#the seven really dove deep into it and I fuckin loved it

[thepringlesofblood]

the vibe im getting from FHJY is that this is the season where they really lean into the high school aspect. that probably sounds bonkers since its called Fantasy High, but like. hear me out.

Freshman year, they come at high school from the "John Hughes" "80s teen movie trope" vibe, which is to say different from the real-world experience of high school.

it works great! operating in that frame of reference makes everything flow really well, and hits all the high-school-related-media notes in a very satisfying way while putting its own spin on it and not getting bogged down by the actual slog that is high school in reality.

there's still a lot of more modern inspo, but it stays in the kinda expectation-suspension-tropey area of how 80s movie high school works.

Sophomore year is spring break! I believe in you! They're not at school! They're on an adventure!

They lean into being a teenager and coming-of-age themes a lot (obvs), but the only big reference point to the institution of high school is that it'll be worth 60% of their grade.

A huge point, to be sure, and the exact kind of objectively unfair but somehow not against the rules shit that happens in high school, but not the main driving force of the season.

arthur aguefort also does a bunch of wack shit but it's more fantasy than it is high school although its a lot of both.

they lean into adventuring as a set career path much more, with the school giving money for hirelings and offering a basic incentive for other students to go, so that's a loose connection to the real-world career counseling high schools have, but again, not the main thing.

VERY Important though: we are now very much in the present. The viral shrimp party, livestreaming Kalina, online banking, the epic of Gorgug building a cell tower? this isn't john hughes 80s town anymore, this is now. (at least in Solace).

Junior year

almost everything in the trailer is about academia

we've got the cool doodles-in-the-margins style art and intro

in the interviews and BTS (so far), the cast have talked a lot about what they were like in high school (not the 80s)

and the precedent that The Seven set where the MacGuffin was getting their GED? It's time.

we're getting into what is actually hell about high school - the institution itself. the arbitrary standards that academia in the US holds, and how it leaves behind, punishes, and fails its students in its extremely important role of preparing them for life as an adult.

i could talk about this all day, but personally for me the quote from the trailer that shot me back to my junior year of high school was "You have perfect grades, and it still might not be enough for you to graduate"

riz's arc this season is shaping up to punch me in the academia trauma and personally i can't wait for the catharsis

Brennan has shown time and time again that he Gets and wants to tell stories about the ways in which the US education system affects, hurts, shapes, traumatizes, changes people, and how they survive and recover from it and make their own lives. I for one am so so ready to see that reflected with the bad kids.

#original post #fhjy #fantasy high #fhsy #d20 #dimension 20 #dropout #brennan lee mulligan #look i just have a lot of feelings #and opinions about how people just accept that high school is hell and don't ask why? who benefits? #tbh evan kelmp being like 'this is tracking' is what made me first notice that like #brennan Knows what he's talking about and wants to talk about it #the seven really dove deep into it and I fuckin loved it

[snarkwrites]

13 | gangsta ; sweetpea

NOTES:

It's been a while. I've had these two chapters written for a while now but I haven't had time to sit down, edit them a little better and post them. Since I have time now, I thought I'd go ahead and do that, whether you guys asked for these next two chapters or not.

Sorry this took forever! Sorry I'm so slow, I've been settling into a new house and taking care of some IRL stuff / taking a little break. I swear, I'm going to update everything sooner or later. >.>

I love you guys.

WARNINGS:

NON/ LOOSE CANON COMPLIANCE - this is the biggest warning, so if you’re into things that follow exact canon plot you are… definitely not going to like this. ANGST & SLOW BURN, HEAVY SEXUAL TENSIONSTARTING NOW, ACTUALLY - this is just so everyone who started reading this thinking the smut would transpire in a hurry knows that apparently, it is not. VIOLENCE / SWEARING & FIGHTING, POSSIBLE UNDERAGE DRINKING AND OTHER SHENANIGANS- look.. it’s high school. shit happens. also apparently, my ofc Alyssa uses the word fuck like all the time?…EVENTUAL SEXUAL CONTENT / A VIRGIN ORIGINAL CHARACTER- this one is self explanatory. yes, i plan to write a smutty chapter in this at some point. when? i don’t rightly know. it’s got a while before we get there. STALKER TW - this chapter marks the true appearance of Alyssa's ex, Dave Novak. It's hinted heavily that he's a gross asshole who likes to play mind games. ATTEMPTED KIDNAPPING TW - This chapter contains an attempted kidnapping. If this is gonna bother you you're best off not reading it.

If you're under 18+, probably not a good or wise idea to continue reading this series. Because there are going to be a few dark and adult themes within. I'll warn here, of course, but you need to understand that I don't control you. If you continue to read after having read the warnings and you're upset or don't like something... Totally on you, friend.

PAIRING:

Andrews!Sibling OFC x Sweet Pea.

TAGGING:

@brithedemonspawn is the only person on my Riverdale tag list. If you want to be added, the link to do so is below.

OTHER PARTS:

ONE - TWO - THREE - FOUR - FIVE - SIX - SEVEN - EIGHT - NINE - TEN- ELEVEN - TWELVE - soundtrack

OTHER STUFF:

[ about my writing - tag list doc ]

THIRTEEN.

[773 - 589 - 7956] Quiet sleepy little town you’ve got here. I can see the appeal, scarlet.

[773 - 589 - 7956] I saw you last night. If I didn’t know what a treacherous bitch you were, I’d say you look more beautiful than ever.

[773 - 589 - 7956] Have you shown that new boytoy of yours all the dirty little photos you were sending me? I bet he’d fucking love to see that… Or did you actually let him see the real thing?

[773 - 589 - 7956] You can say what you want to the cops, scarlet. You and I both know you enjoyed sending me those dirty little pictures. Do your parents know what a teasing whore their daughter really is? I know mommy wasn’t too thrilled when you went running to her to snitch just because things got a little too real for you…

[773 - 589 - 7956] I’ll see you soon. It’s like I said, scarlet. You owe me. I intend to collect. You think this is a game? You can just promise things and then betray me like that? That’s not how this works, scarlet.

The second my phone was powered on again after school, it immediately started to go insane. The texts came in a flood. They were so disgusting and scary that I dropped my phone because my hands were shaking so hard I couldn’t hold it. I quickly picked up the phone and took a few deep breaths, attempting to pull myself together.

,, I can’t keep this to myself. I have to tell someone what’s going on.” the thought nagged at me for the thousandth time in two weeks and I decided that as soon as I finished my tutoring session for the day, I was going to go to the construction site and show my father the texts. Tell him that somehow, Dave was out of prison and apparently, he was here in Riverdale.

My stomach was churning and a bitter taste filled my mouth at the thought. I felt like a dead girl walking. How could I have been so fucking stupid? I should’ve told my father the first time Dave texted me. I should’ve done something.

I felt anger at the situation too. I came here to get away from everything, to put it behind me. I just wanted to forget any of it happened. How dare he show up and ruin everything? He was supposed to be in jail right now, not walking free!

It wasn’t fair.

I knew I’d never be brave enough, but I found myself thinking that if I did see him again, I wanted to strangle him. To give him a reason to be afraid of me for once instead of the other way around. To get even for the hell he put me through in Chicago.

I stepped out into the parking lot, taking a few deep breaths to calm down. Leaning against the brick wall beside the doors that lead into the building. Waiting. Trying to pull myself together. Half hoping that my brother was still here, still in wrestling practice.

Then I remembered that he didn’t have it tonight and that he’d left earlier with Veronica, Betty and Jughead.

Cheryl and Toni were already gone too. I’d stayed over because I was tutoring some kids in the grade below me. I didn’t think it’d take as long as it did. When I realized just how late it had gotten and that I’d be walking home alone in the dark, I’d panicked.

I could always call my dad.

That’s what I wound up doing. About halfway across the parking lot and just as my father’s phone went to voicemail , Dave stepped out and grabbed me, clamping his hand over my mouth before I could do anything other than scream.

My phone fell out of my hands and hit the pavement . I fought him off, managed to get out of his grasp and took off at a run. He caught up to me and grabbed me, trying to drag me towards his Chevelle that was parked nearby, idling. I fought tooth and nail, making as much noise as I could. Grabbing hold of anything I could to try and wrench myself free from his grasp.

I spotted Sweet Pea walking towards the school and I screamed louder. Fought harder.

“Sweet Pea!” I screamed his name, biting at any exposed skin I could get my mouth on Dave’s body. Clawing and scratching. Determined not to go quietly or without a fight. Sweet Pea disappeared from sight for a few seconds in the scuffle between Dave and I, and I was fighting so hard that Dave was struggling to keep a good firm grip on me…

XXX

He’d come back to school because normally, Alyssa was done and at Pop’s within thirty minutes, an hour tops. It had almost been two. Something felt off. Sweet Pea tried to tell himself the entire walk across town to Riverdale High that he was just being paranoid or overprotective. By the time the school was in view, he almost had himself convinced that he was just being a paranoid idiot.

Until he heard her screaming.

Sweet Pea took off at a run in the direction her scream came from, watching as a guy grabbed Alyssa and started trying to pull her towards an idling Chevelle nearby. He locked eyes with Alyssa before slipping out of sight. Getting himself into a position where he could slip up on the guy from behind and hopefully, distract him enough that Alyssa could get away.

The second she managed to smash her head into the guy’s nose hard enough that he dropped her, Sweet Pea spoke up. Firmly. “Run, Cherry. Don’t stop running.”

“No.” I stubbornly refused to leave. I wasn’t going to leave him to fight Dave off on his own. Not when this was my mess to begin with, my own stupidity coming back to bite me in my ass.

“Damn it, woman. Fucking go!” Sweet Pea practically growled as he lunged for the guy in front of him, spearing him against the side of his own car. The fight took to the ground, the two rolling around. For a second or two, Dave had the upper hand because he managed to get his hand on Sweet Pea’s throat. Sweet Pea used his legs, flipping them so that he was on top, swinging his fists with no real thought other than the sheer rage he felt about the guy trying to grab Alyssa. Dave managed to get the upper hand again, holding Sweet Pea against the concrete, Sweet Pea’s hand wrapped around his throat as he tried to squeeze harder.

Sweet Pea swore in frustration when he saw Alyssa slipping over to the open rear door. She emerged with a baseball bat, making her way over to the fight.

“What the fuck do you think you were gonna do, man?” Sweet Pea snarled in anger as he got in a few hard and fast punches.

“I was gonna get my hands on that little bitch you call a girlfriend and teach her a lesson.” Dave grunted out the words as Sweet Pea’s hand closed around his throat tighter and he managed to get Dave on his back again.

“The only one who’s going to learn a lesson tonight is you, asshole. Don’t fucking touch her.” Sweet Pea got the upper hand again, holding Dave against the concrete, smashing his head against Dave’s head as he sneered, “I’m gonna fuckin kill you, putting your hands on my girl.” and really tightened his grip.

Dave managed to shove him off and stood, the two of them fighting. Alyssa swung the bat at Dave’s lower back, almost connecting with it but Dave stepped out of the way at the last minute, making a grab for her.

