayne is intercepted by Max, looking for his runaway Childe, and the rest is sorta unfortunately history. Dwayne to Max is...a punishment for David, ie 'look at how you cursed this one with your bad decisions' and also now something to hold over David's head. 'I gave you someone to keep you company, a friend, a brother, a broodmate, and I can take him away just as easily.'

Dwayne will always think that letting him live was Max's greatest mistake.

Jasper Kelly, ie, Thorn: Appearance: 19, Year of death: 1935.

This one gets a little fun, because we get to play around with a character who was only in the scripts, but we do turn into an incarnation of a movie character - Max's dog.

Jasper, ie Thorn as he prefers to call himself, is the son of people living in a Hoovertown in the Great Depression - which is to say, a fantastic hunting ground for vampires. Slight problem with this however: Thorn isn't a human.

Nope! See, here's where the fun worldbuilding stuff comes in. Berd and I decided that if vampires exist in this world, well, so too must other creatures, it's only fair. So - werewolves. I'll spare you our version of them, but long-story short, they can change at will, into full wolf shape, but Thorn can't. Thorn, as it turns out, is hit with like, the most recessive of recessive genes whammy, and he cannot shift! On top of that, he's an orphan, so all throughout his childhood, he kept getting shuffled from house to house, whoever would take him.

Thorn believes his ability to turn into a big blond-white 'dog', is just his special vampire power, and in a way he's right. But it's actually from the fact he was a non-shifting werewolf.

Paul Harris: Appearance: 19, Year of death: 1957.

Paul is a preacher's son, born in Massachusetts and having spent all 19 years of his living life there. Paul was raised a good son. An obedient son. A dutiful servant of God and his father. Paul is the oldest child and only boy out of six other children. (Paul sometimes, when he's drunk and in his caustic moods, comments that 'if his mother hadn't nearly died pushing out the last one, the old man would never have climbed off her...')

For all that though, Paul's life was one of undiagnosed (it was the 50s) emotional and learning problems, and while he remains so, we headcanon it's likely Bipolor, or adhd with extreme mood swings, which wasn't helped with the Protestant upbringing and homelife.

Paul meets David, Dwayne, and Thorn when they roll into town under Max, who is there for his own business. David takes a shining to Paul not so unlike how he will in the future with Michael, the pair falling pretty damn fast and pretty damn hard. David can see Paul as something that wants to break out, knows the glorious creature that he could unleash, and Paul is desperate to break his own choking lead. 'The Taste of Butter' drabble here should give you a fair idea of what that looked like ;) Paul is murdered-but-it-didn't-stick by his own father, and kills the man for his first kill.

Paul is, however, not Max's Childe. He's David's. His first one, and the tension between David and Max is starting to pull..rather taught.

Marko Bianchi: Appearance: 18, Year of death: 1980

I know the fandom is split down the middle with Marko being the baby of the pack, and Marko being David's second in command and second oldest, but aaaa we chose this! Marko is a child of the 70s and 80s, and queerer than a 3 dollar bill to boot. His father died when he was younger, and his mother remained single and raised him through his teen years very well, though not without Trouble. As the child of first-generation immigrants, and again, deciding to be fairly open about his orientation, Marko was...targeted for a lot of stuff. He learned to bite before a strike, so to speak.

It comes to a head, however, when Marko discovers that as many unfortunate people in the Community did, he caught the virus. And it terrified him like nothing else in this world.

Cue the blonde stranger - Paul. Now, Paul at this point for Story Reasons, is on his own in San Jose, a town close to Santa Carla, and set his sights on Marko. He's drawn to him, and Paul goes with the whims of fate. Marko doesn't know who Paul is, or why he doesn't leave when Marko tells him what's up, or why he keep encouraging all of the worst tendencies in Marko, but he does.

A bad night, a bad fight some idiots picked with the pair (though trust me, there's a lot more to it than that), and Marko becomes Paul's Childe.

A little drabble associated with this is this one, where Marko is. Contemplating things.

Anyway,,,, sorry it's so long! As I said before, Berd and I are writing our Lost Boys masterfic YCCM, and these backstories will all be fully filled in with time, and likely make a bit more sense. Thank you for the ask, and if you have any more questions, just ask!

