#gets up saying nothin and exits the premises

[hearties-circus]

These were fun:]

[Walt: they/them, milk: he/star/it, elio: ni/nix]

#al art #al ocs #tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 oc #tf2 scout #tf2 engineer #tf2 pyro #i got nuttin to say ill be honest #ooh ok actually uhm the corpse room is only somewhat a joke #there is a very similarly functioning room that exists in the blu base don worry about it #fun fact about elio is that ni will just leave #gets up saying nothin and exits the premises #walt #milk #elio

[douxspider]

— 𝐩𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞. (2)

‘ARVIN RUSSELL x READER INSERT’

( spoilers for “the devil all the time” ) —  After befriending the bloodied blue-capped boy in the cafe Reader works at, a friendship blossoms between the two. However, unfortunate circumstances occur, and no one’s really sure how to feel about anything anymore.

+ this is the second part to peachy keen! (ao3 link)

warnings: implied/referenced suicide, hurt/comfort, grieving word count: 3,575 published: 9/21/20 ao3 link — part 1, 3

— — • — —

“Ellie, sweetie, don’t touch that.”

You were working behind the counter, rubbing raw dough and flour off on your apron, rushing around the shop to tend to the various customers. While specializing in baked treats, you were the main mistress, while Marilyn focused on baking and cooking up breakfast and lunch for eager customers.

Elaine Beck, a sweet girl of eight years, had recently been fostered by Marilyn. Marilyn, when not focusing on Elaine’s schoolwork, would bring her to the shop to watch over her.

You loved children, dearly, but it was difficult having a sweet-obsessed child in a bakery where the goods could easily be yanked. You find yourself aging more and more every time you told Elaine to keep her hands to herself.

Eyeing the clock, you rolled your bottom lip with your teeth, staring out the window before Marilyn caught your attention, pulling out crepes for a frequent suit-clad visitor. “Time goes slower when you’re staring at the hands, sweetpea.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, shaking your head as you organized dollar bills into the register. “I didn’t mean to seem like I’m impatient for my lunch off… I’m just…”

A hand caressed your shoulder, and Marilyn pulled you in to kiss your head, you groaning shortly after and wiping the back of your wrist against your forehead. “Mary! Your red lipstick never gets off!”

Marilyn gave a hearty laugh, ruffling your done-up hair. “Y’er a sweet thing, sunshine. He’s gonna be here, and you two are gonna have fun on your lil’ church date.”

“It’s not a date,” you emphasized, crouching to pull out the baked muffins, “No one goes to church for a date. I asked to come with to hear about that strange preacher.”

The older woman placed a hot coffee in front of a woman, who doused it in sugar, returning to you with a conflicted expression. “Well, I don’t want you stirrin’ up trouble, sweetpea. You’re important around here. You’re important to me.” She smiled at you, hazel eyes shiny with worry. “Don’t want you getting involved in shady business ‘cause of some boy…”

You stared at her, cocking your head idly towards the back, and she sighed and you both made your way there. “What’s your problem with Russell?” You could not imagine Arvin having bad intentions for you. It had been about a month or so since he had come in that rainy afternoon, and since then being in Ohio hasn’t seemed that bad. He had made no moves or adjustments towards you that were defined as uncomfortable.

“Nothin’, nothin’, he’s a sweet boy. Conflicted, but sweet,” she continued, “Y’ain’t wanna be caught up with those who be unsure of themselves…” Marilyn trailed off, wiping her hands with a cloth that had pies stitched onto it, “Goin’ to church ain’t like you, darling, I don’t want you to be changin’ yourself. You’re good just the way you are and don’t let no fool of a man or lass tell ‘ya otherwise. If this boy makes you happy—”

Interrupting, you said, “It has nothing to do with… with romantics, ma’am. I want to have faith,” you mumbled as you turned away from her, pretending to be busy with cleaning silverware. “I want to believe. I want to have a friend.”

Silence fell, and Marilyn gave you a smile with the fruit red lips of hers. “M’kay, darling. You won me over.”

Grinning at her, the bell jingled, and you peered over to see Arvin walking in, tipping a hat to Elaine, who was bouncing in her booth and talking to him excitedly.

Marilyn moved forward, and you leaned back, holding your hands up. “No kisses.”

She sighed, amused, and gave you a bear hug instead.

You pulled your apron off and hung it up before exiting the backroom and curving around the corner, smiling at Arvin, who met your eye and returned the gesture.

“Nice to see ‘ya on this beautiful Sunday,” you spoke up, swiping the sleeves of your dress.

Arvin’s expression softened, and he moved his hand up to your forehead, catching you by surprise. His thumb rolled over your forehead, wiping at it twice before raising his eyebrows, “I’m guessing sweet ol’ Marilyn McCann didn’t let’cha go without a cherrybomb kiss of hers.” He revealed the red stain on his thumb, and you whipped your head back to see Marilyn giving a knowing smirk at you before fixing up dishes. You looked back to him.

“Thank you for that… I would’ve been so embarrassed walking into a church with that on my face,” you sighed.

“Not a problem.”

“Don’t be gone too long, sissy!” You both looked over to see Elaine pouting at you, “I wan’ my icecream. You promised.”

“I did. I will do just that for you, baby,” you said, poking her nose. “If Mary says you behaved, you’ll get an extra scoop with any topping you want. How’s that?”

“Good!”

Exiting the premises, him holding the door open for you politely. Thanking him under your breath, you walked down the sidewalk towards his car.

“New dress?” He gestured to your fit and you looked down at it before smiling.

“Indeed. You give me such hefty tips,” you pointed out, bumping your shoulder with his, his ears turning pinker while avoiding eye contact with you purposefully. “I also needed to dress nice for church.”

Arvin rubbed the back of his neck as he opened the front door for you. “Well, I don’t really want much. Mind as well give the favor onto someone else.”

Once you both settled into the car, Arvin opened with another conversation. “How’s lil’ Elaine holding up? She seemed chipper than ever in there.”

The car started, and you pondered about the sweet girl. She was only fostered because both of her parents managed to go missing, dropping the young thing at Marilyn’s to be babysat and vanishing. “I don’t know. She hardly ever mentions her parents. I don’t think she remembers them at all, she calls me ‘sissy’ and Mary ‘mama.’ I don’t even live with them.”

“You seem to be the kinda sis that spoils,” Arvin pointed out with a grin, causing a feigned offended gasp from you. “Two scoops of icecream for such a tiny thing? She’ll explode. Poor girl.”

You shrugged. “Keeps her little fingers out of the pies.”

The radio played a sweet Paul Anka song, Puppy Love. You swayed to the beat very slightly.

—You'll be back (you'll be back)... 

“So uh… why church, Y/N?”

...in my arms (in my arms)...

Glancing at him, you shrugged. “Why not? I want to see what the rage about that preacher is about.” Arvin winced at this.

Once again...

Arvin licked his lips very slightly, eyeing the rearview mirror before returning his eyes to the road. “Y’told me you’re no girl of faith. No loony preacher is worth that.”

Someone help me, help me please. Is the answer, is it up above?

“I also said I’d do it if God brought me something good,” you pointed out, leaning towards him with a finger up. You then leaned your shoulder against the door, staring out the window, saying carefully, “And he did. I keep my promises.”

How can I, oh how can I ever tell them?

“This is not a puppy love…” you sang under your breath, turning your head to look at Arvin, whose glance quickly skewed back to the road. “Do you like this song?” You asked.

Arvin shrugged, quirking his lips up. “I uh… I’m not really a music guy.”

You blinked, raising your eyebrows. “Not a music guy? Hm, that’s fair.”

“Can’t really relate with all they sing about,” Arvin explained, “usually ‘bout God or a lover leavin’ them. Not my interest.”

Now, some backstory. You wouldn’t let this opportunity go to waste.

“Are you implying the one and only Arvin Russell has never had an inamorata?” You grinned, placing your cheek against your palm.

Arvin rolled his eyes. “Nah, don’t be actin’ like that, Y/N.”

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a ‘I’ve been too busy carin’ for my family to even think about messin’ around with a pretty face,’” he corrected, tilting his head at you. “That’s all.”

You felt yourself grow concerned and conflicted instead of amused. Biting the inside of your cheek, you don’t know if this man had any hobbies that didn’t include beating up assholes that hurt his poor sister. You scratched at the nape of your neck before deciding to speak up, plopping your hand in your lap. “Arvin, is there anything you’ve done just for fun and not just because your family compelled you to? Anything for yourself?”

Arvin looked at you, his eyes round, tightening his grip on the wheel. “I’ve… ah…” he pondered before his face turned more red, and you started to wonder what exactly was going on in his head. Was it something… illegal? Or shameful in the eyes of the town’s Lord? “...I go to the bakery to see you. For myself.”

...Well. You pinched your dress, clenching your teeth together and looking at the road.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, if— if you are, I just—”

“You were the good thing God gave me,” you spoke up suddenly, squeezing your eyes shut, “That’s why I’m going to church. You… you’re the good thing that makes me want to have faith,” you explained, catching him from the corner of his eye, seeing a distant look on his face.

You gave a laugh and half-heartedly shrugged your shoulders. “Now we evened each other’s uncomfortable comments out,” you playfully spoke. “So… no worries.”

Arvin pulled into a long yard while the car slowed into a long drawl. With this, he looked at you, and gave a smile that showed his white teeth.

“I think you’re a funny girl, Y/N.”

—

The preaching was over, and everyone was left outside, mostly indulging in conversation. It was a nice day out— sunny, clouds dotting the skyline, a sweet breeze to ease the baring sun. You were currently trapped in a conversation with a rather old lady who was very prominent in getting to know the citygirl.

You mentioned Manhattan and purposefully avoided your roots regarding wealth and your orphan status. Luckily, you didn’t need to speak much, the lady named Darla was more than eager to give her thoughts on everything.

“The new pastor, Teagardin, he’s a sweet man ain’t he?” She smiled, wringing her hands together, “If I were younger…”

You paled at the implication, giving a nervous smile. “He seems like a sweet man.”

“I’d sure hope so.” You turned around to see Preston Teagardin approach you with a smile. “How do you do, miss? Haven’t seen you here before.”

You nodded. “It’s my first time going to this church.”

Preston tilted his head only slightly. “Is that so? Can I catch your name?”

“Y/N.”

He licked his lips, looking at the old lady and raising his brows to give a friendly, polite expression. “Y/N, ain’t that a pretty name, Darla?” Darla nodded. “Well, Y/N, I wanna see you around here more often. Having a fresh face other than mine in this church is sure nice.”

“Regardless of my city heritage?” You decided to tease. While the comment was meant to be lighthearted, a growing resentment was laced behind your words, exhausted from the odd treatment from townspeople.

Preston gave a small laugh underneath his breath. “Nothin’ wrong with being born urban.” He looked at you, and you heard your name. Glancing to your side, Arvin was approaching, a ginger girl at his side.

The ginger girl made eye contact with Preston, and she quickly shied away from it. You paid it no mind, but it was definitely something that would become relevant later on, you’re sure. 

“This is my sister, Lenora,” Arvin spoke up, and you watched his eyes lock onto the priest’s for a moment. Preston walked away.

Lenora looked at you and gave a simper. “Hi, Y/N. Arvin’s talked about you…”

Arvin pursed his lips. “Lenora—”

“No, it’s okay,” you said, amused at the sister-brother banter. “He’s mentioned you before Lenora. I hear you like to read, care to give me a checklist of books sometime?”

Lenora lit up. “That… yeah, I can do just that. Right when I get home, I will.”

You smiled. Arvin cleared his throat, placing his hands in his pockets as he spoke to his sister, “Lenora, why don’t you check on grandma?” Lenora scurried off. When the two of you were alone, Arvin then murmured to you, “Y’don’t have to do anythin’ you don’t want to, Y/N. I know Lenora ain’t the most bright in the bunch, but—”

“I’ve been where she was,” you murmured to him, watching his gaze slowly fall from Lenora’s retreating figure to yours, brown eyes suffused golden beneath the luminous sun. “It’s all right. I actually do like reading, Arvin.” Arvin’s lips moved to the side of his face. Taking in his features, you felt your heart race a bit at what you were contemplating on doing, but you did it regardless. Your hand moved from your side to bury your fingers in his hair, grinning while feeling the slick strands against your skin. “It’s weird seeing you without that hat on.”

Arvin slumped a bit, attempting to swat your hand away. “Alright, alright, I get it,” he sighed. Though, from the look on his face, he was heavily entertained. “I know. I’ll put the cap back on.”

“No,” you spoke up. Your hand survived Arvin’s waving and ruffled the hair, loose strands cascading the frame of his face. “I like it.”

The boy you were endlessly teasing gawked at you while a bashful expression crossed his features. He sucked on his tongue before murmuring, “...That’s… ah, thank you.”

Glancing at your clock, your eyebrows raised. “I have to go. Lunch break is over… was over two minutes ago.”

Arvin gave a sheepish curve of his lips. “I’ll drive ‘ya home.”

The drive back was lighter than the drive there, until the new priest was mentioned. “Y’don’t trust that preacher guy, do you?” Arvin’s voice was bitter.

“...He seems…” you started, wincing, “I’m not sure. He’s a confident man, I’ll say that. I don’t know much about him to make a judgement.”

Arvin stopped the car in front of the diner. It was abrupt, sudden, and it took you by surprise. Your eyes traveled over to your friend who seemed to be seething underneath his skin. “Arvin?” You asked quietly.

A few glances towards you and he finally decided to face you with a lack of a smile. “S’all fine. You’re late, go do your work.”

Unable to correlate words with your sudden concern over his state of mind, you didn’t bother to acknowledge anything. “Okay…” you murmured, stepping out of the car, giving a wave to Arvin who only nodded his head towards you and drove off.

You watched his car vanish into the distance of the town. Wind blew past you, petting at your bare shins, and you rubbed your upper arm before hearing muffled crashing within the shop and a very harsh command of ‘Ellie!”.

—

The day Lenora died was quiet.

People weren’t rushing to the church, rushing to the Russell household, rushing down the streets, no one was rushing anywhere. It was a quiet day. The streets were more bare than usual, but perhaps it was only a lazy Sunday where nothing really mattered aside from church, the one day Lenora had not gone.