“Cherry, I told you to run, damn it!” Sweet Pea growled as he lunged at Dave, sending Alyssa stumbling back, barely managing to keep herself from falling on her butt on the pavement. The two were rolling around on the ground again, punching and choking wildly and Alyssa spotted her cell phone and she dove for it, dialing 911.

Just as she was about to hit call, Sweet Pea choked Dave out and grabbed for the rope that had fallen out of Dave’s jacket pocket, tying his arms together while he was down. Then he rushed over to her, checking her over in concern, wincing at the pavement burn on her cheeks and the few scrapes.

“What the fuck happened to run, huh?” Sweet Pea asked, trying to catch his breath.

“I wasn’t leaving you here with him.” Alyssa panted. Sweet Pea took her cell phone and hit call, keeping his foot on Dave’s head to keep him down as he made the call.

Two minutes later, a cop car came racing around the corner and pulled to a stop behind the idling Chevelle.

The cop got out and wandered over. Glancing from Sweet Pea to Dave.

Alyssa spoke up.

“Sweet Pea was trying to save me, officer.”

“I’m going to need you two to come to the station and make statements.” the cop informed them after getting Dave into the back of the cop car. Alyssa nodded, hugging herself against Sweet Pea’s side. Sweet Pea slipped out of his leather jacket,draping it around her, because at some point during her fight with Dave, her shirt had gotten torn down the front.

The cop left, leaving the two of them alone.

Sweet Pea took a few deep breaths, pulling her against him. Squeezing her tight. Holding her in place. “Thank God I decided to come by here. If something would’ve happened…” he muttered against her hair quietly.

She pulled away to look up at him and he locked eyes with her, leaning in closer…

XXX

My heart was still hammering away at my chest. The adrenaline was starting to wear off and I was starting to panic a little as I began to realize what almost happened to me. How close I came to disappearing, having God knows what would be done to me by Dave.

I wasn’t thinking about how awkward me kissing him would be. I wasn’t thinking about anything if you want the truth. I rose up on my toes, grabbing hold of the front of Sweet Pea’s t-shirt, pulling myself up. My mouth brushed against the corner of his gingerly, trying to avoid the portion of his lower lip that was busted and bloody because it had to hurt like hell. His hands dug into my hips and he growled quietly, his mouth latching onto mine just as I went to pull away, stop myself before I went for it and kissed him in the heat of the moment.

The kiss deepened and I raised my arms, wrapping them around his neck. Dragging my fingers through his hair. My back met the side of the Chevelle with a soft smack and he pressed himself into me more firmly. His mouth continuing to hungrily devour mine.

The kiss broke a few seconds later, we pulled apart breathlessly and stared at one another in a daze. Sweet Pea wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and cleared his throat. Going quiet again.

All I could do was melt into him and try to wrap my head around what almost happened and what had just actually happened. He curled his fingers under my chin, tilting my face so that I had to look up at him.

“Who was that? Wait.. was that your ex?”

My jaw dropped. I blinked at him and then I nodded quietly. He swore under his breath and held on a little tighter. Pulling away again, his hands on my upper arms as he stared down at me. “I should’ve fucking killed him.”

“H-how’d you know about Dave? Did my brother tell you?”

“And Jughead. I don’t know everything. I just know that I told myself if I ever actually saw the asshole, I was going to kill him.” Sweet Pea answered quietly. Taking a few deep breaths and then adding a few seconds later, “We need to get to the station.”

I nodded in agreement. Sweet Pea scooped me up when he saw me take a step and wince, then try it again with the same outcome.

“I can walk.” I protested weakly.

“You fell. You probably twisted your ankle. Just… let me carry you, Cherry.” he muttered quietly, his voice a soft and concerned whisper as he gazed down at me.

All I could do was nod. Lean my head against the space between his neck and shoulder.

As we worked our way towards the police station, it poured out of me. Every single thing I’d gone through with Dave in Chicago. I grimaced as I told Sweet Pea exactly what had gone down and why I thought Dave had come to town and tried to grab me tonight and Sweet Pea’s jaw set firm.

I could tell that hearing it bothered him. And at one point, he muttered quietly, “If you don’t want to talk about it you don’t have to…”

“No, I need to get it out. I shouldn’t have kept the fact that the asshole was texting me to myself. Blocking his number obviously didn’t work because he reached out with a new one. I thought if I just ignored him, he’d lose interest. I thought it was just him, trying to scare me. I didn’t think he’d be stupid or brave enough to show up here.” I muttered, shaking my head at how stupid that sounded now that I was really stopping to think about it.

“He’s not gonna bother you again, okay? I’m going to make sure he doesn’t.” Sweet Pea muttered after a few seconds, just as we stepped into the station and made our way over to a sitting area to wait.

“You need to call your dad.” Sweet Pea spoke up after a few seconds that felt like hours.

I nodded. Taking my phone back from Sweet Pea, I dialed my dad’s number and I could hear the relief in his voice when he answered.

Static crackled and popped on his end of the line so I strained to hear.

“I’ve been riding around town looking for you for over an hour, tiny. What the hell happened?” my dad asked in a rush.

“Dave was waiting outside of the school tonight when I came out… If Sweet Pea hadn’t gotten there when he did I… he tried to grab me tonight, Dad.” I grimaced as I said it, bracing myself for all the questions and the lecture I knew I’d be getting because I hadn’t told anyone the second all this started.

,, to be fair, I definitely deserve it.” the thought came and I let myself have it. Leaning back in the chair, resting against Sweet Pea’s side slightly. Taking a few deep breaths.

My dad swore and I heard him punching at something, probably the dashboard of his truck. After a second or two, he spoke up. “Where are you two? I’m on my way, tiny. Right now.”

“We’re at the station giving a statement.” I explained.

“Thank god. So Novak got arrested? That’s good. I’m going to be sure to find out what I can do to make sure that little prick stays in a cell this time.” my dad responded as I heard him rev the engine on his truck.

The call ended and I leaned my head against Sweet Pea’s shoulder. He slipped an arm around me and took a few more breaths as if he were trying to calm himself down again because he was still angry and tense.

The cop who made the arrest found us and ushered us back to his workspace and we sat down. Telling the cop every single detail of what happened tonight. The cop let me finish and then spoke up.

“We’re holding him for Chicago. He apparently escaped. Attacked another girl… A Claire Watson… Then he came here. But everything you’ve told me will help keep him behind bars, Alyssa. Do you have a parent you can call?”

I nodded.

“She already called him.” Sweet Pea answered calmly as he folded his arms over his chest and glared at the cop suspiciously.

The cop eyed him, nodding. Managing a cordial smile. “That was quick thinking on your part tonight kid. Also stupid as hell. If he’d had a weapon, that could’ve gone wrong. Next time, call the station.”

“And do what? Let an asshole make off with my girl? Yeah, no thanks. I’m good. I’ve seen how fast you assholes respond to any call you get from the South side.”

“Not all of us are bad, kid.” the cop pointed out in a calm and even tone.

“Yeah, well… I wasn’t going to stand there and let him take my girl either. I did what I had to do.” Sweet Pea took a deep breath, rubbing his forehead. Calming himself back down.

I spotted my father and Archie coming into the station, heading right for us and I let out a ragged breath. Squeezing my dad so tight he almost couldn’t breathe when they got over to where we were sitting in the back.

My father spoke up, addressing the cop. “We will be pressing charges. So, whatever I need in order to do that, just tell me and you’ve got it.”

Sweet Pea cleared his throat.

“If it helps, here’s her phone.” Sweet Pea held my phone out to the policeman and he took it, nodding. “If there’s anything on here, that’ll help. If you’ll come with me, Mr. Andrews, we’ll get that paperwork drawn up to start the proceedings.”

My dad gave me another hug and stopped in front of Sweet Pea. “If you hadn’t been there tonight, kid… Thank you.”

“I wasn’t gonna let anything happen to her, sir.” Sweet Pea muttered, awkwardly letting my dad hug him too.

My dad made his way to an office with the policeman who’d taken our statements and I glanced up at Sweet Pea, grimacing at the bruises and scraped starting to form on his face and neck. The black eye and the busted lip.

“Archie, can you go get some ice or a soda can? His lips really swelling up..” I muttered. My brother nodded, taking some change from me to go do it. And this left Sweet Pea and I alone again.

“About that kiss.. I’m sorry, I.. the last thing I wanted to do was make anything awkward. I just got caught up in the moment and I can’t keep fighting the way I feel and I… Sorry.” I spoke up quietly. Prepared to give him an out. Afraid that I’d gone way over the line.

“Yeah, about that… I’ve been wanting to do it for a while.” Sweet Pea admitted quietly. Making me look up at him as he chuckled quietly. “You wanna repeat any of what you just said?”

I felt my cheeks burning. I pouted up at him and gave him a dirty look.

He smirked in response and spoke up. “I’m being serious. You were doing that mumble and babbling thing again.”

“You heard me.” I answered, biting my lip as I looked up at him.

“A little, yeah… But maybe I wanna hear it again, cherry.” he pulled me close and gazed down at me for a few seconds.

“Wait.. you wanted to kiss me?” I realized what he’d admitted. Gazing up at him, a little shocked.

“You’re trying to change the subject now?” he questioned, slipping his arms around me. I gave a soft laugh and muttered quietly, “Maybe a little.”

“When you say you can’t ignore the way you feel.. What’s that mean?” he questioned again, making me look up at him. I took a deep breath and toyed with the front of his shirt, trying to figure out the best way to put it to words.

The truth. Simple and direct.

“I care about you a lot. I lo--” I started to say that I loved him, but Archie cleared his throat behind us, holding out the soda can to me. Then promptly excusing himself again to go find our dad. I gently guided Sweet Pea down into a chair and sank down to sit on his knees. Gingerly pressing the cold soda can against his lip. And after a second or two, I finally got myself to say it again. “I love you, okay?”

He chuckled quietly. Locking eyes with me. Lowering the soda can to ask quietly, “Like a best friend or something.. Right?”

I shook my head. “More than, actually. Since that day at the car wash when I drenched you with the hose, I’ve… It’s been hard to make myself not look for you in a crowd. Yes, yes.. I know this is mushy and you don’t do mushy, I..” his mouth crashing against mine cut off the flow of my words and he muttered in a daze, “Say it again. Tell me you love me, Cherry.”

“I love you.” I managed to get the words out breathlessly. His mouth was latching onto mine all over again. The kiss deepening. His arms enveloping me tighter. Squeezing til I thought I’d get lightheaded between the deep and heavy onslaught of kisses and the way he was holding me.

“I love you too.” he mumbled quietly. Gazing down at me. Panting for his next breath as the kiss broke yet again.

“Okay, are you two done with whatever yet? Because dad told me to get Al back home. You can come with us if you want.” Archie surprised me by inviting Sweet Pea. Sweet Pea eyed him and nodded, standing after I’d finally managed to pry myself away from him.

As we walked out of the station, he slipped his hand down between us, lacing his fingers between mine. Giving my hand a squeeze as he glanced down at me.

