#'Go. Get away from these men. And i pray to god i may never see your sweet face again' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yxstxrdrxxm · 6 months

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SYNOPSIS: It was the first day that you came to the country after running away from your home. Although there were mysteries left untold and people you wish to escape, there was one that you never understood—why do these men keep falling for you?!

CW/s: Delusion, lovesickness, yandere behavior, stalking, violence, murder, jealousy, nonconsensual touching. (fem. reader)

NOTE FROM BLACK SWAN: Because the majority voted for the first for the revival of "FLAWED", this is the first dream I delve that focuses on... Oh my. How intriguing... Perhaps all of you will enjoy this one. It's all about you, after all.

Since the start, you never understood the matter of obsession, especially when it comes to 'love'.

Don't misunderstand—of course, you know how bad obsession can be. In your time spent in this world, you have seen so many seemingly getting utterly obsessed with your existence, oftentimes stumbling and trying to get your attention. Try as you might to ward them away, they seemingly can't stop themselves from even fumbling over you.

It was, in all honestly, a mess. Sometimes you even wonder if these people are even normal with how they can't seem to look at you right in the eye.

Though you might find them cute as they seemingly can't understand the message of 'look at me', what is not cute is when they start committing crimes. They say its all because of you, but really, what is it about you that drives them to such a thing?

So when you have a feeling it was going to happen (and you know that it will. You have a knack for such a thing, even when you used to struggle to detect it for a week), you immediately start planning on moving to a different location entirely.

In your flawless logic, it's the only thing that drives them away. They can't find you if you can't find them, no?

Alas! It... Never works.

Each time you seemingly tried, hoping and praying to the Gods above that they'd give you a small respite, a breather, even... They seemingly come back like weed, trying to suffocate you with spouting such nonsense you hear on the daily.

The one thing you can say that it worked for the first few times. In those times, you were able to gather yourself and breathe, perhaps relax as you no longer have to worry about those people follow you.

But when they find out where you went, they never seem to stop from then.

Each time you ran, they followed. They followed and followed, up until you had to uproot your entire life to go to a different country. If only to even get a chance to think clearly.

And here you are, in the country you chose to stay in: Mondstadt. It does seem quite lovely, and the chatter amongst normal people was a nice change to the near screaming you hear almost on the daily. Although you miss your friends back at Fontaine, you can hardly think about coming back.

After all, those obsessive fools may just catch whiff of you and follow you here. You can't have their disgusting hands grab you, right?

As you stayed in Mondstadt, you find out a few things about the residents here. One of them was about Chiori's shop, which was booming in the aspect of textiles, weaving and flowers. There was another one, but you heard that the owner had went missing.

Oh well.

It must not be important.

The next were the two bars— one of them you took little interest in, considering the famous one was run by your two closest friends. You, Aether and Lumine go way back, practically when you three were kids! Although you three grew apart since you got to senior high, all of you stayed in contact.

And besides, the latter must be run by some drab, so you'd rather catch up with your friends than go somewhere unfamiliar.

And finally, the one thing you absolutely adore was the bachelors you see.

You overheard that there was a painter that's globally known in all of Teyvat, especially in the art world. You never knew what his alias is, but there were talk amongst the townsfolk of a good artist that is seen in the town square. And luckily for you, you were already heading there, and you had to stop when you saw him.

Blonde hair tied in a messy short ponytail, the rest of those locks swept carelessly by the wind. Those cyan eyes glimmering in the sun makes it look more like prized gems, and although he only wore a white vest and black jeans, the canvas and paints he has stands him out more than anything.

You can only admire as he was painting the landscape, and when his head rises, both of your eyes meet.

You simply let out a gasp and turn away, unknowing of the look he must have on his face.

Oh, no, you mused, biting your lip. I sure hope I look okay! I must look like garbage in front of such a cute painter!

You simply closed your eyes as the embarrassment settled in, but you did betray your instincts and turned when you hear footsteps walk towards your direction.

Ah. He's walking towards you. He's actually walking to your direction.

"Excuse me," he says, his eyes drifting to your attire from the ground up. Eyeing the dress you wore, the luggage, then to your face and hairdo, his lips seem to quirk to a smile. "Ah, you must be the one the twins mentioned to me about. [Name], yes?"

He knows me?!

"Yes, that's... that's me," you answered, your voice faltering as you began to twiddle your thumbs. Letting out a nervous giggle, you shifted your gaze away from him again, unable to look at him. "I guess you're friends with them, huh...?"

"Mm, I suppose," he answers, the soft sound of his voice echoing and making you feel more hung up on it. "That aside, I do believe introductions are in order. My name is Albedo. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Oh, you know it's a pleasure of mine, you thought dazedly. What a prince. This must be what adoration feels.

Being with Albedo felt akin to a dream, and sometimes, you swear that those days you spent hiding from those insane suitors were all behind you.

After all, if there is one thing they can never attain, it would be what he has. The charm, wit, and his smile.

You were utterly hooked because of that smile of his.

Sure, there were moments that it felt like he were pushing those bounds bit by bit: you would catch him trying to hold your hand (something you always told him to stop), or the times he would give you those eyes. You always thought that he may be trying to hide his obsession for you, too, and he's trying to subvert the blame.

In your mind, you knew you aren't doing anything wrong. Why would you? Were you even expressing those thoughts in hopes that he would notice you?

And yet, even with that in mind, you can only find yourself dumbfounded when you hear from Alice (his companion) that he is away for a month. Something related to his work, she reasoned to you, but you took it as a sign of something sinister.

No... It can't be, you thought, horrified as you paced in your house. Don't tell me...

Now, you hate to suspect people that you liked. You hate the feeling of doing that, of thinking the person you may actually consider normal in your perspective to have fallen like the rest of the buffoons.

You hate to think they became obsessed. That he became obsessed.

So in that regard (and by the stroke of luck as he's gone for a month), you began to cut off contact with him. You began to block him everywhere, delete his number, and make sure to throw away things you suspect that he has tampered with. It was a lot, but it was all for your safety!

After all, why would you bring yourself to trust him if he's gotten obsessed over you? Ah, it'd be a nightmare!

And in your endeavor to cut him off due to the heinous idea, you began to plan out your next moves... That was, until you bumped into him.

Raising your head, your eyes met turquoise—a unique color, you thought, but you realized that it was only one.

"Oh my," you heard the recipient speak with a chuckle. "I wasn't expecting to see a cute lady here. So, you must be [Name] that I hear from Alice, hm?"

You simply squeaked when he said your name, the dulcet tones standing out far more than the soft voice you hear from that wretched blonde.

"I- I am," you stammered, raising a hand to cover your mouth. You free left hand began to fiddle with your hair, twirling a strand before you tucked it behind your ear. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking—"

He seems amused at that as he reached over to hold you from leaving.

"Ah, ah, ah," he tuts. "Not so fast, little lady. What's the hurry? I don't think it's respectful for you to walk out on someone."

Pulling his hand to your arm, he traced his fingers until he grabbed your hand, raising it to graze his lips— such is the behavior of a suitor.

"Call me Kaeya Alberich, miss [Name]," he whispers, his lips curled to a smug grin. "Or shall I call you my darling lily instead?"

Ah, he's going to be the death of me!

Unlike the time you spent with the blonde stalker to be, the time you spent with the casa nova was interesting. He seems to have a lot of fun regaling you with tales of his own, weaving them into elaborate chronicles you find yourself listening to for hours.

He was an avid storyteller, and the things he tells you feels so surreal, and yet when you look into it, it was true. You even found out that he was single too, but you never told him that.

Despite this, however, the red head is the one that catches your eye. You half-expected for him to even meet your gaze the few times you and Kaeya were together in his bar, but when you two do, he seems to look at you in disdain.

You didn't understood why he does. Kaeya tells you he looks like that to everyone, but you find that extremely hard to believe.

Does he knows that I came from Snezhnaya? you thought, pursing your lips as you stared at the busy bartender. Or is he simply playing hard to get?

You weren't with Kaeya today (which is an odd sight, because he's always free), so you decided to come by to the bar. You've been there for hours now, but even when you were staying there for so long, he never seems to bat an eye at you.

It was only when it was closing that you decide to approach the counter. You were obviously annoyed as you slammed the counter, finally catching his attention, and as you open your mouth—

"Leave."

...

"I'm sorry?" you uttered, shocked.

"Leave the bar. We're closing," he answers sharply, his steel gaze hitting you like needles on skin. "I've been ignoring you ever since you came here, miss. Please leave the bar. You've been here since nine in the evening."

The audacity of this man!

"Excuse me? Leave? I've been trying to get your attention—!"

"By what, pray tell?" he scoffs, crossing his arms with a scowl. "By batting your eyes and giggling like a teenager?"

You scoffed.

"I'd never do that!"

"Oh, but you have," you heard him reply, rolling his eyes at you—presumably because you think he has you cornered... Which he doesn't, you justified to yourself. "In fact, the bar has been empty ever since you came. You've been acting eerie enough that the regulars have left."

Hah, the audacity he has. It makes you sick.

"You act like I'm the one that has the problem here, sir," you scowl, reaching over to grab him, but he simply smacks your hand away. Raising his phone, he's now glaring at you outright.

"Don't touch me," he warns. "Miss, I'm warning you, leave. Leave or else I'll call the police."

...

You know what? Perhaps pursuing him isn't a good idea right now.

"Fine! I'll leave, then," you told him, turning on your heels to leave.

...

It was only when the lady left did Diluc sighed in relief, checking his phone once more. He noticed the messages he got from Albedo, the most recent one being something that he found shocking.

[ ALBEDO: I believe we're dealing with a case of lovesickness. ]

The sound of slamming on pavement was the thing that echoes in the room, blood and petals were being torn to shreds as the two individuals fought for dear life.

It was a monstrosity, one may say. And if they walked into the room, they would find out who was it that caused such a gruesome display and who became their victim.

Slamming the head on the floor, you felt sweat drip down your face. After what you experienced since that day, you had to be found out, and you decided that it was simply better to get rid of the weaker ones that got 'too close' to outing your location.

"You— you psycho! You freak!" you yelled at the top of your lungs, bashing the person's head as you did so. The mask they wore simply haunted you as you heard them choke and beg, but you didn't care.

They were all the same. All of them were the same, monstrous beings behind those smiles.

"Why do you keep following me?!" you yelled, raising a hammer as you slammed it on their shoulder, making them holler. "Didn't I tell you to stop?! You drove me out of that town, you freak!"

As you kept on slamming, the bones began to crack, the sound echoing around. You could hardly hear what they have to say as you simply can only see red, your ears hearing the sound of your heartbeat.

After a few more slams, you raised the weapon and bashed the head in, cracking it open like an egg and letting blood pour out.

...

Panting heavily, all you can do was look over at what you've done, and it seems that in your haste, you realized who it was that followed you.

...

Ah.

Ahaha.

Actually, that person you murdered wasn't even the one that followed you.

The blood staining your hands was one of the innocent, the one you decided to take the place of as one of the missing individuals.

Raking your hair, you couldn't help but giggle and laugh, the realization dawning on you. You forgot why you came to this town, didn't you, hm?

You came here not because of those people who became 'obsessed' and would tail you. Those people were ones that accused you for your crimes, some who had evidence as you were involved in their cases.

What a shame, really. Each time they got close, you simply bludgeoned them, making sure their remains were not to be found.

This town was no different, but it's okay, you reasoned to yourself.

Raising the now broken body of the florist, you couldn't help but smile, brain matter seeping out and blood oozing like gallons. The flowers you carelessly pulled in your rage remains by your side, but it was nothing that you can't get rid of.

It's fine now.

All you have to do was wipe everyone's memories, and you'll be in their place.

Sure, those pesky men will remember, but it's fine. In your eyes, they can't say a word when society thinks that the one they're supposed to bond with was you, after all.

You're the main character of this story, and that's how it always should be. ♡

@.yxstxrdrxxm | do not republish or repost my works anywhere | 2024

Happy April fool's!

What, were you expecting for this to be anything you wanted?

Haha, unfortunately, no. Actually, this dream was simply one that I found amusing. You all thought this was a normal yandere fic, yes?

Well... It isn't, I'm afraid. Please take what this was written with a massive grain of salt, because this dream was derived of a non-canon incident. Therefore, this dream never actually happened. Though, the events were quite jarring if it did.

Now, tell me, traliblazer.

Have you noticed anything that stands out? Anything that makes 'you' in this story perhaps... Too perfect?

Hehe. I'd start looking if I were you.

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estelofrivendell · 9 months

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You’ve Got A Friend In Me (Aragorn x Female Reader)

a/n: clara actually posting a one shot??? shocker, right? anyway, i started this months ago and only finished it now. it’s not really x reader, but oh well. also, there may or may not be inspiration taken from to kill a mockingbird. i won’t elaborate and you will see it when you see it. i don’t really see this as a part three of “a change of heart” but you can if you want to. also, don’t question the toy storyesque title.

summary: you’re convicted of a crime you actually didn’t do and all the odds are against you because of your reputation. aragorn is the only one to believe you are innocent and does what he can to help you get cleared of all charges.

word count: 2,1k

warnings: none really other than mentions of murder

During your first meeting, Aragorn prayed to whatever God was up there to have you locked up for your crimes sooner or later. He never thought it would actually happen considering how lousy the whole system was. Yet the wishes he no longer held were answered, which he thought was only done to spite him. When news of the lords declaring you a fugitive, he prayed you would be guided into safety and away from the authorities before asking why they wanted you.

“Do you need to ask?” A considerably young ranger laughed. “That woman is a menace. It was about time those poor souls were brought to justice, and this is long overdue.”

Aragorn growled. “That does not answer my question.”

The young ranger laughed once more, holding up his arms. “Calm down. They say she murdered one of those great lords in cold blood. Witnesses saw her near the castle when all the mess was going on. Can you believe it?”

No, I do not. She would never do that, not anymore.

Finding you wasn’t so difficult anymore. You were a slippery little snake that it took Aragorn a while to master the task of locating you. Today felt strangely easier than it was and he wondered if that was deliberate and you had been hoping he would find you.

You sure did not expect his visit as you aimed your knife at him, the tip close enough to his chin that it made a small cut, but you lowered it the moment you realised who it really was.

“Aragorn? What brings you here?”

“I believe you know what brought me here. Did you do it?”

“Kill the lord? No, though I would love that honour. I cannot tell you I am entirely innocent in this matter.”

You didn’t change entirely, you see. You still took payments (especially when the money came from a high bidder) and you were more than happy to carry out the execution of the worst of men, and the lord was no kind man. He was someone no one wanted to be around and Aragorn didn’t need to be told that you would love to kill him, yet he felt it in him that if you were going to be arrested for any crime, this was not it.

“Well, it doesn’t matter anymore,” you said, turning away from him. “You need to get out of here. I don’t want you seen with me and I most certainly don’t want you to be involved in my problems, so do yourself a favour and save your sorry self from a conviction.”

Aragorn raised a brow. “You involve yourself in my affairs, why can I not do the same?”

You shot him a glare. “That is different, I was helping you. And if-”

“You don’t think I’m helping you? I’m telling you I believe you’re innocent, and no matter what you say to make yourself look bad, I’ll find a way to make sure you’re not tried for anything.”

“Then run away with me.” You offered your hand. “A life in the forests away from the city sounds nice. It’s what I always dreamed of as a young girl.”

If he wasn’t destined for something so big, he would not hesitate to take up your offer. Even then, he imagined a life with you and he believed it to be so cozy and perfect. He was no stranger to waking up beside you and he longed for your company that getting to do it every morning sounded like a utopia.

“I… cannot.”

“Why not? You have nothing going for you. Just the same old rangering, nearly getting yourself killed while the people you protect don’t thank you for your service. Would you prefer a life with me, where we have all the freedom we can get? We can explore the world together, unbounded by expectations and obligations.”

“I may not like what I do, but it is still my duty to protect the men of Bree.”

Hurt, you turned away from him and left. “Well, you made your choice and I have made mine. I am sorry they are incompatible, but there is no use to convince you. I wish you all the luck if there is any left.”

Each day, Aragorn misses you, but does not regret not following you. He would kill for you, but he would not pick you over the crown. It was the heaviest price he ever paid in his life and he is sure nothing else can compare.

Over time, his life is the same as it was before he met you. Hunt orcs, occasionally meet Gandalf, return to Rivendell, eat and sleep. Rinse and repeat.

It had been three months, shy of Midsummer when he heard about your whereabouts. Expecting neutral at worst news, he ensured to look like he was not paying attention and almost lost his train of thought when they started to go into more detail.

“Word has it that the woman thought to murder the lord had been found by authorities just last week. She put up a good fight, killing the guards and escaped the first time, but they caught her this time, not without issue though. She’s been brought back here for a trial.”

“Here? Why?” A young man asked, stupidly.

“Because this is where the murder happened,” said the man calmly. “I’m more surprised she’s getting a trial in the first place. Murderers like her deserve a lifetime sentence, plus 150 years, without the possibility of bail. In fact, the guillotine will do.”