#the lost boys #yccm

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perkqularkreashions · 7 months

Text

Dogs Days Are Not Over

Requested | YES. Request | OPEN.

~M~ TWD Imagine: YN finds herself in an impossible situation when she is met with her former lover.

Word Count: 4,667

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of Miscarriage, Mentions of Death.

Pairings: Negan X Reader, Dwight X Reader, Rick X Reader [Previous]

Author's note, this is the fourth request I've seen where the reader is pregnant lol; I have two more with Spencer Reid.

Happy Readings :)

NEGAN stirred gently, his back facing me as he groaned. The voices erupted in the halls, signaling that it was morning, another day of being completely absorbed by the idiocy Negan decided to keep in his company. Moments passed before he rose from the bed, dragging his limp body through the room, finding anything to toss on. He spoke softly to me last night, for the first time in a long time. His hand rubbed against me while his lips kissed my neck, gently lulling me to sleep, but I knew in the morning he would be back to sulking and carrying this attitude. We had been arguing for the last few days, and small things turned into big things that snowballed into us not talking for some days. “I want to go get Michael to check out,” he finally pronounces, his back still facing me as he pulls on some clothes.

“Negan,” I whispered, sitting in our bed, shifting slightly as he dismissed me. The door slammed behind him, and I was left alone. This time, it wasn’t a tiny fight over Dwight flirting with me or me getting jealous of his other wives; I overheard one of his dick-riding minions talking about the current raid that they partook in. They recounted the names in glee, the names of the victims that Negan bludgeoned, Abraham and Glenn. I froze, and my face grew warm as I listened closer to the words tumbling out of their mouths—the gargling of his words and the look of desperation on the woman’s face. I moved to the man, but I grabbed my gun and slammed it against his temple before I could process anything that had happened. Over and over again, I drew the butt of my gun to his face. My eyes burned with tears and blood. My feet slid against the ground as I felt arms wrap around me. It was one hit, a solid punch against my jaw, and another to my temple; I heard a loud crack.

I fell limp to the floor, a cold hand pressing against my face. His thumb rubbed gently against my skin. I could smell the stale cigarettes and beer on him. His voice was barely above a whisper. I could scarcely see his face, but I knew it was Dwight. I flinched away from him, slowly pushing him away. “Negan will kill you if he sees you,” was all I could mutter before, succumbing to darkness.

Now, roughly two days later, I have a bruised and darkened eye. I could barely see from my left eye; bright lights irritated me, and I suffered frequent migraines – Negan would call it a suitable punishment for a disrespectful woman. I wore a patch that Dwight had found on one of his excursions. Negan didn’t take too kindly to it, and me jumping to his defense wasn’t helping the situation either. Negan commanded one of the wives to nurse me back to health; with disdain and twisted face, she did so. She changed my bandages from my worsening eye and cleaned the wounds. This morning was no different; she came with a slight frown upon seeing me. She sighed, setting down her materials. “When are you going to tell him?” she finally spoke as she damped a discolored clothe to my eye.

After moments of silence, I finally responded, “What.” She laughed before snatching her hand away from my face.

“You’re pregnant, getting into stupid fights with David? He punched you in the stomach, YN, and the only reason you blacked out like that was because that was your old crew.” I rolled my eyes, shaking my head softly.

“There’s no need; he’s not talking to me. I feel fine.” I confided in Rachel often, and on one of my drunken nights, I told her that Michael was the group leader's son to whom I used to belong. It was easier to think he was dead than to believe that Rick was dead. I mourned for Rick, Carl, Glen, Maggie, Abraham, Tara, Sasha, Daryl, and Michonne. I told her about my sisters and Beth’s death, and I told her about first meeting Rick and his family. She listened, soaked in every word as I cried in her lap.

“Your eye isn’t healing; you might want to get checked out when you go to Alexandria,” she sighs as she leaves me alone.