#sweetpea fanfiction #sweetpea imagine #sweetpea fanfic #sweetpea imagines #sweetpea fic #my writing; sweetpea #my fanfiction; sweetpea #my fics; sweetpea #// stalker tw #// attempted kidnapping tw #// violence tw

[heli0s-writes]

Ugly Christmas Sweater Party

Summary: Bucky (sort of) agrees to wear an ugly Christmas sweater, but what he ends up wearing is much worse. This is for @holy-captain‘s 1.2k writing challenge! Congratulations, Liv and thank you for hosting! I’m so sorry it’s late!! 

Pairing: Exasperated!Bucky x ChaoticDumbass!Reader

Warnings: Swearing Word Count: 1.8k

It’s supposed to be a fun and light-hearted thing—a season full of shiny-glowing-fantastic-twinkling excitement and ruddy red noses and misty breath in the chilled air. A season of joy and celebration, of spiked eggnog, fuzzy striped socks, and sliding down the compound hillsides on Steve’s shield.

And he’s screwed it all up.

It sinks in like the swollen marshmallows in his now cold cocoa, drooping to the bottom where the rest of the sediments lie. Outside, snowflakes gust and whip, blanketing the pine trees and skeletons of shrubbery in white flurries. Red holly berries peek out where they can and glare at him with their crimson eyes.

His phone lights up with picture messages of Steve and Sam, hurriedly trying on a cluster of sweaters in preparation. Horrid renderings of cats on ornaments. Oversized slouchy sleeves flecked with tinsel. Santa’s dreadful ass-crack peeking out of a chimney.

Bucky grumbles and turns his phone face-down, leaning back in his chair to stare at the Christmas tree in the corner. He wants to scream and put his leg through the damn thing.

Soft footsteps draw his attention to the hallway when you emerge, blinking slowly as you stifle a yawn from behind your hand until you see him. Then, you scoff and disappear back down the hall.

“Wait!” Bucky calls, leaping from his seat and nearly knocking the tepid mug from the table, “Damn it, wait!”

You’re gone. Stomped back to your room and even if he starts running now, he wouldn’t be quick enough—only getting the slamming door on his nose. He’ll try anyway.

Bucky slumps against the panel, pushing his chest against the cold metal of it and his cheek until his words come out smushed into his teeth.

“C’mon!” A pathetic whine of your name before he sticks his fingers underneath the slit of the door like a cat, wiggling the bent tip back and forth. Incredible. The Winter Soldier sprawled out all over a corridor, begging for forgiveness over this.

Only silence replies; you’re probably on the bed, thinking about scratching his eyes out. He can practically see you flicking him off with both hands. You’ve never been this upset before, and it deeply troubles him considering the dynamic of your very friendship spun on the axis of one single truth: Bucky’s the annoyed one. You’re the fuck up.

And now he has no idea what to do.

One week of it and he’s completely lost; the start of it all—December 1st when Tony announced: Ugly. Christmas. Sweater. Party.

Two days before Christmas, the team will be gathering in the common area for a white elephant gift exchange, and sweaters will be judged based on ugliness. What a stupid idea.

The winner will be awarded with “no team meetings for a month” and Tony’s personal stash of bourbon as long as no one touches his whiskey.

Upon the proclamation, you had clapped your hands together and grinned, “We’re gonna win this damn thing.”

And Bucky, being regular Bucky who ignores your half-witted ideas and short-sighted fixations, muttered, “Whatever,” and went back to thinking normal-person thoughts.

For the next several weeks, you dove into your knitting, the needles clicking together faster than he’s ever seen, weaving sparkling black and bright cherry red. The rows were tightly bound, looped and coiled expertly until he could finally make out the shape on the front of it.

He really did love your sick sense of humor—although he’d never admit it—funny, twisted, always brought him a bit of joy.

“Fuck no,” he had laughed at the image of a mutilated deer, antlers dangling silver ornaments showcasing his sigil. “I am not fuckin’ puttin’ that on. It looks like hell.”

“You agreed!” And then the needles and yarn hit him right in the nose.

On your way out, a low chuckle came from the corner of the living room where Steve sat sipping a cup of steaming chai. “You know Christmas is her favorite holiday?”

A snorting laugh bubbled the surface of Steve’s tea, “Good goin’, Buck.”

-

“Last Christmas” is on, blaring synth beats through the halls. George Michael croons sweetly, longingly, grieving an unrequited love before jingle bells ring in the scattered percussion.

Bucky hears your voice as you carol along to possibly the cheesiest song of all time—infuriated and baffled that you won’t speak more than two words to him but will sing your heart out to this crap. George Michael, Wham! and all of England can eat his whole ass.

He trudges from his room and into the den where the lights are dimmed and the table is set with snacks and a crock pot of hot chocolate. A dish of pine cones sits in the middle, flanked by a merry snowy village filled with little ceramic teddy bears and reindeer. On the edge is a deflated Santa Hat filled with paper scraps and pens for the voting process at the end of the night.

It is seven-thirty and you are standing next to Sam with bent elbows, wiggling your hips to the chorus, sliding back and forth on the polished floor in fuzzy socks. The two of you are facing the window, pointing at the flurry and a mountain of sludge that was previously a horrid misshapen lump of Snowman Steve.

Bucky squints a little, alert when he sees two matching sweaters—black on the back. Hell no, he thinks.

Sam turns around and Bucky’s worst holiday fears are confirmed. One innocuous “Oh hey, man,” and all the warmth drains from him.

On Wilson’s chest is that terrible disfigured deer you constructed, its antlers spearing out from its head to reach all the way up to his shoulders.

Bucky flies across the room and before either you or Sam can do anything about it, he’s peeling the hem of it over Sam’s head, kneeing him in the groin, and taking him down onto the floor. “What the hell!” Sam yells, struggling to get out of his grasp. “Shit—get off—Barnes!”

“A red star isn’t even your fucking symbol!” His hair is in his eyes along with Sam’s elbow, their limbs and joints knocking into each other in the wrestling bout. The sleeves and front are being stretched terribly, but neither of them seem to notice.

“Hey,” Your calm voice calls from above them—falling on four deaf ears. “Hey,” You try again, and when it doesn’t seem like two grown men can stop aggressively fondling each other over a damn pullover, you raise your hand and decisively land it across the back of Bucky’s head in a deafening crack.

A swell of multiple shocked gasps rises from behind you and when Sam and Bucky freeze, they see the rest of the compound’s inhabitants staring at the scene like a disfigured Nativity display. They also see your palm, at the end of your motion, resting next to your shoulder.

Bucky gingerly rubs his wound. “Ow,” He grumbles.

“Room… now.” You command, pointing your finger down the hall. Wilted, he shuffles away dutifully, saying nothing to the others as he passes. When he’s gone, you look scornfully at Sam and your beloved jersey, loosely hanging at the edge of his torso, pulled nearly apart.

“Voting starts in twenty, kid,” Tony mentions breezily.

“Yeah,” You reply through gritted teeth, “Don’t worry, we’ll be there.”

-

Steve coughs behind his hand awkwardly when Bucky steps back out, the once snugly-fitting sweater around Sam hanging collapsed and loose on Bucky’s right side. You’re close behind, bouncing on your heels and smiling as if nothing had gone wrong. Steve’s not sure which is worse: your wrath or glee.

“You, uh, you alright?” He calls quietly.

“Oh yeah, absolutely. Right, Buck?”

Bucky swallows, “Uh. Yeah.”

He has no fucking idea; when you shut the door behind him, the sweater in your hand was calmly unfolded and held up to his shoulders, damage assessed by a calculating mind. Bucky still has no clue what possessed you not to scratch his eyes out that very second.

Then, you looked him up and down and said, “Put it on, Barnes. Show’s about to start.”

And if he was a weaker man, he’d be shaking in his goddamn boots at how calm you are.

The team gathers around the tree, various colored pens and torn scraps in hand as they evaluate each other’s attire. Natasha is boldly displaying a patchwork kind of cardigan with what looks like the Michelin man ominously hovering behind a tree. Tony, of course, has custom-ordered a perfectly sized wreath knitted around his arc reactor heart. Steve has completely missed the Christmas memo (or is perhaps the politest Grinch on Earth) wears blue, the tiniest hint of gold tinsel woven through.

And Sam -- stupid, stupid Sam-- who didn’t plan on being robbed of a perfectly knitted sweater five minutes before the voting process, is out of the game.

Bucky is about to write your name down, because a medium part of him feels guilty for hurting your feelings while a much larger part of him feels apprehension about what exactly might happen if you lose, but you suddenly dig your hand into his pocket.

All five fingers shove deep until your fist is gripping tight and your knuckles stab his thigh.

“Hey! No hanky-panky during voting!” Tony is scandalized.

A vicious snap of his pocketknife swings open and before he knows it, your left hand is fisting the yarn on his chest and your right is ripping it straight through. The room falls silent when you do it a second time and Bucky’s at a loss for words until the breeze hits.

Chills.

A tendril of AC sneaks through the two open holes you’ve carved and goosebumps bloom all over his chest. Dread settles in his tummy.

His nipples are pebbled and exposed for everyone to see and with a quiet click of the blade retracting, you tuck it back into his pocket. 

“Let the voting begin.”

No one moves. No one makes a single sound and the whole place is quieter than a crypt until a shrill wheeze squeaks out of Sam’s nostrils. Through the choked snickering and the slowly building crescendo of everyone else’s laughter, Wilson admits, “They’re browner than I thought they’d be.”

There’d be no need for a voting process, Bucky knows. You’ve stolen the show – or rather, his nipples have stolen the show, and the once-worthy prize is now his Sisyphean burden to bear. He closes his eyes and counts to a million.

Screw exemptions from team meetings, Bucky thinks, praying desperately that when the bourbon is bestowed to him, by some miracle of sweet baby Jesus, he’d be able to get shitfaced again.

-

perm tags: @whothehellisbucky @serpentbaby @badassbaker @alagalaska @cake-writes​ @crist1216​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ @infinity-saga @jamesbarnesthighs​ @pinknerdpanda​ @xoxabs88xox​ @imsoft-barnes​ @momc95​ @typicalangel​ @wretchedgoddess​ @readeity​ @iwannasail​ @ya-lyublu-tebya​ @geeksareunique​ @wildefire​ @satanxklaus​ @jhangelface0523​ @wkemeup​

#marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #mcu #bag of tricks helios #Livs1.2KChallenge

[finn-ray-nal-beads]

Two thoughts for your garbage fire extraordinarie!

I would love hear your worst holiday lines for your unholy trinity! “Santa’s not the only packing a big sack,” etc!

Or, if you want a break from that shit lol. Here’s one of my personal Clyde HCs that you use as you please! Since you asked...

So, I’m not not super into dad kink myself, but I totally see Clyde as been like super dominant, but polite about it lol. Things like “maybe if ya tell me real nice why you think ya deserve to cum, I’ll let ya.” Or “now, ya just know how much I hate doin’ this to ya, darlin,’ but ya had to keep goin.’” “Ya know good n’ well that a lady’s supposed to say ‘please’ when she’s askin’ for my cock.”