A young woman around the same age as you spoke up. “There’s no way she’s getting a sentence lower than that. I mean, she steals a lot, and that’s not worth a death sentence in my book, and all those conspiracy murders everyone spoke of had no evidence, but this one did.”

“So, when is the trial?” The young woman asked.

“In two months time, assuming no delays.”

After a lot of difficult convincing on his end, side eyes he received, and suspicion that he was someone to not be trusted, Aragorn received the location of the maximum security prison and the specific cell you were held at. The guards asked him a lot of questions before letting him see you, let alone giving you privacy.

When you saw him, you shot up and clenched your hands around the bars. A friendly face was long overdue. “It’s over, Strider. No point in making me feel better. I lost the moment they found me and there’s no turning back.”

“Don’t say that. Have some faith in yourself. I know you didn’t do it-“

“And do you have proof for that? God, I’m grateful to have you, and I’m grateful that you believe I didn’t do it, but you’re a delusional man. Go home. Find a woman to fuck, marry and have babies with. Forget about me. You’re smarter than this.”

“I know many people that can help you. I’ve been looking around and speaking to them, and they agreed to look into it. Some of them have been given permission to investigate.”

“Strider.” Only until now did you start crying, and Aragorn never saw you cry. He thought you crying was something he never thought he would see. “Stop that. You don’t have to do that.”

“What friend would I be?”

“You’re risking your own life for me.” You sobbed. “I don’t want you to jeopardise your own life to save mine. Please, stop this, go home. You have nothing to do with this.”

Suddenly, the door opened and two guards roughly grabbed Aragorn and pulled him away. “Time’s up,” one of them gruffly said to him as you mouthed “don’t resist.” He reluctantly listened. He was a lot stronger than everyone here combined and could knock them out in one hit, but if he wanted to finish his plan of ensuring you were proven innocent, beating up the guards was not the way to do it.

Once he was thrown out of the prison, he looked at the architecture and noted how miserable it was. He could tell you were losing your mind each passing minute and only hoped that you would recover as soon as you were released.

One of the people he paid to investigate the lord’s death had summoned him to a private place at night.

“I think you need to hear this. Last night, we went over the body and we discovered enormous hand marks on the victim’s neck and marks on his right eye. The hand prints are too big to belong to a woman and the injuries on his eye could mean a left-handed man did it.”

Aragorn has met women with quite large hands, but the news only confirmed that you didn’t kill him, as he was aware you had small hands. You were also indeed right handed.

“With this proof in mind, it’s hard for me to believe she did it. I don’t know who did it, but I don’t believe it’s her.”

Aragorn snuck his way in your trial and watched from above, making sure to keep discreet. After the introduction and overview of your charges, and people fighting it out with you remaining silent, you were suddenly asked a question that piqued his interest.

“Can you read and write?”

“Yes, I can.”

Everyone present stared at each other, muttering amongst each other, shocked that a woman who was most certainly not noble and was uneducated knew how to read and write.

You were asked to write out what the judge said, word by word with both hands. The most eloquent speech with advanced words yet you had no struggle writing them down, with your right hand, confusing everyone.

The man that asked you to write remained calm the entire time, as if he was unsurprised, startling you a bit.

“You see, the woman here wrote with her right hand, with perfect handwriting, while her writing with her left hand is nearly illegible. This could only mean she is right handed. The lord was discovered with bruises on the right side of his face, which if we assume she is the murderer, would be probable if she is left-handed. But she is not.”

“Secondly, there were big handprints around the lord’s neck. The woman here has quite small hands. A woman’s strength could only do so much to try and choke a man let alone with small hands.”

The trial went on and on, but came to an end, a good one, since you were cleared of your charges. Due to the everyone’s shock and confusion, and how the evidence countered their expectations, no one cheered nor jeered at the decision. It was dead silent and everyone left without uttering a single word.

Aragorn only smiled to himself, but his smile fell when you ignored him.

And life in Bree went on.

Everyone spent a week talking about how they had wrong thoughts of you, while others were still convinced you didn’t do it. A couple others just didn’t care and were annoyed to even hear about you. But after a week, the chatter all died down and everyone minded their own business, unless it was something about their married neighbor beginning an affair with another woman.

Aragorn found you at your place, cleaning your home with a lot of things packed.

“Going somewhere?”

“Finishing what I did not get to,” you said, not looking at him. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to see if you are well.”

“I am… well, I suppose. I’m not in a shitty cell with a similar embodiment to hell anymore.”

“I don’t expect a thanks or-”

“Thank you,” you suddenly said, finally facing him. “I’m sorry for doubting you. I really did think it was over for me.”

“I don’t blame you for doubting me, but I am your friend. You helped me before and it’s about time I returned the favour.”

“I am still going away for a while. I do not think I want to come back to Bree after a short time with everything that has happened. I understand you do not want to come with me, but I will come back, I promise.”

“About that. I think I decided that I do want to travel with you. It’s that this time, we’re not running away from something terrible.”

You ran towards him to give him a hug, perhaps the biggest hug he ever had in his life, and he heard you start to cry again. This time, you were not crying out of desperation.

No, you were crying of happiness. Happiness because you get to travel around the world with your favourite person, and the only person in your life left that mattered.

#lord of the rings imagine #lotr imagine #aragorn x reader #aragorn imagine

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respectthepetty · 3 days

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Pride Petty Watch (SOTUS) 2/5

Since so many people voted for the two blacklisted shows I was supposed to watch during Pride, it unlocked the wild card of me rewatching my sworn enemy SOTUS. I don't remember anything about the show, and the only thing I truly took away from it was hating Krist for the last eight years, so I'm settling in and revisiting the past to figure out why I forgot about every single plot point of this show including that Jan was in it and that Kongpob x M were the perfect ghost ship.

I left off praying that Arthit gets meaner before he gets nicer, which I consider as getting better before he gets worse, but since I'm getting Dangerous Romance flashbacks flash forwards, I doubt Arthit can commit to bullying Kong much longer before he turns full simp.

How am I not supposed to root for Kong x M when M looks so devastated every time Kong leaves his side to go talk to May. I know M likes May, but the way these scenes are set up, it's hard not to think that M likes Kong and he is in pain when everyone else gets his friend's time since he has known Kong SINCE JUNIOR HIGH!

Thrilled that Wad is always ready to lay hands first and ask questions later. Also excited that he is motivated by pettiness just like me, so the only reason he is playing in the tea product placement game is just to spite the seniors. Petty work makes the dream work. Amen.

The pink milk in this series needs to be studied because on one end of the spectrum, we in BL Land know the pink milk is a staple of a Thai BL (which is slowly coming back in Last Twilight, Only Friends, Addicted Heroin and I Saw You in My Dream), but on the other end, the show itself treats the pink milk like those dumb hot takes from people asking if drinking fruity cocktails makes a man a fruit, or if sucking on popsicles makes a man want to suck a dick, or if eating food in general makes a man queer. It just feels as if this show treats Arthit that way every time he orders it, like "GOTCHA, QUEER!"

If I were that food vendor, and Kong started popping out with these little nuggets while Arthit just kept threatening him, their business would be all up in the group chat because I'd be messaging all my friends that these two gay guys were practically foreplaying right in front of my salad pork skewers.

So of course Arthit would show up to the game just to stand there and glare at a man drenched in sweat from playing a hard game of basketball like the internalized-homophobic asshat he is.

God, some things never change.

WE GOT COCA-COLA MONEY?!

I gasped not because of the note on this conversation but because of the comment coming from AN OPENLY GAY MAN on the hazers squad. I am not Thai, so the only way I can relate to the hazers is through Greek life (fraternities and sororities), and even a long long time ago, I knew openly gay men in frats, and they pulled ALL the girls since girls felt safer around them than the straights, but the look Prem and Arthit are giving Tuta when he says this is what I'm laser-focused on because they show toleration rather than acceptance. I'm taking those looks personally.

Arthit continues to say Kong's face is annoying, but he never says it's ugly. Sir, I see your gay awakening on the horizon.

AND M WITH THE FUCKING LOOKS AGAIN! He is looking at Kong on stage then looking at May looking at Kong on the stage, and I know where this is going, but my god does it feel like M is sad because he believes Kong is straight and wouldn't reciprocate the feelings he has for his best friend SINCE JUNIOR HIGH!

I have made it clear that I do not like Krist (I believe his acting is flimsy but I can't even act like I like people, so who am I to judge), but I don't think the people behind the filming of this show liked him either because these opening title cards between the parts of the episodes are doing him dirty.

Excuse me, little stage presenter, I need to know what the fuck was going on with this performance that they had a western theme with modern guns. Was it Big Sean's "I Don't Fuck With You"?

And why is Jan looking like Taylor Swift in "Teardrops On My Guitar"? This show was in 2016, but the styling and hair are in 2003.

Now the judges are coming for Kong, and Lord knows he is going to answer in the most uncontroversial way because Kong refuses to pick a side against hazing and the boy he likes being punished by.

*eye roll* I did not think I'd make it here this quickly, but I'm on Arthit's side because Kong IS annoying. Jan's character looks full-on Stockholm Syndrome into the camera when Kong is answering, yet homeboy is just over there giving the most ridiculous reason of "our hazers have their reasons for hazing us" and now I see the direct line to GMMTV forgiving parents for abuse (Double Savage!).

Kong can play basketball really well. He remembers everyone's name. The whole class wanted him to be president. He is great in school. Now he is the Freshy Moon. Marsha, Marsha, Marsha. I hate this kid.

M, my most beloved, now I see why you're quiet a lot.

I appreciate M for also stating that Kong is just great at everything without trying, but it also feels that he is hyping up his boy because he has been IN LOVE WITH HIS SINCE JUNIOR HIGH!

In a room full of people, only Kong notices that M is unhappy, and now I see the direct they-are-married-but-not-a-couple line to Peaceful Property. New understands these roles well.

THE QUESTIONS THAT NEED ANSWERS! Can you run 54 laps, Arthit? Can you squat 200 times, Prem? These freshmen won everything, yet Arthit is still being a dickwad, and he just got his ass off of school probation. Bold move, sir! I want the juniors to suffer. Except for Bright. My boy has never done anything wrong, and if he did, he didn't.

I saw an umbrella in The Ex-Morning pilot trailer, and if that show doesn't give me a scene of these two arguing in the rain over the dumbest shit, then what is the point?

All those people watching Arthit, and none of his boys could run with him? If the purpose of hazing is unity, obviously the juniors didn't get that memo when they were being hazed as freshmen, so why continue the traditions that they don't even abide by?! Arthit is better than me because I would have crawled my ass back to my dorm before accepting their help SINCE THEY DIDN'T EVEN RUN LAPS! And now this little freshman wants to be up in his face. What's the point of the umbrella now?! He is a boy in a BL who has been in the rain for hours. HE IS ALREADY GOING TO DIE NO THANKS TO YOU UNHELPFUL DOUCHE NOZZLES!

I was just on Arthit's side, but then the show decided to tell me that entire seniors-hazing-the-juniors thing was a setup, and mixed with most of the images on Arthit's door being black-and-white, and one of those images being Charles Manson's Rolling Stone cover, I'm back to hating him again. So in case anyone is still following along, I now hate both of the leads. Can I get M and Bright back?

Kong says several times that Arthit can punish him, then he irons Arthit's clothes. If this show would just lean into the kink of it all, I would embrace everything about it. If Kong could just be a masochist dom, I would be delighted. JAPAN, COME HERE RIGHT NOW! Fuck remaking Love in the Air! Remake this kinky shit instead!

This is what a sado sub looks likes and Japan would know exactly what to do with him. Now I'm mad that I'm watching the babygirl-fication of a perfectly good jerk.

Well hello there you two! You wanna make out before going to the hospital? Maybe keep it all a secret from everybody else? I'm so pissed that I can't remember this plot now because I don't think they will be a thing BUT THEY WOULD BE PERFECT!

And I'm still rooting for my boy M to get his best friend since unlike Arthit, M can at least acknowledge that his friend is pretty to his face. No internalized homophobia here but probably because M isn't even a homo. I've sailed ships with less.

😬🥴🙃 Thank you subtitler for keeping the word. It's important. So are the looks that I'm taking personally. And BRIGHT IS THE ONE TO SAY IT! So I like M now and only M. Everyone can eat dirt and choke.

Arthit's nickname means warmth? I'm starting to remember why I forgot this show. Like Celine Dion, "It's All Coming Back to Me Now"

And I hate it.

#pride petty watch #sotus #sotus the series #This pink milk situation is causing havoc for me #yet I still remember nothing!#I have no clue how this is going to go #but the rage is still very much in my body #and now I'm upset that Arthit isn't the worst #just let a bad bitch be bad for goodness' sake!#Kongpob x M is my ultimate ghost ship

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cinnbar-bun · 2 months

Text

Being Firm

The American Dream: Chapter 4

Summary: Funny still struggles to adjust to life at home while his mother tries to ease the tension. Although, her schemes to get him remarried may have given him just what he needed most.

Rating: SFW

Word Count: ~5k

Notes: Inclusion of OC, minor swearing, minor religious references, war, talks of injuries, some casual sexism/enforcement of Victorian era gender roles and ideals.

Read on my AO3 here! "The American Dream" Masterlist here!

Taglist (Please let me know if you'd like to be added!): @bruabbina

The days in the Valentine household were nothing short of awkward and painful since that night. Neither man said a thing to the other, refusing to meet eyes as they silently ate their breakfast. Funny’s mother had known something happened, but whenever she asked, both men immediately shut the conversation down and told her it was none of her concern. She needn’t worry about their ‘silly’ argument, they’d insist.

She would sigh as once again, breakfast was dreadful and dull. She felt her appetite leaving as her eyes flicked between her husband and her son, both of whom had clenched jaws and were gripping their cups too tightly. She took the moment to try and start another conversation.

“Well, darling, it’s been a few days since you came back. Do you have to return to-”

“I am not going back. I was discharged. Honorably,” Funny sharply responded as his eyes narrowed at the colonel, not caring about hiding the truth anymore. “I will be here and raising my daughter.”

His mother blinked and stared at her son in shock, leaning towards him. “R-really? You won’t be going back to the army?”

“No,” Funny replied, taking a sip of his water. “I will remain close by.”

“Oh, that’s…” his mother gasped, placing a hand over her heart with wide eyes. A faint smile pulled at her lips before Valentine interrupted.

“Deplorable,” Valentine said. “You have more years of service in you, more time to serve the country, and yet you decide to do something this ridiculous?”

“My daughter does not exactly have a mother, sir.”

“Your mother and I-”

“No. End of discussion,” Funny stated, his hands returning to slice the bread roll his mother so lovingly laid on the table with his utensils.

“Don’t you dare-”

“For God’s sake, sir, what would you like me to do now?!” Funny shouted, his temperament reaching a boiling point as a loud crack echoed in the now silent dining room. He glanced down to notice his porcelain plate was shattered into three uneven pieces, making him toss his knife beside the plate in resignation. “My decision is final. I am not going back. I have made my choice to stay here and begin anew in politics, so help me God.”

His mother had never seen him yell like that before, even when he was a young boy. The change in him had startled her, but briefly had reminded her of her late husband. He had a commanding presence, even when not angry. She watched as her son’s face tensed, his sharp features revealing a bold and empowered sense of self from this argument.

He is… he is completely serious, isn’t he?

She shakily grabbed her cup and took a sip to calm her nerves. She was anxious due to the argument and tension within the house but another, smaller part of her was elated. She dare not voice that sentiment aloud, she thought, lest her husband react even worse than before.

Again, her lips curved up, knowing her boy would finally be home, alive, and not in a body bag. Alive, well, and not buried beneath the earth or with horrid wounds so awful he would look unrecognizable.

No, the boy before her was a man, a vision of strength and power that understood the importance of home. She would no longer have to pray to God every night, begging to see him one last time in case the lord took him away like war did everything else for her. Her boy would be safe and home, where she would be able to see him and watch as he raised his family, too.

It was a shame his wife died, but thank god, He had spared the young baby and let her remain. Her son had a chance to have the family she dreamed he’d get. Her heart panged at the fact that he was a widower at such a young age, but that could easily be mended. There was plenty of lovely girls in the area who would love to have a man like Funny and be able to raise her granddaughter properly.

She hummed to herself as she thought of who would make a good wife for him. She considered the ladies at the church, knowing their daughters were at the age to look for suitors and settle down. And what a wonderful opportunity she was given- she could throw a welcome back feast for him and have him introduced to his potential pick of the finest, god-fearing women he could have!

Her thoughts were expelled as Funny furrowed his brow in worry and stared at the door that led to his and Mary’s room.

“She’s upset,” was all he mumbled. His mother and Valentine raised a brow.

“I don’t hear a damn thing, son, what are you-” Valentine began, before shrill wails came from the room. His mother made a motion to stand up, but Funny stood up and urged her back to her seat.

“I’ll handle this, mother,” he insisted.

“Nonsense,” she commented and walked to the room, picking up her granddaughter. Funny followed shortly after, an apprehensive look on his face as he watched his mother try and cradle his daughter. “Oh, you poor thing, it’s alright.”