Watching her body fade into the ground wrapped snug in a casket, you felt the paper in your dress shuffle with the wind, scribbles of book titles Lenora suggested you before her untimely death.

Brave enough to glance in Arvin’s direction, too shy to cock your head, you noticed his mouth fit into a tight line, eyes swollen but with no sign of tears. It seems like he has already cried his fair share. Grandma Emma was weeping, her shoulders shaking as her brother held them.

The sun had gone dark, and you sat on a bench with Arvin, who had shared little to no words with you the entire day. Cars would woosh past and it seemed like the entire world was rotating just the same without the dear, sweet step-sister of Russell. The story had been tense, a little too much for you, the superstition that she was pregnant with the priest’s baby and had been encouraged to take it out, even at the cost of her life.

You gave a shaky exhale while the night’s frozen air pricked at your bare skin.

“You don’t need to be with me, Y/N,” Arvin’s accent-heavy voice murmured from the right of you, “I’m alright.”

That’s a load of bullshit. You knew that. You knew nothing about this was okay. You’d heard about Arvin’s parents before, you didn’t need anything more to know that this was opening some deep wounds the boy had thought he had stitched closed a long time ago.

“No, you’re not,” you replied.

There was nothing said after that. Arvin didn’t even look at you with an incredulous expression or open his mouth to disagree. There was no movement, no anything, as the world continued to turn, the stars continuing to move above the two of you.

It seemed unfair. It was unfair that the world kept moving.

You pulled out the list of books she had recommended you. Her handwriting was surely girlish, curly with hearts for dots, but it was perfect for her type of character. Lenora was a good girl. You felt your thumb trail against the ink stains. You didn’t know her too well, you’d be exaggerating your pain if you said this was the worst thing to happen to you, but it was definitely a loss on the town’s behalf, and most importantly, Arvin’s behalf.

“She was lonely.” Looking over, you saw Arvin staring down at your lap where the somewhat crinkled paper was.  “She never defied her faith, Y/N. She was just lonely.”

Her fidelity was admirable. Some part of you knew Arvin wasn’t talking to you, though, more so at. You gave a nod at him, his sad eyes meeting up with yours, and you knew at that moment his heart had been broken into a million pieces. You heard him sniffle and the street lamps reflected the water building at the top of his lower eyelids. He moved his bruised knuckles underneath his nose and you were a witness to his throat closing on itself.

This wasn’t bold. This was a peace offering. You moved to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him close to you in a hug.

Arvin was frozen still, tense underneath your hold, halting in his breath. You didn’t care if you were breaking boundaries. You didn’t care if this was something he said he didn’t need. You needed it, too, you needed to see him recover.

Unbeknownst to you, he would actually consider all the little possibilities with this hug. His arms wrapped around your waist as he buried his face against the crook of your neck. You could hear quiet struggling exhales and wetness seeping into your dress. You didn’t care for the dress.

This wasn’t a grown man crying, you noticed. This was a little boy. The way he squeezed against you, lightly rubbing his nose against your skin and giving off quiet whimpers of defeat. The world had wronged him too much. You didn’t know everything, but it felt like the tears falling from his face had infinite knowledge that you didn’t need to be told. This wasn’t the first tragedy for Arvin. For him, he most likely believed it was just another dot on the list of infinite sadness.

“Arvin,” you were quiet to say, “come to my place. It’s quiet. Let me drive.”

Arvin had no disagreements. He was in no mindset to put on his tough façade. You drove the two of you to your apartment, never leaving Arvin’s side as you both stepped up the stairs and unlocked the door.

You didn’t really know what to do from there. You both watched television on your cheap furniture, and as the night went on and mindless conversations passed between the both of you, Arvin had gotten closer. His eyes were sore and at the most random moments you could see a tear roll down his cheek. He gave no reaction to it.

“I’m tired,” Arvin breathed from beside you.

You stared at the television while leaning against the couch’s arm. “That’s fine. I can show you to my room, if you’d like to lay on the bed—”

A presence was prominent beside you. You felt Arvin lean against you and rest his head on your shoulder. “The couch is fine,” he whispered. “This is fine.”

In any other circumstance, you know Arvin would’ve never put you in this position. Though, you didn’t mind this, not at all, keeping in mind you knew he just needed a comforting presence after Lenora. You were more than eager to be his anchor however.

Moving your hand up to his capless head, finding your fingers carding through his smooth hair, you continued to watch the television in silence. This is fine, you repeated in your head. It’s going to be fine.

#arvin russell x reader #arvin russell #you #reader insert #the devil all the time #peachy keen #puppy love #3k #sui tw #my writing #douxdamian #sfw #T #multichap

[jodiereedus22]

The Fated Ones

A/N: This was requested by @kristinesku I hope its what you wanted. I hope you all enjoy it!!!! 

Word Count: 3610

Warnings: Mention of Blood, Slight Violence, Pregnancy

You were never a firm believer in fate – the whole premise of a higher power guiding you to where you needed to be – whether you knew it no not, always baffled you.

But so far there have been two clear times in your life that made you question your beliefs.

The first being Daryl. With everything that had happened, the current state of the world, to find Daryl, to fall in love at the end of the world was something you couldn’t explain.

The second was finding a place like Alexandria. You had found places to call your home over the years, but nothing like Alexandria. After being on the road for so long, going through the things that you all had – a place of safety, comfort and security was something you, Daryl and your family so desperately needed.

Little did you know that a few more ‘acts of fate’ would come along to challenge your beliefs further.

A lot had happened in your time at Alexandria. The years had been a mixture of good, bad and excruciating. The war with the saviours changed all of you, changed your communities – of which there were a few now – a network of communities that fought side by side and support each other.

You had lost a lot of people in the war against the Saviours. You had almost lost Daryl. Your heart breaks every time you thought about what had happened to him at the hands of Negan, but you had put all of that behind you now and started to rebuild and begin a new life.

Negan was imprisoned for the rest of his miserable life and most – if not all – of the saviours were gone as peace now reigned throughout all of the communities.

You and Daryl had a stable life, for once not having to look over your shoulder all of the time.

However, a few months ago, there was something that could have potentially put that stability at risk.

 You sat on the porch of the home you and Daryl shared, waiting for him to come back from a run.

You were terrified, but not just for the normal reason, the test that came back positive – at that moment – was anything but. Now not to say your relationship wasn’t strong – it was – the bond you and Daryl shared was extraordinarily strong, you had grown together, survived together and learned to love together - but children? That was somewhat of a grey area.

You knew all about Daryl's childhood, you knew his opinion of himself. He never thought he was good enough for anyone or anything, let alone being a father. You knew you had to be delicate with the news, but telling Daryl was one of the scariest things you had done.

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts and fears that you didn’t notice Daryl climbing the steps.

“(Y/N)?” Daryl called out, and by his tone, not for the first time.

“Hey, you're back,” you realised, standing up to greet him.

Daryl stared at you for a moment, tilting his head slightly trying to work you out.

“Ya okay?” Daryl asked, concerned at your blank expression.

You audibly sighed, finding it hard to look to Daryl.

“We need to talk,” you said ominously.

Daryl's expression changed from one of worry to one of fear as he followed you into the house.

“You might want to sit,” you suggested, pointing to the sofa as you went to sit on the coffee table opposite.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself for your admission. You had thought long and hard about what you were going to say to Daryl, how you were going to tell him, but now he was sitting in front of you, you decided just to rip the band aid off.

“I'm pregnant,” you blurted out.

Daryl stared at you in shock, not moving, not blinking, it was only his chest rising and falling did you know that he was still breathing.

“Daryl? Say something,” you pleaded.

But still, he said nothing, instead, he rose from the sofa and headed towards the door.

“Daryl,” you called out, panicking at his reaction.

“I'm okay. It’s okay, jus’ need some air.” Daryl turned around. It was the look in his eyes that told you he was telling you the truth, with that your panic somewhat settling.

Daryl walked through the door as you walked to the window to watch him leave, only to see him take a seat on the steps of your house, taking out a cigarette, lighting it and placing it between his lips as he looked out at the community.

You smiled to yourself, knowing, without words, that this was his answer. He was here, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

As the day turned to night and Daryl was still having his alone time you retreated to your bed, exhausted from the day's emotions.

During the night you felt the bed dip, and arms wrap around your waist, a hand gently resting on your still flat belly as he placed a kiss on the back of your neck, you let out a contented sigh as you squeezed his arms in a tight embrace.

No words were exchanged, no words were needed. Daryl said all he needed to say with his actions.

And since that night Daryl had always been by your side, loving you, supporting you and your unborn baby.

You were now coming on to six months, you had a clear baby bump now, not as big as you had imagined it being, but Denise said it was because of your physique.

“Please,” you begged Daryl for the hundredth time that day.

All you wanted was a ride outside the walls. You loved Alexandria, you were thankful for its safety and security it provided you – and now your unborn baby. But now, you were suffering from cabin fever seeing only the inside of the walls for god knows how long.

“Just an hour, we don’t even have to leave the car,” you begged, Daryl still stared at you – unwavering.

“Look, I've been stuck inside these walls for too long, I understand why. But once I'm further along I still won't be able to go out, and once the baby is born, I still won't be able to go out. This might be my last chance for a long time. Please Daryl,” you pleaded your case.

“Girl,” Daryl said randomly.

“What?” you asked, confused at his answer to your plea.

“The baby, it’s gonna be a girl,” Daryl explained.

“What? How do you know? Did Denise tell you? I thought we said it would be a surprise,” you argued, finding yourself getting annoyed. You didn’t know if you actually were or if it was the pregnancy hormones wreaking havoc.

“Nah, Denise didn’t tell me, jus’ my guess is all,” Daryl clarified as your mood lifted a bit.

“Daryl Dixon, don’t you try and distract me. What I'm asking still stands,” you demanded.

Daryl audibly sighed, falling back on the sofa, his head leaning back, closing his eyes.

“(Y/N),” Daryl started before you interrupted.

“I know, it’s too dangerous,” you said, mimicking Daryl’s southern drawl, teasing him.

You sat down next to him.

“But…” you started; this time Daryl interrupted you.

“But nothin’, (Y/N), you're pregnant. I can't risk it,” Daryl said softly, real emotion at the thought of you being out there.

“I'll have you, and as I said, we don’t have to leave the car or even stop,” you pursued your cause.

You could see the wheels in Daryl's head turn, but you could see his resolve slipping. So, you looked at him with pleading eyes as he looked back at you, already with regret.

“Fine,” Daryl conceded. “But ya stay in the car, ya don’t step a foot out of it. Ya hear me, I need ya and our baby safe,” Daryl demanded but with a soft tone, not really being able to say no to you.

You knew all Daryl ever wants is to protect you, and you loved him all the more for that, but you couldn’t help the excitement of your upcoming trip.

The day had come, you were going outside the walls. You knew you probably wouldn't be out for long, knowing Daryl wouldn’t want to risk being outside of the walls for a prolonged period of time – more time, more risk. But you didn’t care, you just wanted a sense of freedom – even for a little while.

You made sure you had a couple of bottles of water and a few snacks – maybe you could convince Daryl to stop for a minute to enjoy the moment – stranger things had happened.

“Ya ready?” Daryl called out.

“You don’t have to sound so gruff,” you joked. “Don’t you want to spend some time with me?” you teased him.

Daryl walked up to you, placing a hand either side of your face, looking deep into your eyes.

“Of course I wan’ ta spend time with ya, its jus’ where we’re goin’,” Daryl admitted worry in his eyes.

“We’ll be fine,” you reassured him, placing one of your hands over his, closing the gap by placing your forehead on his, closing your eyes, savouring the moment.

Daryl let out a contented sigh as he relished this moment.

“Come on, let's go,” Daryl said, pulling away slightly, creating a small gap between you as his offered out his hand which you took with a smile.

You started your way towards the truck with a slight waddle. Something that everyone else found amusing to watch but you, on the other hand, found incredibly inconvenient.

You looked towards the truck where Daryl was waiting with an open door for you with a smirk on his face as he watched your approach.

“Stop,” you tried to hide your smirk as you gently hit his arm in protest as you climbed into the truck.

Daryl closed the door for you as he got in the driver's side reaching over to take your hand in his, squeezing gently before he drove through the gates.

The freedom you felt as soon as you exited Alexandria cleared your mind instantly, gave you a sense of calm – a breath of fresh air.

You rolled down your window letting the breeze blow through your hair, letting it caress your face as the blur of trees passed you by. You glanced towards Daryl, a contented look on your face, therefore putting a calming, happy look on Daryl's.

“Thank you,” you told Daryl.

“For wha’?” Daryl wondered.

“For this. I know you didn’t really want to do this, but I appreciate it,” you told him.

“Seein’ how happy it makes ya, it's worth it,” Daryl proclaimed.

You smiled and blushed at his words, leaning over to place a kiss on his cheek.

You had no idea how long you were out for, time seemed to disappear out here, something you had loved about being out here – no schedule. No limits.

You glanced around the outside world moving by, taking in as much as you could before you had no choice but to stay behind walls. You knew the next few months were going to be hard, but you knew that when you hold your baby in your arms, it would all be worth it.

Driving down yet another road, something on the verge caught your eye.

“Daryl, stop!” you shouted, getting his attention as he slammed on the breaks.

“Wha’? Are ya okay? The baby?” Daryl quickly asked, panic surging through him.

“No, I'm fine, look, over there,” you comforted Daryl, pointing at the side of the road, where – what looked like an unconscious man – was lying still.

“He looks hurt, we should help,” you told Daryl.

Daryl looked at you, he could see the concern in your eyes, one of the many qualities he loved about you – your compassion – as he sighed.

“Stay here, do no’ leave the car, ya hear?” Daryl ordered and you nodded in understanding.

“I mean it (Y/N), please, please stay here,” a softness to his voice now, showing real concern.

“Okay, Daryl. I promise,” you reassured him as he nodded, climbing out of the truck and approached the stranger.

You watched as he reached the stranger, crouching down to his level.

What happened next you could have never predicted.

As Daryl was crouched down, he glanced back at you as the man made a move towards Daryl.