It didn’t take me long to get ready: light green cargo shorts, a stained tan t-shirt, and some army boots I stole from a decaying corpse. My head shifted to the door as I heard his babbles break the silence. His head rested on Negan’s chest as he moved closer to the room, avoiding eye contact with me. I ran my hand down his curly hair, taking him in for a moment. “How’s he feeling?”

“Not getting any better from last night, still a high fever, and he sounds hoarse,” He whispers; I could feel his eyes on me. Heavy and daunting. Finally, I look up, praying he doesn’t shift his gaze away. “I worry about you, YN”

Slowly, I let my hand travel to his face, cuffing it gently. My thumb brushed against his facial hair, prickling my skin uncomfortably, then moving to his lips. “I know… I’m sorry” was all I could manage.

“He could’ve killed you; I would have to kill him. I would do anything for you — for Michael.” I nodded; I pressed my lips against his, tasting alcohol and some sort of meat. His other hand gently grabbed at my waist, yanking me closer. “Come on,” he whispered against my lips. As we left the room, we were greeted by his dick-riding minions, ready to raid another town. My eyes scanned David, his face distorted from the butt of my gun. He smirked momentarily, before trotting off with the rest of the group. My eyes flickered to Dwight, his movements slow and calculated. He dodged through the crowd and soon walked shoulder-to-shoulder with me. Nothing was, but nothing needed to be said. His fingers brushed against mine, and my eyes shifted to Negan and then to him.

“How are you feeling?” I heard him grunt, his arms folded against his chest as he moved slightly before me.

“Better; Rachel says I need to get checked out when I go to the town,” I answered shortly, looking around and disinterested in the conversation.

“I miss you”

“Don’t,” I interrupted, speeding past him as I slammed my shoulder against his. I gasped as I felt his arm latch onto mine. I didn’t turn around, but I knew he was upset and needed me to show him I was alright. He let me go, and I continued to move with the group as we boarded our rides.

It didn’t take us long to reach Alexandria, the scene unfolding in front of me as every memory began to flood back. I began to feel queasy and full of anxiety as I stepped out of the car with Michael in hand. I hissed gently as sharp pain ran through my eye, I brushed it off as I lingered behind most of the group.

“Little pig…Little pig, let me in,” he foolishly commands, Lucille tossed over his shoulder. I squinted at the man; he was pale and had sustained some injuries. He was hunched forward slightly, his shoulders moving at an alarming rate. I caught his eyes, his hair covering most of his case; I took another step in his direction, my chest burning as I watched him intently. Realization struck on his face, and his eyes widened. “Daryl?” I whispered. My head snapped back to the gate as it began to open, and slowly, the figure emerged. He steps in, slowly thrusting Lucille into the man’s hand.

His face changed, and he gained some weight. His hair wasn’t as curly the last time I saw him more clean cut. His face drained of color and life that used to decorate him – he had hope. I couldn’t move or process the man I was seeing before me. He froze, his eyes moving from Michael to me. My throat tightened as I tried to utter something to him; I dreamt of this day, standing in front of Rick, letting him meet his son, explaining the hell that I went through, seeking comfort in his arms. “Rick?” I hiccuped out, shaking my head. I took a step closer to him, tightening my grip on Michael.

“YN?” he whispered, his voice kissing against my eyes. His eyes traveled back to Michael, “Is this–” hesitantly, he reached out, his fingers running against his arm before laying his hand against his back.

“Hold the fuck up,” I heard Negan shout, his laughter filtering into the arm as he stepped closer. His face was full of devious mischievous, but his eyes were full of sorrow and confusion. They watered slightly as he stepped closer to me. “Rick? Ole Rick, here is the father of Michael?”

“I was traveling with Daryl doing some runs in this town when we got separated. A herd of walkers took us by surprise, and I stumbled in the woods somewhere; I was holding up in some shanty town centers, bars, and a mall to give birth to Michael.” I stared at Negan for a moment as realization crossed his eyes. “Where’s Maggie?” I whispered. Rick looked for a moment, his eyes shifting down as he swallowed.

“She didn’t make the trip back here after—” I sucked deeply. I needed to hold myself together, and I nodded to his statement. I pressed my lips together. “Let me see her.”