“I’ll go make her a bottle,” Funny said, his eyes still not leaving his mother as he walked to the kitchen to prepare. When he finished preparing the bottle, his mother took it and sat on the rocking chair. Funny again stood nearby, watching like a hawk as she cooed to the still crying child. She tried to place the bottle to Mary’s lips, but Mary threw her head back.

His mother was taken aback by such a quick action and gently repeated the action.

Again, Mary nudged her head away.

A third time, and one that ended in failure. She frowned and looked at her granddaughter sternly.

“What a colicky little thing,” she huffed, attempting to feed the baby again. “It’s like she doesn’t even want to eat.”

“You’re being too harsh,” Funny grimaced. He extended his hands to reach for Mary but his mother adjusted herself away from his grasp.

“You should return to eat.”

“I will not. My daughter is hungry and as such, I will be the one to-”

“Darling, if your daughter is like this, chances are, she’s even worse with you. It’s a wonder how you’ve even fed her at all this time.”

Funny’s face darkened. “My daughter is perfectly fine and I can feed her just fine. She is easy to care for.”

Mary’s cries grew louder as she began arching this way and that in her grandmother’s arm. “My lord, she’s so fussy!”

“Give me-” Funny managed as he took his daughter back from his mother and pressed her against his chest. “Sh, sh, sh, it’s okay.”

His mother watched as Mary’s crying seemed to lessen into minimal hiccups and sobs. How was he instantly calming her down with nothing, yet anything she did ended up in more tears and frustration?

“I guess she’s only used to her father right now,” his mother commented, a hint of bitterness in her tone. Funny gently placed the bottle to Mary’s mouth, and Mary accepted it easily, as if she hadn’t fought it off minutes prior. Funny didn’t respond to his mother’s obvious attempt at pity, instead exhaling in relief as his heart felt soothed with Mary in his arms again.

His mother shook her head. “You mustn’t coddle her too much. Anymore than that and she’ll be a spoiled child, dear.”

“I’m not coddling her, I’m simply feeding her.”

“I’d argue the opposite. Look at her, she won’t even accept food from anyone else unless it’s you,” she pointed out accusingly. “If she’s having this attitude at barely a month old, who knows how long it will fester! You can’t be allowing that behavior.”

“Mother, she is a baby, that’s ridiculous-”

“You say that now, but Mrs. Blackwood’s daughter behaved the same way, and look at her! The girl is a wreck! A spoiled, selfish brat who will cry all throughout the sermons. You don’t want your daughter to end up like that, do you?”

“Mrs. Blackwood’s husband is also a drunkard who gambles everything away, last I checked, mother. The situations are not comparable.”

“It may not seem that way, but without a mother, she won’t be able to behave properly. It’s just not suitable for a man to raise a child, especially not a daughter,” she lowered her voice, desperately trying to get Funny to listen to her.

“And what do you suggest I do? Be like old Mister Stratford down the block who dropped his kids off at the corner and have never been seen again? That’s preposterous!”

“No, I’m only saying, it’s in your best interest to perhaps consider remarrying,” she said. “I know you’re in your mourning right now, I understand completely. But why not think of your future house? You’ll be away from all that racket in the army and be able to continue your legacy if Mary doesn’t make it past winter.”

Funny’s jaw dropped at how brazen his mother was being. “Why would I be thinking of marriage now? How can you tell me to just be so detached from my little girl when-”

“I know, darling, I felt the same way, but when your father died, I was all alone. I didn’t have anyone to turn to for help except for-”

“Yes, I know. Except for him,” Funny finished. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I will not be abandoning my daughter.”

“I’m not asking that from you. But… there is an expectation,” his mother began again, a slight grimace on her face. “An expectation for you to remarry, to have a wife who can help you. You shouldn’t be waiting so long. Mary needs a mother, a woman to raise her and teach her the right way to be. You will not be able to in a way a woman can. Do you want your daughter to forever be straddled with the knowledge that she would be practically unmarriable if left with only you?”

Funny’s heart clenched as he looked down at Mary, who was quietly nursing her bottle. He shut his eyes and sighed, then shook his head.

“No, mother, you can’t just say something like that. I know I can do more than that for her.”

“You’re young, darling. Grief takes a hold of us in ways that is hard to imagine. But it is our job as parents to put our children first, to raise them properly in an honorable way. Don’t set her up for failure only because of grief.”

You don’t get it- he wanted to say. You just don’t get it!

No one understood. Grief? What was there to grieve? He couldn’t grieve. His wife passed. But she died in a way very few could ever say they could- honorably, with dignity, and for the sake of the future of the country.

Grieve, they say. But why would he grieve? He didn’t want to avoid remarrying out of some ‘mourning’ period or sense of guilt towards his late wife. There was none, because she died the perfect death. Her life was spent culminating her skills and ideals until that moment in the Devil’s Palm, where she sacrificed her life for their daughter and country. What more could anyone ask for? She had something very few American-born citizens could say they had.

But remarrying? Why would he need to that? Mary was here, in his arms, and he had felt a connection unlike anything he had ever known before. Holding her against him, he felt an emotion that was indescribable and incomparable. He couldn’t imagine anyone else being in her place, couldn’t ever conceive of a world where she wasn’t there, and he sure as hell could never think of someone else taking care of his daughter that wasn’t him.

Failure? Would he really be a failure of a father? He scoffed at such a notion. As if he needed another wife to do what he was already capable of doing on his own. He had grander ambitions and desires, plans that he needed to be focused on, why would he waste that trying to go marriage hunting like a desperate bachelor? He was fine on his own.

His mother certainly didn’t seem to agree and placed an encouraging hand on his arm.

“I’m going to be hosting a party soon, to celebrate your return. I’ll have the neighborhood come by and a few ladies from church as well. Their daughters will be there, and I believe it will be a lovely time. I know it’s a bit difficult to adjust since you’re home, but it might be worth a shot. Your stepfather and I will not force you, of course, but give it a chance, will you? Who knows, you might find a lovely woman there.”

Funny knew his mother would pull something like this eventually. Of course they would throw a party, that was a given to let everyone he was back. But of course she would intend on pairing him off immediately, especially with one of the girls from church. He hadn’t seen them in years, not sense his departure to the military. He could hardly imagine what they’d look like now compared to their scrawnier, immature appearances from before.

There would be no convincing her otherwise, especially not when she most likely informed the ladies of her plans already. So with a gentle sigh, he nodded along to his mother.

“Yes, mother. I’ll try for you,” Funny responded.

“And for Mary,” his mother added, pointing at the little girl who was quietly drinking her bottle.

The day of the gathering had arrived and Funny, for the fifth time this day, found himself looking in the mirror, thinking about trite this whole affair was. Frankly speaking, he would rather have been in his room, poring over books and materials to figure out what he had found in the Devil’s Palm. But alas, here he was, adjusting his purple cravat that matched his mother’s dress.

“You know, I must say, your hair is just lovely, darling,” his mother commented as she extended her arm up to smooth his curls.

“Thank you, mother,” he replied, a tense look on his face as he gazed back into the mirror.

“Don’t look so upset,” she said as she gently pat under his chin, looking into the mirror alongside him. “You have nothing to be worried about.”

He wanted to tell her it was not worry on his face. Worry was the last thing on his mind.

It was contempt for this position and the utter annoyance he felt at having to see those women vye for him as if he was a golden ticket for them to escape their controlling households. He didn’t think highly of having to force a smile and pretend he cared about courting them, as callous as it sounded.

But I suppose if I am to join the political world, I can’t be a blunt soldier anymore, now can I?

Being in the army had taught him that one had to be rough around the edges to gain respect with the men and cooperate with them. Talking with soldiers who would become your brothers in arms invited a more casual and often unsophisticated air unbefitting of normal society. These were men you most likely would not see tomorrow if God so chose to take them.

And back home, one could not do the childish and crass things one would do in the army tents alongside their fellow soldiers. Funny reminisced on how his late wife scolded him for getting drunk again and collapsing on the beds so she could help him. It was his piss poor attempt at getting more of her attention, but even she could not deny the smile on her face as she forced him to drink more water and tugged on his ear.

The women here would not understand that sort of simplicity. They never would be satisfied with something like what he and his wife had before. It was not a life a ‘proper’ citizen would ever go to, but it was something the two of them chose to do willingly. Even if it meant running straight to their deaths, he and his wife didn’t mind that option. Would the women in church ever understand sacrificing oneself like that?

He shook his head. No more of that nonsense. If he was to climb the ranks and make his country prosper, he needed to do much more than think like a common infantry. He had to think higher, think of the bigger picture. Become a commander. He exhaled and steeled himself.

Enough games, Funny. Show them how much of a man you have become since leaving. Show them you are the man they are looking for.

His mother chuckled after he finished his mental peptalk. “Much better.”

“Yes. Shall we go greet the guests?” “We shall.”

Colonel Valentine was sitting at the table, his knee unfortunately not allowing him to stand as much as he would have liked, all while drinking from a flask. Funny paid him no mind as the older women from the church streamed in, excited and nostalgic looks on their faces as they finally saw him after so long.

“Oh my! You’ve grown taller!”

“Thank god, we were all praying for you, you know?”

“And how strong you look, my boy!”

“It seems like it was only yesterday you were just a babe.”

“How time flies… what a wonderful man you’ve become.”

He placed a hand on his chest and gave a grateful smile to the ladies. “Thank you, it truly means so much to see you all again. I’ve missed home quite a bit since being in the army.”

The ladies chuckled at his polite mannerisms, grinning in delight as they looked at one another in a challenging manner. Funny could tell right away what they were planning. Eyeing each other to see who’s daughter would be able to catch his eye first.

One of the ladies, a more brazen sort who was known for her loud mouth, stepped forward and placed a hand over Funny’s. She gave a sympathetic frown and patted his hand. “Your mother told us about the unfortunate news, too. How dreadful that such a young lady was taken from this world so soon.”

Tactless.

But Funny forced his lips to curve upwards and shook his head. “Yes, that is true, my wife gave her life to bring my daughter to this world.”

“A daughter?” The woman clicked her tongue. Funny had to nearly fight the glare from forming on his face and quickly bit the inside of his mouth to stifle a snarky remark.

“Yes. A daughter. Mary, in fact,” Funny restrained, a thinly veiled threat in those words.

“Oh? Like the Virgin herself? My… what a wonderful name,” the lady corrected. The other ladies nodded in agreement. They glided past him to get a look at Mary, who was dressed in a purple dress as well and laying silently in the bassinet. The murmured compliments and praises, before Funny caught mention of some disparaging comments.

“That nose…”

“...darker than he is…”

“His wife was probably-”

He couldn’t take another second of that nonsense and walked away to get some water. Lord knows he wanted to drown himself in some beer, but he couldn’t begin drinking so heavily this early on. As he began to drink and ponder on their words, he was broken out of his thoughts by a woman clearing her throat.

“Excuse me? Funny?” He glanced to his side and noticed the woman addressing him.

“Ah, Margaret,” he acknowledged her, giving a polite smile. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Yes. It’s been so long. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to see you again,” she giggled, twirling her red hair with a delicate finger. “I bet my mother was chatting your ear off again?”

“Yes,” he hid his grimace with an unpleasant beam. “She certainly knows how to make an entrance, as usual.”

“Oh, don’t mind her. She’s always prattling on about something. Although…” Margaret trailed off. “I’m sorry to hear about your wife.”

“Thank you. It is a shame she is unable to be here now.”

“And do you have your eye on a potential lady, by any chance?”

Just as tactless as her mother.

“No, not really, Margaret.”

“Well, that’s a bit strange, don’t you think? You are quite the handsome man. Any woman would be lucky to have you.”

“You think so?”

“I do,” Margaret nodded, stepping closer to him. “You always were handsome, you know? And I do remember you being the first man on the job that anyone could rely on.”

“Thank you for thinking so.”

“I’m just saying what everyone is thinking, darling,” she batted her eyes at him. “And I know how lonely it can be after losing someone so dear. But I am always happy to lend an ear for you.”

And a mouthful, as well, he thought, internally rolling his eyes.

“I appreciate it, Margaret. I have to excuse myself to greet the rest of-”

“Let me join you! I haven’t said my hellos to everyone either!”

For God’s sake, woman, won’t you please give me a break?

He didn’t bother to argue as Margaret stood by his side, a bright grin on her face as she joined his greetings. She always was pushy, much like her mother, even when they were children. He had hoped she would not be as clingy when he came back, but it seemed it had only gotten worse. It didn’t help that any of the other girls whom Funny tried to approach and greet were quickly met with Margaret overtaking the conversation and redirecting the attention to herself.

To say it had taken him aback would be an understatement, and after the fourth time, he was getting worn out of hearing her try to assert her place beside him amongst the other guests. He was close to commenting about his dislike of that to her before something in his brain clicked, and he instead chose to simply watch her.

She has a quick mouth. She knows almost always the right thing to say to get attention onto her, for better or worse. By the time she’s done, they’ve practically forgotten about me and are embroiled in conversation with her.

Kissing ass had never been his strongest suit. He liked doing things on his own and never relying on others. But that wouldn’t get one far as a politician. He had bigger ambitions now than dying on the field. This new goal was grander than anything he had truly thought possible. No longer could he be that stoic boy who just went along with orders. He’d have to become something akin to Margaret, someone who commanded attention of a room, even if the thought exhausted him to conceive of.

Margaret made it look simple. Even threats and backhanded compliments from her sounded like a pleasant conversation about the weather. It fascinated him, really, how his perceived annoyance with Margaret ended up being able to give him some useful demonstration. Obviously, he couldn’t be as tactless as her, but he got the main point after watching her give a sickly sweet smile to Laura from down the street as she informed Laura of the fact that Funny had escorted her around.

How beguiling…

As they made their way around the rest of the guests, Funny made his last stop towards Mr. McElroy, who just so happened to be-

“Father!” Margaret jumped. “Are you enjoying the party?”

The portly, older man chuckled at his daughter’s enthusiasm and nodded.

“Yes, darling. And I assume you are enjoying it as well?” He said, raising a brow towards Funny. Margaret wrapped her arm around Funny’s and hummed in agreement.

“Of course. Funny is such a gentleman, aren’t you, darling?”

Funny sputtered a cough at the way she called him ‘darling’ in that tone, but quickly recovered. He extended a hand to Mr. McElroy and greeted him with a smile.

“Good afternoon, sir.”

“Bah, the pleasure is all mine, boy. You’ve grown well. It seems the army really has served you well,” the red-haired man complimented. “And from what the colonel says, you’re staying home permanently?”

“Yes, that is true. I was discharged and now I shall remain home.”

“Oh, father, did you know Funny has a little girl now? Mary’s her name,” Margaret interjected.

“A daughter? Splendid,” Mr. McElroy sagely nodded. “Daughters are always a man’s greatest treasure and biggest weakness.”

“I can only imagine. I see my Mary and want to give her everything in the world,” Funny’s face softened, thinking of his child.

“I’ll tell you, young man, that feeling never goes away. Don’t take her youth for granted. Before you know it, another man will be taking care of her and you will hear the word ‘papa’ one last time before it is never uttered again.”

Funny let Mr. McElroy’s words sink in. He hadn’t really thought that far ahead, after all, his daughter was barely a month old. But the thought of her being a grown woman and eventually not needing him made his heart pang in despair. Something about seeing his newborn as anything but a newborn made him somber.

“Thank you. I can’t imagine how that must feel.”

“Well, when the man is good, you’ll feel nothing but pride for seeing your girl and the life she will lead. It is a blessing watching a daughter grow.”

Funny felt a pleasant joy overtake him hearing the man’s words. It was nice hearing how a daughter was a wonderful blessing to a father.

Before Funny could comment once more, Margaret waved her hand. “Oh, but I’m sure Mary would love a brother, wouldn’t she? After all, a girl needs someone to protect her.”

Funny clenched his jaw. “That can be discussed at a later time. For now, I do need to reconsider employment and housing.”

Funny’s eyes narrowed as he remembered that Mr. McElroy was the owner of a law firm in town. Mr. McElroy, despite his rounder features and jovial attitude, was supposedly a terrifying man in the courtroom. Much like his daughter and wife, he could turn any argument around with just a few words. Some even said he was so convincing, he could easily sell you the dirt on the ground or the air you breathed.

A man like that would surely be of use to help him navigate the political world. One where the battles were not done in a field with guns drawn, but in a closed room with words.

“But Funny, don’t you think-” Margaret began.

“Ah, Margaret, darling, not right now, okay?” Funny replied in a gentle manner. Margaret seemed giddy by his tone and fanned herself.

“It is good that you are a planner, young man. I admire that in men, versus the fools who rush off and hope to strike gold,” Mr. McElroy stated.

“Yes, especially since I now have a daughter to care for, I need to be extra careful,” Funny said. “She doesn’t have a mother anymore, so I am the only one she can rely on.”

Got you.

Much like Funny had hoped, his last sentence incurred some pity from Mr. McElroy. The man’s brows furrowed and his smile turned upside down.

“Right. My apologies. I am sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, sir. I’m ready to settle down here again and make an honest living for my daughter.”

“Do you have any ideas?”