I also think he’s a freak in the sheets with one of the filthiest mouths and I think he has a breeding kink! He’s gonna give you a lot more than just a present under the tree and he’ll make sure “your Christmas is gonna be extra white this year, lil’ darlin.’”

I feel ashamed.

FUCKIN OMG @safarigirlsp I LOVE THIS TIME OF THE WEEK BECAUSE OF THE DEPRAVITY BETWEEN OUR BOYS AND THEIR STUPID CATCHPHRASES! SO AS AN XMAS GIFT TO YOU AND EVERYONE SURROUNDING THE GARBAGE FIRE IM GONNA ANSWER ALL THE QUESTIONS FROM THESE CRAZY AU’S TO THE BEST OF MY CRACK BRAIN KNOWLEDGE!

HERE WE FUCKIN’ GO! 😂

Favorite one liners from our holy trinity....

The first being our resident Sea Fury, Capt. Flip SS “Blowhole” Zimmerman BDE, who now that I think about it must not really know what Xmas is, given that he sails the seas constantly and could give a rat’s ass about holidays in general. After all, he’s got treasure to find for himself and no time to dilly dally with stupid festivities such as Christmas. 

Sure, there’s an occasional snow storm on the high seas, which freeze him and his crew’s dingle berries to raisins when it blows through, but there’s no lights surrounding the massive Jolly Roger, no festive music of any kind because he runs a tight ass ship, clean as a fuckin’ whistle at all times with no fuckin’ funny business, except in the case of fuckin’ around with you that is. 

On the eve of the 25th, pirate time, the both of you are settled in your dining hall, a feast of succulent seafoods, baked to perfection via the resident cook on the ship, lay before your starving eyes. 

Your clad in one of your synched corsets, hardly able to gulp down the wine he’d poured because the waist is knotted so damn tight, causing your tits to practically explode onto the table, like he would so badly welcome at this point. 

He sits perched in his captain’s chair, dressed in his finest buccaneer garb, feathered hat and all, swirling his chalice as he devours your body with his eyes in the candle light. 

Watching your every move as you choke down the drink, throat moving to push down the liquor as you take a deep inhale, expanding your gravid chest as you push your self more into the seating. 

Noticing your boobs bounce with every motion you make to add food to your plate, the ebbs and flows of your soft tits as they beg to be set free from their cage. 

His cock twitches in his pantaloons as he catches himself boring into your chest, clearing his throat to take a swig of his wine as well, before gathering himself back into reality. 

“Where did ya go sailor?” chuckling as you watched him chug his spirits down his gullet, watching his Adam’s Apple bob as you salivated thinking about sucking a huge bruise on the appendage. 

He forced the glass on the table, shaking the food as he exhaled from his gulps, gathering his thoughts for a moment and then turning back to your position, eyes darkened with mischief. 

“I was... thinking,” he cooed, spreading his thighs wide, showing the mast that had erupted in his pants, “I heard the men conversing about this day being a special one of sorts,” taking his hat from his head to run his thick fingers through his hair. 

“And?” you paused from taking a bite of shrimp before he continued further, “what does this have to do with what you were staring me down for Phillip?” cocking your head to the side as he watched your tits waver from your motions. 

“I was thinking of making it a special one for us as well, my sweet siren,” cooing as he leaned himself closer to your side of the table, “what do ya say ya sit on ol’ captain’s mast and tell him your deepest desires?” coaxing a finger to lead you to his thick meaty thighs as you blushed, thinking about him impaling your pussy on his whale cock. 

Now onto our noble land warrior, This Is Sparta... 

I had to do some digging on this one because I know the Spartan’s had several festivals they celebrated because of their many Gods and Goddesses they worshipped and made sacrifices to... So, the closest I found was the tradition of Gymnopaedia (or the festival of naked youths as it’s translated) which is celebrated for over a week and honoring the three mythical beings Apollo, Artemis, and their mother, Leto and showcased bachelors and their marital and athletic capabilities (similar to the Olympics but naked) to the single women of the city of Sparta. 

SO LET’S HAVE SOME FUN WITH BACHELOR WARRIOR FLIP SHOWIN’ OFF THE GOODS TO HIS BRIDE TO BE! 

The streets were fraught with nude and glistening warriors of all abilities. Their bulging muscles, thick meaty thighs, and their endowments on display for all the thirsty women of the city to pick and choose their best suitors. 

You sat perched in your spot as you surveyed the music and majesty before you. A face in a crowd of hundreds of hungry women, each devouring their male counterparts, itching to be filled with their potent seed as they tossed discus and arrows to show their strength and protective capabilities. 

None of them were catching your eyes, however, even if they all were desperate for the attention, demonstrating their wares for the most beautiful woman in the village. 

Each begging to be the apple of your eye, practically injuring themselves as they showcased their endurance and stamina to get you to pick one of them from the crowd of body oil and testicles. 

You sighed, shooing away the suitors one by one, earning scoffs and side eyes from the other women, telling you to stop being so picky or else your womb will dry up from your negative outlook on the sea of cocks clouding your vision. 

You craved something. You weren’t sure what it was, but you desired a man whom desired you in the least desperate sense. Who cherished your independence, your thoughts, your body, and your soul. None of these suitors were capable of fulfilling your womb in that sense, so you kept with the shooing as you searched for your perfect mate. 

Suddenly, a valiant warrior appeared from the crowd, his muscles rippled and his cock swinging at attention as he made his way to the front of the line of men. 

His hair and inky frame over his chiseled face as he bent over to grip the disc laying in wait, encircling the rock with his humongous hands as his back and legs flexed from him lifting the weight above his head. 

Your womb ached as you watched him effortlessly throw the object further and more accurate than any of the other boys present during this festival of games, the heat causing a bead of sweat to form over your heaving tits clasped under your white robes. 

He huffed as he descended from his perch, moving his way to the crowd of hungry women, each fawning over his size and strength as they clawed to get his attention. 

He paid them no mind, zeroing in on your goddess-like posture, not giving him a single indication that you were interested, even if inside you wanted to scrape the ever loving fuck out of his thick pectorals. 

Your eyes met as he trudged through the seas of desperate cries and declarations of love from the girls below you, pushing them off like flies as he came to your eye level. 

You crossed your legs, pushing your chest out like the lady you were, not breaking eye contact with the brave soldier before you. 

“Y/N,” he muttered out amongst the music and cheer, his face the picture of seriousness as he spoke it to you. 

“Phillip,” you recanted back, smoothing your garment over your midsection, only to look back up to see his cock, half hard and leaned to the left, precum leaking from the tip as his pecs rose and fell from his glistening chest. 

“Will you join me in a dance?” moving a large hand in front of him as he begged you with his darkened eyes, to move off your throne of sorts, “please,” his voice changed slightly in desperation for your delicate hand. 

You sat there, taking in the moment as it came, moving a hand to envelope in his as you lifted your effervescent figure to come to his nude form, feeling his cock press against your thigh as he took you in his arms. 

“This way my dove,” he calmly led you through the mess of scowls and scoffs from the other bachelorettes, knowingly irritated at the fact that you’d bagged the hottest and most fertile warrior in the city. 

It was the best festival week of your entire life, ending with the betrothal between the both of you, sealed by the Gods themselves. 

(I’m sorry there’s no funny catchphrase I couldn’t find a way to weasel it in this kind of story lmao, but I did say cock a lot so there’s that!)

And last but certainly not least, the Holy Ghost himself, Rootin’ Tootin’ Shootin’ Cowboy Rustler Flip Zimmerman (Huckleberry) 

It was a good ol’ fashioned country Christmas on the homestead, complete with snow, ice, and of course you tied up on the dining room table being stuffed seven different ways to Sunday like a holiday honey ham. 

You’d already sustained your precious cowboy mercilessly face fucking you, cumming an unholy amount deep in your throat, the remnants mixing with your saliva as you laid spread wide open on the wood furniture. 

Your breath heaving from your chest as you begged for Flip to continue his holiday quest of stuffing you full of him for Christmas. 

“P-please Phil!” you begged, exhausted and wishing he’d touch you in the spot you so badly craved, “I-I!” stammering as he chuckled above you, lighting a cigarette, with is cowboy hat atop his head, and his naked hulking body heaving from his attack on your precious mouth. 

“Ya know I love it when ya beg ta be stuffed like a Christmas stocking ma sweet vixen,” inhaling a drag of sweet nicotine as he watched your cunt gasp for his cock, dripping in anticipation as he made himself hard again watching your asshole pucker from the air in the room. 

“Yer lil’ pussy’s beggin’ for me ain’t she?” he exhaled a cloud, gripping his half hard dick, smearing the remnants of your spit on his girth as he threw his head back form his own touch, “beggin’ to be stuffed like that damn turkey in the oven,” he cooed, ashing his filter in the tray by the doorway, rubbing his hands together as he surveyed your pretty figure, laid out for him. 

“She o-only wants y-you,” whining as you tried to wrench your head around to see where he’d found himself, hoping he was mere inches away from your heat as you writhed in your restraints. 

“Mhmm,” he mused, running his thick hands on your ass, smoothing the skin as he reared one hand to slap it with all the might he could, the ripple from the heat of the blow causing an instant five-star to bloom on the pristine cheek. 

“I love these honey hams a yours darlin’,” he cooed, slapping the other cheek to match its twin, “there so, juicy,” eyes growing dark as he drank in your whines from the pained blows you’d sustained. 

Stilling your hips to prod his thick cock at your weeping hole, the pressure causing you to lose your ever loving mind as you felt him penetrate your walls with a painfully slow motion, making your cunt eat him centimeter by centimeter. 

“P-Phil!” screaming out and begging for more friction, trying to break free from your expertly knotted ties on the legs of the table. 

“Uh huh darlin’,” he tsked, still inching himself in as you cried out into the living room, “naughty girls don’t get presents, don’t ya remember how the song goes sugar?” he chuckled, stilling himself for what seemed like hours before he started his assault on your tight little hole. 

HOLY. FUCKING. SHIT. I CANNOT EVEN REMEMBER WHAT I WROTE I HOPE IT’S DECENT ENOUGH TO BE WORTHY OF THE WHALE COCK VIBES! 

🖤,

ray-nal-beads

#the holy trinity #captain blowhole #this is sparta #im your huckleberry #this is the most cracked out au #i need a cigarette #or five packs of them stat #ask the bead night #ask the beads

[thornbolts]

Honesty - Remy

LAYER ONE : THE OUTSIDE

Name: “Remington Anne Thornbolt. My ma and pops wanted a name that could fit either a boy or girl. They both settled on Remington, and my middle name would be Anne or Anthony. I like my name! It’s real fun ta say.”

Eye Color: “Yellow. I’m told they got a real piercin’ look.”

Hair Style/Color: “Falls ta my shoulders like weeds. Can look green or red dependin’ on how the light hits it. So we’ll just say both. I try ta brush it whenever I can, but I’m real careful ta not do it too hard else I can brush part of my scalp right off.”

Height: “Five feet and six inches. Climbs up ta around five feet and nine inches with my hat on. Pops is six feet and four inches. Ma is around five feet and five inches. Guess pops gave me some ‘a his height. Barely.”