With that, we moved to her grave sight, next to Glenn. I stared at the dirt graves, my foot mindlessly kicking at the dirt as it tumbled down the pile. My eyes stung with tears as I tugged on my bottom lip. “She was sister,” I spoke to Negan, my eyes fixating on the makeshift wooden cross. “She was always the rock between Beth and I. Beth was a crybaby, and Maggie was always Miss Straight and Narrow while I wanted to drink and stay out late with my hick boyfriend,” I laughed. It was long and rested in the stillness of the air. “When I saw Rick and Shane running down that field with Otis with Carl in his arms, I knew then that we stuck with the crew that came riding in their beat-up van and motorcycle. I nursed Carl back to health and taught him how to be a farmer."

My eyes flashed to Rick; a sunken look rested on his face as he gave me a soft smile. “She was my everything, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you—” I was interrupted by Michael’s whooping cough, his hand gripping against my chest. Negan rushed to my side, his eyes scanning Michael’s face, brushing his hair out of his face. He looked at me for a moment, his eyes pleading to hold him. Absentmindedly, I nodded. He soon began checking his reddening face, the back of his hand pressing against his forehead as he shifted slightly. My eyes flickered to Rick, who tensed; a look of concentration and bewilderment ran across his features. I flinched at the abrupt ring pierced through the air; we froze for a moment; it was a gunshot. I followed behind Rick, my hand removing the gun from my side, upon entering a building far from the gravesite. My gun was aimed at a teenage boy, a bandage covering his eye as he held it at David, who had multiple medical supplies in his arms while tossing them in a crate. My face furrowed in disgust as my eyes shifted to him.

“Put some back, or the next one goes in you,” he commands; I observed, smirking slightly at this kid's courage.

“Kid…what do think is gonna happen next?” the boy looked at Negan, his eyes flickering to the child in his hand.

“He’s taking all of our medicine! You said Half,” he hissed; he squinted in hatred, his lips parted as a low snarl escaped. His finger danced against the trigger.

“Carl… Carl put the gun down.” I straightened my posture, my eyes taking him in. He was taller; he didn’t have a sweet innocence about him. When I first found out I was pregnant, he stayed by my side — he was overprotective, to say the least. I remember sharing a cell in the prison for a month, his body leaning against the base of the bed, his head resting against the rusted metal pole. His mouth parted, and his chest slowly moved with each huff that pushed past his lips. I watched him for a moment, brushing my hands through his hair. He’d stir in his sleep, uncomfortably adjusting himself, letting his hands run over his neck. He hated sleeping alone since his mother had passed, and I hated being alone since I suffered from the miscarriage.

Lowering my gun, I watched him. “You should go before you find out how dangerous we are.” I smiled softly at his words.

“David, put the medicine back,” I whispered, holstering my gun. Carl turned to me, his face still tight with anger. I grabbed his arm, and he flinched, his hand locking on the gun.

“You don’t tell me what to do.” David spits, the crate still locked in his arms. A smirk rode on his face as he cowarded behind Negan. I looked at Carl, pressing a gentle smile on my face. Confusion ran across his eyes; he shifted to face me slightly.

“You know, cowboy, you grew some damn balls the last time I saw you.” I laughed, tipping his hat back. His face softened, and a smile crept along his face. “Come on, Carl, I promise you, no one will touch the medicine. Half is what he said, and half is what he means,” I whispered, unraveling the gun from his hand.

I turned to David, taking a long step forward; his eyes widened as he realized that Negan would let me do it, taking the safety of the gun and putting it to his temple. “Put the shit down” his eyes flickered to Negan, who didn’t seem pleased with my sudden demonstration of leadership. “You know I’m good for it.” David curses for a moment, dropping the crate on the ground, his eyes fixed on me as he slowly exited the room. The door slammed behind him as we all listened to his retreating footsteps.

“YN,” Carl finally lets out, and I turn to him with a wide smile. “YNN,” he finally whispers; I gasped softly as he slammed his body against me. His arms wrapped around me. I chuckled.

“You’re still a troublemaker, I see” I whispered.

“I can say the same about you!” he chuckles through his slight frenzy of emotions.