“Daryl! Watch out!” you screamed as loud as you could to penetrate the glass as you saw the man strike Daryl, causing him to lose his balance, knocking him to the floor.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, four more men appeared – one you recognised as an ‘ex-saviour’- made their way towards Daryl.

The five of them now surrounding Daryl, kicking him, beating him, overwhelming him so he couldn’t get up, couldn't fight back.

You panicked, you didn’t know what to do, you just knew you had to save Daryl, you had to save the love of your life, the father of your unborn baby.

Daryl always kept a spare handgun in the glove compartment. So that was your plan. You grabbed the gun, took the safety off, and steadied yourself.

You watched in horror as the relentless beating continued as you pulled the door handle, getting ready to exit the truck.

Despite all the beatings Daryl was taking he was still very aware of you sitting in the truck. As he tried to get the upper hand, he heard the truck door start to open.

“Don’t! Stay in the car (Y/N)!” Daryl yelled in between beatings.

But you couldn’t, you wouldn’t ever be able to live with yourself, so you did what you had to do, like so many times before. So, you ignored Daryl pleas and stepped out of the vehicle.

You didn’t approach them however, rather used the gun for what it was intended for – long-range fighting – using the truck door as a shield you started shooting towards the men.

You couldn’t really recall what had happened, everything happened so fast – in a blur – gunshots were firing at your hand, people were falling down. Blood blanketing the road, screams of pain and death in the air.

The sudden realisation of your predicament became very clear when your gun clicked – meaning you were out of bullets.

You froze in shock, Daryl’s beaten and bloody body lying in a bundle on the ground, struggling to keep consciousness let alone stand up.

Your eyes rose from Daryl to one last remaining saviour, the smirk on his face enough to turn your blood to ice.

He strode towards you, not knowing what to do you raised your gun once again, trying to shoot him, praying you had one bullet left by some miracle, but you were not so lucky.

The saviour striding closer and closer to you, his smirk and his anger mixed into one, got more menacing the closer he got.

Standing right in front of you he knocked the gun out of your hand, sending it flying into the undergrowth.

Daryl couldn't see what was happening as the door blocked most of his view, as he was still trying to gather his strength as quickly as possible.

You didn’t see the knife until it was too late. He plunged the knife into your side. You couldn’t do anything, couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn’t breathe, all there was, was pain, more so when he pulled the knife out, your body jerking as he did so, your hands immediately going to the wound in your side.

Daryl could see the sheer fear and pain in your face as he saw your body unnaturally jerk in pain. He used all the strength he had left to push himself up and made his way over to you where he saw the knife the saviour was holding, covered in blood – your blood.

“No!” Daryl screamed at the top of his lungs, as he came up behind the saviour and snapped his neck with a sickening crunch, rendering him dead instantly.

He rushed to your side before you fell to the ground.

“No, no, no (Y/N)! you're gonna be a’right. It’s gonna be okay,” Daryl kept repeating as he quickly picked you up and placed you back in the truck.

“Stay with me (Y/N),” Daryl begged as he manoeuvred the truck and sped off towards home.

“The baby. Daryl, I can't lose the baby,” you cried in despair and pain as Daryl leaned over to help you put more pressure on the wound.

“I'm gonna save ya both, ya hear me. You're both gonna be okay,” Daryl proclaimed, trying to reassure you and himself.

“Nearly there (Y/N). Please hold on,” Daryl begged once again as he sped through the gates of Alexandria and straight up the infirmary door as people dodged out of the way of the moving truck.

“Help! Please!” Daryl yelled to everyone and anyone who was around as he lifted you out of the vehicle.

He kicked the doors to the infirmary open with force as he placed you gently down on a bed.

“Help. Please,” Daryl barely whispered, tears coming down his face.

“What happened?” Rick and Denise both asked, shock evident on both their faces.

“We were attacked. Saviours. Jus’ help her! Help her and our baby, please,” Daryl implored.

Denise went to work on getting you comfortable, giving you drugs to knock you out so he could perform the procedure.

“Daryl,” you whispered, already feeling drowsy.

“I'm here. I'm not goin’ anywhere. You're both gonna be fine,” Daryl reassured you, one of his hands holding yours, the other caressing your forehead as he leant down to place a kiss on it, your eyes growing heavy, the image of Daryl softened features the last thing you saw before darkness took you.

Once you were out cold, Denise could finally operate on you in the hope of saving you and your baby.

“Well?” Daryl demanded as the operation had finished, and Denise was cleaning you up. The suspense was killing him, he was exhausted, hurting both body and heart.

“Let's take a look at you, fix you up,” Denise diverted.

“Don’ give me tha’ bullshit. Tell me!” Daryl demanded aggressively.

“The knife missed the baby by a quarter of an inch, and it didn’t hit anything vital in (Y/N). they're both very lucky, but they’ll both be okay,” Denise explained to Daryl.

A weight had been lifted from Daryl's heart, he blamed himself for all of this. He should never have agreed to take you out of the walls.

He found himself being dragged away by Denise to be fixed up, but he didn’t feel anything, his sole focus being on you, lying on the infirmary bed, your baby bump lifting the sheets.

Daryl sat by your bedside all the while you were unconscious, holding your hand, making sure you knew he was there, when you finally started to stir.

Your eyes lazily blinked open, the first thing you saw was Daryl looking down at you. You then immediately looked down your body to see if your baby bump was still there as a tear escaped your eye.

“You're okay (Y/N). she's okay,” Daryl revealed.

You closed your eyes in relief as you let out a sob.

“Still think she's a girl?” you gave a light smile.

“I can tell you if you want,” Denise entered the room, having heard your conversation and to check up on you.

You and Daryl peered at each other. The good news was that you were going to be alright, that your baby was going to be alright, but a bit more good news would lift both of your hearts further.

You were going to leave it to be a surprise, but with everything that had just happened, you wanted to know your baby as much as you could before it was born.

So, you turned your head to Denise and nodded.

Denise grabbed a machine as he poured some jelly on your stomach, being wary of your newly dressed wound.

And that's when you heard it. A heartbeat. Your baby's heartbeat.

Daryl squeezed your hand at the sound raising it up to place a kiss on your hand as tears welled up in both of your eyes.

“Well?” you asked Denise.

“This could be dangerous,” Denise suddenly said.

“What?” You said, sudden crippling panic building within you.

“Telling Daryl that he's right. It’s a girl. A strong and healthy girl,” Denise clarified.

You both let out a huge breath as you both giggled. You were having a baby girl. You both couldn't have been happier.

“See. I told ya,” Daryl boasted.

“That you did,” you relented with a smile.

“(Y/N), I'm so sorry,” Daryl admitted.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Denise said, leaving you and Daryl to have a moment together.

“I wanted to go. It's on me,” you confessed.

“Nah, I should’ve protected ya better,” Daryl conceded, his head hanging low.

“You did. You always do. I'm fine, our daughter’s fine. We don’t need to worry about any of that anymore you hear me. We’re together, and going to have a family, we're safe now, that’s all that matters,” you explained to Daryl.

Daryl leaned down and placed a strong kiss on your lips as one hand gently caressed your baby bump.

Fate had intervened once more, helping save you and your baby's lives, with the help of Daryl and Denise.

Fate enabled you to have a family with the love of your life.

And a happy and joyful one it will be too. 

Please leave likes, reblogs, and comments would love to know what you guys think!!!!

Taglist: @crossbowking @seiraswriting @viraloutbreakcontrol @coffee-obsessed-writer @bluesfortheredj @shutupimtryin2write @fearthewalkingbitch  @selenedixon @cbarter @cole-winchester @alyisdead @hopplessdreamer @infinitewcr @blogsporadicartist-blog @mtngirlforever @sassi-luna  @twdsunshine @momc95 @emo-potato-virgil @sourwolf-sterek32 @tatertot1097 @wilhelmjfink @coffeebooksandfandom @twdeadfanfic @cutiepiemimi13 @kickin-with-dixon @feartheendlesssummer @twdeadlysins @apocalypse-haven @baseballbitch116 @trashcanband4 @mblaqi @addiction-surivior25 @mel-2a @spaghettyrogers@xxboesefrauxx @sapphire1727 @little-miss-mischief1 @wontlookaway @bunnymother93 @auntiebyn @saintsisterwriter @theunofficialduke @Lilo-1988 @imaginecrushes 

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl dixon #DarylDixon #daryl dixon fanfic #twd daryl #The Walking Dead #the walking dead fanfiction #twd #twdfanfiction #twd daryl dixon #walking dead fanfiction #reader insert #x reader

[solari-writes-things]

This request I got through my DMs on discord by @tsumethedrifter​!

Prompt - Soulmate 14:  “I didn’t think I could find someone as perfectly matched as you.”

Chibs x Reader

gif not mine, credited underneath

tag list: @crimsonheart01​ @thebookishfeminist​ @supervalcsi​ @sazafraz​ (if you want to be included in the tag list, please message me or comment below!!)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Everybody out.

It’s all you could remember of the fateful night.

The fire, the ear-shattering noise, the screaming. All of that seemed to be a blur as you watched your second home go up in a monochromatic flame that would make Thomas A. Sweatt proud. 

It had been hard to sleep soundly recently, with your Old Man’s promotion to Vice President. He was included in a line of duty that would have him come home late, with blood soaked in his clothes and a must in his leather kutte to match. However, you never expected this.

The clubhouse explosion. Everyone had been in the vicinity that night, since the problem regarding Galen O’Shay hadn’t calmed down in the slightest. Chibs had warned you to keep your wits about you, just in case they ever tried to do anything to you personally.

Instead, the Irish Kings decided to take things up an octave, and almost slaughtered families. Wives, kids, even the entire club.

If he and Jax hadn’t noticed the clover pen, you all would’ve...

No use thinking about what could have happened. This wasn’t the time to scare yourself away. This was the time to embrace Filip, and the choices that he and the club had decided to make. To assure him that you were an unstoppable force, here to support him and everything he did to protect you. To protect his family that dawned the same kutte.

Today was the day of new beginnings. You were donning something simple and flexible: a pair of leggings, a solid black hoodie, and some ratty sneakers that you wore when you would go out for some quick grocery runs. You had borrowed a pair of gloves from Chibs, after he had ensured that they were cleaned and ready to be used for your task at hand. 

Cleaning up the remains of the clubhouse, moving to the new front that Jax had purchased through Jacob Hale.

Signs, the church table, little things that didn’t get burnt by the roaring flames ended up in the back of a moving van lent out by Unser Trucking. Luckily, with most of the boys there and your extra set of hands, it only took you all about two and a half hours to get what you needed out.

You look up at Chibs, who joins your side as Happy closes up the back of the truck. He slings a soot-powdered arm of your shoulders, pulling you by your shoulders to give you a kiss to your temple.

“Thank ya for helpin’, lovey,” he says, his lips still pressed against your hair.

You turn in his arm, placing your hands firmly on his chest and smiling up at him as best as you could. You wouldn’t lie to yourself, sifting through the disaster that was the clubhouse left you in a bit of a harrowing mood.

You wouldn’t dare let it bleed into the inevitable guilt that he was feeling. “Of course. You know I’m always glad to help, Filip.”

You knew that he was feeling very... off, since the clubhouse met it’s unfortunate end. Not that you could fault him, he left Belfast to try to avoid things like this. It wasn’t his fault that Galen couldn’t take SAMCRO’s proposition due to his own racial opinions. However, he felt some sort of responsibility since you were only seconds away from ending up among the rubble.

“That’s why I can’t live without ya, darlin’,” he grins at you. You could tell he was trying to be genuine, and you couldn’t blame him for putting on a bit of a front for you at this time. The wreckage, the thought there could have been bodies among the ash piles, it left everyone with a hole in their heart.

“Come on, babe,” you say as you adjust yourself so his arm rested at his side, wrapping your arms around his bicep. “Let’s get to Scoops. The sooner we get your church in order, the better. Yeah?”

“Aye,” he agrees, turning the both of you toward his bike. You walked in tandem with each other, as you leaned your head against his arm. Once you approached the vehicle in uncomfortable silence, you reluctantly let go and clutched the black helmet he handed you in between your palms.

As you stared at the matte black helmet, you nearly thought about how little of this you could take before you needed to have a conversation with Filip. Just as quickly, you mentally slapped yourself on the back of your head.

None of this was his fault. Chibs was the perfect man, caught in such a volatile situation that was completely out of his control. You remember the tangents that he would go on, coming home from a task he had to peform alongside Jax, venting about how the SAMCRO president would do things behind his back. That Jax didn’t ask him about a topic that Chibs was obviously the most versed in. Jackson could have very well asked Filip about how deep the color hatred ran with the Irish, but he refused.

Going behind Chib’s back was the reason this domino effect even went into play.

So you slip on your helmet with that newfound contempt in your mind, strapping it underneath your chin as you climb onto the back of the bike. Your arms wrapped snugly around Chibs as you pressed against his back, listening to the engine roar with life. He rode out with Jax at his front left and Happy at his immediate left, in formation as the moving vehicle that Rat was driving followed close behind.

-

Luckily, with Scoops being on the main strip, it didn’t take long for you to get to the location.

10 minutes, tops.

Chibs had you get off of his bike in the front of the location, and you immediately took off your helmet to quickly look over the front of the shop. It was quaint, easy on the eyes with its 50s appearance both inside and out. Something small so the boys could safely gather and discuss your next order of business.

You could only hope that this one didn’t end up in flames as well as you pushed through the front of the building once the Mayor had unlocked it, making your way to the back where Rat had put the moving truck.

A couple of the boys followed you through, Happy being the one to help Rat open the back of the truck and lower the slide.

You felt a palm rest on the small of your back, quickly looking up to see Chibs smiling down at you. “Ready to go, darlin’?”

You nod your head, slipping on the gloves that you had tucked into your hoodie pockets and making your way with your old man to the truck.

They were already beginning to pull the table out from the moving vehicle, Chibs jogging himself up to the van so he could help Hap take some of the weight of the large surface.

Slowly, sluggishly, they move the table off of the truck and stare at the staircase that led to the upstairs room their new church was going to be located in. Hap, Chibs, and Rat all heaved the table up so they could carefully make their way up the metal staircase.

You carefully scaled the slide of the moving truck, picking up a couple of signs that you deemed fit for the trek up the stairs, grabbing the bags of nails and a hammer to go along with it.