Clothing Style: “Beaten leathers. Sandy ponchos. Cloaks. My hat never leaves my side. I love this damn thing. Only thing I still got left of my ma. Pretty little flower-stitched gunbelt. Skinnin’ knife. Diplomacy, he’s my pistol. And ol’ Bessy, she’s my rifle.”

LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE

Your Fears: “Bein’ buried alive. Bein’ trapped. Goin’ overboard at sea. The deep ocean.”

Your Guilty Pleasure:  “Shitty romance novels. They’re a fun read from ta time. Lets me forget about bein’ dead fer awhile.” 

Your Biggest Pet Peeve: “Scarlet Crusade. I fill every single one ‘a them with holes. They’re like fuckin’ roaches. Buildin’ off of that, I suppose, is folk that judge who I am based on the way I look. Just because I’m dead don’t mean that I’m wantin’ ta shove blight down yer gullet. And if ya think that every Forsaken wants yer guts, don’t be surprised when we find comfort in relyin’ on ourselves than any ‘a you livin’ folk.”

Your Ambition for the Future: “I s’pose it’s ta keep all of my people safe. Been wantin’ ta be an author myself--Maybe compile a book ‘a all the folktales I gathered over all my years.”

LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS

Your First Thoughts Waking Up: “I don’t sleep. I rest, but I don’t sleep. I s’pose it’s... ‘Is there anyone else up right now?’”

What You Think About the Most: “Keepin’ my people safe. Keepin’ my people fed. Keepin’ my people happy. “

What You Think About Before Bed: “This is gonna be a long eight hours. Where’s my sketchbook...”

Your Best Quality Is: “S’pose it’s my heart. I got dangerously close ta fallin’ inta the pit of war against the livin’. I know what both sides are like, livin’ and dead. I’ve lived through both ‘a them. Can empathize real well with folk. Feel what they’re feelin’, ya know?”

LAYER FOUR: WHAT’S BETTER?

Single or Group Dates: “I’m datin’ two folks, but I’m always gonna prefer single dates. Lets me focus on one person and give ‘em my all durin’ it.”

To be Loved or Respected: “Both in equal amounts. Love’ll make people have yer back. Trust ya. Open up ta ya. But love can’t do anythin’ when somethin’ needs doin’. If ya only love, then folk’ll walk over ya. Ya need respect too, a reminder that folk can’t walk all over ya and get away with it.”

Beauty or Brains: “Brains. Beauty ain’t last ferever. You age. You get wounded. You get scarred. What counts is what’s past all them pretty looks.”

Dogs or Cats: “Dogs! They don’t call ‘em man’s best friend fer nothin’! Ya find a loyal pupper, and they’ll have yer back till the end ‘a their days.”

LAYER FIVE: DO YOU?

Lie: “Try not ta unless it’s ta protect folk. I mostly leave all my cards out on the table.”

Believe in Yourself: “Ya believe in yerself, and ya can move mountains. My pa told me that. And while I call bullshit that I can’t push a mountain over with my bare hands, I understand what he means now.”

Believe in Love: “I do. I don’t know if I necessarily believe in love at first sight, but I do believe that love’s a very powerful force ‘a nature.”

Want Someone: “I’m a lucky undead gal datin’ a blood elf and troll, but I would be lyin’ if I said that I hadn’t had any what-if thoughts concernin’ a few other folk.”

LAYER SIX: EVER?

Been on Stage: “Couple ‘a times. Performed with ol’ Harper singin’ duets and told some stories out in front of a crowd. Been rearin’ ta perform at the Brightmoon Faire one ‘a these days as a guest trickshot act.

Done Drugs: “I have. Can see why other people like ‘em. They’re just not fer me. Prefer my head ta be without any distraction.”

Changed Who You Were to Fit In: “Never. One ‘a the things I will never budge on is bein’ true ta myself.”

LAYER SEVEN: FAVORITES

Favorite Color: “Red. Always thought it was so pretty seein’ my ma’s lipsticks.”

Favorite Animal:  “Anythin’ undead. They know what I’m goin’ through and can sympathize.”

Favorite Food: “Shit on a shingle. Or, if ya wanna be fancy about it: Chipped beef on toast.”

Favorite Game: “Tag. I was always a fast runner. Barely ever got caught. That panickin’ feelin’ of bein’ chased was somethin’ else growin’ up. Also, kept me in shape!”

LAYER EIGHT: AGE

Day Your Next Birthday Will Be:  “October 20th.”

How Old Will You Be: “About fifty-three time-wise. But I died when I was thirty-three, and I still look like I’m thirty-three.”

Age You Lost Your Virginity: “I still have it. Don’t imagine I’m goin’ ta lose it unless I somehow change bodies or if they really do end up findin’ a cure fer undeath.”

Does Age Matter: “Ya got frickin’ elves thousands of years old that lives many ‘a human’s lifetimes and yer askin’ me if age matters? It don’t.”

LAYER NINE: IN A BOY OR GIRL

Best Personality: “Compassion. Empathy. Ya always wanna leave the world in a better place than when ya was born inta it. Ya can’t be uncarin’.”

Best Eye Color: “Hell, I don’t know. If they’re pretty and I’m attracted, I don’t really care what color their eyes look.”

Best Hair Color: “Don’t care. This isn’t a dealbreaker if I’m attracted ta some’un.”

Best thing to do with a Partner: “Even if it sounds borin, it’s talkin. I like sharin’ what’s been goin’ on in my head and them sharin’ what’s goin in theirs. It’s just... a way of ensurin’ that they care--that they don’t mind the rottin’, ya know?”

LAYER TEN: FINISH THE SENTENCE

I love: “My people, and I would kill fer them.”

I feel: “Nothin’ most days.”

I hide: “Behind cover when bein’ shot at.”

I miss: “The way things were.”

I wish: “Ta show people that we’re not all monsters.”

Tagged by: @tilnathiel, @irielle-firine (Thank you, you two!)

Tagging:  @star-spire, @glitchphil (any), @ms-winford (any!), @lynaeclarke, @the-real-arcanist-val (any), @bigdumbchicken (any!), @belnorem, @bluexepher, @magistrixvoidchaser, @many-many-oakenmoons @saimbere, @ranekvilmas, @tilnathiel, @caideyn, @latildarommel @melisandemeadowshine, @theunfortunatedruid, @knownashaunt, @monster-of-master,  @sin-emberstalker, @grandpa-swagger, @kharrisdawndancer, @the-soiled-dove, @littlestcreampuff, @kavtari, @swordsandsaddles and you, dear reader!

#ic #remington thornbolt #tag memes #honesty

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Seven Times Great: Part 6

Pairings: John Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst

Word Count: 2,235

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So what are we not doing?” John asked as he pulled up to your seventh case. You sighed and looked out the window.

“Not runnin’ toward the bad thin’s.” A smirk pulled at the corner of his lips as he put the car in park along the curb, down the block of the house your rugaru was in and turned toward you on the seat.

“And?” You fought to control your smile as you turned more toward the window.

“An’ I’m not gon’ float ye ta anoth’a room ta ‘andle it m’self.”

“And?” You could see John’s reflection in the truck window illuminated by the street lights as he crossed his arms over his chest. His eyebrow was arched as he waited for an answer and he was fighting a losing battle with his smile. You sighed but kept your eyes glued to the window.

“An’ I won’ yell a’ the monst’as in Scottish gibberish an’ call ‘em twats an’ cunts.” You turned on your seat and pointed at him with a forced scowl. “An’ let the record show I only did tha’ once!” He nodded slowly as he turned off the car.

“Mmhmm. Sure you did, baby girl.” You stuck your tongue at him as he opened his car door and slid out. He paused with his hand on the door and pointed up at you. “No fire balls. Use a damn lighter like a normal hunter.” You rolled your eyes as you got out of the truck behind him and closed the door on your way to the back of the truck.

“Again, only did tha’…” He glanced over at you with his eyebrow raised and you stood up a little straighter. “A’right, twice.” He handed you one of his home made flame throwers and a zippo.

“Twice to many.” You rolled your eyes as you flicked open the zippo to make sure it worked. “Stay behind me.” You nodded as he closed the bed of his truck and walked past you. You loved the way he got all serious when he was going into a hunt.

You never meant to make hunts harder on him the way you did but unlike John, when you got into that hostile environment, you felt like you were in a bar during a Celtic match in Glasgow all over again. Your natural instinct to taunt and fight back came out and you sometimes got a bit carried away. Apparently, no matter how cute John though you were when you went on a rant, during a hunt was not the time for it.

“Door.” He said softly as he walked up the steps to the front porch silently. You flicked your finger at the white wood and slowly creeped open. As silently as you could, you flipped the top of the zippo open and followed him into an ambush.

A man with blood shot, yellowed eyes, a scared face and blood dripping from his mouth lunged and tackled John to the ground. Fear ripped through you and you instantly dropped the zippo and shoved the man off your boyfriend as hard as you could.

“Ye think so?” You snapped as you snapped your fingers in front of the blow torch and squeezed the trigger. It sputtered for a half a second before the flame died just as the rugaru was finding his feet once more. “Moth’a fuck’a.”

“Just do it!” John coughed. You smirked as you dropped the red can and made a giant fire ball in your palm.

“You can’t save him.” The man taunted as you threw the first flame toward him, missing him by inches as he ducked behind a couch. “Something will…”

“Piss off, ye twat.” You snapped as you created a second fire ball. The monster lunged over the back of the couch and you caught him in mid-air with the flame. “Yea tha’ wha’ I thought ye cunt. Done fucked up good, aye?” You threw the man across the room, slammed him into a wall, and hit him with a second fire ball for good measure as his pained screams filled the room. You bent down, scooped up the gas can and the zippo and crouched down next to John.

“Can’t go one hunt without calling someone a twat, can you?” You shook your head as you grabbed his arm and blinked you both to the street by his truck.

“T’is a Glaswegian thin’, luv… well not jus’ Glasgow but still.” He shook his head and stood up with a sigh of defeat on the issue. You handed him your weapons of choice with a smile and headed to the cab of the truck to leave before the police were called.

“We’re gunna take a break from hunters training for a bit. You’re a little too good at this.” He joked as he pulled himself into the driver seat beside you with a chuckle. You smiled proudly as you toed off your boots and kicked your feet up on the dash.

“An’ ye were worried ‘bout me.” You looked over at him with a smirk as he rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Blink us home, baby girl. I don’t feel like driving.” With a small giggle, you put your feet on the floorboard and one hand on the dash. It took just a tad bit longer to get your mind wrapped around the whole truck as you laid your other hand on the roof. With a deep breath and a blink, the truck rocked a bit and landed rather hard in your driveway.

“‘ome sweet ‘ome.” With a sigh of relief, you both got out of the truck and grabbed your bags from the truck bed. Neither of you realized how tired you really were until that exact moment but three weeks on the road had taken a lot out of you. You didn’t even bother bringing your duffle all the way into your room and snapped both you and John into PJ’s as he locked up and did his nightly routine of checking salt lines, traps and rooms. By the time he crawled into bed beside you and pulled you into his arms, you were both fast asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So no fireballs?” You joked as John handed you a machete.