“Noting concrete, unfortunately. But I would like something close to home, so I can easily return home and not worry my poor mother and child,” Funny added. The firm was a few blocks down, a short walk that could take barely even ten minutes. But he needed to add in a bit more fuel to get his way. “I did manage to talk to Mr. Moore about working for his firm, but it is quite a hike.”

“Bah! What does that Moore fellow know?” Mr. McElroy glowered at hearing his rival’s name. “That man couldn’t argue himself out of a paper bag! Certainly not a place for a bright man like you.”

Funny had to restrain the smirk that nearly formed on his face. Of course, he hadn’t talked to Mr. Moore at all, but knowing the two’s strained relationship certainly helped a bit.

“You’re too kind, sir. I’m honored you think so highly of me.”

“Course I do, boy. I’ve watched you grow all these years. You’ve done a lot for the country too, so the least I could do for one our own is offer you some help back.”

“Really?”

“Yes. My old apprentice has moved on to greener pastures, or so he thinks,” Mr. McElroy explained. “I’d be happy to take you on board. So long as you don’t go running back to Moore.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sir. When can I begin?”

“And that’s an attitude I like to see. Already so eager to work and start the job. Tell you what, join me for a meal on Tuesday, and we can discuss more, then. I won’t bog you down with the details today.”

Funny’s smile widened. “Thank you, Mr. McElroy.”

“Ah, none of that,” the man waved. “Call me Gideon.”

Margaret squealed and gripped Funny tighter. “What wonderful news! I know Funny will impress you, father!”

“I certainly hope so,” Gideon said.

Funny placed a hand on his chest and gave a polite bow to him. “I can’t thank you enough, sir. It means a lot to me and to my daughter, too.”

“Nonsense. It’s nothing. Now, run along, you two. Have fun and enjoy the party instead of wasting it on an old man like me.”

Funny agreed and began to walk away, the smile still stuck on his face. He could barely hear Margaret’s excited rambles in his ear as they made their way around.

Perhaps fate really was on his side.

#jojo #jjba #funny valentine #jjba fic #jojo fic #steel ball run #jjba part 7 #sbr #funny valentine x oc #the american dream #the american dream series

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scribeforchrist-blog · 1 month

Text

What's Blocking you?

MEMORY VERSE OF THE WEEK

=========================

+ 1 Corinthians 2:5 So that your faith might not rest in the wisdom of men but in the power of God.

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VERSE OF THE DAY

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+ 2 Kings 6:17 And Elisha prayed, “Open his eyes, Lord, so that he may see.” Then the Lord opened the servant’s eyes, and he looked and saw the hills full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha.

=========================

SUBJECT: What's Blocking you?

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** SAY THIS BEFORE YOU READ; HERE’S SOME CHRISTIAN TRUTHS **

I AM NOT BLOCKED

I AM FILLED WITH JOY

I HAVE FAITH

I AM NOT ALONE

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READ TIME: 8 Minutes & 21 Seconds

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THOUGHTS:

=======================

Sewage lines get blocked, ears get blocked, toilets sometimes get blocked, and sometimes, if you are in a group and don’t obey the rules, you can get blocked as well. Simple things can block many things; sometimes, we don’t know why this happened. We like to assume it's blocked because of a particular reason, so we do process elimination to figure out how it happens.

However, sometimes, after doing this process, we still don’t know, so we must call our local plumber, or maybe contact the group's owner or page, and even maybe go to the doctor. Still, all these people are professional, and they can figure things out quicker than we can, and that’s when we must ask questions sometimes we don’t want to, but sometimes that is the only way we can figure out what to do right??

This is like our spiritual life. We must go to God about what's blocking us from hearing him. What could be blocking us from seeing what he wants us to see? Sometimes it's because 1. We have ignored him so much that he feels it unnecessary to speak to us 2. We disobeyed him when he speaks. 3. We don’t pray enough even to know when he is speaking to us; the word says my sheep knows my voice, and if he spoke to us, would we recognize him immediately?

What is blocking you? What has kept you from God? Have you thought about it ? Have you looked over your day and seen what’s pushing you away ? Or what’s taking up your time ? Is it YouTube, Netflix , people , things ?? Sometimes, we know and don’t want to think that’s what caused it. If we think about it, we never want to cause anything to be blocked especially with our relationship with God, but it happens, and we must always ask God how to fix it.

2 Kings 6:15 When the servant of the man of God got up and went out early the following day, an army with horses and chariots had surrounded the city. “Oh no, my lord! What shall we do?” the servant asked.

Elisha's servant was afraid. One morning, he got up and saw an army of horses and chariots surrounded the city, looking for Elisha. He asked Elisha what we do. Some of us often don’t ask enough questions, but God wants us to ask questions. He wants us to be curious and allow him to show us the way.

Verse 16: “Don’t be afraid,” the prophet answered. “Those who are with us are more than those who are with them.”

Now, Elisha told his servant nope, don’t be afraid because we have more on our side than they do; Elisha knew who his protector was. He knew who to call and what to do because, he knew God, and he knew that he couldn’t do anything with out God , he was so confident in his relationship with God , and that’s what we must do and we must have that at all times, confidence in God that in anything he’s going to show up and help us through it all.

It is okay not to know all the answers. It is okay to lean on someone, BUT let it be God; we can lean on him because some of us are so easily fooled by letting anyone teach us. We let anyone speak a word to us, but did God say this person is okay to do this over us ? Did God reveal that this person had good intentions? Often, people want us to see things that are not meant for us to see, and if God does not direct us about what transpires in our lives, we will be led wrong and away.

Verse 17 And Elisha prayed, “Open his eyes, Lord, so that he may see.” Then the Lord opened the servant’s eyes, and he looked and saw the hills full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha.

See, what was blocking his servant was he didn’t know; sometimes that happens to some of the babes or us in Christ, and we don’t know, but when we do know and still do wrong we are going to lack in some way and possibly get blocked from our blessings, where did Elisha go, he went to the expert he said God open his eyes so that he may see and then his servant immediately seen.

Another thing that could block us is our lack of faith. We allow ourselves not to know and be in denial to drive a wedge between ourselves and God, and we can't do that. Sometimes, we allow things to happen because we say oh, it's okay. God got it, but sometimes, we can’t just say it , we must create an action. God wants us to take the first step, which is having faith.What people don’t do is talk about how hard it is to see God through the darkness. We can all sit here and say we can and say that we will, but how hard is it for us when it happens to us? How hard is it for us to say I TRUST IN GOD, but my faith is weak?

See, faith isn’t just there to say we have it; it must be activated by us believing in God that yes, it’s dark, yes, this is tough, yes, it might seem like I can’t do this, but I know even though I feel this way, I know he’s going to come through ,that’s faith. Faith isn’t just speaking the words; faith is admitting that God is the only way that things will be alright because of God and God alone and not just me but with him and through him alone.

Romans 10:17 So faith comes from hearing and hearing through the word of Christ

God wants us to believe that even through our blockage that he can free our blockage; it’s like when we call the guy to fix the sink, we know he’s going to fix the sink because it’s in his job description it says he can, so we believe he knows what he’s doing this is just like God when everything in our life is blocked we must believe God can show us the way. He can free us from the blockage.

*** Today, we learned how faith can happen when we allow him to work through us; many of us are blocked because of many things, and one of the reasons is that we ignore him. We don’t fully understand when we ignore him repeatedly, we are saying we don’t need him, and we got it, and what happens typically is when we get out on our own, we realize, wait, I can’t do this without him, why don’t I hear him, why don’t I feel him because we decide to do things on our own and we can’t ,we are always going to need guidance on something.

We also learned we can be rebellious sometimes, and the things we are doing , and thinking about can affect our relationship with God, we must be careful with what we do because we always have the Holy Spirit near us watching us and hearing us and we never want to grieve him because of our actions, that’s another way that blockage can come if you think you are experiencing this remember he can help you understand and see what’s blocking you.

©Seer~ Prophetess Lee

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PRAYER

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Heavenly Father, through this blockage, we are going through, we ask you to show us what’s blocking us and how to unclog it. God, we need you so much. Help us see you through sorrow and other emotions we are dealing with. Lord, we thank you for everything , help us to stay balanced in you. Lord, give us your strength and power; we trust in you through it all; in Jesus Name, Amen

========================

REFERENCES

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+ John 3:16 For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.

+ James 2:24 You see that a person is justified by works and not by faith alone.

+ 2 Timothy 4:7 I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.

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FURTHER READINGS

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Proverbs 18

Leviticus 18

Hebrews 3

1 Peter 1

=========================

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random-writerings · 2 years

Text

My Type

Ship: Daisy Johnson x fem!reader

Summary: You struggle to come out to the team, but after a game of ‘fuck, marry, kill’, you accidentally reveal that you have a crush. When the team meets Deke, Daisy suggests you should ask him out because she thinks he's your type. But she doesn't know that she's actually your type.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.4k

“Fuck Fury, marry Tony Stark, kill Hulk,” Hunter answered Bobbi’s question, slurring his words slightly and waving his bottle of beer in air as if to emphasise his words.

“You answered that a bit too fast, Hunter,” Mack laughed.

“Yeah, and why marry Tony Stark? He's a bit of an egomaniac,” Bobbi asked.

“For the money, duh. He's bloody loaded.”

“I think you guys are focussing on the wrong part,” Fitz chimed in. “Hunter seems to think he can kill the Hulk.”

“Of course, I don't. It's hypothetical and I can say what I want.”

“Fine, whatever. Who's next?” Mack turned to you, sitting next to Hunter.

“Fire away.” You laughed, sipping your drink.

The team had gotten back from a particularly tough mission a few hours ago and Coulson had suggested that everyone take the night off while he finished off the mission report. This, of course, led to Hunter and Mack pulling out the beers and ordering take out.

You were all relaxing on the couches chatting amongst yourselves and relieving the stress of the mission. By now, everyone was fairly drunk and Hunter had suggested playing a game. The team settled on ‘fuck, marry, kill’ with the Avengers.

“Okay, let me think.” Mack scratched his head in an over-the-top thinking gesture, causing some giggles from Jemma and Daisy. “What about … Thor, Captain America, and Iron Man.”

You internally cringed at the mention of only male Avengers. You hadn't come out to the team yet. With all the constant danger, there had never been a right time. But you hid how you felt about Mack’s choices. May had taught you well.

“Hey we just had Iron Man!” Hunter protested.

“No, we had Tony Stark,” Mack countered.

“Same person, Mack.”

“Fine.” Mack sighed. “Thor, Captain America, and …”

You prayed for Black Widow, or Maria Hill, even though she wasn't technically an Avenger.

“Hawkeye,” Mack finished.

Damn, you had forgotten about him.

You hummed, pretending to think it over. Your heart picked up slightly when you released now would be a good time to tell everyone you didn't like men. You were all relaxed and having fun, no one was in immediate danger … Sure, it wasn't the perfect time, and May and Coulson weren't here so you would have to tell them separately, but is there ever really a perfect time? And if it went badly, you could always blame it on the alcohol or hope there was a chance that everyone would be too drunk to remember in the morning.

Okay, here goes. You took a deep breath.

“Hmm, I'm not sure. None of them are really my type.”

This caused gasps of shock from Bobbi, Jemma, Yo-Yo, and Daisy.

“How is Thor not your type?” Bobbi asked.

“Yeah, Thor is everyone's type,” Yo-Yo stated matter-of-factly.

“Even May said he was dreamy!” Daisy added

“Have to agree with ladies, love. Thor is pretty hot.” Hunter shrugged.

“Plus, that's not the game,” Fitz added. “It doesn't really matter who's your type, you still have to choose. I mean, I married Loki on my go and I hate that guy.”

Okay, so that didn't go as planned. Never mind, just roll with it.

“I know.” You laughed. “I just wanted to see your reactions. I guess, I'll fuck Thor, marry Captain America, and kill Hawkeye. But let the record show that I feel bad because Hawkeye seems like a genuinely nice guy.”

“Interesting,” Jemma spoke up. “Why not marry Thor? He's a god and you'd get free trips to space.”

“Damn, what is with the Thor obsession?” You held up your hands in mock surrender. “I just figured that marrying Cap would be great because he'd be a gentleman. I mean, he is from the 40s. Plus, he probably knows how to dance and it's something I kinda want to learn.”

“Yeah, I can see the appeal.” Yo-Yo nodded.

“I'm curious. What is your type, if it's not three of the most attractive men on the planet?” Hunter nudged you playfully.

“Uh.” You hesitated. Here it is, this is the moment. Just reply “women”. It's that simple. It's just one word.

But your eyes landed on Daisy, looking at you expectantly, waiting for your answer, and the word got stuck in your throat.

You had had a crush on Daisy for months now. You had been working with Bobbi and Mack under Robert Gonzalez, tasked with infiltrating Coulson’s S.H.I.E.L.D. and reporting back. But when you had met Daisy, things had gotten complicated. You had pushed your feelings aside, determined to finish the mission. But when the two S.H.I.E.L.D.s had merged to fight against the Inhumans at Afterlife, you had watched Daisy become stronger and more confident, controlling her powers despite the pain she was going through. You admired her and your feelings for her had only gotten stronger the more you got to know her.

But you knew she didn't feel the same way. You had watched her flirt with Lincoln and she had opened up to you about her past relationships; one with a man called Miles, a hacktivist who sold information leading to the death of a powered person, and her relationship with Grant Ward, who turned out to be Hydra. She never mentioned being in a relationship with a woman or even liking women at all.

But then again, neither had you.

“Yeah, come on, y/n.” Mack’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. “What is your type?”

“Uh, I don't know. Dark hair, maybe?” Your thoughts drifted back to Daisy. “Kind eyes, and a bright smile. Someone who's very smart and can be intimidating at times but also makes everyone laugh.” You stopped when you heard Jemma giggle. You looked up at her. “What?”

She smiled knowingly. “That's very specific. Sounds like you have someone in mind.”

“No I –” You started to defend yourself but Yo-Yo cut you off.

“Yeah, look at you blushing and smiling. You definitely have a crush.”

“Come on then. Tell us who it is.” Daisy leaned forward, resting her forearms on her thighs, smirking playfully at you.

Your whole body tensed up at her words. Your hands which had been fiddling with your bottle stilled and your back straightened slightly. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Hunter staring at you, the teasing smile on his face faltering a little when he noticed your body language. Then he laughed loudly and threw his arm around your shoulders.

“Oh don't make the poor woman say it out loud. She's obviously embarrassed. But it's okay, love. No need to be ashamed. I’m a real catch, I know.”

There was a pause before the whole room erupted in laughter. Hunter looked around in mock offense and you caught on to what he was doing; he had noticed you were uncomfortable and shifted everyone's attention onto him instead. You made a mental note to thank him later.

“What the hell makes you think she was describing you of all people?” Fitz asked incredulously.

“Yeah, no offense Hunter, but you're not exactly intimidating.” Mack wiped tears of laughter from his eyes.

“I can be!”

“Well, you're not all that smart either,” Bobbi joked.

Hunter gasped dramatically and clutched his chest, falling back on the couch.

“You wound me. You really are a demon, you know that Bob?”

“Ugh, you're such a flirt.” She rolled her eyes at him but she was smiling fondly.

Later, after everyone had turned in for the night, you stayed behind to clean up the kitchen area. As you binned some empty bottles, you heard someone approach you. You turned around to find Hunter holding more empty bottles. He placed them on the counter before turning his attention to you.

“So, Daisy, huh?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” You grabbed the bottles off the counter and put them in the bin.

“Yeah, you do. Are you going to tell her?”

You sighed. “No. Not right now anyway.” But you knew that was a lie. You’d had many opportunities to tell Daisy how you felt but you always chickened out at the last second.

“Just a word of advice, don't wait too long. When you do a job like this, the future isn't certain. You never know what we'll face next or if we'll even survive it. You don't want any regrets.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Hey, this isn't about me. But for the record, yes. I don't always remember to tell Bobbi I love her and I always regret it when something bad happens. Also, we're all watching Mack and Yo-Yo flirting with each other but avoiding any real conversation about their feelings and it's getting painful at this point. So, just don't wait too long, yeah?” He said as he turned to leave.

“Yeah, alright,” you agreed.