While the boys did the heavy lifting, you would take prompts from Bobby as to where to hang the decor. As far as you know, he already had a rough idea as to where he wanted to put everything.

You tuck the decorations under your arm and shove the bagged nails into your pocket, moving up the stairs quickly to the door that was propped open for everyone. When you walk in, your eyes are greeted with brick walls and a congregation of patched men all moving the church table to the center of the room.

You feel yourself smile. Sure, this wasn’t the clubhouse. But the hopeful look on their faces made it already feel like a home. A couple of the men walk out to grab more things, and you make your way further inside and put the wall decor somewhere out of the way.

You pull the nails out of your pockets, tossing them on the now settled church table and brandishing your hammer. You pick up one of the wall decorations that lived, dusting off some of the remaining soot on it before extending your arms to scale it around the room.

“Opinion?” you heard your Old Man ask, making you turn around. 

“Yeah, hit me,” you tell him, smiling.

“I think that look perfect right there,” he says, pointing to a section of brown-orange wall over by the door that they would come in at.

You turn to the spot that was pointed out, humming a bit in thought. He had a point. It would be centered perfect, in view for everyone to see when they would sit at church. They would see it when exiting the premises as well.

“Fair enough, Telford,” you joke, grinning at him. “Can you get me a nail?”

He quickly reaches into the bag to bring out a nail for you, following you to the spot so he could help you put up the frame. You took notice, though, as he joined your side that he seemed dismayed while looking at you.

So you peer your head over your shoulders, seeing that the other men were distracted with their own tasks, before returning your attention to him. “Filip, what’s going on?”

He seems to change tune. “Nothin’, lovey.”

You exhale as you straighten the frame on the wall, to make it seem that you were keeping busy. So wandering eyes wouldn’t intrude on your conversation. “Chibs. We’ve been together for awhile, I think I know you. What’s going on?”

He purses his lips as he hands you the nail that he had grabbed for you, knowing that you were continuing with your task so the boys wouldn’t grow curious. “I’m... just feelin’ guilty, [Y/N].”

“About?” you ask as you trade with him, pressing the nail against the section of wall that you were about to hammer into.

“You almost dyin’. Everyone almost dyin’,” he says simply. “The thing that happened at the clubhouse has been eating me alive, sweetheart.”

“Why is that?” you ask simply, your tone just a bit harsh to get your point across. “To be fair, that wasn’t your doing.”

Bang, bang. The hammer hits the nail and its secured into the plaster.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he inquires. “You’re the love of my life. I didn’t think I could find someone as perfectly matched as you, but I almost lost you in two minutes.”

You sigh heavily, hanging up the decoration and attempting to center it. However, before you finish, you turn to Chibs. After surveying the room, and seeing that you had a moment of clearance, you grip the front of his leather jacket and pull him in a bit roughly for a kiss.

The couple seconds of electrified silence earned a pull of your waist, your bodies flush against each other. You pull away, gazing up into his soft brown eyes. “You didn’t lose me. I’m here, helping you set up your new church. I don’t care what happened Filip, as long as I didn’t lose you. We ride this out together. Always.”

#chibs telford #chibs #soa #samcro #solari writes things #imagine

[emily-strange]

Second Chances

So with some encouragement, I thought I’d start the John x reader fic I’ve had in my head for ages! I’m not forgetting about my Micah fic at all, for those who care ;) I just really can’t shake this idea. 

For the premise of this story, Jack is a little bit younger. I just can’t hurt that boy’s feelings!

Summary: You're Sadie Adler’s 18 year old daughter who was visiting from school when the O’Driscolls attack. How will you cope with gang life and your increasing feelings for someone who, on the surface, isn’t up for grabs?

Pairing: John Marston x female reader

Warnings: None

Chapter 1

It’s freezing. The world outside blanketed in snow and ice.

Everyone sits huddled into the small Colter shack covered in blankets and large coats; doing whatever they can to stave off the bitter chill that leaks inside.

Mrs Adler is situated between you and Mary-Beth. She cries into her hands and lets the tears drop freely onto her skirt.

“Mama, you have to try and calm down” you say softly. Only to be met with more wailing. You take a deep breath and make your way to the other end of the shack where John, you think his name’s John, lies in a terrible state after his wolf attack.

You can’t help but sigh and rub your forehead, trying to ease the tension that keeps building. You’re pulled out of your thoughts by a croaky voice.

“Things really that bad?” John quietly asks before letting out a small laugh; followed by a hacking cough. You rush to sit on the little stool near his head and ease him up to help him cough better. After he’s done you lower him back down and smile.

“Oh you know. Been better.” you smile softly and place his freezing hands underneath the blanket that’s draped across him.

“Yeah I bet.” is all he can manage to say before wincing and you decide that a bit of light conversation might be a good distraction for you both.

“I just needed to breathe you know? Grief….it’s suffocating at the best of times let alone when you’re stuck with a bunch of strangers. Not that we ain’t grateful! I’m not saying that. Just….it’s….” you trail off struggling to find the right words but John jumps in with an answer.

“It’s like you’re being crushed.” he says and you give him a small, sad smile.

“Yeah…that’s about right….you know I haven’t even cried yet?” you whisper and hang your head in shame. John reaches out his hand from under the blanket and lightly brushes your hand to get your attention.

“Won’t lie. I don’t know everythin’ that brought ya to us, been kinda out of it. But…don’t beat yaself up so much. Can see it in yer eyes….won’t do no good. Ya doin’ all you can ‘n thatsa nuff.” he says through his broken, chapped lips.

You find yourself drawn to his eyes. Beautifully vibrant eyes that tell you he knows all about beating yourself up. You wonder what happened to him.

You give him a tired smile, “How did someone so wise get beaten by some wolves eh?”

It makes you happy inside to see John smile despite the terrible shape he’s in.

“Nah we’re tha same. Not beaten. Justa bit bruised” he huffs out.

Before you can say anything else, the woman who’s been sitting with your mother the most, bursts through the door with her little boy. If you had to guess you’d say he was about 2 or 3. The topic of children has never been one you’ve been interested in. You usually just nod and smile as people discuss them. You’re happier to actually have a chat with the children rather than the parent.

Abigail storms her way over to John and you jump up and out of the way.

“John” she says rather curtly, “the boy wanted to see ya.”

You look at Jack and to be perfectly honest, the kid doesn’t seem interested in the slightest. He’s looking at the blonde woman who’s sat in the corner drinking with an old man. She’s making faces and little Jack is loving it.

Your attention is snapped back when John answers Abigail. You weren’t aware that they’re a family. In all fairness your mind has been elsewhere the last couple of days.

“Yeah, well, now he’s seen me.” John grumbles at her, not even looking at Jack. You can tell that Abigail is instantly pissed off by this.

“Guess I was hoping to see a corpse!” she shouts before walking Jack away to be in front of the fire.

For a moment you stand shocked at what you’ve just seen. It’s clearly a very messy situation and with everything that’s going on, you’re staying far away from it.

John looks at you and you smile awkwardly before moving back to sit with your mother who collapses onto your shoulder. You put your arms around her and rock her back and forth, like she used to do to you as a child.

You can’t help but notice that John is still straining his neck to look at you before giving up and relaxing into the thin cot underneath him.

Days pass and you move on with the gang. The 'Van der Linde’ gang you learn.

You arrive at Horseshoe Overlook and begin helping unload the wagons. You can hear Miss Grimshaw screaming already and the sound cuts right through you. As you’re carrying a large bag over to one of the tents you see Arthur walking away from Dutch. From what you’ve gathered by listening, and what you’ve been told, Arthur is his right hand man.

The bag is taken from your hands and you look up to see your mother.

“Go on” she motions towards Arthur and you smile; jogging off to catch him before he mounts up.

“Umm excuse me, Mr Morgan?” you call out and he stops, turning to look at you. He genuinely seems like a nice man. Fatherly almost. You’ve not seen him lose his temper yet as you have with the other men. Well, other than kind Hosea of course.

“Yes, Miss Adler, what can I do fer you?” he asks and you smile.

“Y/N. Please.” you say and he nods, saying in that case you’re to call him Arthur. You nod.

“Okay, Arthur. Well I was wondering if you could put in a good word with Dutch for me?” you start, “See, my skills don��t really lie with sewing and washing. I’m happy to do that of course, you’ve all been so kind to me and my mom. I just….I’m a really good hunter.”

“Is that so?” Arthur says smirking, but not unkindly.

“Yeah. Living where we did, I had to be.” you laugh.

You don’t see it, but Arthur looks across the camp and see’s your mother watching you both. She nods and mouths “please”. He subtly nods back.

“Well, hows about this. The woman’ve been yappin’ at me that they’re bored. So when I get back from runnin’ this errand, I’ll take you all inta town 'nd we’ll get some supplies. We’ll go huntin’ and if I like what I see I’ll talk ta Dutch.” he smiles and turns to mount onto his horse.

You smile a real smile for the first time in what feels like forever.

“Thank you Mr..Arthur” you say correcting yourself.

“No problem. Now, go help out before Miss Grimshaw gets ta ya” Arthur chuckles before riding out of camp.

As you walk back toward your mom you hear a grown from inside a large tent. Curiosity gets the better of you and you glance inside to see John struggling to turn over on his cot.

“Hey, need a hand?” you ask quietly as to not make him jump.

“Ya know what. A hand would be mighty helpful” he laughs and you cant help but laugh too when you see the mess he’s gotten himself into trying to get comfortable.

However while entering the tent you can clearly see that John’s only wearing his union suit without the blanket covering him.

“Umm” you clear your throat, “Maybe I should go get Abigail?” you say trying to avoid looking in his general direction. You point outside of the tent and move to exit before John jumps in.

“God, no. Please just….just help me shift downa bit. Please?” John sounds so fragile and you just can’t find it in you to refuse him. You meet his eyes and fight a smile.

“Okay” you say and go over to help him move down the cot. He gets his legs into a comfortable position and holds onto your arm while you use your other one to support his upper-back. Once John’s comfy you find yourself just watching his relaxed face.

“Ah thanks. Much better.” he sighs and you smile.

You take a moment to study John in the light of his open tent. The scars on his face are healing well but still look sore and angry, as do his bruises. He looks almost frail. There wasn’t much to eat up in the mountains, everyone seems a bit gaunt but having been missing for so long John seems to be the worst.

John snaps you out of your trance.

“Haven’t seen much of ya.” he notes.

“Um, yeah, you know. Its all been a bit manic” you laugh humorlessly.

“I was uh, kinda worried Abigail said sumthin’ to ya.” he adds awkwardly.

That takes you aback.

“What? Um no….no she hasn’t said anything” you say quickly while glancing through the gap in the tent flaps. You can see Abigail ushering Jack into their newly designated area of camp. Your eyes snap back to John as he manages to prop himself up on his elbows.

“He….he ain’t mine.” he starts and you find yourself fiddling with your hands, “She tells everyone he is. 'nd I got nothin’ against the kid but….he ain’t mine.”

This really is none of your business. But you can’t help the feeling of butterflies in your stomach.

“Why…why would she lie?” you ask quietly but before he can answer, the flaps of the tent are pulled open.

“John!” Abigail shouts before coming to a sudden halt in front of you. Your eyes go wide and you can’t help but stutter like a child who’s been caught stealing candy.

“I…was just helping…John….but I um” you say quickly.

“But you was just leavin'” Abigail finishes for you which John admonishes her for.

“Abby for God’s sake” he starts but you cut him off.

“No, I was just leaving. B…bye John.” you say even quicker and give a clearly angry Abigail a small, awkward smile as you sneak past her. She doesn’t give you any extra room so you have to make yourself as small as possible to get past.

Soon as you’re on the other side of the tent she drops the flaps and starts whispering harshly to John. You stand for a few seconds trying to work out what they’re saying before you give up and make your way over to your mom.

“You okay baby?” your mom asks when you join her on a large rock just outside camp.

“Oh yeah. Fine.” you sigh and rub your tired face.

“You weren’t made to be cooped up like this” your mom says before she starts crying again, “I’m sorry this happened”.

“Oh mama don’t say that” you say before hugging your mother tight, “We’ll be okay.”

You hold your mother as she cries. Rocking her back and forth, all the while watching as Abigail storms back out of John’s tent. She catches your eye and you look away from her. You can’t deal with all this drama right now. You have to get yourself back on your feet; to start rebuilding your mothers life. The one that was so cruelly taken from her.

“We’ll be okay,” you repeat quietly.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #john marston #rdr2 john #rdr2 john marston #john marston x reader #arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur morgan #rdr2 sadie adler #rdr2 sadie #sadie adler #rdr2 tag #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfic

[mousart]

Sketchbook 2019 Fall 2019, some friends and I were tasked with writing a horror story based on individually given prompts. These prompts were generated by us picking a bunch of numbers and the host has some sort of weird spreadhseet they used. Anyhow, here was my prompt

The protagonist is a disgraced paladin trying to use the legendary philosopher's stone to destroy an unethical biotech corporation. However, a sapient horse seeking to achieve immortality stands in their way. Their quest has taken them to a crumbling gothic mansion in the middle of nowhere, and everything about it feels dreadfully off in a way they can't describe. You must write the protagonist having a conversation with an ally.

Clop “GNNRRAG!H” “It really is true what they say,” “Stop it!” Crash “Shut up!” Wham! “When all you got is a hammer,” “Shutupshutupshutupshutup!” Whack Whack Thwack Crack! “Every problem looks like a fail!” “STOP USING THEIR VOICE!” The grey rotting walls had been turned to splinters, the creaking hardwood floor a spotted mess of shattered wood. The only sound was remnants of a damaged home settling from assault, and Lakshmi’s breathing. Each breath haggard and dead in the air as her eyes glowed hot white as she wildly swiveled her head. This old dusty hall seemed endless and amongst the abandoned pedestals of books in impressive glass displays, she could not remember the last time she had seen an exit. Her smooth long dark purple tail was stiff in the air as she crouched on the balls of her feet. The room was so still. The world was so still. Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop. The rhythmic trotting sound didn’t stop. It echoed and reverberated when nothing else did. Where was it. Where was the beast that made her blood frigid? “Sh-Show yourself you monster!” Lakshmi shouted. “What a joke! What kinda rogue would I be if I went around showing people who I was?” “Stop! Stop Using their voice!” Lakshmi screamed, every muscle in her body seemed to be tensing all at once. The grip on her hammer and shield so tight, underneath her gauntlets her knuckles were a pale magenta, tight against her skin. “I’m only usin’ the words they know, sweetheart. Ain’t you more comfortable? It’s just us, pal! Just you n’ me!” Lakshmei refrained from spitting a reply. “What did you do to them!?” Lakshmei screamed again, continuing to scan the area. But her action was in vain. Before her and behind her stretched nothing but dark lonely hall. She knew that she couldn’t stand here forever. It was exactly what she would never do. Slowly. Stiffly. She took her first step. Forward? Maybe. It’s funny. How did she even get here? In the middle of this hall?