“I hate to interrupt a touching moment, but this reminds me that, you all have way too many guns,” Negan states. Carl removes himself from me, his eyes shifting to Negan.

“First, Michael is sick, I know it’s probably too much to ask-”

“No,” Rick interrupted me. “Let’s get him looked at,” he hummed; I nodded, whispering a thank you. A woman with glasses came in, shakingly looking at Negan and me.

“Hi! I’m YN. That is Michael.” he shyly lifted his head off at the sound of his name, and I motioned her to come closer. She was hesitant for a moment, her eyes scanning the room. She was observing Negan; her hand trembled as she moved to adjust her glasses. “He’s been a little sick, with a bad cough. Negan over here thinks it is serious; he just gets sick easily. He hasn’t had any motivation to do anything but sleep and sometimes eat.” She nods, her hand gently brushing against his back as she tries to take him from Negan. He stiffens, locking his grip on Michael. Resting my hand against his shoulder, I squeeze. Negan’s eyes flickered over to mine, and he sighed content before letting the woman take Michael.

“What about you, ma’am?” she whispered, setting Michael on a bed. She lay him on his back, her hand moving to his stomach, the left side of his chest, and the right. She turned to me, waiting for an answer. “You should let me check you before you go; the bruising around your eye doesn’t look too good,” she nods for a moment.

Simply, I responded, “I’m fine.”

“How old is he?” Carl questions

“9 months, he’s so busy and wants to be around everything and see everything.” I laughed, my hands nervously playing with the hem of my shirt; I watched her examine him; the woman made faces at Michael as she poked and prodded him. He whined softly before settling into a soft laugh as she made a goofy face again.

Carl grabbed my hand, “Hey! It’s going to be okay. If he’s anything like us, Grimes, he’s a survivor,” he hummed; I nodded – tightening my grip on his hand. The memories came flooding in Carl’s kindness towards me, Rick’s loyalty and love, Daryl’s abrasiveness and wit, Abraham’s might and crudeness, and Rosita’s sass and smile. I sucked in a sob as I watched continued to watch Michael. I missed the feeling of Glenn wrapping his arms around in a tight hug after a sleepless night, or Maggie always bringing me a cup of tea in the mornings and before bed. I wanted to kill Negan for taking them away, I wanted to bring him to his knees and make him beg forgiveness as I rammed his stupid ass bat against his head. I wanted him to watch the woman he loved the most murder him. His last memory on this earth, is me wielding Lucille against his skull. But I was weak; I couldn’t imagine my life without him.

“Well! He’s alright, just a little hay fever; it’s growing increasingly hot outside the pollen and allergens are making him sick. We have some children’s Advil that might help his temperature; some tea and honey would be great. Might wanna keep him in fresh clothes.” I sighed in relief; I nodded rapidly, as she lifted him. “We had some allergy medicine, non-drowsy, of course. I’ll make something to drink for him and get him a change of clothes, and he will be as good as new. But I wanna have a check-up in a week or so. Just to make sure," I moved to grab him, his smile overtaking his face, his hands slamming against my face with excitement as he squeals with glee.

My eyes shifted to Negan; he stood against the back door. His eyes intensely staring at mine, he nodded briefly before looking away. “Come on, Rick, let’s go get my guns!” he promptly shouts, kicking himself off the door.

I stared at Carl, we were left alone, and I had so much to say, but nothing came out. I wanted to beg for his forgiveness – I knew it wouldn’t amount to much. He smiled softly, nodding slowly as if he could read my thoughts. Somehow, he always could; he always felt like my first son, the way he clung to me after his mother passed. He would find his way into my room, whispering that he had a nightmare about his mother and Judith. “Don’t,” Carl whispered, tears streaming down his cheek as he nodded. “You don’t have to say it. I know.”

It was silence between us. “I was going into labor; I found my way into a mall. Negan and some of the guys, helped me give birth to him. They took me back to the Sanctuary, and I became Negan’s wife. I wanted to come back; I did — I just… I don’t know.” I whispered.

“It’s okay, YNN. Dad always knew you were out there. He said he was too hard to get rid of.” he laughed softly.