But, little did you know, it would be years before you ever told anyone else.

~~~

The team had made it back from the deadly post-apocalyptic future and thankfully everyone was alive. It was just you, Daisy, and Noah in the Lighthouse, until Daisy had spotted Deke on the computer. She had left to break him out of prison and they had returned successfully. But you were still waiting for the rest of the team to return from their mission.

Now, Daisy was watching Deke, who was talking to Noah across the control room, while she ate cereal out of the box.

“You know, he's totally your type.” She spoke in a hushed voice, as if she was telling you a secret.

“What do you mean?” You looked away from the monitor on the desk, confused as to why she would bring this up out of blue. You had never shown any interest in Deke when you met in the future and you were hesitant about him being in the Lighthouse.

“I mean, he totally fits what you described as your type,” she replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. But when you gave her a confused look she sighed and explained. “Remember a few years ago, while we were still living in the Playground, we all got drunk and played ‘fuck, marry, kill’?”

You nodded. Considering all the crazy stuff that had happened since then, you had honestly forgotten about that night. Then it suddenly hit you where Daisy was going with this.

“And you described your type and Hunter joked about you having a crush on him–”

“Yeah, Daisy. That's not–” You tried to stop her but she kept going.

“Well, I think Deke kinda fits the criteria. First of all, he has dark hair. He doesn't smile very often but when he does, it's nice. I don't really know what you meant by kind eyes but I know he can be a bit intimidating. I mean he sold me to Kasius and that was scary. And I suppose he is sort of smart, in his own way. I also watched the footage of him getting drunk at the bar and it's very funny. So, you see, he may be a bit annoying, but he's definitely your type.”

“He's really not. Trust me.”

“I'm serious. You should ask him out.”

You laughed out loud at that, causing Deke and Noah to look your way curiously. Daisy shushed you jokingly but that just made you laugh harder. Deke and Noah went back to their conversation while you caught your breath.

“There is no way I'm asking him out. He's a complete moron and, like you said, he sold you to Kasius. So hell no.” You paused for a moment. “But what I want to know is, how did you remember all that stuff? I said that years ago. I didn't even remember saying it until you brought it up.”

Daisy looked away, inspecting her monitor for news of the team. You felt like she was deliberately avoiding your gaze, and you swore you could see a light dusting of pink colouring her cheeks through her dark hair.

Before you could say anything else, Deke and Noah called out to you both, drawing your attention to the monitors on the wall. The rest of the team had returned.

~~~

Later, you and Deke were searching one of the many storage rooms in the Lighthouse for something that Fitz needed to close the rift to the Fear Dimension. Because apparently that existed now. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents never can catch a break.

“Look, it'll probably be quicker if we both search different rooms,” you suggested.

Deke agreed and left, bumping into Daisy on the way out. She entered the storage room, leaning against the wall. You could feel her staring so you turned to her. She raised one eyebrow at you.

“What?” You asked.

“You tell me. You and Deke … alone … in a storage room…”

“Oh shut up. You know it's not like that.”

“Why not?”

“Daisy, are you seriously trying to set me up with Deke? I mean, really, of all people? Deke?” You rolled your eyes and turned back to the box you were searching.

“Oh come on, he's your–”

“He is not my type, Daisy!” You snapped loudly, slamming something back in the box. “You really wanna know why? It's because he's a man!” You turned to face her as you confessed.

There was a pause as you realised what you just said. You closed your eyes and sighed.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath.

Might as well come clean about everything, while we're at it.

“He's a man, Daisy. I don't like men. I never have,” you continued, quieter this time. “In fact, that night, I was talking about someone specific, someone I had a crush on. Someone I still have a crush on,” you corrected yourself and took a deep breath, preparing for what you were about to say next. “It's you Daisy. You're my type. I was just too scared to tell you. I didn't want to ruin our friendship because it means so much to me. And I understand if you don't feel the same–”

“Actually, I do,” Daisy interrupted you, all traces of her previously teasing tone gone. “I do feel the same about you.”

“Oh, okay,” you spoke softly, shocked.

Daisy smiled at you, that bright smile that you loved so much. Then she closed the distance between the two of you, pressing her lips gently to yours.

The moment was interrupted by hurried footsteps coming down the hall and Deke throwing open the door.

“I found the thing Fitz needs. Let's go.” He didn't even stop long enough to process what he interrupted before running away towards the control room.

You turned back to Daisy and you both laughed. She took your hand and you headed down the hall hand in hand.

#marvel #agents of shield #agents of shield fanfic #daisy johnson #daisy johnson fanfic #daisy johnson x reader

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wrestlersownmyheart · 6 months

Text

"Her Outlaw Hero" (Sons Of Anarchy-Chibs Chapter fic) Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the Original Characters in this story. I am only using Kurt Sutter's characters from Sons of Anarchy. He created the characters and the show—I am in no way taking any credit for his creations. This story is for entertainment only. Content/Warnings: Violence against both men and women including rape. Summary:

Adelaide Watson is fleeing Tennessee—on the run from her violent past.

When she has a car accident on a lonely road in Charming, California, she has no choice but to walk to town for help. But help comes to her instead. In a very unexpected way.

Chapter 3

Adelaide parked her Nissan Versa in the alley behind the house of her best friend, Angela McSands. Gingerly getting out of the car while also trying to calm her swimming head, she tried to hurry toward Angela's back door and then proceeded to pound on it.

"Angie! Angie, please open the door—it's Addy!" She pounded as loudly as she could with her fists, and then with the palms of her hands till they both stung. "Angela!" Oh, God, please let her be home, she prayed.

The door opened suddenly and Angela emerged clad in a terrycloth bathrobe, her short, blond hair still wet from an apparent shower. "Oh, my God—Addy! What hap-" Her gaze raked quickly over Adelaide's slender frame and took in every detail. Her best friend's temple had a goose egg, a bruise marred the alabaster skin of her cheek, and her lip was split. And that was only what she was able to see. There was no telling what injuries Liam Walker had bestowed Adelaide with underneath her clothes. "It was Liam, wasn't it?" She gently tugged her unsteady friend into her house. "Come inside. Let's get you cleaned up and into some…" She trailed off when she fully took in the state of Adelaide's ripped and disheveled clothing. There was no denying what had happened. "Oh, Addy… I'm so sorry…" She hugged her friend close and stroked her dark hair, then led her into the living room. "Come on, honey. Let's get you to the hospital. They'll need to do a rape kit."

"No," Adelaide whispered, as Angela led her into the living room. She sank weakly down onto the sofa. "He's a cop, Angie. He'll get away with it. Then he'll kill me."

"But, there's proof, Addy. Your clothes, the cuts and bruises, his DNA…"

"He'll turn it around somehow. That is, if he's still alive."

"What do you mean," Angela asked, sitting down beside her and brushing some tangled hair out of Adelaide's face.

"He was raping me, and I… I tried to fight him off. I was feeling for a weapon to use and I was able to grab my heavy fruit bowl." She shuddered before continuing. "I hit him on the head with it—several times. I don't even know if he's alive. If he's dead, I'm in even deeper trouble."

"No, honey," her friend tried to convince her. "If he's dead, then you can explain it as self-defense…"

"You don't get it," Adelaide cried, wrapping her arms around herself. "They're his friends! They won't believe a word I say! They'll think I murdered him!"

Angela was silent for a moment and let this sink in. Maybe she's right, she thought. If she's this terrified, there's a reason. "Okay," she finally said. "You need to get out of here, and soon. Go get a shower so your appearance doesn't get noticed and raise questions. Then you're going to take one of my cars and get out of town—far away from here."

"But what about my car? If Liam sees it parked here, he'll hurt you—"

"I'll drive it into the river. Don't worry. It'll look like you drowned. He'll never know."

Tears filled Adelaide's blue eyes again. "We may never see each other again."

Angela nodded sadly. "I know. But your safety has to come first. That's what matters most to me."

Adelaide sniffled and wiped at her tears. "And yours matters most to me."

"I'll be fine," Angela assured her, placing her hand over Adelaide's. "Like I said, I'll take care of your car. If Liam thinks your dead, he's got no reason to do anything to me. Okay? So go get yourself cleaned up and I'll get you some fresh clothes together."

About twenty minutes later, Adelaide was showered and wearing a pair of jeans, a black WWE t-shirt and sneakers. Angela handed her a key to her old Jeep, a small suitcase of clothes along with a pocket knife, and then proceeded to press many paper bills into her hand. "And take this too."

"No, Angie. It's bad enough you're giving me one of your cars. I have money. I stopped at an ATM before I came-"

"Hon, I could care less about the money. It's only a few hundred dollars, but it could help get you out of a bind. I'll sleep a lot better knowing I've done everything I can to help you."

Adelaide swallowed hard and smiled sadly at her best friend. "I would never have made it without you."

"Oh, yes you would've," Angela contradicted her, her green eyes filling with tears. "You're stronger than you realize, Addy. You're going to be fine, honey. Now get out of here, and start living again."

"I'm going to miss you," Adelaide said, hugging her friend close. "So much."

"I'll miss you too, but I'll take comfort in knowing you're alive," Angela replied, returning Adelaide's hug.

"Be sure and get my cell number out of your contacts," Adelaide warned. "I left my cell phone behind and if you call it, Liam will realize you know something."

Angela nodded, "I'll take care of it right now."

Minutes later, Adelaide was pulling out of Angela's garage and began heading for Interstate 40 West, tears streaming down her face.

00000000

A loud curse echoed throughout the MC's clubhouse. Juice rubbed his shaved head for the third time in one game of pool. "You're gonna take my head off if you keep jumpin' the cue ball like that," Juice shouted at Rat. "What are ya trying to pull, bro?"

"I was just trying a new trick is all, settle down, Juicey," Rat grumbled as he picked the cue ball up from the floor and put it back on the pool table.

"How about ya play the right way, and then I'll settle down," Juice retorted.

"No, how about the two of ya quit bickering like a couple of little girlies," Chibs asked from the bar. "I can't hear myself think!"

The two smaller men each mumbled something unintelligible under their breath but resumed their game in a quieter manner.

Daisy, Tig's pet pit bull he rescued from a dog fight, scratched at the club's front door and whined for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past half hour.

"What's with her," Happy asked, draining his beer bottle.

"I don't know," Tig replied thoughtfully. "I just took her out to use the bathroom, and she took a long piss, so I'm totally clueless."

"Maybe she's constipated," Chucky suggested, wiping down the bar. He blushed when he noticed everyone staring at him. "I mean… Ya know… It's a possibility."

"Shut up and grab me another beer, Chucky," Happy ordered.

"I accept that," Chucky murmured, grabbing another bottle of brew from the cooler.

At that moment, Quinn returned from a repossession and opened the door to enter the club house, and Daisy took that instant to flee.

"Daisy," Tig yelled. "Come back, girl!" He shot up from his seat and bolted for the door. Sticking his head out, he was distraught when he discovered the dog had completely vanished. "I've gotta find her. Chibs…help me out, brother?"

"Ah, come on," Chibs groaned. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Drive the van," Tig suggested, his vivid blue eyes pleading with his friend. "I can't very well bring her back on my bike, and she gets nervous in a vehicle. Someone needs to drive while I keep her calm."

"Mother Mary," Chibs growled as he pulled the keys to the club's van from his vest pocket and put on his sunglasses. "Let's go get this over with." The two men hurried out to the van and pulled out onto the road.

"Did you see what direction she went," Chibs asked Tig.

"No. Not really. DAISY! WHERE ARE YA, BABY," he shouted.

Chibs cursed and looked at his friend as if he were crazy. "Do you really think-"

Tig shushed him and yelled for Daisy again. To Chibs' utter surprise, he could hear the dog barking in the distance.

"That way! Go," Tig hooted, happy to have an idea of where his dog was. "I know my girl, Chibby! Follow that bark!"

Rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses, Chibs turned the van in the direction the dog's barks came from and they drove down the road, keeping their eyes peeled for Tig's pit bull.

000000000

Adelaide touched a hand to her head as another wave of dizziness came over her. She groaned softly at the pain and struggled to keep her eyes open.

"At least I'm just on an empty old dirt road," she reasoned with herself. If I come across some traffic, I'll have to pull over until this dizziness passes.

In the next instant, she was aware of opening her eyes and discovered she was in the wrong lane. Reflexively, she jerked the wheel back into the right lane and breathed a shuddering sigh. Realizing she was briefly losing consciousness, she rolled her window down the rest of the way in hopes of getting some more air. The California heat was stifling and the old Jeep's air-conditioner had long ago kicked the bucket.

"I need water," she thought out loud, realizing she must be severely dehydrated.

She couldn't even remember her last sip of liquid or bite of food, or sleep for that matter. She'd been in such a hurry to get away from Nashville, she drove for two days strait. She'd been too frightened to pull over and close her eyes, afraid that Liam—or someone affiliated with him—would capture her when she was at her most vulnerable.

Suddenly, Adelaide realized she was coming too again, and prepared to jerk the wheel into the appropriate lane once more. But too late, she saw a telephone pole looming just ahead of her. A hard collision followed, along with the sound of breaking glass and grating metal. If not for the airbag deploying, she would have smacked hard into the steering wheel. Her head was spared yet another trauma, but her ribs weren't. The airbag's tautened material slammed into her hard, and she heard a very audible cracking sound as a burning pain shot up and down her side. The car slammed to a stop and she gasped and sobbed as another agonizing stab of pain sucker punched her.

"Oh….my God…" she wheezed out, shocked by the sudden pain.

She grasped the key and turned it in the ignition, and the engine tried to turn over but didn't manage it. Adelaide tried a couple more times, but gave up on it when it became clear the car was not going to start. She grabbed the small pocket knife Angela gave her and somehow managed the strength to open her door and feebly climb out of the Jeep. Her legs wouldn't hold her, however, and she sank to her knees.

"Get up," she ordered herself, teeth clenched. "You don't have time to fall apart. Not yet."

Shakily, she held onto the car for support as she stood to her feet. I have to get to a mechanic and see if they'll tow the Jeep and repair it, she thought. And then I need a hotel where I can get some sleep, or I'm going to end up killing myself and possibly some innocent people.

Slowly, she began her long walk down the road, in hopes of finding a mechanic that would help her out.

00000000

Chibs continued driving down the road as Tig leaned out the passenger side window calling for Daisy.

"I think we've lost her, brother," Chibs said softly, aware of how much the dog meant to his friend. "I haven't heard her bark in several minutes."

"She's here, I know it," Tig insisted, and then he pointed at what looked to be a dark-haired woman up ahead of them. "Look, there's someone walking down the road. Pull up beside them. Maybe they've seen her."

Skeptical, but humoring his friend, Chibs pulled up beside a woman walking at the side of the road. "Hey lady, have ya by any chance seen a white pit bull around here," Chibs asked. "My friend's lost his dog and we thought she'd headed this way."

The young woman seemed to be startled by his inquiry but she turned to glance in his direction, the sun catching on her icy blue eyes, "Y-yeah… I did," she replied softly. "She w-went up th-that way…" She motioned behind her with a wave of her hand.

"Thanks," Tig called from the passenger side. "Let's go, Chibs!"

"Just a sec," the Scotsman muttered under his breath. Something wasn't right. The woman was moving very slowly and he'd noticed bruising on her pale face. "Are you alright, lady? Do you need a ride somewhere?"

The woman seemed to jump out of her skin again, and shook her head without paying him even a glance. "No, thank y-you. I-I'm fine."

"Ya sure? It's an awfully hot day to be walking a long distance," he pressed, noting her jean-clad legs. The black t-shirt can't help matters either, he thought, recalling how hot the club's black clothing could get in the heat of the California sun. "I can give you a lift somewhere if ya want."

"No," the woman answered curtly, without even looking up and kept walking gingerly in the other direction.

Chibs sensed Tig was about to set out on foot himself to go retrieve his dog. So, feeling conflicted, he drove on, in search of Daisy.

Minutes later, and a few miles down the road, they spotted an older model Jeep wrecked against a telephone pole.

"Wow," Tig said, "That's one busted up Jeep. Do you think it belongs to the woman we passed a few miles back?"

"That would be my guess," Chibs replied grimly. "She's got to be hurt. I saw some bruises on her face, and-" He cut off when he noticed Daisy sitting dutifully by the Jeep. "What the…?"

"She was trying to lead us to her," Tig commented. "She somehow knew what happened to that woman."

"I think you're giving your dog a little too much credit," Chibs said skeptically.

"How else would you explain it," Tig asked.

Chibs pulled to a stop next to the vacated car, his black eyes flashing, "I don't know. Get your dog and then we're gonna go help the woman."

Tig climbed out of the van and approached Daisy, "Come on, girl," he coaxed. "Come back with me, baby. We're gonna go help the lady. Come on." He led the apprehensive dog back to the van and then lifted her up and settled her on his lap once he climbed into the passenger seat."

In the next instant, Chibs pulled a sharp U-turn and headed back for the dark-haired stranger.

If you want on my tag list, just let me know! 🙂

Tagging:

@mrsfilipchibstelford @ravennaortiz

#sons of anarchy #chibs telford #sons of anarchy fic #chibs imagine #chibs x oc

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romana-after-dark · 1 year

Note

I feel like little ones dad got away with it

part of The Wrong Way Universe

Nothing I Do Better Than Revenge (Lorenzo's Version)

Lorenzo Aleverano

Summary: Lorenzo feels helpless after little ones death. He can't make Joel suffer the way he wants to... Joel is too dangerous, and he can't risk Joel turning it around on Zach, Tommy, or god forbid Ellie. So he gets revenge on the person he can.

Warnings: Murder. Discussion of child abuse physical and allusions to everything that was done to little one so past csa, rape, torture, domestic violence, death, violence, forced pregnancy.

A/N: Whiped this up but I was talking about this with the-fox-den i think about this idea. Also, despite what TWW playlist says, I'm not a swiftie, but I love Speak Now so there's your title. This is for you Clem Hearts.