“This is it. Spook central, population: zilch,” Carry-On said, scratching the craggy landscape with their bare toes . “What could those people need in a place like this?” Lakshmi muttered as she tapped her claw against her lower lip. “Yeah, all the money in the world and they wanna get their crummy mitts on this dump?” Carry-On sniffed and spat on the old wooden steps that led up to the aged porch. The pair stood before a mansion that was shaped like an abandoned dream of grandeur, left to languish in obscurity after neglect and regret. This was the next clue in Lakshmi���s sole crusade against the DNAlchemy Corporation and every step she took in that journey pained her spirit as much as it invigorated her. “I don’t have a doubt in my mind that the researcher that lived here was working on the stone!” Lakshmi said with a raised fist. “Ya know sweetheart, maybe outta consider havin’ more doubts,” Carry-On said with a cheeky grin. But Lakshmi ignored this and started making her way to the mansion door. Carry-On’s pupils shrank and swiftly clapped their paw on Lakshmi’s pauldron. She stopped immediately and turned to see Carry-On’s quivering muzzle and grimace of anxiety. “What’s the meaning of this…?” Lakshmi asked patiently, foot slowly tapping on one of the porch steps. “Hey pal, maybe we oughta, like, take it easy with this one. Be all caution-like, ya know?” “Carry-On, I have never known you to avoid stepping in. Anywhere.” Lakshmi said with a deadpan only an old friend could convey. “You have never met a premises you wouldn’t hesitate to trespass.” “Ain’t got proof a’ that,” Carry-On lied. “I’mma legitimate rogue, ya know!” “Changing the subject will not stop me. What’s wrong?” Lakshmi said as her eyes narrowed. She stared straight into Carry-On’s big silver eyes that seemed to shiver under gaze. Carry-On had to flinch. “It’s.. I can smell it,” Carry-On said as their big black wet nose twitched. “It’s beat us here…I can smell it…” Lakshmi’s eyes widened. She knew what Carry-On meant. The beast was here. The beast that escaped from that village they had tried to save. The village was saved, but not by them. Not directly. But the girl who did most of the work would never be the same. That girl was banished. And for her aide, so was Lakshmi, but from something much greater than the village. Would she ever again be able to kneel before the order again? And raise her hammer in righteous glory for the honor of good deeds and the smiteing of wrong action? Would she ever see the swelling pride of her grand cardinal and award her a parish for her distributing justice? Not while the beast was out there. “Then we have to go in!” Lakshmi finally shouted. “We don’t have a choice anymore!” Carry-On’s fluffy tail stiffened right up as they put both paws on Lakshmi’s shoulders. “We can’t go in there! You’re scared outta freakin’ mind out here!” “Don’t you dare project on me!” “I ain’t projettin’ nothin’! After all the otha’ times I know ya’ scared!” “Then let me face my fear in defiance of that creature!” They breathed heavily, staring dead eyed at each other as they got their frustrations out. Then they both slouched and turned to face the mansion. Lakshmi drew her hammer, hanging it from her hand by its strap. Its handle was short but its head was huge and square like a sledgehammer. Carry-On loosened the buttons on their vest and started subbing their claws against it. “I’m wit’ ya, but I don’t like it,” Carry-On said with a resigned grin. “You never do,” Lakshmi said, not at all matching the smile and instead marching straight to the mansion door. “Yeah, I’m a real pal like that. Maybe more than you,” Carry-On grunted sarcastically as they brought up the rear. The front door wasn’t much to look at, it almost stood out in how unmarred it was. Lakshmi reached to open it, but as though it had read her thoughts, it turned inward and opened its maw to a purple grey foyer. Before them was a double staircase, half of it rotted into a massive hole that hopefully led to the basement. The other side was just a little rickety and blanketed with cobwebs and dust. Which could be said for the high ceiling with its cracked hanging chandelier, the balcony that surrounded the upstairs like a cage, and the doors that presumably led to whatever else this house had to offer. It was a surprise it had any illumination at all, but the windows weren’t boarded up or shuttered. This fact was the only reason why they could tell the walls were lined wall-to-wall with books. Thousands upon thousands of them, as though the building was made to house them rather than people. “Nerd den,” Carry-On muttered as they ventured into the house. “Only nerds would research the stone,” Lakshmi replied with a shrug. Once the two were fully in the house, the door behind them suddenly slammed. The two didn’t flinch. They just looked back at the door and then back at each other. “Real cliche,” Lakshmi said with the contempt of a literary snob. “I could write a betta’ movie than this,” Carry-On agreed. Nnnneeeiiighghhrrrr In an instant Lakshmi and Carry-On were in each other’s arms, looking around the room. “It’s here… truly here…” Lakshmi said trying very hard not to shake as her heart was trying to escape her throat. “I toldjya I toldjya!” Carry-On barked back with their tail between their legs. Clop Clop Clop Clop “It’s moving,” Lakhsmi said. The pair let go of each other and Lakshmi skillfully twirled the hammer around her wrist and gripped its handle tight. “We have to find it!” “The Thing or tha’ papers ‘bout this crummy-ass stone?” Carry-On said with a shudder. “One will lead to the other,” Lakshmi said. “And the Philosopher’s Stone is not “crummy-ass”.” she added with a huff. “It’s gotta be if the DNAss Corp and the… Thing, want it…” “If the legends are true then power granted by the Philosopher’s Stone would be catastrophic to all!” Whiiiiiiiiiinrnrnrnnnrnn The call echoed through the house soundlessly. Lakshmi and Carry-On froze again. “Why is it freakin’ doin’ that,” Carry-On asked in a hushed whine. “Maybe it hears us. Maybe it is close to the knowledge of the stone. Either way, we cannot dally. We can smite this wrong together!” Lakshmi replied with her voice vibrating as she couldn’t get the creature’s noise from repeating in her head. “Spoken like a true pal.” There was no indication of life had dwelled here in decades. Which meant that DNAlchemy hadn’t raided the building yet. But it wouldn’t be long. They had scanned the walls of books in the foyer but there was nothing of interest. It was an extremely well maintained library of possibly every book on the subject of every element on the periodic table of elements. The second floor of the foyer was walls of books about alchemy. It was all very academic, very boring, every book seemed to look like a textbook or research paper from who knows when. What was not boring was the layers upon layers of dust. What was very clear was how undisturbed this house was. It was very still, save for the occasional insect and the breeze coming in from the more damaged windows. No people in a long time. No signs of the creature either. But it was definitely here. There was no way it wasn’t. It had to be. That’s what Lakshmi thought as she scanned the books. She was lucky she could focus at all on this detective work when it was in there with them. Somewhere. But she couldn't’ dwell. She had to keep the faith. The faith that would guide her to smiting wrong action. It was what she had left after the excommunication. It was so frustrating how the order couldn’t see her fulfilling her duty as one of their active practitioners. All they saw was a big mistake that saved a village, and then wrong action against no action at all. It was wrong to preemptively strike. That was true, Lakshmi knew that and believed that in her core. But what does one do when you find plans and schemes? When the machinations come from a company? And no direct action can be found? When there’s no clear persons to stop? Answers her cardinals couldn’t give her. Why did she help that girl? Well the why was obvious. The town was being attacked. Her name was Deb. She was lanky, maybe 17, wore strange old-fashioned clothing from another world, and had markings around and under her eyes. But those markings weren’t there when they first met. Lakshmi could see her clear as day, an almost blank dreamy expression but there was more going on behind those eyes. Deb smiled. Lakshmi jumped with a sharp intake of breath, squeezing her battlehammer. What was she doing here? Where did she come from? “D… Deborah Castman?” Lakshmi said slowly, grip on her hammer loosening. Deb tilted her head to the side and smiled wider. “What are you.. How did you get here?” “Sumthin’ tha matta’?” Carry-On called from the other side of the upper foyer. “It’s The girl from the village! It’s Deb, she’s here!” “What? What’re you talkin’ about, I don’t smel-,” Deb had run off towards the stairs. Lakshmi gave chase. “What’s goin’ on? Whaddaya doin’!?” And Carry-On gave chase as well. Deb glided down the stairs and made her way into a side hall and Lakshmi was desperately right on her. She followed Deb straight through and the door slammed behind her. There was a low thud and sudden “oof”. Lakshmi stopped and looked back to see the shut door and she ran back to it. She pulled on the handle and shook it back and forth, the door rattling as she tried. It wouldn’t budge. “What’s the big idea? Lemmie in!” Carry-On shouted as they banged on the door. “You think I’m not trying?” Lakshi retorted as she slammed on the door with her gauntlet. What was it made of? It should have been regular old wood, right? Clop Clop Clop. Clop. “OPEN THE FREAKIN’ DOOR! IT’S HERE” Carry-On shrieked, slams on the door becoming more and more desperate. “NO! NO!” Lakshmi wailed as she raised her hammer and bludgeoned the door’s handle with a loud CLANKS. Tearing it down one massive chunk at a time. All the while Carry-On still banging on that door. “Get away! GET AWAY FROM ME YA FREAK! GET OUTTAAAUG-.” Silence. Lakshmi raised her hammer above her head and didn’t hesitate. Saving the one from the wrongs of the other. Right Action. “Light The Path To Wrongs. Benthandorf Unleash Right!” Lakshmi called to the god of her order. The order didn’t believe in her. But she didn’t need them to do this. Her faith was strong and she could feel it in the glow of her hand and hammer as she brought it down and the door blew clear forward off its hinges. The door soared and landed into a darkened hall with no window light to guide the way. Lakshmi rushed in. Right over the ruins of the door she destroyed. Stomping past doors and books. Breathing. Searching. Where. Where? Her eyes glowed white. The dark was no problem for demons like her. She could see the way but not what she was searching for. The hall seemed to keep going. And… Wasn’t this supposed to be the foyer? She slowed down as the thought dawned on her. Where was she? Where was- Deb? Deb was standing before Lakshmi again, the strange kid seemingly unaffected by the dark. Then she heard a voice. And she knew that voice. But didn’t know where it came from. “Sweetheart!” “Carry-On?” Lakshmi shouted into the ceiling. Where had the voice come from? “You’re gettin’ cold. N’ warm at the same time. Lemmie see if you rememba’ this.” Clop Clop Clop Clop Lakshmi stopped breathing. “You.” She said. “That’s right, pal!” “D-don’t call me that. Y-yyou havve no privilege to call me that!” Lakshmi screeched. “Whateva’ ya say, sweetheart.” Then the thing laughed. But it wasn’t Carry-On’s laugh. It was a huffed snort. Brugh Brugh Brugh Not the voice of a human. Not the voice of a werewolf. “Nice ta’ see you both drop by. I actually needed a pair a’ hands to help me out. Ain’t easy goin’ through secret labs when ya’ shaped like I am.” “Happy to be of service,” Lakshmi said through gritted teeth. She was a little calmer now. This meant that Carry-On was still alive somewhere “It is my duty to serve.” “Oh and I thought this hairy thing I got was the sarcastic one, but you got some bite. Speakin’ a which.” Clop Lakshmi turned around and faced Deb again, who had her blank smile. “This chick from the village where we first met. Oh the things you helped her do. Bet ya’ Benthandorfians didn’t like that. Tsk tsk tsk. Ameteur sealing magic like that? With a minor? How could ya do such a thing! With you supposed to be upholdin’ them rules n’ all?” “What choice did we have? Your creator’s monster was unstoppable in short notice!” Lakshmi cried, burning with the memory. Why did she help the girl why didn’t she just wait? Or find backup? Why that choice of all others? “Now her people’s thrown her out. Who knows when that thing will come outta her again n’ rampage? You could have a real chickzilla on ya hands at any time. N’ it’d be all. Your. Fault. Some pal you turned out to be.” “Shut up!” Lakshmi roared. “No.” Clop “You shut up.” There was an inhuman bellow from behind Lakshmi and she knew it instantly. She she broke into a cold sweat as she slowly turned and saw a monster where Deb once stood. And Monster was accurate, lacking any specific animal analogues. Such was the point of its creation. Four squinting eyes glowed red with their sights aimed directly at Lakshmi. Under its eyes were black markings. The same under Deb’s eyes. Lakshmi drew her shield. The monster that was Deb lunged forward, teeth and a pair of lower tusks gaped at Lakshmi. She could fit her whole head in there. She raised the shield and the beast slammed into it but didn’t flinch. Lakshmi was just flung aside. She hit a wall and cracked the wood and plaster. But she was still on her feet, shield upright. Thank the smiths for light platemail. That didn’t stop her from feeling rattled. As she stopped seeing stars, Deb swung her long bladed tail. It embedded itself deep in the wall right next to Lakshmi’s pointed air. She heaved and moved away from the hulking mass. Deb bellowed again and swiped to reach for Lakshmi with her long claws. Lakshmi swung her shield in response, deflecting the swipes. But every hit pushed her back and her shield was denting with every hit. She tried to look for an opening in the assault. Between the claws and tusks, finding somewhere to hit was essentially impossible. But she had the right distraction. Lakshmi jumped back from the latest swipe of the claw and flung her shield into the beast’s face. Surely a mindless monster wouldn’t see that coming. Didn’t matter. The shield was shorn into ribbons with a single swipe. Lakshmi was defenseless. But not offenseless. She dove in with her hammer as the beast yelled and she yelled in response. As she went in to strike, she saw four purple eyes. Human eyes. And hesitated. She hit the wall and was on the floor. Hammer still in hand. As she looked, the beast that was Deb placed its foot on her chest and screeched in her face. Prevent the wrong action of murder. Right Action. She gripped her hammer tight and stared Deb in the face. “Prevent The Act of Wrongs! Benthandorf Defend Right!” Lakshmi declared. Her faith was strong. She knew what to do. So why wasn’t it working. Her eyes widened. She panicked. She looked at her hammer. The holy power... Where was it? She had kept the faith, hadn’t she? She defied the order but never Bethandorf’s will! Unless… She… “Screwed up on that one. Looks like you finally fell outta ya’ god’s favor. Maybe ‘cause you were about to murder a kid you screwed up ya’self!” No. This can’t be. She was good. It’s all she knew how to do. Only that and… Surviving. This was frustrating. It was tiring. And she was going to die. And so would Carry-On… Flames burst from her fingers. She let go of her hammer and let the fire consume both hands. Here she was, relying on the power of a god of an order that betrayed her. Completely ignoring her mortal power. The kind that came from a devil demon. Lakshmi screamed. The flames engulfed. The flames extinguished. Deb was gone. There was nothing left. The hall was scorched. And Lakshmi was on her knees. Why? Just because her friend was in danger? Did it justify this? Did it? “No.” DID IT? “NO!” Lakshmi cried. She was selfish, she thought. To save herself. She had to destroy the life of this teenaged girl. She looked over and saw her hammer laying on the ground. What right did she have to wield it? It was all she had left. She had to leave. She took the hammer. And slammed the hammer head into the floor. And she prayed. One last time. Or she would. If any of it felt right. How could she do that? How could she have been so powerful on her own to burn a living creature with no trace? Unless. It wasn’t real. Clop She was on the floor in the middle of the hall. She was fine. Unharmed. Mostly. Her hammer and shield were in hand and her back hurt. The walls were covered in dents and there were two scorch marks on the floor where her hands were. So she imagined it? Deb? The fight? Her body was flailing at ideas? Clop “Imaginatin’? If that’s what you wanna call just a bit of what I can do! ” Clop “GRAAAR!” Lakshmi roared as she swung her hammer into the wall with splintering force and a Crack! Clop “N’ all you do is just violence ya’ way into anythin’!” Clop “GNNRRAGH!” Whack! “It really is true what they say,” “Stop it!” Crash “Shut up!” Wham! “When all you got is a hammer,” “Shutupshutupshutupshutup!” Whack Whack Thwack Crack! “Every problem looks like a fail!” “STOP USING THEIR VOICE!” Lakshmi wailed, her ever haggard breath hung dead in the air as her eyes glowed hot white as she wildly swiveled her head. Where was the exit? There had to be an exit! It maybe an abandoned mansion, but it still had to make sense. Why was the room was so still. Why was the world so still? Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop. “Sh-Show yourself you monster!” Lakshmi shouted as her blood ran cold from the sound. “What a joke! What kinda rogue would I be if I went around showing people who I was?” “Stop! Stop Using their voice!” Lakshmi screamed, tired of this mockery of Carry-On. “I’m only usin’ the words they know, sweetheart. Ain’t you more comfortable? It’s just us, pal! Just you n’ me!” “What did you do to them!?” Lakshmei screamed again. She breathed. It was strange. How the air had to taste. How still it was. Almost as though… It was never there at all. She sighed. “I’m sick of these mind games.” Clop “I never lost my faith at all.” Clop “I’m waking up.” ClopClopClop “Light The Path To Wrongs!” ClopClopClopClopClopClopClopClopClopClopClop “Benthandorf Reveal Right!” From above a light shot down like a bolt from the blue and struck Lakshmi’s raised hammer. It shone with the holy light of her righteousness. She would know the truth. Even if no one else did. And the world around her changed. The damage done to the house in the previous visions was there. But she was back at the center of the foyer. She looked up and watched as her faith led her eye up the stairs. And there was her friend at long last. And there was her tormentor at long last. It was grotesque. A hulking beast twice the size of its typical species. Four delicate hooves and forelegs that led up to four grotesquely bulged thighs. A body the size of two barrels haphazardly put together. The color of a barrel too. A long black whipping tail with that moved lazily in the light. The front was the worst part. It’s where the neck should have been. And it technically was a neck, the neck that looked like a hunched over human torso made from more bulging veins and muscle than should be allowed to exist in this world. And to think that it was once a horse. This all lead up to the head. Its face. Long, horse-like, almost ordinary except in how unusually round it was before the protrusion of the muzzle. The ears were too low on the head, like a human’s. But the eyes were uncannily on the sides where they were supposed to be if this thing was truly a horse. Lakshmi looked into the eyes and gasped. And then grimaced. Because the eyes were big and silver. So she looked to see her friend on the beast’s back. The scruffily well dressed Carry-On whose body was slightly limp but still steady on the creature. On Carry-On’s eyes were like that of an animal. But the wrong animal. The socket was almost filled to the brim with blackness. The thing that was Carry-On’s head lazily angled itself towards Lakshmi with a goofy grin. “Hey sweetheart, how’s it been!” It was Carry-On’s voice but it was definitely not Carry-On. The only difference was that now it was real instead of the psychic echoes that were playing with her mind. “I gotta say, ya’ friend here has been the best at helpin’ me find the right books. Looks like this dump don’t got it all, but it’s got just enough to get to the next step.” the beast chuckled, using Carry-On’s body to hold 3 small tomes. “To making the Philosopher’s Stone…” Lakshmi said gravely. “You think I won’t stop you?” “Afta’ this pitiable show I don’t gotta worry ‘bout you. You ain’t ever gonna stop bein’ afraid of me. I make you lose your faith, and the Benthandorfian Order ain’t helpin’ you. Neitha’s ya friend right now that I got ‘em.” the beast snorted again. Lakshmi swung back to toss her hammer but paused mid-swing. The beast and Carry-On never flinched. “You ain’t ever gonna risk that. You wouldn’t be a real pal if you hurt your friend doing nothing wrong right now.” At that last comment, Lakshmi’s head erupted in flame. “You will never use my friend’s mouth to utter that word!” She yelled as fire leaked from her mouth with every word. “No one, especially you, has earned that right! No one else, after every mistake I’ve made to fight DNAlchemy and you, has believed me a true Paladin but Carry-On.” “You rational entities and your sentimental pride,” the beast whinnied with disgust, spitting those last two words with its actual horse mouth. “I think I might keep this vessel. Always good to have opposable thumbs.” Lakshmi released the handle of her hammer and grabbed the strap. “Not if I have anything to do with it,” She muttered. She spun the hammer around on its strap and raised it high, turning and turning into a blur of light. Her faith was strong and she knew that she was right. Psychic slavery. Robbing of personal autonomy. Wrong Action. “BENTHANDORF!”