“No fireballs!” He snapped. You pouted as Dean leaned forward and looked at you.

“You can make fireballs?” Your pout turned into a smile as you made a small ball of fire hover in your palm.

“Don’t encourage her!” John snapped as he handed his oldest a machete. You giggled as you extinguished the flame.

“‘e doesn’t like it ’s’much.” You teased as John handed Sam a machete and closed the trunk of the Impala. “‘e doesn’t like tha’ I call ‘em twats, either.” Sam and Dean tried to stifle their laughter as John turned you around and gestured toward path to the barn you were supposed to be clearing.

“March, baby girl.” You glanced over your shoulder at him and smiled broadly.

“Ye know I make yer life more fun, luv.” You said as you headed down the path. He nodded as he fell into step beside you.

“Yea, that’s a damn understatement.” You bumped into him with your shoulder and leaned your head on his arm.

“She is good for him.” Sam muttered under his breath as John put his arm around your shoulder and kissed the top of your head.

“It’s so weird to see him like this.” Dean agreed as John rubbed your arm for a second before letting you go. Sam nodded in agreement as you bent down and picked a flower. You pulled a bobby pin from the back of your bun and pinned the flower in the middle of the twist with a small giggle at whatever John had said. “Makes you wonder what he would have been like if mom had stayed alive.” The two brothers shared a quick glance as John paused and looked back at them.

“You two gunna just watch us hunt or are you gunna show up to work?” Sam rolled his eyes as Dean slipped into ‘serious hunter mode’. As you got closer to the barn, John gestured to his son’s to go one way as he he gently grabbed your arm and pulled you toward him. You fell back a few steps so John could take point as Sam and Dean lined up beside you. With a silent count of three on his fingers, you quietly opened the door with your powers and waited outside for a moment so the three men could enter.

The weather worn barn was completely empty as the four of you stepped inside and there wasn’t a single item that gave you any indication that anyone had ever been there. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end as a magical laugh filled the space from the shadows in front of you.

“Ye Winchesters neva learn.” As a purple glow filled the barn, you dropped the machete and moved in front of John. Instinct took over as you easily caught the spell your grandmother threw at the boys and you threw it back in her direction.

“Ye fuckin’ cunt!” You screeched as you threw up a protection spell behind you. “Ye think ye can attack m’boys, aye?”

“They’re monst’as like the things they destroy, (Y/N)! ‘ow can ye not see tha’?” You threw a whitish blue spell at her that she managed to barely escape from.

“Ye know nothin’ ‘bout my family.” You growled as a smile spread across your face. “Ye neva did. Ye turned yer fuckin’ back on the only family ye ‘ad, ye skank.” With a growl she tried throwing another spell at you that ricocheted off the protection spell behind you. You could feel your feet lifting slowly off the floor as your anger curled in your stomach. “Ye think that’ll save ye, ye twat? Think ye can trick m’family an’ I wouldn’t find out? Face it, yer alone in this world an’ t’is yer own fuckin’ fault!”

“I know wha’s bes’ for m’ gran’daught’a!” She screeched as she tried to throw another half assed spell at the protection spell to find a weak spot. You slammed a spell back at her that sent her flying back against the back wall of the barn as Dean finally got ahold of Crowley for back-up.

“Ye don’ know shite ‘bout yer gran’daught’a, ye bell-end! Ye know pow’a. Tha’ all ye know! An’ I’ll tell ye this…” You grabbed her by the neck and yanked her forward so she was hovering in front of you. Her body writhed as you curled your hand around her throat and tilted your head to the side as she began to struggle for air. “Ye even look a’ m’family ‘gain an’ I won’ jus’ fuckin’ threaten’ ye. M’ boyfriend, m’uncle, the boys an’ the angel… their off limits to ye. Ye think ye can beat me a’ this fucking game? Fuckin’ try me, cunt.”

“Dove… put her down.” You couldn’t look away from Rowena’s slightly blue face as you shook your head at your uncle.

“She’s ta learn.” You didn’t see Crowley’s shake of his head as your grip on Rowena’s throat was forcibly loosened.

“Dove, you cross that line, you can’t come back. I can’t help you if you go dark…” You glanced down at him and John, who was pressed up against the protection spell. Your grip loosened once again as he put his hand on the invisible wall.

“Baby girl, please. You promised me.” His gaze followed you as you slowly came down and once your feet hit the ground, you let go of Rowena. She gasped for air as Crowley told his demon’s to bring her back to her cell.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered as you reversed the protection spell. He nodded as he quickly took a step over and wrapped you in his arms.

“Please, sweetheart. Please just leave her alone. I can’t lose you.” You nodded as Crowley came over and pulled you away from John.

“You listen to me and you listen well.” He leaned down til he was eye level with you. He pointed at you as his eyes tinted red. “Stay- the fuck- away- from my mother. I don’t care what she does, I don’t care where she goes, leave- the cunt- alone. I will not let her corrupt you because that’s what she’s trying to do. You can’t kill her no matter how strong you are and the first time you do, you go dark and I have to send these flannel clad morons after my only family. You go near her again and I’ll lock you in your own cell until you find some fucking sense again, do you understand me?” You nodded frantically as he poked your shoulder with his finger. “Stay- away!” He looked up at John and shook his head. “Take her home.” John grabbed your arm and guided you out the door as Crowley disappeared with Rowena.

“No more hunts for you.” John said as Dean snickered into his wrist. “I just… I can’t with you.” You looked up at him with a small smile.

“I didn’ make a fire ball.” He scowled at you as Sam and Dean burst out laughing.

“Not the point, baby girl. So not the point.”

#John Winchester x Reader #Seven Times Great

[thewalkingdeadfanfictions]

Dawn of Corr Kendrick Chapter 2 - Is this the End?

Day eight of the global outbreak

           The nine of us were currently gathered around my computer watching the video I found online from a news camera man:

           It starts with sirens being heard in the background before who we all assume is the camera man cleans off the camera lens while a man’s voice in the background says “628 Tremont. 3 Dead. No, just the usual. Fuck. Usual.” It then pans over and we see the voice is coming from a cop who looks over to his partner as he questions “It’s no big deal these days right? Some guy, what’s his name?” “I don’t know.” His partner responds earning an “Oh, who knows his name?” from the first cop as the camera zooms in on an arriving ambulance, the source of the sirens. It zooms back in to the first cop as he says into the radio “Who cares. Fucking shoots his wife and kid, and eats the fuckin’ licorice. Sticks it in his mouth and blows his own brains out.” The ambulance pulls in then, right in front of where the camera man had set up causing him to run over to it as the cop continues “This guy has no ID, no fuckin’ papers. Probably squirreled over the goddamn border.” That’s when the camera man tells the EMT’s “Hey, guys. Channel 10 News. Listen, you’re kind of blocking our shot. Can I get you to move forward a bit?” while pointing back towards the camera. “Yeah, sure.” A female voice tells him so he tells them “Thanks.” Before running back over questioning “You ready?” “Yeah, almost. Two minutes. Let’s grab some more B-roll.” Another female voice answers, who we assume is probably the reporter, as the ambulance pulls up and we see people wheeling out two bodies covered in white sheets. It then turns to focus on who must be the reporter, since she’s fixing her hair in the side mirror of the news van, as the camera man’s voice tells her “Can’t get close enough for an Emmy.” “Screw the Emmy. I’d settle for a fucking paycheck.” She tells him causing him to respond “Story of my life.” As it pans over to the driver of one of the ambulances, who was nonchalantly eating a sandwich. “Look at this guy. Look at this fuckin’ guy.” The first cop comments followed by the frame zooming out as he continues commenting “Chowing down while his buddies are shoving a corpse in the back of the van.” “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s do it.” The reporter says then so it pans back over to her, stepping in the middle of the shot so both bodies could still be seen. “Am I good?” she questions earning a “Yeah” from him so she starts to turn on her “reporter” persona while the one body in the background starts twitching. They pull back the sheet revealing what looks like a woman. They go to check her vitals as the reporter reports “Bree Reno reporting live from Homestead, where tragedy be-felled an immigrant family. An unidentified man has shot his wife and sixteen year old son to death before turning the gun on himself.” The “dead’ woman starts twitching more obviously then causing the camera man to exclaim “Jesus!” “What?” Bree questions annoyed so the camera man say “I don’t believe this.” As the woman continues to twitch more and more noticeable. “What? Is there something wrong with the camera? Just fix it.” Bree tells him annoyed and oblivious to what’s happening behind her causing him to tell her “She’s-she’s still moving.” “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Brody. I’m right in the middle of a-What?” Bree complains just before we see the woman drag down and attack one of the paramedics causing camera man Brody to exclaim “Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” “For god’s sake!” Bree exclaims turning to look as a voice in the background questions “What the hell is going on over there?” before Bree turns back around saying “I thought they were dead.” “They’re supposed to be. They are! I don’t know. She’s moving on the frickin’ gurney man!” Brody exclaims before telling her “Get out of the way. Come on.” She gets out of frame as some calls for backup and the woman sits up on the gurney still attacking the poor paramedic. Another finally pulls him away and the camera focuses on the woman, with distinct gunshot wounds in her chest and a distinct bite mark on her arm, clearly dead as she stands up from the gurney before the camera pans, focuses on a second body that still wasn’t moving, pans, and focuses on a third body now starting to twitch as someone exclaims “The other one’s moving!” The female paramedic pulls back the sheet and the boy, with three distinct gunshot wounds in his back, sits up and attacks her. She pushes and kicks him away as the cop exclaims “Take him out!” before they start shooting at him. The camera focus on the kid, with a now visible bloodied bandage on one of his hands and bloodied mouth, as he gains more shots to the torso that start tearing chucks of flesh off. “He’s not going down! He’s not going down!” the cop exclaims before he’s finally shot in the head and he crumbles in a heap. Just then the woman appears in the shot reaching for Brody causing him to exclaim “Holy shit!” as she ends up just knocking the camera over before going and attacking Bree. “Bree!” Brody screams before we hear Bree screaming and blood pouring onto the ground from the attack out of shot while the cop orders “Shoot her in the head!” There’s then a single gunshot dropping the woman. We then see Bree drop to her knees with a huge chuck of flesh missing from her face and frozen from the shock. Brody drops down behind her and holds her to his chest exclaiming “No! No! This can’t be happening! This can’t be fucking happening!” before the video cuts out.

           It showed what the news network didn’t. It showed the truth as most of what the news was showing was bullshit. Bullshit about it being under control…that it had to be some kind of hoax.

Day nine of the global outbreak

            “Hey Corr.” Eric says timidly when Ana, Luis, and I come into the living room in the morning so I question “Hey Eric?” “The…the uh…video from yesterday is gone…and we were wondering if you could find it or another again.” Clark answers for him so I take a deep breath and nod before starting the search on my laptop.

****Time Skip****

           Eventually I manage to connect to a site after jumping through many “hoops” that someone had set up for people to share their own videos, comments, and questions. It also seemed that many people were suggesting to trying to contact your friends and family and to say goodbye just in case before everything goes down. “Hey guys.” I say then causing them all to look at me so I continue “They’re suggesting trying to connect to our friends and family to say goodbye just in case before everything goes down.” “Before?” Ana questions so I nod saying “They say eventually it will if there’s no one left to keep it going.” “It’s as good an idea as anything right now.” Clark says so everyone nods and start to try and do so.