Warnings to for talking about all the horrors in TWW, including but not limited to sexual assault, torture, child abuse, murder, trafficking, etc etc etc etc

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

Lorenzo finished his drink standing outside the old farmhouse that night. It was a little cool out, slowly seeping into the dark cold of what a Wyoming winter could mean. It had started getting colder, bordering on that biting cold when it got to be the middle of the night, which it would by the time Lorenzo was home. It would be at least a four-hour horse ride after he was done, a pain, to be sure, but worth it.

Tommy steps up next to him, not turning to Lorenzo and keeping his eyes and ears peeling for trouble. "Sure Zach ain't gonna be mad?"

They didn't tell him where they were going. As soon as Lorenzo had heeled enough to take on the task he was about to do, he told Tommy his plan, asking if he was in. Zach might have come, if they told him, but much like Tommy was incapable of killing Joel, Lorenzo wasn't sure Zach could kill his dad.

Zach was taking care of Ellie tonight, a strong 3 month old baby with that Miller brown hair and her moms eyes. She was small, but thankfully healthy despite her premature and birth. The doctor's in Jackson said complications may arise later, like vision and hearing problems but unfortunetly they didn't have the technology to test for it. Lorenzo was just thankful she was alive. If she was blind or deaf, they'd figure it out, but nothing matter as long as Ellie lived.

After Tommy took Ellie away from that bastard, leaving her mom's dead body in the cabin, it was a long horse ride back to Jackson; a miracle the thin infant lived at all. It was Tommy who came to the room Lorenzo was in, somewhere hidden away incase Joel came, and had to break the news of his friend's death. When Zach showed up a few days later, Lorenzo was stuck in bed as he heard Tommy and Zach fighting, Zach going so far as to bunch Tommy. Tommy had never met Zach before, only briefly seeing him get shot the day the girl was taken and Zach seeing him a few times here and there while doing Joel's business. All Zach new of Tommy is that he had be a part of keeping his sister captive and he slept with her. Tommy never hit him back. Lorenzo theorized Tommy let it happen because he wanted to be punished.

They couldn't kill Joel. Tommy had his opportunity, standing there with baby Ellie June in one arm and a gun held firm and pointed at Joel in the other, but Tommy didn't fire. Killing Joel now... near impossible. He was a fortress, surrounded by men and the willpower was unmatched. Lorenzo had seen what Joel could do, seen him on a rampage and it was insane. Nothing could take him down. So, Tommy, Lorenzo and Zach had to live in fear, hoping he wouldn't come to Jackson.

That's why Zach and Tommy had put their differences aside. The past wasn't as important as Ellie's future, and they needed to be a united front to protect her. What started as an act of duty, promising Ellie's mom he'd keep her safe quickly became genuine love. Tommy said he talked to Ellie the whole ride back, praying she'd make it... by the time he go into Jackson, a breastfeeding onlooking kindly offering to feed Ellie before the starving baby got any medical attention, he was in love. The girl was his entire life now. Tommy did love her like his own. She was his own.

Yeah, they couldn't kill Joel, they couldn't make him suffer for all he had down to their sister, their friend, their love... but they could kill her dad.

He and Zach's dad, Jamie, had molested her, had beat her and Zach their whole lives, and although they couldn't prove it, they suspected her was the reason their mom had died so young. Jaimie sold her body to random men for years and year before selling her virginity and her entirety to Joel, knowing full well he was a violent and volatile man.

He deserved the worst, and that's what they gave him. Tied up to a chair in the living room, Tommy and Lorenzo took turns torturing Jaimie, making him suffer for everything he had done to the people they cared about, both her and Zach, but primarily for being a monster who abused children. He didn't deserve mercy. The only reason they didn't leave him to die slowly of his wounds is they wanted to watch the light leave his eyes, which they did once Tommy plunged the knife in his neck.

Ellie's knife.

Her knife.

Joel's knife.

Jaimie wouldn't understand the significance of it, he barely understood why Tommy and Lorenzo were there. He didn't understand why two men who barely knew him where there to end his life and make him suffer, why they loved his children so deeply in a way he never could that they'd go out of their way to do this. Even when they told him they knew what he had done, and that now that he had a granddaughter they would make sure he never got his grubby hands on her. He didn't understand that family ran deeper than blood, and to Tommy Miller and Lorenzo Aleverano, their family was everything.

When it was done, when they had taken a breath and a drink and maybe raided the fridge a bit (torture is hard work), Lorenzo stood up, going to find something he was out for in particular; the reason they had dragged out the wagon, pulled by their horses.

They loaded up what they we're taking. A few of her things: an old doll, her small collection of books (some for sentimental purposes, but others for the town library), the few personal items she had. They gathered up anything important or useful, salted meat, medical supplies, winter gear... in the end, they opted to try and come back later. Jaimie had hoarded a lot of resources in the last year.

But together, Tommy and Lorenzo loaded up what Lorenzo was after, second only to killing Jamie. A gift for Zach.

The family piano.

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

It warms my heart that people still have enough love and interest in this series that they send asks and make gifs and talk about it. I love you all a lot.

@ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @miraclesabound @the-fox-den @pimosworld @koshkaj-blog @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

#the wrong way series #the last of us hbo #the wrong way fic #tommy miller #Lorenzo #Lorenzo Aleverano

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highwaytothedangerzone502 · 1 year

Text

Foxtrot Alpha Alpha - Chapter 16

Pairing: Hangman x Female OC

Word Count: 1682

Warnings: None

Summary: Hangman learned his lesson a long time ago to never show his true feelings when someone's words or actions hurt him. To do so showed weakness that could be exploited, and Seresin men couldn't show weakness. Of course, there was an exception to every rule, and Jake's always came in the form of women, three in particular: his mom, Juliette Kazansky, and the girl whose name he could no longer bring himself to speak. She was the girl that got away; she was his biggest 'what if' and his biggest regret; she would forever be the ghost that haunted his dreams. Jake believed that's where she'd stay, for he would surely never see her again after what he did.

Or so he thought.

Notes: This is the sequel to India Lima Yankee; I'm using the same callsign for the Female OC as in Ghost Story because I just really like it, but they are different characters; chapters in italics are flashbacks.

Chapter Songs: Friday Night No Place Like You

****

Ghost

A drunken patron sang along to karaoke with his comrades egging him on. Annalise watched in amusement from the bar while she waited for her drink. Her eyes drifted to Jake, who stood across the room chatting with a striking brunette. The girl appeared to be devouring every flattering and flirty comment he whispered in her ear. How could she not when the words came from an emerald-eyed God showering all his affection and attention on her?

Not for the first time in her life, Annalise wished she could be the girl in front of Jake, to know what it felt like to have his focus on her be something other than platonic. When the romantic feelings for him arose, Annalise could never place. It'd happened without her even noticing, but they never went away once she recognized them.

Still, Jake would never be interested in her as anything but a friend. Annalise may have been relatively fit, a requirement for any aviator, but she still had some stubborn flab on her stomach, thighs, and arms that refused to disappear no matter how hard she trained or how little she ate. Her body remained a far cry from the models Jake always sought.

Forcing herself to look away, she scanned the club for her other friends: Lydia and Javy. She discovered them in a dark corner making out. It'd taken almost their entirety at the Academy for Javy to finally admit his feelings for Lydia, albeit only because of the liquid courage given to him by the ever-reliable tequila. Now, the couple stayed practically inseparable.

"I hope you're not looking for someone," a guy said, sliding next to Annalise at the bar.

"Oh? And if I am?" she countered, eyeing him up and down to get a feel of the type of person he was. With his slicked-back hair, ice-blue eyes, and too-low V-neck, something about him set her on edge.

"Then consider me heartbroken because you are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen."

Annalise chuckled wryly. "And how many girls have you used that line on before?"

"You don't beat around the bush, do you?" The man stuck out his hand. "I'm Harry."

"Pleasure," she replied, shaking his hand and purposefully failing to give him her name. "You from around here?"

"Yeah, I live just down the road. Have a beautiful view of the harbor. You can see all the ships coming and going. It's a great place to hang out, chat-" the man stepped closer- too close- to Annalise- "and to get to know someone privately. What do you say we leave the noise and head to my place? Get to know one another?"

Annalise jerked away when his hand trailed up her arm. Her eyes frantically flitted over to Jake, praying he'd take his attention off the leggy brunette for a second so she could send him a silent 'SOS.' Whether God or some other higher being was listening to her prayers, Annalise locked eyes with Jake. It only lasted a second, but she got the message across: Help me!

His gaze shifted back to the girl in front of him, and all Ghost could think was a string of impressive swear words in multiple languages. Returning her attention to the creep in front of her, who again tried to touch her, Annalise said, "Thanks, but I'm going to pass. I need to get back to my-"

"If you say boyfriend-" Harry interrupted, holding up his hand- "then you should look for a new one. No guy should leave a girl as pretty as you alone."

"I can handle myself just fine."

"Yeah, but then-"

"Hey, Annie," Jake greeted, appearing next to her with the most perfect timing. Bearing his hundred-watt grin, he asked, "Who's your friend?"

"Hey, honey," Annalise responded sweetly, wrapping her arm around his waist, which he returned in kind, pulling her flush against his side. "This is Harry. He was chatting while I waited for my drink."

"You still haven't gotten it? I was wondering what was taking so long."

"Yeah, they're pretty busy, but it looks like my luck is changing with you here." Ghost eagerly reached for her drink, which had finally arrived. Taking a large gulp, she sighed happily. "Did you want to go play a round of darts?"

"Yeah, Javy and Lydia are ready, so we were just looking for you," Hangman said, kissing the top of her head. Annalise involuntarily melted into him at the contact, and she hated herself for having such a reaction. Jake was her friend. That was it! They would never be anything more, so why think anything of it? He had come to her rescue and was playing his part to get the creep away from her. Annalise couldn't read anything else into it.

"Keep an eye on her, man," Harry warned, sipping his beer. "She shouldn't be left on her own. She was considering going home with me."

Jake chuckled wryly. "I've known Annie for over six years, and it took five of those for her to say yes to a date with me, so I can assure you it's going to take a lot more than a charming smile and smooth-talking to get her to go home with an arrogant prick like yourself."

Clapping Harry violently on the shoulder, Jake escorted Annalise away from the bar, not letting her go even when they stopped near the dart board. He looked her up and down and asked, "You okay? Did he hurt you?"

"No, just gave me the creeps and wouldn't leave me alone. You came in the nick of time, although I'm sorry I tore you away from that girl you were talking with."

"Don't ever apologize for that. You're more important than any girl I'm trying to hook up with. They're a dime a dozen. You-" Jake sat on a stool and pulled Annalise by her hips between his legs. They were at eye-level with each other, their faces a mere couple of inches apart. "You are irreplaceable."

She clasped her hands behind his neck, grinning. "You sure know how to make a girl feel special. The gig is up, though. You don't need to keep pretending you're my boyfriend now that we're not near him."

"On the contrary, he is still watching us, specifically you. If you let me go, there is a very good chance that I'm going to go teach the guy some manners." Jake's gaze drifted briefly over her shoulder, then to her face, lips, and back to her eyes. "Do you trust me?"

"With my life. Why?"

"I don't think Henry-"

"Harry," Annalise corrected.

"I have another name for him, but I'll keep it to myself. Point is, I don't think he's fully bought our story. We need to do a little more convincing."

"Really? What do you have in mind?"

"This." Jake leaned in and planted his lips on Annalise's, gently but firmly. His hand cupped her cheek before sliding to the back of her head and weaving his fingers through her hair. Annalise stiffened momentarily at the contact, having believed he didn't have the gall to do such a thing, but she swiftly relaxed and melted into the kiss, tightening her arms around his neck.

Annalise swore nothing could top the adrenaline rush of hearing the roar and power of fighter jets caused in her, but in that moment with Jake, she realized there was one thing. She also realized she was monumentally screwed. Annalise had been able to ignore her feelings for Jake for a long time, had even almost convinced herself that they didn't exist at all, but this kiss cemented two things: the romantic feelings she possessed for him were very much indeed real, and they would not disappear any time soon.

"What is going on here?" Lydia's entertained voice queried. Jake and Annalise broke apart sheepishly, staring like deer in headlights at their friend. Javy stood behind her, biting back a smirk.

Annalise gathered her wits about her first. "Some creep was hitting on me, and Jake rescued me by pretending to be my boyfriend."

Lydia wagged a finger at them as she prodded, "And that also required you two to be in a lip-lock?"

"We had to sell it," Jake insisted, standing up and briefly glancing at the other side of the bar. "Especially because he won't take his eyes off of her. He's still watching us."

Lydia frowned in concern. "Should we leave?"

"No, I'm not letting some dick ruin our night. We're here to have fun and celebrate your birthday!" Annalise insisted, grabbing the darts and handing them to Jake. "And if he tries to ruin our fun, then we'll turn him into the dart board."

Jake nodded. "All right, but if you start feeling uncomfortable-"

"I won't. How can I when my boyfriend is here to protect me?" Annalise winked playfully at him, and he cracked a grin. Without another word about Harry the Creep, the friends turned their attention to the game and enjoyed the rest of the night without incident. Still, Annalise couldn't stop thinking about the kiss she and Jake shared. It's not that it meant anything significant to either of them, but God, she understood now why all the girls wanted to sleep with him. Annalise might've thrown her morals out the window to have a one-night stand with him if not for their friendship. She would do nothing to risk it, knowing that Jake felt nothing romantically for her. It hurt, but that was life. After all, not everyone was meant to end up together, no matter how well they got along. Her mom and Maverick were a reminder of that. They pushed each other to be the best they could be and helped each other through difficult times, but they weren't meant to end up together, and now, they didn't even speak.

Annalise couldn't risk that happening with Jake. He was the best thing to ever happen to her, and God forbid if something ever happened to him...

****

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Chapters: Chp 1 Chp 2 Chp 3 Chp 4 Chp 5 Chp 6 Chp 7 Chp 8 Chp 9 Chp 10 Chp 11 Chp 12 Chp 13 Chp 14 Chp 15 Chp 16

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leagueofdccm · 5 months

Text

DARKER VERSE STARTING : MAGGIE GREENE : A WHAT IF PATH of what if Maggie never did cross paths with Rick and the gang ? What if during her time at the farm, they thought hiding away would do them good... away from the walkers and the cruelty of what the world has become. But Maggie listened to her father. Rick never came, she never met Glenn, never got to discover the love she found in him, someone kind as Glenn... a leader like Rick who was trying to do some good to this world. Who would not only open her eyes... but her father's. The farm may have lasted longer.. I would say a couple for months until trouble finally found them. Maybe it wasn't Rick who had found the farm but a group of troubled men looking to take and looking to make a home on their farm. Killing Otis without a thought, these men would laugh, breaking dishes in their homes, eating the foods that should last them weeks, and watching as their home became unknown to them. it didn't look right, it wasn't safe anymore.

This man goes on telling Hershel if he didn't give up his home to them... they would do awful things to his daughters--- maybe that's why her father gave up so easily, no longer raising the gun. How can he when he was out numbered ? it was no longer Maggie's childhood home. it was no longer her bedroom, her anything... they took it all for themselves. They could have fought, they should of... Maggie feels something clenching inside of her.... a thought dark would run through her brain -- ' kill them ' but she doesn't... she holds back. Losing track of time, days went on, weeks went by and then a month would come around, and that's all she knew... seeing her baby sister fearing, praying to GOD... the GOD that Maggie found herself slowly losing faith in. Maggie, Beth, and Patricia being used to cook, clean, and do all the work that a ' lady ' should do-- it sickened maggie. sometimes she'll speak to her father about them running away-- but how ? there were too many of them to take on.

She thought she was doomed to this life---- until one of the guys tried to get handsy on Beth one day and something in Maggie snapped, hearing her sister cry, pleading, tears streaming down her face----seeing her little sister that way, seeing this man grinning like a madman, taunting Beth... she couldn't take it. The knife she used for cutting up vegetables tightens in her grip, and something inside of her snaps, the color red foggy her vision, her chest rises... steps slow... steps unheard of until when she is right behind him, a twig snaps-- he turns and Maggie raises her arm so quick she couldn't believe it. The knife struck the top of his head, --- but it didn't stop there. She yanks it out with some force and thrusts down again, pulls out, stabs-- over and over again. Tears in her eyes, Beth watched in horror as blood began to puddle beneath them. The rush of killing, it's her first time killing a living, but it was damn worth it until it hits her what she did.... realization that the men there would find out one of theirs is missing.... she might as well tie the noose around her throat herself.

Hershel sees it all, coming to fetch his daughters for supper, his feet unmoving as he looks towards the dead body, his breath stuck in his throat. Maggie drops the knife, she opens her mouth but Beth beats her to it-- tells their father what happened. What shocks them next is what Hershel tells them. To Go--- Maggie's eyes widen, Beth sobbing again, shaking her head. He tells them they need to go. They need to go now before they notice all of them missing. Maggie reaches for Hershel, but he shakes his head telling the girls they had to go--- alone. He'll slow them down, not only that but he would take the blame for the killing. They argued some more, but there wasn't time, hearing the leader calling for Hershel. Hershel turns and tells them to go now. But louder, much for force as he pleads to Maggie to watch over Beth, to go far away from here. A tearful goodbye, a last I love you before Maggie pulled beth along. Beth didn't give in right away... still trying to beg their father to come. But the keys to the cars belong to the men taking over their home. Their horses dead, their life in this home nothing but a shell. They ran... Maggie and Beth, holding onto each other hands. They wouldn't dare to look back, didn't know how far they had gone... hell, didn't even know where they were going. Starting life elsewhere... Maggie watched over her sister like her father would have wanted. Having to learn to survive out in the world.