#Artists on Tumblr #Drawings #Art #Traditional Art #original characters #horse #werewolf #devil #devil demon #horror #story #fantasy #paladin #rogue #body horror #concept art #sketch #sketches #sketchbook

[jackielikestea]

The villain I appear to be (A kiribaku fic)

The villain I appear to be

Summary: Inspired by Diamond Jack and the game series Sly Cooper.

Sometimes when I

Wanna run away and hide

When there's no one on my side

And all my pride had disappear

I take it off my mind

And leave it all behind

Nothin' left to do but

Try to take the leap and follow through

And that's exactly what I'll do

I watch carefully over the crowd as I walk glasses of wine to the table I was “severing” as Todoroki spoke softly in my ear piece.

“Remember, Bakugou we only get one shot at this. Iida ran the numbers again you only have a hour and a half to collect the diamond and get out of there.”

I tilt my head down and moving my lips as little as possible a whisper into the mouth piece.

“I know half n’ half, in fact.” My eyes lock onto the elder man who I knew after running over the guest list and researching the Plaza with Iida, was the owner.

“I just made eyes on my way in. Be ready with that helicopter.”

“I’m the get away driver, so you saying that is redundant, as is me telling you to be careful. If you’re not we’ll be forced to send Izuku in.” IcyHot ended our connection, threat though clear in his voice, he didn’t want things too get crazy.

I set the severing tray down at the table and quickly gave the two girls that were dinning my most charming smirk as I give them their glasses.

“I’ll be right back to take your order.” I promise them both not keeping my attention on either one of them for two long.

I act like I was going to walk back to the kitchens, but turn quickly as soon as another blond waiter walks by me and quickly follow where the owner had slipped down the hallway with his “guest.”

A young woman probably half his age if not more. She had been seen recently at a ballet and at a grand opening of a museum with him, so I have a pretty safe bet of where he’s taking her.

I watch behind shadows as the two talk quietly in front of one of the archways to another room, one that said it displays some of the world’s most precious treasures.

There’s only one entrance which is currently being blocked by money bags and his date, so I’ll have to find another way to get in. As I consider my options I notice a security officer quickly walking up to the owner and grabbing his and his date’s attention. Well beggars can’t be choosers.

I use this distraction to sneak my way into the room and from there it’s easy. A quick and small explosion underneath the display of the world’s rarest diamond; and the only security system that Iida couldn’t hack into, and disable is gone, leaving me to open the display and grab the rock, slipping it into my tuxedo jacket, and then quickly rush out of the room while everyone else was distracted.

“Ground Zero, have you got what you came for? Cause we have a situation.” Iida asked over the head set.

“Who do you take me for, of course I got it, and what have you nerds done now!? Don’t tell me you don’t have me a ride?” I hissed into the mic as I walked into the kitchen fully prepared to grab a severing tray and walk out. Just like we planed.

“Kirihsima Eijiro better known as Red Riot, is on the premise. It would seem if someone has tipped him off. He’s outside the building, with at least a dozen cops.”

“Shit.” Tall, strong, and handsome wasn’t in the plan tonight. Before I could actually respond to Glasses, the alarms went off over head.

“I guess they just found the empty display case. I’ll take care of this.” I told him as I picked up a severing tray.

“No Bakugou! We need to discuss this properly! What if we need to send Midoriya in after you?!” Iida yelled and I could just imagine him being all 90 degree angles.

“Don’t. I’ve got this.” I promise him before turning down the head piece so I couldn’t hear him yelling.

I walk back into the dinning room holding a severing tray up shoulder length. Now I just need to set it down and make it out the door as casually as possible. No one will look twice at a waiter getting off his shift. I kept my eyes focus toward the door, which is why I saw him before he saw me.

Kirishima rushed right by me headed toward the kitchens, before slowing down and turning to look at me. I turned my head to follow him, so now we were now staring at each other. His eyes trace down my body before coming back up to my face as if to check and see if I was really me.

I smirk once his eyes finally met mine, before dropping the tray I was holding and sprinting toward the door.

“Shit! Bakugou?!?” I heard him yell as he began to chase me.

I use my quirk to help me move faster through the halls, and it also provided some cover so that I could lose Kirishima. Since I was on the second story of the building I knew that the police had probably blocked off the bottom of the stairwell and all the exits. As I blast my way down the hall my eyes lock on a window. Perfect.

I used my quirk to keep the glass from cutting me as I jump through the window and another to boost my distance. I look down below me seeing the police outside the Plaza and Red Riot out there with them.

“Get hard, Shitty Hair!” I yell as I come down, my foot landing on Kirishima head which he had harden just in time. I push off it, and tuck and roll forward, pushing my body up and exploding my way forward, ducking and dodging my way around cops and a handsome hero’s hands.

I heard the gun discharge before I notice the officer who pulled it and shot a explosion toward the asshole who took the shot. Through it I could hear Kirishima yell at the officer that I was suppose to be taken in for questioning. I use this unplanned distraction as a way to lose them as I slipped into a casino.

I hid behind some of the machines as Kirishima and the officers rush in. I watch as Kirisihima looks around, before saying something to the other officers who disperse and went further into the casino. Kirishima walks down the aisle where I was hiding behind the slot machines. I slip out from behind them and made my way further in the casino. My eyes find this little old lady playing the slots so I walk beside the machine and hit it, hearing the siren go off announcing that there was a winner. I hope that would draw a crowd and hopefully keep the police busy.

As I took the diamond out to make sure it was still unharmed some guy bumped into my back making me fumble with it until I had to go over a unused blackjack table to catch it. Only to land in front of five cops all staring at me.

I smirk at them as I grab the red currant hanging next to me, and throwing them in front of me as I jump onto the ledge outside the widow.

I ran quickly realizing that I couldn’t use my quirk without severely damaging the ledge or sending my self off of it. I turn the corner of the building, running as hard as I could before jumping onto the building’s sign and onto a lower ledge.

My eyes widen as a helicopter round the corner of the building where I was standing with Kirishima hanging out of it with a megaphone.

“Give me the diamond Bakugou!” The gel in his red hair seem to be losing its hold as stay pieces blew around his face.

I smirk as I held up the diamond in question. “You know I usually have to take guys to dinner before they ask me for a diamond, but for you I’ll make an exception.”

Even though it was dark I could tell that Kirishima’s cheeks had darken just like they had high school.

“Bakugou, please. Just give me the diamond, and come with me. Let’s talk about this.” He pleaded as he held out his hand for me to put the diamond in.

I almost hated how even now Kirishima just asking something of me made me want to do it. I guess maybe I hadn’t change that much either since high school.

I reached my hand out holding the diamond and let Kirishima place his hand on it, just as his palm touched it I quickly covered it with my other hand and used his arm to swing and land on a balcony between two buildings.

“Damn it Bakugou!” I heard him yell as I ran farther down. I saw a teenage get into a old pickup truck and I quickly jumped down between the two walls and landed in the tailgate, just as it started to drive off.

I waited a good ten minutes before looking up to see which way I was headed, when I realized I was out of the city and was on a bridge. I stood up and leaped off the back of the truck using my quirk to keep me from coming down as hard. I begin to walk further down the bridge.

“Todoroki, you there?” I ask into my mic which by some miracle stayed on.

“Been here the whole time, did you manage to get Red’s number or are you waiting to be detained first?”

“I want you to remember this conversation the next time you and Deku are in the field together and I’m the one safely tucked away, making smart ass comments.”

“Noted, I have a lock on your location and I’m headed there now, anything else you wanna add?”

I take the diamond out of my jacket and pull hard at the face of it so that it would pop off. Hearing the clicking nose it made my eyes lock onto the bomb that was counting down in this hollow out toy.