Day ten of the global outbreak

“Guys! I got her! I’ll put her on speaker!” Dove cries happily after finally connecting to her sister, Connie, who was currently vacationing in France and whose phone had gone straight to voicemail yesterday. “Hey guys. How is it there?” Her voice questions so Dove answers “It’s been better. We’ve lost a few friends. What about you? Are you safe?” “Yes. I’m safe. I’m with a kind couple who are letting me stay with them when all transportation halted. It’s not that bad here though. We haven’t seen anyone effected yet.” “That’s good.” Dove tells her causing her sister to respond “Yeah. Have you been able to contact Mom and Dad though?” “No.” Dove tells her sadly causing her sister to choke back a sob as she says “I thought you’d say that.” Before asking “Are you safe?” “Yes. I’m safe. I’m with Clark and seven more friends at the boys’ house.” Dove tells her earning a “That’s good. I should go now. I love you. Stay safe.” “I love you too. You stay safe too.” Dove tells her before getting off her phone and hugging Clark in happiness.

Day eleven of the global outbreak

           Now most of us are trying to keep our mind off of the horrors happening outside by keeping ourselves busy gathering the possibly useful things of our dead or gone friends. We then removed the things that we probably wouldn’t need from our bags (like our class books and work) before sorting the “useful” things and the remaining non-perishable food evenly and based on need between the groups in case we got separated. If we did get separated we made a plan to meet at the department store Ana worked at because, well, they never locked the back door due to “fire safety”/the manager not wanting to have to lock and unlock it every morning. Then we’d eventually figure out where to go from there. Patrick wanted to head to a Quarry a few miles outside of Atlanta that basically everyone but Eric and I knew about from some campfire party they went to a few months ago. Ana tried getting me to go but parties…or interacting with people I didn’t really know…weren’t really my thing. But none of us knew the first thing about camping.

We also started routinely checking the website for any important updates and checking in with the family members and friends we had gotten into contact with.  Though some of us had already assumedly lost some by them no longer answering. Clark’s parents, everyone Stan had previously gotten into contact with, Eric’s parents and grandparents, Cali’s cousin in Canada, Louis’s elder-sister, Ana’s grandparents, a few of each of their hometown friends, and unfortunately my parents as well. These guys were the only ones I had left though I hoped that the reason I couldn’t reach my parents anymore was because they ended up forgetting the charger to their phone when they told me that they were going to head to Grandma’s in King County two days ago.

Day twelve of the global outbreak

           The nine of us were currently gathered around my computer watching videos shared on the site when we came across a live video that just showed the face of an Asian girl talking:

           “We here. Anyone listening? Someone listen. We Tokyo. Very bad here. Very bad Tokyo.” That’s when screaming can be heard in the background causing her to look back just as objects run by the textured window behind her. She looks back at the camera before continuing “Don’t bury dead. First shoot in head. Don’t bury dead. First shoot in head!” That’s when there’s the sound of glass shattering in the background causing her to immediately get up and run in what must be the opposite direction. Soon a body with torn and bloody clothes shambles past the screen. Followed by another one and another before one ends up knocking into whatever she had been using to broadcast to the ground cutting the signal just as another scream could be heard.

           “I hope she’s alright.” Dove whispers causing Stan to snap “Alright?! She’s not alright! She’s either getting torn apart by those things we saw or is about to!” “Enough Stan!” Clark snaps as Dove throws herself into his arms sobbing earning a simple “What? It’s true.” From Stan. “Can you be a little sensitive?” Cali snaps back causing Stan to scoff “Sensitive? Everyone I knew other than you sorry fuckers is gone! Forgive me for not being sensitive!” “We’ve all lost people Stan.” Ana says only to get an eye-roll from him before he walks off.

Day thirteen of the global outbreak

“Guys!” Dove cries suddenly as she puts her phone on speaker and redialed. Instead of her sister or her voicemail it was an automated voice telling us “The person you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please try again later.” “Jesus.” Cali breathes out before Dove questions sadly “What about nine-one-one? They should be able to connect with her right?” “Yeah.” Clark tells her causing her to try it. But it doesn’t even ring and only has an automated voice tell us “Due to the unusual volume of calls, your call cannot be completed at this time. You are advised to stay indoors and lock your doors and windows. Do not go outside. If you know anyone who has the following symptoms, quarantine them immediately. The symptoms are: coughing, fever, high temperatures, vomiting, and severe hallucinations.”

“What about the internet?” Eric questions panicked so I open my laptop and attempt to connect. I breathe a sigh of relieve when it connects before telling them “Still here.” Causing them all to breathe a sigh of relief too knowing that wasn’t down. “Can you please check and see if you can see how bad it is where she is?” Dove asks so I nod and go to the website I found and send out the question: “Does anyone know how bad France is? We can’t contact our family that is there anymore.” And almost immediately people started commenting variations of same here and neither can we. This causes Dove to start crying and then sobbing when someone finally comments “It’s getting really bad. I’m sorry about your families.”

Day fourteen of the global outbreak

           I’m awoken by Ana shaking me awake. “Wh-“ I start to ask only for her to cover my mouth and put her finger to her lips. I nod and sit up to see the other girls in the room with us and with their bags. Cali also had the other bat in her hands and I noticed that Ana was holding the crowbar. That’s when we start to hear the faint sound of the guys arguing with unknown voices from downstairs. Ana motions for me to collect my bags as she did the same. I quickly do it just before the arguing suddenly stops. We all share a look before the door suddenly revealing Luis who had his weapon, one of the kitchen knives, his bag, and was motioning for us to come quietly. That’s when we heard the banging of multiple things hitting the house from downstairs.

           We cautiously follow him downstairs and I see that the guys had been arguing with another group, three guys and two women, with only one of the guys not having a gun and one of the women being pregnant. “So you do have more people.” One of the guys, an angry dark-haired guy in a military uniform, hissed angrily but quiet when the three glanced in our direction. The three of the other four, the African-American older mom-type woman who seemed to be the mother of the beautiful pregnant African-American woman, who seemed to be the wife/girlfriend of the handsome dirty blonde business-man type guy, gives us an apologetic look before back towards the front of the house, the source of the banging, while the African-American over-protective dad type older man seemed like he could care less about us.

Stan who had slowly crept towards the front windows, which were covered by the curtains, with his bat raised a ready slowly held the bat with one hand, held his other hand up and flashed the number five twice, flashing the number two, making an “give or take” motion as he peaked out the window from the side of the curtains without touching them, before slowly backing back up. Meaning there was about twelve of those things out there.

“You got a back door?” The older man questions causing Patrick to answer “Yeah.” “Let’s use it.” He responds not taking his eyes off the source of danger causing Clark to say “And go where? We don’t know you people. We only let you in because of her and look what that’s got us.” While pointing to the pregnant woman. “If you kids just did what I said this wouldn’t have happened.” The military guy snaps causing the non-pregnant woman to say “Officer Reynolds is helping us go up to Chicago. You’re welcome to come with us if you don’t have plans to go somewhere else. It’s obviously not safe here for you anymore.” “Paula.” The older man says in a scolding manner causing Luis to say “Thanks but we’re good. We have a spot of our own planned out.” “Good.” The two unfriendly males say before we start to hear the distinct sound of glass cracking. “The windows cracking.” Dove says panicked so Patrick and Reynolds announce “Let’s go before it breaks.”

We all quickly and as quietly as possible head to the back door. Stan slowly opens the door and looks both ways before motioning for us to go. We all start heading down the surprisingly empty street before we realize Eric wasn’t following us. The eight of us stop and turn around causing Paula to question “What’s wrong?” as she stops with us, causing the others to stop too. “Let’s go. Don’t bother with them.” The older man hisses earning a “They’re kids.” From her while Dove answers her question with “Eric isn’t following us.”

That’s when we spot him waving and shaking his head with a sad smile on his face, still in the doorway of the house. “Fuck.” Patrick says in a guilty tone, but all of us had forgotten about his fear of leaving the house, causing Dove to scream “No! You have to come with us!” as she runs towards him. “Dove no!” Clark calls quickly going after her causing the rest of us to call “Guys!”

Dove is only a few steps away when he’s grabbed with multiple hands and pulled back into the house causing her to scream another “No!” and crumple to the ground. Unfortunately this causes some of them to abandon him and start shambling towards her. That’s when another group of them pop out of an alley between us and them forcing us to have to start backing away as we start to hear gunshots, which draw the whole new group in their direction instead of ours.

“Wait! We can’t just leave them! They’re just kids!” The two women call then so we turn to see that they’re now getting dragged away by the guys. We quickly turn back around when we then hear Dove’s and Clark’s screams. “Come on guys. There’s nothing we can do for them now.” Patrick says then causing most of us to breathe out a “Shit.” As we turn back around, leaving them for those things. But we don’t bother trying to catch up to/find the five as they had already disappeared down an alley when our backs were turned.

****Time skip****

           Our luck ran out after a few miles when we ran into a large group of those things just chilling in alley. “Oh shit.” Ana breathes out as we all quickly turn to run back the way we came. We get a few feet away from the alley before one of them suddenly grabs Stan’s ankle from its “hiding” place under a van causing him to fall and ends up dropping his bat, causing it to roll away and unfortunately under a car, while more start stumbling out from a bus. Stan desperately tries kicking it away as Patrick goes to go for it but has to impale another that gets too close for comfort. The other’s try to help as I go and try and reach the fallen bat from the relative safety of being near the group instead of the other side. My hand had just closed around it when Stan screams in pain, meaning he was probably bitten. I quickly pull it out and stand up as Stan starts screaming “You mother fuckers! I’ll take you all with me!”  

Luckily I was just in time to have to be able to stumble away from one that managed to get past them. I quickly try and hold the bat correctly as it slowly reaches for me and follows after me. “Patrick!” Cali screams then momentarily causing me to lose focus and glance in their direction just as Patrick screams with one biting down on his arm. That’s when my arms are grabbed and the thing tries to take a bite out of me as I quickly try pull away from it while Cali starts screaming “You bastards!” This causes me to trip over, probably my own feet, and fall to the ground taking it with me. “Fuck!” I exclaim desperately trying to keep its snapping jaws away from my face by using the bat as a blocker. “Corr!” Ana exclaims then causing me to dare and look in her direction to see Cali desperately trying to smack the things away from a fallen Patrick, how he got there I don’t know, and Ana and Luis fighting their own things as they slowly made their way towards me.

I could feel my tears start to roll down my face then as I realize they probably won’t get to me before this thing gets me. But that’s when Cali lets out a deafeningly loud scream distracting the things enough that I was able to push the thing off me. I quickly scramble away from it as Cali is now screaming “Go!” over and over again. Surprisingly the thing doesn’t try for me again but slowly crawls in her direction. I slowly stand up as I watch them swarm Cali while Ana and Luis finally make their way to me, careful not to re-gain the things attention. We all share a painful look before continuing our journey…losing six people to these things within a few minutes…hours…I don’t know anymore…is hard but we had to keep going and find a safe spot to survive, for them.