This verse leading to Maggie's darker side is her and Beth having to survive out in the world without their father. Guilt would be eating Maggie alive not knowing if her father was alive or not, but going back would be a death trap.. and if they went back she knew it would only get her and her sister killed. If she needed to go back, she needed to be prepared. She couldn't be the little farm girl anymore. She needed to keep her promise to her father and protect Beth. She couldn't be weak, she couldn't cry. She had to be strong for Beth. Two girls alone in the world just trying to survive. maggie being the big sister she is in protecting Beth. they are always on the move. they never stick to one place. I imagine they would have come across many groups. But it always seems like every change they do find a place to call 'home' something happens to these so-called homes. As time goes on, Maggie becomes less trusting of people. The number of times they've almost been killed, violated, or eaten by other people. The more Maggie realizes in this world there is no good, there is no love, people hurt people and are just as bad as the dead. She trains more, kills more even other people--- darkness consuming her, the need to protect her sister and herself. The little farm girl is dead, and the idea of finding a home is no longer something she craves.

#DARKER VERSE : MAGGIE' STORY #BETH ALIVE YES ? --- for drama though yknow. but also please i will polish this up later i just had to type of a quickie of this shit #excuse the misspellings and the lack of fancy words xD #is hershel dead --- MAYBE. MAYBE NOT

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hazelnut-u-out · 2 years

Text

Ring of Fire - 4

oh my GOD, sorry for the delay. life has just been chewing me up and spitting me out lately and i had a vision for this chapter that i had to execute.

anyway, idk if it's my best work. i've been in a weird brain fog lately, so i might rewrite this one at some point bc it's my blog and i can do what i want >:(

anywayyyyy...

drugs, alcohol, brief mentions of suicide, etc.

-4081 words

Synopsis:

The boys get ready to move on, but Birdperson has an idea...

You got me feeling like James Dean High on your honey suckle day dream Climb on the back of my iron steed The night is an open road Dumpster fire sky line Leave all of that pain behind Your arms wrapped around mine How fast do you want to go? Sad Cowboys and Rock and Roll

-Sad Cowboys and Rock and Roll by Van Andrew

-----

The desert morning hung closely to Birdperson’s burly form as he lay capsized in the sand at Rick’s feet.

Rick grumbled something incomprehensible even to himself as he teetered on the heels of his toughened boots, his spurs jingling slightly as he pressed them further down into the earth. He might have felt himself sway with something other than the warming undertow of the liquor he pulled greedily from his flask at the sight, but he shook away the thought– his pale cobalt hair falling leisurely to frame his face and play with his lashes.

His stubble was rough in a way that rivaled his seasoned fingers as they came up to scratch along his jaw.

There was a misunderstanding, Rick thought, about why people drink. Sure, he occasionally chased that dull ache for the promise of relief, but Rick was under the assumption that the most common misconception about why people succumbed to that inherent need to numb themselves was that it was done in the search of something better.

Maybe some people drank to feel better, but Rick drank to feel worse. It numbed what he felt— his lips, his fingers, his nose— but only served to amplify his innermost aching. He found that he could read his thoughts far more clearly when he was too drunk to focus on everything else that life saddled his senses with— and horrible thoughts, they were.

He thought about three nights before– what he’d done; what a selfish fucking monstrosity he could never seem to stop himself from blossoming into– and tenderly brought that same unsteady hand to press against a potent knot of yellowing violet along his ribcage. He relished in the wince it drew from him.

The bad part? He couldn’t even say he felt worse about killing that Gromflomite than he did anything else he’d done.

Being fucked up may not have been a justification for the bitter poison that was who he was, but he hoped it could one day serve as a precursor to some semblance of redemption.

Rick just prayed that he’d eventually be able to see a reason for pointing that gun at others instead of pulling the trigger on himself.

Blood and gore seemed to flow in every divet his boots carved along the ground– no matter the planet, or solar system, or universe– and Rick was so tired of feeling like someone he couldn’t trust himself with. He was broken in a way that demanded company– shattered in a way that wrecked others.

He hoped those rivers of scarlet painted a picture of peace.

At some point.

It was probably something to do with his incessant compulsion to destroy that had taught him to appreciate the serenity that found its way to him in that moment. It was probably something akin to that sting along his tired bones that let his eyes hemorrhage such fondness over the man below him now.

Birdperson was curled up on his side, facing away from Rick– wings wrapped tightly around himself and his nose poking out from the mess of plume ever so slightly. He faced both of the men’s hats where they lay in the dirt, his snores light as they danced out to brush along the felt.

Rick cracked a smile– partly at the thought of how soft the most jagged man he knew was in that moment; partly at the fact that he could still appreciate such softness.

It’s a funny thing, that burning deep inside of you that begs you to right your wrongs– that implores you to bend down, reach out, and run one scarred hand along the downy, blood-caked exterior of your friend’s healing wing.

Rick knew there was no reason for staying here anymore. There was nothing they could do here.

He had a feeling that Birdperson knew that, too— and that was part of the reason he’d spent the last three days drunk and high; complicit in Rick’s downward spiral.

Or maybe he was spiraling, too.

Maybe they spiraled together.

It was time to go, and Rick cursed himself for ruining a damn good thing.

He knew that if he’d had a chance like that, he’d… Well, he would’ve killed the man who got between himself and justice.

So, it was with gentle chagrin that he closed one hand around his resting companion’s taught shoulder and shook.

The sand that stirred up in the wake of Birdperson’s sluggish movement cascaded down in quaint little formations, skimming along the pathways of morning sunlight that slipped through the cracks of Rick’s rising hand.

Rick took another swig from his flask, the drink no longer carrying the same painful spark as it coated his leaden, swollen tongue and sunk down into the heat of his tumultuous belly.

Birdperson muttered something quiet and demure as his dusty lids made way for life, melting a bit of Rick that had been frozen beneath the icy blanket of intoxication that swaddled him in familiar comfort.

A breath passed, and Rick observed as his friend slowly gained that speckle of sentience that flitted away during deep sleep after a good cry.

Rick listened to the sounds Birdperson made as he rustled along the floor, stretching on wobbly legs and fixing the buttons of his blue shirt.

Rick didn’t bother to put on his leather vest, but simply bent over and let his hand find purchase along his cattleman.

“Sanchez?” Rick heard his friend croak out behind him, turning to find him standing in the orange cast of the sun, his own belongings thrown over one forearm.

“Hmmm?” Rick replied, pressing one filthy palm to the center of his forehead.

“Are we leaving?”

Something about that question– perhaps the way the other man’s voice wavered with that sort of disappointment one swallows when they’re forced to forfeit their efforts in exchange for spit and dirt– pulled Rick’s heart down to the soles of his feet, where it sat heavily and begged to anchor him to the planet.

Rick wriggled against those invisible ties, wound tighter by his friend’s sorrowful eyes, and forced himself to give a brief nod– a minute expression that anyone could have missed if they’d blinked.

His partner made a strange sort of gurgling sound before clearing his throat, and though hurt flashed along his features, Rick couldn’t help but think that there was a kindness there that he didn’t deserve.

A willingness to forgive, or maybe something already rooted in the tender touch of understanding, that went against everything Rick thought he could stomach.

He took another drink.

“Are you… drunk?” Birdperson inquired meekly, something in his tone teetering along a line of hope that Rick knew his friend was too smart to place much purchase on.

Without answering, Rick shoved his flask into the burlap tote laying against one of the logs, and picked up his withered guitar.

It had once been painted blue, too, but was now a pallid sort of brown, and the grain of the wood prickled the pads of his fingers as the cool strings kissed his palm.

“Just…” Rick began with a sigh, trailing off for a moment with another swoon. He couldn’t wait to shower. “Just get the ship, man…”

“Your nose looks… better.” An anchor sunk the words— heavy and thick. Rick could tell from the weight of it that Birdperson was sober now, but he’d known that already.

He’d learned the other man always managed to pull himself together more quickly, like he was either less broken or more accustomed to the art of lying to himself.

BP extended a hand slowly, almost as if he were going to caress the injury, but Rick pulled back from the touch.

He didn’t deserve pity.

Or comfort.

Or a friend.

The look that flashed across Birdperson’s features was one Rick knew the emotion behind well, and it curdled something in his gut to know that anyone would dare to feel guilty for beating the shit out of someone as deserving of it as himself.

“Very well.”

Rick took the few moments spent by his partner retrieving the pocket ship from his own saddle bag to press his palms into his eyes.

For three days, it had felt like the world was ending. The sky had burned a deep coral, even in the evening— as if the world was on fire everywhere except for their little shelter. The air around them twisted and bent to the ebb of distant music, and they flowed into one another without touching…

Much.

Without touching much.

Rick could still feel Birdperson’s muscular hands lighting sparks along his arms as he held him steady. He could still sense the silky feathers of his friend’s head grazing his stomach as he curled into a heap on his lap. The heat of another being seeped past his sinewed skin and warmed his tired bones.

“Rick?”

BP’s delicate voice startled him from his thoughts, and Rick jumped a bit before turning towards the sound.

“Yeah?” It came out quieter than he would have liked, but he tried to shake off that sickening feeling of falling into himself.

“I want to take you somewhere,” Birdperson said flatly in a way that was difficult for Rick to read. “Tonight. Before we go.”

Rick would have followed him anywhere— so, of course, he agreed to follow him to dusk.

…..

The sun was barely flush with the horizon from Rick’s perch on the edge of the stream.

He felt clean.

For the first time in forever, he genuinely felt clean.

He’d convinced BP to let him make a quick trip into town to snag some soap— it was a deep aquamarine bar that carried a musky floral scent— while his counterpart found a suitable alcove to open the pocket ship for a moment and retrieve some clean clothes.

Rick thought he looked rather silly in Birdperson’s garments— they were too baggy on his twig-like frame, and they weren’t… nice clothes, by any means.

Rick was nervous about whatever event Birdperson had planned. If there were to be people, he would be severely underdressed during a Festival event.

And eaten alive for being a gendered organism, but that was a rant for a different time.

Rick still couldn’t figure out how his friend had managed to grab two sets of his own clothes, but he didn’t want to be rude by insisting he risk detection again just for a pair of his own.

Now, Rick’s bare toes kissed the cool babbling water as he slouched forward— finally sobering up. His hair was still slightly wet and clinging to his cheekbones, and he was freshly shaven and hidden in the tent of a white tee. Rick was thankful he’d had his own belt handy, as it held up BP’s large jeans, even though he’d had to roll them up about five times at his ankles.

It was… comfortable.

The clothes smelled like his friend— like freshly baked bread and cinnamon sugar with a sharp undertone of sweat— and the slits along the back let the warm breeze brush along his bruised skin.

Rick closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the desert air. It was surprisingly crisp and lightening in its trip through his body– something he was still getting used to feeling in any sense.

Placing his hands behind him flat along the ground, he leaned back onto them at an angle as if to ask the sun to light him up on stage.

Gather ‘round, all! Rick Sanchez has a moment of peace.

A born performer.

The gentle smack of his hat onto his face roused him from his thoughts– the roars of the crowd withering back into the recesses of his mind.

“Do I look alright?” His partner implored, and Rick let out a small giggle as he pushed the brim of his hat up to set properly on his head, turning his cheek to face the other man at his right.

It’s a strange thing, that moment you realize you’re coming down from a lengthy buzz and you really see someone again for the first time.

That sensation all men experience when they look at their friend, freshly shaven and glowing; when their heart catches in their throat and threatens to pull them under on its plummet back down.

Rick thought he’d never be able to gather the air to speak.

Birdperson stood in the gentle ochre of the setting sun, the edges of his plume burning a deep auburn– the bandage around his wing the only indication of his tumble from heaven. For a moment, Rick questioned if the wings along his lower back truly were a divine depiction, as he’d initially thought.

Just like an angel to be so humble.

His partner wore a long-sleeved blue thermal, nearly identical in shade to Rick’s hair while wet, tucked into a pair of faded denim jeans. His belt buckle glistened in the beam of light and he wore his usual tan armitas over it all. His boots were already on, spurs barely touching the dirt, and his hands were tucked deep into his front pockets– his shoulders pushed forward as if he were nervous.

“Well?” he prompted once again, shaking Rick from his study.

He was a man of science, afterall. It was only natural for him to record variables.

“Mhmm,” Rick hummed more timidly than he’d expected, lowering his gaze to where his own fingers played in the sand at his side. Why did his cheeks burn? He wasn’t blushing, was he? “Ya look good.”

“You’re just saying that,” Birdperson replied, a jouncy tone to his voice as he extended one hand down in front of Rick’s face– an offer.

Rick hesitated, only for a moment, before bringing his hand up to lay in his companion's palm. BP’s warm fingers closed around his own, sending a bolt of electricity up Rick’s arm as he was pulled up to his feet.

“How many times do we have to go over this?” Rick chuckled, pulling his hand back and shoving it into his back pocket. “Nunca te mentiría, baby.” He winked, trying to gather some semblance of the usual charm he carried when flirting playfully with his partner.

Like all men do.

It was Rick’s turn to notice the blush that rose to Birdperson’s cheeks as he tucked his chin back in a bashful grin, twisting the toe of his boot into the earth.

“Put your boots on, Sanchez. I’ve got somewhere to take you.”

......

The ride into the sunset was something Rick thought only existed in those old western romance films. The wind bristled past both of the men, and Rick let out a howl– a breathing, living thing on its own– into that great expanse of the unknown.

They rode side-by-side on their equore, and Rick couldn’t resist throwing his arms out at his sides as he called out to the heavens above.

Or beyond. Wherever they were. He wasn’t sure– but something about this moment had him believing they existed.

The drag of the air pulled on the tips of his fingers and he smiled, closing his eyes and trusting that the growing night would eat him alive.

It was nights like these that had him hoping he'd die young.

He felt the warmth of a calloused hand brushing against the outstretched fingers at his left, and he knew who it was. Birdperson let out a hearty laugh– probably the first time either of them had laughed so sincerely since the events three days prior– and Rick couldn’t calm that little spirit within him that beckoned him to do the same.

Red dust rose in dramatic clouds all around them as a purple cast fell over the cooling landscape– the huffing and puffing of the two animals carrying them and the smack of their clawed talons upon the ground the epic backdrop to the ballad they wrote together in that moment.

“Rick! Stand with me!” Birdperson yelled, and Rick looked over at his friend. Birdperson was wide-eyed with a cheshire grin. Rick smiled back, an unhinged frenzied thing, but a flash of hesitance engulfed him. Something about his expression must have betrayed his fear, or maybe it was the way his grip tightened around BP’s fingers, because his companion called out again. “Trust me!”

Rick nodded.

Rick followed BP’s lead, his friend’s stare warm and assuring. His feet weighed down the stirrups, and then…

They were standing. Rick shrieked in impish delight– the world whirring by him like a deafening roar– and Birdperson stared back at him, something soft and tender in his gaze.

Something that qualmed Rick’s laughter and made such a raucous moment feel like the most serene thing he’d ever experienced.

“We’re almost there!” Birdperson declared, looking forward and jutting his chin towards the horizon pointedly.

Rick followed his gaze, drunk on something more bubbly than whisky and more heady than scotch, and his heart nearly careened outward.

A haze of neon mulberry light swathed a watery skyline. Distant music– a slow, chilling thrum– now meandered its way to Rick’s ears. The silhouette of hundreds of small stilt buildings hovered over the water– a city. If he squinted, Rick could have sworn he saw swarms of bodies milling about.

“Pile dwellings?” Rick called out in inquiry.

“The City of the Lost!” Birdperson said in answer. “They’re everyone the Blessed rejects! It’s Festival of the Lost! We’re free here!”

Rick’s heart fluttered.

….

It had been an endless night, and Rick lost Birdperson somewhere amongst the writhing crowd of tentacles and scales.

He’d lost his hat, too.

Most of the aliens around him were Warekin– short in stature and boney scaled things. He shivered in the range of their glittering, three-eyed gazes as he gyrated along with them to the shrill bass of the music. Some of the other species he didn’t recognize, but it hardly mattered.

He was sweaty and high– on what, he didn’t know– and the neon buzz engulfed everyone who dared to wander out onto the dance floor of the hovering square.

It was freeing, being surrounded by so many creatures who showered love and devotion over whatever other moving things teetered within their path. Rick lost count of how many mouths he’d discovered; how many bodies he’d felt; how many drugs he’d taken– but he knew he would never stop.

Until he did.

There, about twenty paces ahead, somewhere within the fog of smoke and inebriating essence of sex, was his bird.

God, had he always been this beautiful? Had he always been such a slave to the moonlight– to the undercurrent of music?

Where had his shirt gone?

Did his muscles always glisten so enticingly?

All Rick knew was where he had to be– who he wanted to feel next to him– and so he pushed through the mess of wriggling bodies until he could close one hand around Birdperson’s own.