“Show me around, cowboy.” We walked through the streets, talking about different things, his new life, and the small hobbies he had picked up before things went to hell: the relationships and the heartbreaks.

I stopped him, grabbing his arm. “These people are dicks; they do this shit for dominance to make you feel weak. You aren’t weak. They want to leave with this feeling of hopelessness. He will come back, and when he does, don’t show fear. He feeds off of it. There’s a shanty ranch home, 15 miles north of here, Hutington. Have your father meet me there in 3 days.” He nods quickly; I unholstered my gun, passing it to him. “Please, be safe cowboy.”

“I will,” he hums, pulling me into a tight hug. I heard a long, high-pitched whistle, my eyes shifting to Dwight as he motioned for me to follow him. Carl looks at me before, whispering goodbye. Slowly, I made my way to Dwight, his eyes seething with jealousy, a look he often carried with him. Daryl was standing in a position directly behind him as he watched me. I passed a sympathetic smile to him.

“What were you doing with him?” he questioned. I scoffed momentarily, looking around before returning my gaze to him.

“He’s my son,” I answered without another thought. Carl always felt like my son; when he first arrived on the farm, I helped nurse him back to health—telling him fables that my grandfather used to say to me. I brought him late-night snacks despite my father telling me to not get so attached to them. I remember the look Rick gave me when I pleaded his case for them to stay– I remember the slight touch that sent shivers down my spine and our first kiss after he killed Shane. “Your leader killed my friends and took their guns, beds, and everything else they wanted. He’s a tyrant, and you know this.”

“I’m not one shacking up with him.” he hisses, stepping in my face, his breath fanned against my nose as he towered over me. “You’re fucking him, for fucksakes, you’re pregnant with his child. Don’t think I notice, how you don’t drink or stand around me when I smoke. The oversized shirts you wear? I notice everything about you.” I could find his hand and tried to find a way in mine. “Or Is it mine?”

I honestly didn’t know; it was one drunken night. Negan and I had gotten into a nasty fight over Michael. I pushed him, and he choked me; I remember him tossing me to the ground and storming out of the room. Dwight had visited me and asked me if I wanted to go on a run. It just happened. I don't regret it.

I sighed, looking away and noticing everyone gathering at the gate. Their chatter and humming, the teasing and provocation. Finally turning to him, he shifts, his head focused on me, “I love them, and I love him. No matter where I go, I will always be a part of this family,” I whispered to him before moving to Negan. I stood at Negan's side, staring at Rick for a moment. He looked at me, and nodded gently, mouthing a slight OK.

“Oh-ho,” Negan calls out, “What the fuck is that?” he grabs me by the waist, yanking me closer to him. “Are you trying to get at my wife?” He laughs momentarily and harshly grabs my face, forcing me to look at him. His eyes were delicate, full of curiosity and jealousy. He loosened his hold on my face, his thumb gently rubbing against my bruised cheek. Stunned, I stumbled back as he slammed his lips against mine. I didn’t kiss back; I stood their wide eyes and throbbing upper lip. He continued to kiss me, and soon, we fell into a rhythm, something that came so naturally to us. He pulled back and let out a slight howl. “You see that! She’s mine; I don’t know what you think… is going to happen, but she’s my wife.”

I looked away from him, my head throbbing, my eyes burning for a moment as he continued with his speech. I closed my eyes briefly, sucking a deep breath before letting it fall against the air. I grew increasingly dizzy as the moments passed, and the longer I stood there, the more irritated I became. I drifted off in the background as Rick and Negan discussed formalities. I brushed past the Saviours as I moved to the truck.

Night fell as quickly as I was back in my room, breastfeeding Michael, shutting my eyes as I rocked against the rocking chair. The soft sound of the chatter outside of the window calmed me slightly. The door slammed shut; I could hear his footsteps thudding against the ground. His boots slid off and tumbled against the floor. “I love you; I will never let Rick, Dwight, or any man have you. You mean everything to me; you’re mine, and I intend on keeping it that way.” I pried open my eyes, watching him through blurred vision. He stood there, leaning against the wall.