****Time Skip****

           When it became obvious that we weren’t going to be able to make it to our destination before nightfall we started checking the buildings, which still seemed intact/secure, that we passed for unlocked doors or with someone to answer the rhythmic knocking. And just when we thought we’d have to hide in a dumpster we come to a video store whose windows and door were covered with paintings of different movies. We send a silent prayer that it will be unlocked or someone will be there to open the door before I try the door handle while they keep watch. I breathe a sigh of relief when the handle turns and the door opens.

           “It’s open.” I say quietly stepping into the almost complete blackness of the store with only one row of the lights being on. They quickly follow me inside so I shut the door behind us, which doesn’t help with the darkness situation but we wouldn’t want any un-invited guests. I pull out my phone then and turn the flashlight on and pan it around the store. Surprisingly everything seemed to still be intact and nothing seemed to be knocked over in a struggle. We also couldn’t hear anything other than our own breathing, which was good but we couldn’t relax yet. We had to check it thoroughly before we could.

           We’re huddled together as we painstakingly check the store, going slowly up and down the aisles and panning the light over everything as we go. We first come to the bathroom and surprisingly find it empty and blood-free. New we come to the backroom to find a bloody employee slumped against the lockers, between them and the bench, and blood on the backdoor, floor, lockers, and bench. We all share a look before Luis whispers “Hey.” But get no reaction. “Hey.” He repeats a little louder and still nothing so with a hand to tell us to stay he slowly steps towards them before kicking their shoe.

Again there was nothing so Luis slowly crouches down and looks them over before suddenly they suddenly start raising their arm. “Luis!” Ana cries causing him to try and jump back but gets stopped by the bench, causing his legs to become tangled in theirs. “Shit!” He exclaims causing Ana and I to rush forward, her to pull him away as he scrambled away from it and me to ram the end of the bat, like a battering ram, into the side of its face. It falls over but unfortunately it wasn’t down for good as it slowly went to get up. Before I knew it, Luis had rushed forward and started stomping the things head in with a “God…Damn…Fucking…Fake…Shit!” between each stomp. “Luis.” Ana gently tries then but is ignored as he keeps stomping the mush that was the things head. “Damn it Luis. Stop!” She says then going over, grabbing him, and pulling him away as he keeps stomping the ground.

“Calm down. It’s dead.” She tells him gently while pulling him down to the ground with her as she started stroking his head, to calm him down. It was another close call…too close…but the check wasn’t over yet. So I approach the backdoor, pull my sleeve over my hand, and wipe off the bloody handle before trying to open the door, only to find it locked. I look over at the fallen body then and notice a set of keys connected to their belt.

Walking over, I reach down, grab them, and try to pick them up only for them to still be connected to one of those pull strings. “Of course.” I grumble annoyed having to let them go and pull the clip off the belt before walking back over to the backdoor, trying each key before finding the correct one, and then unlocking and slowly opening it to find an alley. I slowly stick my head out and look down either side only to find it was empty, save for a few dumpsters, bloodstains, and bags of trash. Breathing a sigh of relief, at the aspect of another probably safe escape route and none of those things, I slowly close the door again but leave it unlocked as we’d probably rest back here where there was no windows. “Whatever got him is long gone. I’m going to go lock the front door. Don’t want any un-invited guests.” I tell them then while shaking the keys causing Luis to say “Yeah. Be careful.” Before looking over at the body adding “We should probably drag that out before cleaning up the blood.” “You think? I’m not sleeping in the same room as that.” Ana snaps in a disgusted tone earning an annoyed “I know that.” From Luis. This of course pissed her off causing her to snap “Well excuse me. Didn’t know you still knew what I liked after you fucked another girl!” so I give a quiet “I’m gonna go now.” Before fast walking out the door as Luis groans “Don’t bring that up now.”

I could faintly hear their argument as I make my way back to the front door. And once I was there I could faintly hear the sounds of gunshots from somewhere in the city. With a sigh I lock the door before turning to look at the store and end up noticing something I didn’t before, a T.V. in the corner by the register on the menu for the Disney movie The Princess and the Frog. With a small laugh I go over to the register and look for the remote. Finding it I point it at the T.V. and unmute it, allowing the sweet instrumental music to come from the speakers faintly. It might be a bad idea but it’d be nice to simply watch a Disney movie to take our minds off the horrors that have and are happening outside.

#fanfic #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl x oc #original character

[finn-ray-nal-beads]

Ok, fucker. I keep thinking about your HORSECOCK IN A BOX 🖕. So now, I’d love to hear your smuttiest ass thoughts and worst possible puns for your AU guys and also for regular old Detective Flip as to what special gift they’d each give you for Christmas!

@safarigirlsp GOOD FUCKING LORD I LOVE THESE CRACK AU’S I CAN’T GET ENOUGH OF THEM LMAO! I LOVED HORSECOCK IN A BOX WITH ALL MY HEART AND YA KNOW WHAT.... IT’S FUCKING CANON CLYDE FIGHT ME ON THAT🤣

SO NOW ONTO BUSINESS *CRACKS KNUCKLES* LET’S GET THIS SHIT TRAIN A MOVIN’ 

Worst possible puns that have arisen in my thoughts for Cpt. Blowhole: 

- “I’m gonna blow my load so deep in your cunts gonna be swimmin’ in semen, whore!” 

- “I’ll storm your shores so good I won’t need to pillage your village!” 

- “I want ya ta wail on my whale sized cock, slut!” 

- “Well, well, well, would ya have a look see over here, ma cock’s at half mast.... ya wanna help me out with that, Y/N?” 

- “I’ll be 7,000 leagues into your pussy by breakfast, whore.” 

- “Captain’s about ta blow lil’ lady!” (IT’S MY STAPLE I HAD TO ADD THIS AGAIN IM DEAD 💀)

- “I don’t need a map to explore your Seven Seas, Y/N.” 

- “How many pieces of Eight you think I could stuff in that tight lil’ cunt of yours, whore?” 

- “This massive Kraken is gonna split this pretty pussy in half!”

- “Yes, Y/N, sing your siren song on my massive cock!” 

- “Well blow me the fuck down, Y/N, you’re so goddamn tight!”

THE GIFT OL’ CAP WOULD GIVE YOU FOR XMAS: a gaping asshole filled with his millions of salty swimmers

I FUCKING HATE MYSELF SO MUCH RN.... SO LET’S CONTINUE THIS FUCKIN’ CRACK HEAD BULLSHIT SHALL WE? 

Worst possible puns that have come about for This Is Sparta: 

- “I’m gonna breed you until you provide me a full phalanx of my seed.” 

- “Spread your legs, Y/N, I wanna see Pandora’s Box.” 

- “Keep that seed nice and warm for me my perfect goddess. I wouldn’t want my sons to be dripping out of those gorgeous folds of yours.” 

- “You’re gonna take my seed so deep inside you, you’ll be puking up my children by the end of this night!” 

- “My dove, your walls close in on me so well the Gods envy that I get to fuck you every night of this existence.” 

- “Bend over, Y/N, I wanna see you take my warrior in your tight little hole.” 

- “You like knowing that all of my men want to have you for their own? You want me to mark you with my seed so they know who you belong to?” 

THE PRECIOUS GIFT HE’D BESTOW ON HIS LADY LOVE: BIG triplet boys (FUCKIN’ HUGE BABIES LIKE GARGANTUAN) 

AND FOR THE FINALE OF THIS HORRIBLE FEVER DREAM...

Worst possible puns that have rustled their way yonder from Huckleberry’s dirty mouth: 

- “I’m gonna hogtie and throw your ass on the back of my horse if ya don’t behave yourself, slut.” 

- “Ya know I love it when ya beg for this cock a mine, Y/N.” 

- “What did I say about bein’ a fuckin’ brat? Ya need me ta choke it out of you on my cock, whore?” 

- “No one likes a naughty girl... ‘cept for me.” *WINK WINK* *FLICK OF A CIGARETTE* 

- “Aw darlin’, ya know I love when ya whinny for my schlong.” 

- “Ya like pain, slut?” *puts cigarette out on your back while your tied up on the bed* “I’m gonna mark you up so no other rustler can have ya.” 

- “I’m your fuckin’ Huckleberry, slut. Bend the fuck over like I told ya to.” *shoves his revolver up your puckered asshole* 

- “You’re gonna keep that goddamn seed in your pussy,” *shoves four fingers up into seal the deal* “not a fuckin’ drop had better fall out or so help me, darlin’.” 

THE GIFT OF STUFFING THAT THIS PRECIOUS COWBOY BESTOWS ON US: rugburn, cigarette welts, and a Shibari kink 

NOW ONTO PART TWO OF THIS FIRE THAT’S A BURNIN’... THE PUNS FROM GOOD OL’ RELIABLE HIMSELF....

DETECTIVE PHILLIP “FLIP” BDE ZIMMERMAN 

Worst puns that have come up in my thorough research of his character: 

- “Ya really want to bribe a detective into some activities, Y/N?” *showing up at the precinct in a lil’ black number and heels to sweeten him up before his nightshift* 

- “You’re gonna take this cock in as many fuckin’ ways as I can make you cum, you understand me, slut?” *practically crying from every single angle he tries on you that night*

- “Show everyone who the fuck you belong to, Y/N.” *fucking up into you as he watches your face contort in full pleasure on top of him* (a CLASSIC Flip one-liner)

- “Put your hands behind your back, ma’am, you’re under arrest... for stealing my heart.” (OMFG I THREW UP BUT THIS IS CANON) 

- “You’re gonna cum when I tell you to, whore.” *watching the tears roll down your cheeks as he edges you for the remainder of the night* 

- “You want me to stuff this pussy full of me? You’re gonna be sloshin’ around the house for days you’ll be so damn full of me.” *the moan emitting from deep in your chest cavity spurring him to spray his seed all over your walls, the warmth channeling through your uterus as you feel him reach into your body with his throbbing cock* 

- “Keep that nice a safe for me, Y/N.” *stuffs his half hard cock back into your sopping cunt after he’s had you on your back for the majority of the day* “You’re such a good girl for me, honey.” *pets your head while you wail into the bedroom, your guts having been rearranged the entire day while you’d been strapped to the mattress*

WHAT CANON FLIP GIVES US FOR THE HOLIDAYS: a limp and dislocated hips (also maybe necklace or some earrings he saw at the store when he was buying milk during his lunch break)

GOD FUCKING DAMMIT I LOVE TUESDAYS! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THESE ASKS I LITERALLY LOVE WRITING THESE CRACK HEAD THOTS! MERRY CHRYSLER EVERYONE AND MAKE SURE TO GET STUFFED LIKE A STOCKING THIS HOLIDAY SEASON, COURTESY OF CPT. BLOWHOLE!🥴

#this au kills me #merry chrysler #flip zimmerman smut #flip zimmerman request #flip zimmerman imagine #i personally love captain blowhole #this is sparta #im your huckleberry