“Dance with me?” Rick sighed into the other man’s ear– his breath hot and tense along BP's neck.

Rick could smell him, and he drank it in. They were but one more prop in a sea of bodies, and Rick reveled in it.

“Rick!” Birdperson slurred, pulling Rick into his chest a little too-hard by the joining of their hands. “Where’ve you been? You look good in my clothes!”

BP let out a trifling little hiccup sound, giggling and bringing both of his hands up to rest on Rick’s shoulders.

The music slowed– or maybe it didn’t. Maybe it was just something about the look the two men shared that slowed everything.

Rick didn’t care.

He settled both of his arms around Birdperson’s waist and pulled them flush together, splaying his hands out along his companion's center back.

Never had bare skin felt more alive to Rick than in that moment.

Rick looked up at Birdperson, at how the amethyst brilliance grazed his features so lovingly, and he thought he could explode. His heart thundered– not just in his ears, but in every part of him– and his skin was vibrating, like a magnet begging to be pulled even closer.

Maybe he’d make a home in his friend’s ribs.

“Here,” Birdperson panted, bringing one hand up and tucking Rick’s head beneath his own chin. Rick closed his eyes as BP’s other arm engulfed his shoulders.

He was so strong. So much stronger.

Rick let himself be lulled along with Birdperson’s swaying, slow and ingratiating, drinking in his scent.

Birdperson didn’t move his hand from the back of Rick’s head, instead opting to run his fingers through his hair mindlessly.

It felt neverending and like no time had passed at all. Rick thought he could stay here forever– nothing but an extension of a loner who wasn’t so lonely anymore.

Where some people drank to feel better, Rick drank to feel worse.

Now, though... Birdperson was the sweetest drink he'd ever tasted, and he thought that maybe it could be okay to feel better.

Just once.

“Do… D’ya think I’m like… cursed or so–some shit?” Rick drawled out, nearly drooling along the exposed flesh of Birdperson’s collarbone.

“Cursed?” Birdperson asked, resting his cheek atop Rick’s mop of tangled hair.

“Yeah,” Rick answered, dragging his hands up BP’s back slowly to find a home just beneath the juncture of his wings and his shoulders. He could hear the other man’s breath hitch, his heart pulsing back to life beneath his ribs. “‘Cause everyone I love k-keeps fuckin’ dying.”

Rick said it with a laugh– something bubbly in him twisting his mind enough to appreciate the absurdity of it all.

“No,” Birdperson replied after a moment. “I think maybe you’re just… easy to fall into.” Rick snickered a bit, nuzzling further into the crook of BP’s shoulder. His lips grazed over the flesh as he spoke again.

“So, I’m like a hole?”

“You’re more like… like your bottles, I guess,” Birdperson swung. “Here, put your feet on mine.”

Rick did as he was told, collapsing fully onto the muscular form before him and allowing his partner to move for the two of them now.

He felt like he could drift off here, soaking in the warmth that seeped into him where they touched.

“What the fuck’s that s’posed to mean?” Rick breathed out, barely audible over the music.

“You don’t let people stop before they reach the bottom.”

“Hmmm…” Rick was starting to feel a little nauseous, the darkness behind his lids twisting into a weird sensation. “It– It’s not about making it to the bottom… It’s about drowning on the way down, I think.”

Birdperson laughed this time, the deep rumble running through Rick’s frame.

He felt like jelly. Like a cup of gelatin.

“I like to swim,” Birdperson whispered along Rick’s hair.

Rick shivered.

“I hope I die soon.” Rick said it sweetly– thick and dripping with honey– as he smiled into Birdperson’s shoulder.

“Why?”

BP pulled Rick back a bit by his shoulders, and Rick whined, cracking open his eyes to meet his friend’s gaze. He looked serious.

“Why’d ya do that?” Rick fretted sluggishly against the restraint.

“Answer me.”

“I’d just hate to wonder what would’ve happened if…if–” Rick looked at his friend’s lips before trailing off, trying to clamber his way back into the warmth of BP’s chest with little success.

“If what?” Birdperson asked, a bit of his hardened expression faltering– probably at realizing just how out of it Rick really was.

“If… If I had…” Rick trailed off again, flitting a quick glance back up at Birdperson’s gaze before making a decision.

Rick threw himself forward– closing his eyes and pushing himself upward on his toes.

Suddenly, Birdperson’s lips were on his own.

His lips were more plush than Rick had expected. He could feel his own chapped equivalents scratching their velvety surface.

It was chaste and innocent.

Shy.

Tender.

Rick waited for the moment Birdperson pulled away– pushed him off; called him ‘disgusting’ and told him he’d fucked everything up, but–

But then…

Those rough hands left his shoulders and found their way to his cheeks. BP cupped his face gently for hands so worn, and tilted forward into the touch, pulling at his jaw.

It hurt Rick’s purpled nose a bit, but he didn’t care.

He could smell the alcohol and cinnamon on his counterpart’s breath– could taste the whiskey on his lips– and Rick relaxed as he bled into him.

The music didn’t stop, and neither did they.

------

#rick and morty #birdrick #rick sanchez #birdperson #my fic #ring of fire

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h5eavenly · 6 months

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omg i literally sent you an ask like two hours ago thinking "well this can't get any worse now we're gonna be so up from here on" AND IT SOMEHOW GOT WORSE?????? AGAIN I DONT EVEN KNOW WHERE TO START WOAH yeji having it out for y/n over something that happened years ago and that hyune obviously got over is just soooo.. like she has so many reasons to give y/n a piece of her mind for and she chooses /this/ hill to die on?? AND not addressing her directly???? babyyyy this ain't it!! i think this is also a way of evidencing how distanced yeji and hyune have grown more than the distaste that she has towards y/n, like she doesn't know about hyune and her's connection and where they stand as much as the others do bc yeosang drove her away from them all which is so sad :-( sometimes she frustrates me a bit but i have a lot of sympathy towards yeji especially in this situation bc i know how hurtful it is to feel ostracised from your close friendships due to a toxic relationship and trying to hold on to the things you knew about them while not realising that they've changed bc you haven't been there enough to witness those changes :-( idk if this was your intention when you wrote it but it's really accurate. i know there's a lot of bad blood between yeji and y/n, now more than ever with the yeosang situation 💀 but i really do wish they can have a heart to heart sometime bc both of them have been so wronged and hurt by evil men and idk if a friendship between them is possible tbh but i feel like they can find a support system in each other even if they aren't friends. i just want my girls to be happy and i know there's a long way to go but they both deserve healing smsm :-(

now WDYM MFS RAIDED HYUNE'S HOUSE OH MY GOD????? this is y/n's fuckass father FOR SURE his ass wants to play gangster so bad HE AIN'T SHIT!!!!!!! i'm so flabbergasted i swear i never saw this coming??? i never thought that bum would ever go to this length to try to impose control on his daughter like that man's crazyyyyy. at first i thought the raid was bc of yeosang but you know that man ain't got no friends and is a coward he could never pull up like this 😭 so that's why i think it's y/n's father who's behind this bc he wants to have his godfather moment for some reason 💀 yk how weird men go crazy once they realise they can't control the women they feel entitled to so i think y/n moving out made him feel some kind of way. i can't wait for that asshole's downfall i swear i'm praying on it im going to church over it im manifesting it 🙏🏻 unless hyune is onto something that we're not aware of??? which idk im not sure about that honestly but i didn't see like half the things that ended up happening coming either so you knowww im seated, hyune and hannie living with y/n will be so cute too!! we love to see domestic hyune+y/n content we used to pray for times like this 🥹 so we might be kinda up after all maybe

thank you sm for the update so soon!! you're working overtime for this and it's sooo appreciated you deserve the world fr 🫂🩷🩷

genuinely curious what made you think "its only up from here" cus... 🫡efuhhfihw fyi anon i take my angst tag VERY seriously 🧐 some may say i'm not trust worthy but i just like being unpredictable

about the whole yeji situation it is intentional yes! im so glad you noticed its kinda hard to write such subtle things in smau without it being in your face because it's one of those things that i want ppl to notice but sometimes im like ahh idk if anyone would notice, i think for her she obviously views y/n as a rival but because she's left out (hence jinnie growing more distance ever since yeo came into her life) she tries to attack y/n with the only available card she has which is "you did smth bad to my friend" bc she doesn't know anything else and she wasn't even there when it all happened she only got snippets from the story and from jinnie's side when he was still feeling resentful towards y/n and you see the difference in this specific subject between her and lix (bc lix was there) he gets their bond sm more and it's so much easier for him to not hold it against y/n

listen y/n's dad might be a little worse than her mom idk they're competing for that title rn, ty for being so kind baby as alwayys i enjoyed reading and im sorry for talking sm i just get excited about my characters🥰🥰💞💞

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rphelperblog · 2 years

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inspired by @xx–ofmanythoughts–xx

𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙷𝙸𝚃𝙴 𝚀𝚄𝙴𝙴𝙽 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂.

these are taken from the show with the same title, triggers may be present, proceed with caution, feel free to adjust any you that you deem necessary.

promises are always made, and they are always broken. always.

i’ve been gone too long. too long.

i pray this is not the only time we meet.

i will come home, keep you safe, make this land better for you.

i love you, little prince/princess.

when you married into the royal house, their customs become yours.

i don’t know what he/she/they understands!

i only know the closer he/she/they gets to his brothers/sisters, the further he feels from me.

truly, we are destined.

ever since.. but ever since he/she/they came back from the battle.

how did you know?

whenever he/she/they returns from victory, a child is never far behind.

you both have more than your fair share already.

maybe it’s time that i started to take things.

what about a legacy? don’t you want to be remembered?

i will be remembered.

are we to measure our pain against each other?

are to compete with who’s suffered more?

what did you say?

i speak of that witch. that is treason.

[name:optional]? you’re as cold as ice.

this is a seeing. now, do you see more?

they must not be with strangers.

we have had a warning and now we will keep them close with us.

what are your intentions with [name:optional]?

what do you think they are?

well, you’re not attracted to her/him/them, which only leaves a motive no honorable than mine.

you might be a fool but you can’t fool me.

stay away from [name:optional].

my son/daughter will never marry you.

so whatever happens in this battle, i will be queen/king.

this is the very last time you will sit in my presence.

i am sorry for your loss.

this wasn’t an honorable death on a battlefield.

it was murder and treason in the eyes of god and men.

you will go wherever i command it.

you knew when you married that i would not be a husband that would faithfully sit at your feet.

we are not young anymore.

we are not those two people who met at the side of the road.

what remains is my love for you.

you are what sustains me in battle. you are my home.

i cannot ride to battle like this.

marry me. it is the only way. i’m mad for you. will you marry me?

i have to have you. if you will not be my mistress then you must marry me.

i cannot sleep. i haven’t slept since i last saw you.

so, is this love then? is this what it feels like?

what’s the point of being king/queen if i cannot keep you naked all day long?

you must be strong if you will marry [name:optional], as i once was.

you may have whatever you want. if you will take the consequences.

men go to battle. women wage war.

just play your part, it won’t be for long..

some of us are still loyal to our house.

do not doubt my courage. i am match for any man/woman.

i want them dead.

i am as lucky in battle as i am in love.

and i was hoping for you crown.

i’ve sacrificed too much to lose him/her/them now.

i thought you were well versed in love.

she’s/he’s/their my queen/king of choice.

i must avenge my father and my brother or god knows i shall go mad!

what should that achieve? it will not bring them back.

i don’t want to be king/queen if you will die.

i won’t die for a very long time, i promise.

i always keep my word, don’t i?

we were partners in every sense of the word.

you lay with her/him/them like you loved her/him/them.

maybe with them close to us our curse can do its work.

i would be a queen/king of stone. i would have dignity and no emotion.

you would defy a king/queen appointed by god himself/themselves?

oh, i don’t see god in these people.

death leaves a heartache no one can heal.

love leaves a memory no one can steal.

to fight an infestation you must scorch the nest.

how can one brother/sister betray the other?

i know you plot against the king/queen, while he/she/they may forgive you, i never will.

i wish there were no sides.

but i don’t forget and i don’t forgive.

only fools wait when their enemies are coming, to see if they may prove to befriends.

you are not alone. you have me and i will never leave you, i promise.

we will always have each other.

men/women with blood on their hands are no respecters of title or age.

they will be here any moment.

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eliott-emma · 8 months

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My Small Analysis of Would've Could've Should've

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I am not a native English user, neither am I cultured by western literture or religion. Yet, I've been learning English since a little kid, and have watched and read many stories in western themes. So I am confident with what I write about. But if I make a clear mistake, feel free to point me out anytime.

Futhermore, everything I write are just my opinion. I do not know Taylor, I do not know if she is queer. These are just my interpretation of her art and her music, no need to say anything rude about what I think. But discussion is welcomed in the comment section. ☺️

My First Thoughts

This song is gay as hell.

I can't believe there's only a few people who thinks of that (even the gaylor community didn't seem to see this song too much). This song is sooo LOUD. The theme of thinking love is a sin, of 'gone along with the righteous' if 'you never'd touched me', of thinking 'pain was heaven'? Oh my god, so gay. What kind of people will think their love is a sin? Queer people.

Thoughout history, sinned love happens because of society's disapproval. Like loving a sex worker, loving a woman who is married, or loving the same sex. If there are only parents who disapprove, it wouldn't make it such as a 'sinned' love. What is suspicious though, in Taylor's case, she was always seen dating men with nice appearances, white, famous and rich man. And if people are right, if they are really dating, why should you feel sinned dating these fine men? People may say that John Mayer is a bad boy, but no one would call dating a bad boy as a sin.

Besides the sinned theme, the other part I think was gay is during the bridge when she yells, "Give me back my GIRL... hood, it was mine first." I literally didn't hear the 'hood', I thought that was her coming out for a second. But then a looked up the lyrics and oh, no she said "girlhood". But still, I kept the thought that the original lyrics was "girl",

Song Lyrics Analysis

I'll try my best to explain myself since English is not my first language. It'll be difficult and I'll have to check the dictionary to make sure with some of the words. And I'll try my best doing line by line. Here we go!

If you would've blinked then I would've Looked away at the first glance

If you tasted poison, you could've Spit me out at the first chance

These two lines are simple. The lover is looking at Taylor intensely and Taylor tries hard not to fall for them (I'm using gender neutral pronouns here. Because why not?). Also, Taylor think of herslf as poison, I guess it could refer to "I once was poison ivy." In Don't Blame Me. And it also pointed out how sinned Taylor thinks herself was.

If I was some paint, did it splatter On a promising grown man? And if I was a child, did it matter If you got to wash your hands?

These are the lines I thought about quite frequently to figure out what it is all about. I guess, the paint is like something colorful, probably something like gayness. And it splatter on a grown man, who I guess is the elder lover, asking: did my gayness pass over to you as I splatter on you?

If I was a child, meaning if this is all childish and shouldn't be taken seriously, did you get to wash out the gayness we had?

Ooh, oh All I used to do was pray Would've, could've, should've If you'd never looked my way

Now Taylor hoping that this love never happened. And "praying" for it, as in a religious way, hoping the love intrest didn't lured her and took her away from what she was the first place.

I would've stayed on my knees And I damn sure never would've danced with the devil At nineteen And the God's honest truth is that the pain was heaven And now that I'm grown, I'm scared of ghosts Memories feel like weapons And now that I know, I wish you'd left me wondering

I think it's quite obvious here so I'm not gonna say much. Just vibe with it yall.

If you never touched me, I would've Gone along with the righteous If I never blushed, then they could've Never whispered about this

Touching me is sinned? GAY.

People whispered about our love? GAY.

And if you never saved me from boredom I could've gone on as I was But, Lord, you made me feel important And then you tried to erase us

So now we figured why Taylor's so sad, because her lover wants to erase thier love. I deeply doubted that this song is about Emily who had married in and probably "moved on" and erase everything they had. But I don't know anything, it's just speculations.

You're a crisis of my faith Would've, could've, should've If I'd only played it safe

I saw someone on Reddit talking about the feeling of this love made a crisis. I think the person interpreted it so well. You can go check it out by jsut searching "Would've Could've Should've Gaylor"😆

God rest my soul, I miss who I used to be The tomb won't close, stained glass windows in my mind I regret you all the time I can't let this go, I fight with you in my sleep The wound won't close, I keep on waiting for a sign I regret you all the time

So I guess this is Taylor sitting through her sleepless nights thinking about how she regrets doing it wrong then. Letting her past lover chase her down as a phantom in her dreams. Really scary isn't it.

If clarity's in death, then why won't this die? Years of tearing down our banners, you and I Living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first

The bridge is also a part that I have no idea about. "Clarity's in death" may be saying that their love is already secret and private and no one really know what happened, but even though this love is basically invisible, it still won't die. It still aches.

"Tearing down the banners"? Well I seriously can't think of anything. I might guess parading, but it doesn't seem so.

Last two lines? I'm so sorry. I can't get anything out😭

So. That was my first Taylor Swift line by line analysis. I think I could do better but I just really want to share my thoughts. Please comment if you have different ideas!!!

#gaylor #taylor swift #song analysis

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