I got up, placing Michael in a wooden crib covered with soft, thin blankets to prevent him from getting splinters as he would chew on the surroundings if he were up early enough. I tasked Dwight with finding me a different crib for him; after each run, whatever team partakes in, I always receive a report back with an update on any cribs. I brushed his hair out of his face; I tensed as I felt Negan’s body press against mine. I could feel the warmth radiating over me and his head nuzzled in my neck. His lips gently pecked at my skin, slowly as he moaned softly. His hands danced against my waist momentarily, pulling me back into the bedroom. I spun around to face him, noticing a look on his face. I could smell it on him. I chuckled for a moment, tossing my hand in his face. I moved our shared bed.

Before I could make it to bed, his hand gripped my upper arm. I stumbled back into him. “Don’t walk away from me,” his voice was stern. “Stop walking away for me.” his voice now pleading. His grip loosened as his thumb gently caressed my skin. His hand swiftly moved to my neck –gasping, my hand immediately covered his. He forced my head to the left, our noses meeting slowly he brushed his against mine. “Stop walking away from me,” he repeats, his handcuffing my cheek.

Our lips collided, my hands moving to his neck as I yanked him closer, letting our bodies tumble onto the bed. I crawled back, trying to keep our lips connected. He pulls back; I fall against the bed and watch him yank my pants down. He doesn’t speak; he usually never does. His fingers, moved on my thighs as he dragged me closer to him. I gasped softly, at the feel of his lips against my clit, his warm tongue tracing patterns as I grabbed his head. “Oh my-” I moaned softly, bucking my hips against my face.

He kissed the inside of my thighs, moving to my stomach before, kissing my clit again, his finger slid inside me. Slowly he pumped, his knuckles pounding against my lips as he continued eating me out. Holding my breath, I let out disgruntled moans. My hands gripped the sides of his head before moving to my face, and my knuckles moved to my mouth as I bit down. I called out his name softly, he pushed my hand away shoving his finger into my mouth. He shoved it deeper into my mouth as he watched me choke on his finger, my eyes watered as my tongue moved to push his fingers out of my mouth, and yanking them out, I cursed at him. Shutting my legs slowly.

He moved back on top of me, his body weight resting on his hand. “Put it in,” he commanded; I sat there for a moment. My hand hesitantly moving to his dick, I grabbed at it, not bothering to jerk him off. I lined him up at my entrance; I tugged on my bottom, expecting him to shove it in as he usually does. His tip slowly slides in; his face contorts for a moment.

He moves slowly; I gasp softly, taking sparse and sporadic breaths as he fills me. Finally, he puts all his weight on his forearm, his face closer to mine as he grabs my leg, tossing it around his waist. “I love you” he whispers, into my ear. His thrusts were slow and passionate; he moaned gently in my ear as he nibbled at my ears. “Do you love me?”, I opened my mouth but was interrupted by him thrusting into me. I struggled to push out a yes, my hands clawing at his back as I tightened my legs around his waist.

“Say it”

“I love you, D,” I paused, my heart thudding against my chest. I began to notice how heavier he was, how his stomach pressed against mine, and how he just stopped breathing. Fuck. He stopped thrusting; I could feel the anger seething from his skin. I didn’t know what to say. Should I just continue moaning? Should I be aloof?

He lifts himself, and I swiftly close my eyes, not wanting to meet his gaze. “I-I wasn’t thinking about him.” was all I mustered out.

“No?” he chuckles, the cool air brushing against my body. He was leaving. “You’re fucking moaning his name when I’m fucking you,” he shouts; I look away.

“You’re going to wake Michael,” I whispered, his footsteps thudding against the room. His hand gripped my arm as he pulled me up. I opened my eyes, watching him.

“Do you love him?” His voice was eerily calm.

“No,” I lied; of course, I did. I loved how he made me feel, how wanted he made me feel, and how precious I was to him. How he was so gentle with me, no matter what I did. But I would never love him the way I love Negan…No matter what this sadistic maniac does, I would never love anyone as I loved him.

He chuckles, tossing me back on the bed. “Fuck you YN.”

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