“Yeah, anyway you could be here in less than ten minutes?” I asked as I watched the red numbers count itself down. I pulled the bomb free holding it in my hand.

“Bakugou Katsuki!” A voice yelled out.

My senses were flooded as blue and red lights came over the bridge and surround me. Kirishima and probably half the police force stepped out.

“You should have just come with me.” Kirishima said as he walks toward me.

“And risk missing seeing your pretty face under the pale moonlight? Never.” I watch as Kirishima harden his body and it really shouldn’t be as attractive as it was.

I move quick to dodge the officers that rush toward me as I made my way to the other side of the bridge. I didn’t need to set off any explosions with the bomb being out of its “case” so I put it in my jacket pocket, trading it out for its now hollow casing.

Kirishima grabbed my arm straightening it toward the sky and I notice then he has quirk canceling handcuffs in his other hand. I stuck my hand that has the diamond in it over the side of the bridge.

“Let me go or I drop it.” I said to him.

“If you drop it I’ll be force to cuff you and take you in.” He threaten not lowering the cuffs.

I didn’t have time for this. Technically none of us did and if I was right I could faintly hear the sound of a approaching chopper.

“If I drop it will be lost forever, and you’ll have one less vigilant on the street, but be down a priceless artifact. Which do you think the city would rather have?” I asked.

Crimson eyes glared into mine. I knew this was a gamble, but I need Kirishima to let me go and back away. After a moment Kirishima sighs, released my arm, and backed away, the rest of the officers following his lead.

I kept my eyes hard until they were far enough away, then gave Kirishima a small smile as I toss the diamond to him, before taking a running leap toward them using a small explosion to help me over them.

I jump up onto one of the eighteen wheelers use for the road block and onto the top, grabbing the rope hanging off the side of the helicopter.

Todoroki flew up to the tallest beam of the bridge and I quickly jumped off running to the other side of it and throwing the bomb as hard as I could. Watching as it got a good distance away before exploding over the water.

I glance down at the officers in blue, but my eyes lock onto the only red dot among them. While everyone else was staring where the bomb exploded, Kirishima was looking up at me.

“Alright, that’s enough heart eyes for one night. Blow him a kiss Katsuki and let’s go.” Todoroki said.

“Get fucked. I’m going to remember all of this next time Deku decides to wear leggings casually around the safe house.” I promise him as I walk over to the rope and grabbing on.

I hear IcyHot huff as I start to climb up the rope. “At least my crush doesn’t try to arrest me every time we met.”

I pull myself into the copper and take the seat next to him. I took off my headset and jacket before looking at him.

“Right which is why it’s so pathetic that you two don’t just go on a date already.” I tell him blandly.

The temperature drops dramatically and I couldn’t help but smirk knowing that I could get under his skin so easily.

“Just for that. I’m telling Iida that you gave Kirisihima the casing for the bomb.”

“Go ahead.” I reply putting my hands behind my head. “I remove the bomb from the Plaza, in my opinion our work is done. It’s up to the cops to find out why it was there in the first place.”

I could hear Todoroki sighing not wanting to explain why it was in fact important that we know and I’m sure Iida will tell me anyways. I decide to let my eyes drift close as thoughts of red hair, crimson eyes, and a smile that looked like sunshine filled my head.

Movin' along, no I won't settle down

I don't have the time to tell you

Why I do the things that I do

Just please hold on and soon you'll see

That I'm not the villain I appear to be

Movin' along, no I won't settle down

Until I'm locked behind bars or I'm kicked outta town

So you can keep on a runnin' around and around

But you will never quite catch up to me!

And I know you think I'm crazy

But I hope that maybe

Now you'll see why

I had to try!

Author’s note: I really hope you guys enjoyed this. I really enjoyed writing it! I recently watched Diamond Jack and it reminded me of the game Sly Copper I use to play as a kid and I started to see how the vigilante in Diamond Jack moved like Bakugou. And the fic was born. Let me know if you would like to see another I have a few more ideas not only with kiribaku but with Tododeku as well.

Hope y’all have a great rest of the day.

#bhna #my hero academia #diamond jack #kirishima eijirou #katsuki bakugou #kiribaku #bakugou x kirishima #todoroki shouto #tododeku #iida tenya #midoriya izuku #deku midoriya #sly cooper inspired #jackiewritesafic

[extrxmegxnius]

//Closed starter for @questionablemalice!

The drop-off site B had chosen sat in the back of a dark, disused alley tucked away in the heart of Los Angeles. This would not have been the first time he had been involved in this sort of thing; indeed he had come to places like these plenty of times into the dozens, and this day like any other he was prepared for a quiet and speedy transaction for an assortment of illegal substances, as well as one specialty item. Awaiting his fence at the back of the alleyway, he stood with his back against a wall, eyes shut, with hands resting nonchalantly in his pockets as he listened to the world live on around him. Cars passed by, sirens blared in the distance, and the hooker he’d passed by screamed as her mugger pulled the trigger after finding her devoid of much-needed cash -- right on time.

All went quiet after the altercation and B wondered who might be brave enough to step out to examine the body and call the police, but as he realized the fence was running ten minutes behind schedule, his focus returned to the task at hand. He wasn’t particularly troubled by this, but an inconvenience was an inconvenience, and he would make a point to bring it up when the man arrived.

B opened his eyes slowly to adjust to a nightly darkness only a tad brighter than when his eyes were closed, and without warning his left ear had suddenly jerked from a resting position. He turned his head toward the noise, a streamlined sound of sorts like a light object cutting through the air, to find exactly what he thought he heard. A moderately sized paper airplane made of a larger than standard sheet of printing paper had hit the wall behind him and fallen to the ground at his left, but before he would move to pick it up, he inspected its trajectory. It had to have come from somewhere higher than ground-level, and it hadn’t traveled in a straight line -- from the top of a building, perhaps the one just across the street? His eyes darted directly to a higher set of windows, and then to the roof where he had caught a glimpse of the culprit -- a thin-looking young woman with blonde hair that just barely stood out in the darkness, looking directly at him through a pair of small binoculars. She had only stayed long enough to find her plane, and had evidently not seen B, who had donned a black outfit that evening. Normally something like this would not have piqued his interest, but there was a faint scent coming from below that struck him as somewhat odd. While she was out of sight for the time being, B picked up her paper plane to give it a once-over, unfolding meticulously crafted wings and tip to release a sweet rose noted perfume.

    “Huh. Now, why would a girl go through the trouble of making this only to release it in a place like this?”

One possibility was that the plane doubled as a love letter intended for someone to find, but the paper was completely blank, and aside from that no young, love-stricken girl would be flying love notes out of some old, miscellaneous building in this area. This development left quite a bit of room for further investigation and had sparked a flicker of interest in B’s mind. Without any further delay he brought his attention back to the world at large, scanning the nearby environment for whomever suited the description of his young lady best. He figured she’d be exiting the building any moment, but just as he made the decision to go after her, the fence had finally arrived, breathless and in a hurry, pointing a gun in B’s direction -- the gun he had asked for, ironically.

     “Whoa there, pal! I didn’t come to the shit end of town for nothin’.  Pay up and come get your shit before you go fuckin’ off somewhere else!”

This had been the night’s most irritating moment, and its biggest delay, but there was a chance B could still make time if he handled the situation correctly by complying. After shoving the paper into a pocket for safe-keeping he raised his hands in surrender, keeping a watchful eye of the man before him, and moved to give him a neat wad of cash from his wallet.

     “It's all there. Count it if you doubt me - it's all in fives and tens, so you'll have to drop your things to do that.”

The fence sneered at him through gold-plated teeth. To please his betters he had no choice but to count out every bill to ensure it was, in fact, the whole amount -- but the thought of putting the gun within B’s reach made him sick.

     “You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me, man,” he responded, letting the gun fall to his feet as he went to grab the cash.

     “Ain’t like you’d shoot me anyway… bad for business.”

Knowing he had brought the full amount and with little time to dawdle, B took the chance to collect his things while the fence continued to count. This frustrated the man greatly, but being the duller type needed to keep his focus, lest he lose count from “fucking one-hundred-and-five”. Before taking off as was his first thought, B took a moment to inspect the gun. All seemed in order, ammunition was there; it was locked and loaded. Which only left one thing to the imagination: would it actually fire?

BANG, BANG!

     “GAH- SHIT!”

The bills fluttered to the ground and the fence dropped with them, clutching his knees.

     “And here I thought the safety was on,” B lied, shoving the gun into his back pocket.

     “Ah, well. At least I know it's fully functional. Thanks for your business.”

As he turned to talk away the fence screamed at him any number of obscenities, threatened to call the police, told him someone would find him -- but B only smiled and went along his way, hoping he hadn't wasted too much time on that stunt.

Which he had. The only sign of the girl he could find was a familiar head of hair and binoculars around her neck as she disappeared around the block, headed west. This was no real trouble, however -- in fact, he could say with all honesty that he preferred a chase. Thus he went west, intent on tracking her every move until she was completely out of sight and had a better idea. Why not instead learn her habits? Find the places she visited most? After having stashed the grocery bag of drugs somewhere safe, B came up with a plan. There was a chance, of a higher probability, that he would find this girl again, most likely to end up at the building her paper plane had landed near. She was clearly hoping to scope something out from her vantage point, and he was at least eighty percent certain he would see her revisit that location in the near future.

B decided to return that night, and the night after that, and the night after that until she finally showed up. She had presumably not thought about scouting the premises for other people, or else she may have actually found B this time -- or maybe she just didn't care. Either way B was close enough, this time, to catch her name: Sybil Cohen, no older than 23, blonde, and evidently on a mission. She held a gallon canister of gasoline in one hand and a cigarette in the other; a sight more than familiar to him than he thought it might have been. Rather than rehashing the past, though, B’s brain went straight into numbers -- possibilities of different outcomes, their effects, her date of death, and why she would be back here in the first place. Was she looking to end her own life in this building? A building chosen at random by her paper plane? People didn't usually choose a suicide spot by chance alone. Most preferred places significant to them, but he supposed along with any other ideas that anything was possible. It wasn’t even near time for her to die, anyway. Alternatively she could have chosen the building this way as a means to randomize her choice of storehouses, but the perfume threw this theory and many others off by being too significant -- it had been sprayed directly onto the paper. What more, the purpose with which she carried herself and the absolute definity of her stride brought an entirely different thought to mind -- the most likely of all his options.

     “She's going to burn the building down. Interesting choice.”

All things considered, she made good time. No sooner than when B decided not to enter for the danger it presented - and because he could just as easily confront her as she left - Sybil had made her way to the third floor via stairway. He could hear a faint splashing through broken windows overhead as she let the gasoline flow behind her, around the floor, down the stairs… and when all noise ceased, he chuckled.

     “Didn't think she'd get stuck, did she?”

Maybe not, but she seemed to have a plan. From above he heard glass shatter and the clanking of soles on metal, a faint creak, and the sound of commission before she jumped down to the second floor fire escape. It was then she spotted B below her, her eyes hurried and wild knowing she was both trapped without the first floor fire escape and that she had been seen committing arson. B simply looked on with no intention of either helping nor running.

     “Looks like you've gotten yourself into quite the predicament. What will you do?”

. . . She leapt. B had underestimated, or rather overestimated her desperation, and had no time to move.

The force with which Sybil landed on him left him unconscious, out of breath, and sore all over but with no great injury aside from major bruising. When he finally came to he noted that she was nowhere to be seen, as was his wallet. With a groan B stood, clutching his stomach, and looked to the burning building for an estimation of the time. Based upon its current state her figured it could not have been more than half an hour after their encounter -- people were only just beginning to gather around the building and fire trucks could be heard at a distance. Taking his chance to remain undetected, B fled the scene.

     “Fine, Sybil, I'll play your game,” he thought, eyes set ablaze with newfound purpose.

     “I'll enjoy catching you. We have a score to settle.”

In only a few hours most places would be open for business, and as luck would have it there was a mall about a two hours walk from his current position. He would have to do something about his appearance first, of course, but he made a point to show up right at opening time alongside a growing crowd.

B spent the bulk of his time, unsurprisingly, in the mall’s perfume section, where he was one of the few people all too happy to be bombarded with perfumes for his “fiancée”. He had brought the plane along with him to search for a matching scent, insisting to an employee that he find the exact same brand of the same year -- nothing “almost exactly like” or “similar”. But it seemed the employee was only showing B what he looked like he could afford -- nothing beyond the range of fifty dollars.

     “I know you aren't showing me everything because I don't look the part, but I suggest you open up your expensive cabinet there before I find whoever is in charge. I'm quite good at making a scene.”

The exasperated employee let out a sigh, rolled her eyes, and took the key from around her neck to open the clear cabinet door behind her.

     “This wouldn't be so hard if you actually knew what you were looking for,” she stated, taking out a few sample bottles.  

     “Oh, but I do. It smells like roses and vanilla, a little on the strong side. If it helps, I know who may have bought it last. She's a short blonde, quite thin, but pretty enough,” he explained, and right then something seemed to connect in her mind.

     “Wait,” she interrupted, “I think I know what you're looking for.”

The young woman dug around the cabinet a bit to bring out a very small test bottle of crystalline glass.

     “We had a very insistent customer come in by that description last week. She wanted the most distinctive, expensive bottle she could get her hands on… didn't think to ask where someone like her got the money for it, but you didn't hear that from me. She tends to skulk around the food court during the week, so you might actually find her here tod-”

     “Thank you for your time.”

With that B had taken off in speed, course set directly for the food court on the floor above. With any luck he would find Sybil there, and the game would be on.

#questionablemalice #/this is so unnecessarily long please don't feel pressured to match the length ;; <3 #/also excuse any spelling mistakes and the like because... honestly i can't be bothered x'd #long post #i apologize to mobile users;;

[vladamsandler]

Here’s that Áfram Latibær Mayor Milford Meanswell/Officer Obtuse (Lolli Lögga) fanfiction I promised the Succateers literally weeks ago.

OO: The BigTown boys were going to try to steal the cup, probably to sell it… but I caught them! MM: Well, it’s very unsportsmanlike to try to steal the cup. OO: Right! MM: It’s good that LazyTown has such a good policeman, Officer. OO: Yeah, I have even started working out. MM: Oh yeah? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Fuck The Police

Word count:1348

Milford smiles as he watches the LazyTown kids run off with the new national trophy to show Íþróttaálfurinn. He was so proud of them. They really turned things around for this town, working together to better themselves and restore the city’s reputation as a place for healthy, happy living.

He’s broken out of his thoughts by a hand slapping down onto his shoulder. He whirls suddenly but relaxes at the sight of that familiar big, bushy mustache. “Oh, Lolli, it’s just you.”

“Hey, Mayor! What a day, right?”

Milford chuckles and wraps his arm around his friend’s back, reciprocating the embrace. “I knew they had it in them all along. All it took was a little motivation by that friendly sports elf!”

“I’m just glad those BigTown boys were put in their place. Serves them right for trying to cheat like they did! Say, how ‘bout a pint to celebrate?”

“That sounds wonderful,” Milford responds with a warm smile. The two men start walking to the local pub in the dimming evening light. They remain in a half-embrace as they stroll together through the streets of LazyTown.

“You know, I really can’t thank you enough for capturing those thieves last night. I can’t imagine the disappointment on the kids’ faces if those BigTown boys had gotten away with that.”

“Oh, please, Milford. It’s my pleasure. I’m just doing my job, after all.”

They smile at each other affectionately and remain in a comfortable silence until they reach the pub. The men sit in the same booth they always sit at and order the same drinks they always order. It’d become somewhat of a tradition between them, sitting together at the pub, drinking beer and whatnot. Their friendship has grown over the years in this booth. Its scratched table and worn seats hold memories of laughter and tears, conversations of joy and comfort bringing the two friends closer and closer everytime they share a drink here together.

Officer Obtuse removes his tight hat after the waitress replaces their empty beer glasses with a second round, and rubs his eyes with a tired sigh. Milford smiles watching him run his fingers through his hair with his head propped up on one hand. “You’ve really been working out?” he asks, genuinely curious.

The officer blushes and takes a swig of beer. “Yeah, I started running again.” He smiles watching the bubbles rise in his drink.

“Oh yeah? That’s great!” Milford pushes his glasses up and takes a sip of beer himself.

The officer looks up with a shy grin. “You should join me sometime!”

Milford frowns at the words. “Yeah, I know should start working out again… The excitement of the past couple of days has made me realize just how out of shape I’ve become.”

Officer Obtuse’s eyes widen and he sputters, “NO, I didn’t mean it like that Milford!” The mayor looks up at him with a small frown. “I just meant, that uh, it would be a good excuse to hang out a little more often…” he rubs his face. What is he saying? “All we ever do together off the clock is sit around drinking beer. I thought maybe we could try doing something healthy together for once, just like what Íþróttaálfurinn showed everyone…” He blushes at his rambling. This beer is hitting his system sooner than it normally does.

Milford smiles at his other friend. “I’d like that.”

They chat away the hours, discussing the events of the competition and reminiscing about the good ole days as they get woozy on the alcohol. Milford is interrupted in the middle of recounting his first day in office by a loud voice over at the bar. The two men in the booth turn to look at some drunkard harrassing the staff with deep frowns.

“BigTown would’ve won if it weren’t for that stupid elf! He meddled with competition, I know he did!”

The man sways in his seat and leans over the counter to point at the barman.

“You LazyTowners are a bunch of no-good cheaters!”

Officer Obtuse turns back to address Milford, “Looks like someone’s had a little too much to drink. I’ll take care of this.”

Milford watches in concern as his friend gets up from the booth and sways in the direction of the ruckus. The officer never seems to let himself remain off the clock for very long, always insisting on fulfilling his duty to protect the town citizens even in such a situation as this, when he’s obviously just as impaired as this disgruntled drunkard. Milford stands to move behind his friend, not trusting that the impending altercation would resolve itself without his intervention.

“Alright buddy, let’s pack it up. You’ve had enough for tonight,” Officer Obtuse announces, gripping the drunkard’s shoulder.

“Get off me you dirty, lying LazyTowner!” the drunkard barks, swaying backwards in his seat to shove the hand off his arm gruffly.

“Hey now, that’s Officer dirty, lying LazyTowner to you, mister!” Officer Obtuse blinks heavy eyes under a furrowed brow, waving a finger at the other man. “That’s right pal! I have the authority to remove you from this premises if you don’t care to take your own leave!” The threat would’ve been more intimidating without the slurring.

Milford rubs his eyes for a moment before stepping forward to stand between his drunk friend and the man standing up from the bar.

“You tryin’ start something with me, cheater?? You rotten pigs ain’t got nothin’ on BigTown!” The drunkard pushes up his sleeves and takes a step forward.

“Now, now, everybody just calm down,” Milford pleads, holding his hands up. “I’m sure we can all resolve this in a calm, peaceful manner like the adults we all are.”

His words are stopped by a suckerpunch to the nose.

The barman hops quickly over the counter to restrain the drunkard as Officer Obtuse starts yelling. Milford hisses and holds his face, grabbing onto the nearest booth seat with a pained grimace. He accepts the napkins pressed into his hand by a friendly onlooker and maneuvers himself into a sitting position on the seat as the other men wrestle the drunkard out of the bar with a cacophony of shouting.

Soon after, the bar is quickly cleared out by the aggravated owner except for the mayor and the officer. Milford sits in the hallway behind the bar with his head tilted back against the wall, pressing a cloth napkin full of melting ice cubes against his swollen nose. At least the bleeding had been mild.

“Ugh, god.” Officer Obtuse stands nearby, shaking his head. He rubs his eyes and takes another sip of water. “I am so sorry about this, Milford.”

The mayor chuckles. “Just another day on the force, huh? Really, it’s fine. Not your fault.”

“Let’s see now?”

Milford removes the icepack and blinks up at the man leaning over him. He hisses slightly when the officer carefully presses his fingers against the bridge of his nose.

“Well, it doesn’t appear to be broken.” Officer Obtuse sighs. “Oh, here. I found these on the floor.” He tucks the mayor’s glasses into the front pocket of his shirt.

“Thank you,” Milford says quietly with an amused smile. He looks up again at the concerned look in the officer’s eyes and laughs, “You know, I think maybe you’re right about us finding some other way to spend our off-duty hours. Perhaps this was all a sign that the two of us have outgrown this kind of passtime.”

Officer Obtuse smiles and pushes the mayor’s hair back off his forehead with gentle fingers. “Yeah, Milford, you could be right about that.”

The mayor smiles affectionately at his friend. “I’d be happy to go work out with you, Lolli, but… You know you don’t need to come up with some excuse to spend time with me, don’t you?”

Officer Obtuse blushes and looks down at the floor with a small smile, shuffling his feet.

Milford stands with a laugh and holds the officer by the chin. “C'mon, brave man. Let’s head on home.” He pecks him on the cheek and wraps an arm around his shoulders.

They hold each other as they exit the pub and laugh about the excitement of the night as they stroll together again through the quiet streets of LazyTown.

~

#*quietly publishes another crackship fic in the middle of the night* #did the title make you think this was going to be explicit? #lmao I honestly had every intention but it was physically too painful for me #so instead y'all getting this cute fluff #I'm sorry it took so long for me to complete #these screenshots have been sitting on my desktop for two weeks u___u #succateers #Áfram Latibær #lazytown #rachartrek

[siancore]

Day 3: Lost Love Found - Richonne AU for @richonnefics

The sun shone down on her bare arms and the soft breeze offered reprieve from the striking heat. The warmth was one of the things that Michonne had missed the most while she had lived up North. She could hardly believe it was seven years since she had been back to Georgia. She had missed the easy-going nature of the locals; the friendliness and helpfulness that the people imbued the small town with. She really felt like she was home.

She smiled and looked around the small living room; there were not that many boxes she needed to unpack. When she left King County all those years ago, she only took what she could carry in one bag. Her mind drifted back to that time, and she felt a small pang of regret wash over her. That was short lived as there came a knocking on her front door. Knowing it could only be her close friends, Michonne smiled and answered the door. She was met by Sasha, Maggie and Jesus; each wearing wide grins. They hugged Michonne in turn and then entered the house.

“This is nice,” said Sasha as examined the premises.

“I think I was in here once before,” said Maggie. “Back in high school at some party.”

“It’s cute,” Jesus offered.

“Oh my gosh, Michonne!” Maggie exclaimed before hugging her friend once more. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“I know,” said Michonne.

“We’re glad you’re back,” said Jesus.

“Yeah,” Sasha agreed as she peeped around from the corridor. “We missed you.”

“I missed you guys, too,” said Michonne. “And thanks so much for helping me unpack.”

“Don’t mention it,” said Jesus, before adding, “Let’s get started.

“You gonna say something?” asked Jesus, as he drank down the last of his coffee.

“Nothin’ to say,” said Rick while peering out of his kitchen window; he was overcome by a number of contradictory emotions.

Upon hearing that the love of his life, Michonne, had returned, he felt his stomach drop. He felt hopeful and sad, irritated and happy. His heart beat faster, yet ached at the same time. He was angry with himself for feeling that fleeting moment of joy when Jesus had informed him that she was back in town. He then felt guilty for wishing she had never come back.

“Are you at least gonna ask what she’s doing here?” Jesus questioned his friend.

Rick shrugged.

“No,” he said, before taking a seat back at the kitchen table. “Don’t care.”

That was a lie. Rick cared very much about what his lost love was doing. At the beginning, he would ask their mutual friends about her wellbeing, but it only hurt his heart even more to know that she was well; that she was happy in her career choice; that she was doing fine without him. He had always suspected he loved her more than she did him. Why else, he pondered, would it be so easy for her to leave what they had? What he was unaware of, in his heartbreak and sadness, was that she was hurting for him as well.

Alas, that was years ago and Rick thought he was over her for good. This news regarding her return had shaken him to his core. So he lied to their friend, even though Jesus knew that the feelings were still there.

“Okay,” said Jesus. “Just giving you the heads up in case you run into her at the store or something.”

Rick sighed.

“I hope not,” he offered flatly, fallaciously. “But since y’all are still best buds, maybe you could do me a favor?”

“What is it?” asked.

“Drop some of her shit back to her that she left here,” said Rick, trying to hide a lot of his hurt.

“Sure,” said Jesus as he stood from the table and approached the sink. “But it’ll have to wait until later tonight ‘cause I’ve gotta run.”

“Okay, I’m rostered on tonight. Take my backdoor key. I’ll leave the stuff on the table for you,” said Rick as he removed the key and handed it to his friend. “Just take it all. I don’t want it here anymore. And thank you.”

Jesus nodded and gave Rick a small smile, “It’s no trouble at all.”

The box was brimming with items that Michonne had left and Rick had held onto. A headband or two; several comic books and novels; some items of clothing; and a multi-colored cat sculpture. Rick held the colourful cat in his hands and smiled at the object. He never really liked it, but Michonne adored the thing. When they split up, she left with such haste that she forgot to take it. Suddenly, Rick felt sad again as he placed the statue into the box.

Running his fingers through his hair, he walked to one of the drawers in the kitchen and retrieved writing materials. He knew he did not want to see Michonne just yet, but he would write her note.

To Michonne, it started. Here are some of your things you left. I kept them safe for you….

“Damn it,” said Rick as he scrunched the note up and tossed it on the floor; unhappy with what he had written and feeling like it was a charade.

He took another piece of lined paper and began another note.

Michonne, here’s your shit you left behind when you dumped me…

Rick stopped and then tore that page from the writing pad too and giving it the same fate at the other. That was not what he wanted to say at all; that was too crass. Taking a deep breath, Rick began to write:

Dear Michonne,

It’s been a while. I heard you were back in town, Jesus told me. But you already knew that.

Honestly, I was conflicted about the news. I wanted to know why, after all this time, and after what happened between us, did you decide to come back to King County? I don’t have any right to ask. I’m sorry if I overstepped. Somewhere inside I kind of hoped that it was for me. But that’s just foolish of me to think that way.

I hope your life has treated you well. I always knew you’d be successful where ever you were. I’m just sorry it couldn’t have been with me.

He stopped a moment and held the pen to his lips. There was something therapeutic about writing his feelings down. Even though he had no intention of ever letting her see the letter. Feeling better, Rick continued to write his most sincere and private thoughts:

It’s been hard for me, all this time, wondering what could have been between us. I always imagined that we’d have a couple of kids running around the yard. You looking beautiful as ever; radiant and pregnant. Me with a potbelly and a smile. Us, happy and healthy.

I shouldn’t be thinking things like that. I shouldn’t be writing things like this. What we had is gone. We both made sure of that. I guess I’ve never really stopped loving you. I never stopped caring. Honestly, I’ve always loved you and probably always will. I’m just sad tha…

 Before Rick could continue with his thoughts, finish writing the letter, or discard it like the others, he heard a horn blaring out the front of his house; he knew it was his partner, Shane, who was late as usual, there to pick him up. He dropped the pen, picked up his hat and made his way quickly towards the door.

The bright light from Rick’s kitchen disoriented Jesus a little as he entered from the darkness outside. He saw the box sitting on the table and the notepad next to it; he glanced quickly, and upon seeing the note addressed to Michonne, tore it from the pad, folded it and placed it in the box. He left the light on for Rick, exited from the same door, and locked the house again.

Michonne and Sasha were still sitting out on the former’s front porch when Jesus showed up, lugging a brown cardboard box with him.

“That better be more wine,” said Sasha as he made his way up the steps.

“Unfortunately, it’s not,” he laughed. “A box of things belonging to Michonne, actually.”

The woman in question gave him an odd stare.

“From Deputy Rick Grimes,” Jesus explained. “A bunch of stuff he probably should’ve thrown away years ago.”

Jesus plopped it down on the small table; Michonne looked incredulously at it.

“Well, you gonna open it?” asked Sasha.

Michonne sighed, “It’s probably just some books I left there.”

“Let’s find out then,” said Jesus.

Michonne rolled her eyes at her friends and then opened the box. She saw something that looked like her beloved cat sculpture, before seeing that there was a piece of paper. She took the note out, unfolded it and began to read.

#RichonneLoveLetters #Richonne fanfiction #Richonne AU