#Becker is grumpy

[jencsi]

Becker and Chris, Season 4, episode "Parannoyed"

[thatonefishfriend]

A self indulgent one as i wait to see King in canon again😤

[tinyshyteacup]

Taglist: @kellynickelsgirl00 @dixonsbridexx @yikes-myguy @blackwidownat2814 @euqsia @lliteratii @imadisneyprincessiswear @satata @smashleywow @misspendragonsworld @captain-shannon-becker @i-doutt-it @bookies16

----------------------------------------------------------

TW: cussing, early seasons Daryl, angst, descriptions of walkers (Zombies) , firearms, mentions of hunting, mentions of dealing with hunted animals.

Part 9

Dead Weight - Part 10

The prison smells like cold concrete and mildew, the kind of stale air that never quite clears. But today, something different rides in on the air, food.

After negotiations with the prisoners an agreement had been struck.

Rick’s voice echoes as he leads the others in—Maggie and Glen carrying buckets of dried goods, and Daryl following with a crate of cans.

His steps are heavy, his brow furrowed under the weight of more than just supplies.

You’re already in the common area—hair tied back, sleeves rolled up, helping Carol sort the pans, dented bowls, and what they salvaged from the prison’s cafeteria.

“There’s yeast,” you say softly, running your fingers over the old, faded label. “We could make bread, if we can get the water hot enough. Would need time to rise, though.”

Carol smiles faintly. “You’re a regular pioneer woman.”

You flush, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. “Not really. I just… baked a lot. Before.”

That last word hangs between you both. Before. Before walkers, before guns, before america, before the world turned. Your voice trails off as the door creaks open.

Daryl steps in, placing it down near the others with a grunted "Mornin" and a thud of wood on concrete.

He wipes his hands on his jeans and looks over at the two of you, head slightly tilted like he’s waiting for someone to give him a reason to leave again.

Carol, ever the peacemaker, speaks first. “We were just talkin’ bread.”

“Bread?” Daryl squints, skeptical. “Ain’t this some apocalypse or somethin’?”

“People gotta eat,” you say, glancing over your shoulder, lips curving in a small smile. “Especially grumpy ones.”

His eyes flick to yours. There's a flicker—just a brief twitch in the corner of his mouth, not quite a smile, but close. He shifts on his feet, uncertain.

“Don’t see the point in bakin’ if we just gonna burn it.”

Carol steps aside, giving you room. “She knows what she’s doing, I couldnt without my old may-tech”

You look down at the dry flour in your hand, trying not to show how warm you feel under Daryl’s guarded gaze.

“It’s just something familiar,” you admit. “Just…something normal.”

He doesn’t reply immediately. You hear him move, boots scuffing against the floor as he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, nibbling the inside of his lower lip, like he's debating what to say next.

And when you start mixing the flour in a metal bowl, humming softly under your breath.

“Ma made biscuits. Real fluffy kind.”

Your hands freeze. You glance over.

“Did she teach you?” you ask, voice soft like approaching a skittish animal.

He shakes his head. “She didn’t teach no one nothin’. Just used to make ’em after she’d been drinkin’. Said the flour soaked up the liquor.”

There’s something in his eyes now—far away and aching—but he looks at you again, more focused this time.

“You really think this is worth doin’?”

You nod. “Yes. It’s not about the bread. It’s about settling ... or trying to” you sigh before going back to your task.

He looks at you for a long second, then pushes off the wall with a grunt. “Guess I’ll go scrounge for firewood. If we’re wastin’ time, might as well make it count.”

You glance down and lightly, jokingly say.

“Actually if your going out ... bring back a deer"

You shoot your eyebrows up once, an indication of your teasing.

"Please ... I’d love you forever.”

A pause.

Then a very different kind of silence.

Daryl stiffens. You look up at him, and his face has gone stone-cold blank.

“Don’t say shit like that,” he mutters, stepping back.

“Ain’t funny.”

You frown, confused. “I was joking…”

“Yeah, well don’t.”

The cafeteria windows are narrow, smudged with grime and sunlight. Golden beams slip through, catching the floating flour in the air and making it shimmer like ash caught in honey.

The smell of warm yeast mingles with the metallic scent of the prison walls—a strange blend of comfort and ruin.

The table is an old, warped steel prep counter scavenged from deeper in the prison, scrubbed to gleaming by Carol’s elbow grease and your own detrimination.

A cracked plastic bowl cradles a thick lump of dough, its surface glossy with oil.

Beth is humming an old country tune under her breath as she cradles the bowl against her hip, mixing with a wooden spoon worn to a smooth nub.

You lean forward on your elbows beside her, casually coaxing the mixture into sort of submission with your fingers.

“Needs more flour, hun” you murmur to Beth.

Then glance toward the open bag Carol dragged in earlier.

“A good handful, maybe two...”

Carl, perched on an upside-down crate nearby with his sheriff hat pushed too far back on his head, swings his legs idly.

“This stuff’s gonna be like the rolls they had at school?” he asks, hopeful, eyeing the pale dough with suspicion.

“Not quite,” you say with a smile, dusting your hands on your legs.

“More like... dense clouds. If clouds were slightly gritty. And maybe chewy.”

Beth giggles and flicks a bit of flour at you.

“Sounds delicious.”

“Hey, bread’s bread,” Carol says, pinching the dough and checking its elasticity. “Warm and full. That’s what matters.”

Carl leans forward, squinting into the bowl.

“Can we make shapes with it?”

You light up a little, like the idea brings something familiar to the surface.

“We used to make birds,” you say softly, the sadness of loosing your home dulled by Carl's youthful enthusiasm

“Little doves. We’d pinch the tails and tuck raisins in for eyes.”

Carl brightens.

“Can we try?”

“We’ve got no raisins,” Beth reminds gently, tapping the counter with her knuckle.

“Blind birds, then, less chance they'll fly away” you say with a grin, already pinching off a small bit and shaping it in your palms.

You push your sleeves up higher, revealing your forearms to the mercy of the biting cold, and settle into a rhythm.

Carl begins shaping his own rough version—a kind of lumpy slug—and you don’t correct him.

You just let him create.

Carol starts lining a dented baking tray with a sparse amount of oil. The oven jury-rigged from a gas drum clicks in the background, already heating.

A moment of quiet passes.

Your mind turns to Daryl, the way your teasing had accidentally caused what you assumed was offense.

You glance back at Carl and tilt your head.

“Wanna play a game?”

He looks up. “What kind?”

“Would you rather.”

Beth snorts gently. “Careful, Carl plays to win.”

“Isn't that how games work?,” he mutters, rolling his dough bird between his hands.

You lift a finger like your aunts had at home.

“Okay. Would you rather eat nothing but cold beans for the rest of your life… or one raw squirrel every day?”

Carl makes a face.

“Beans. All the way.”

“Squirrel,” Beth says. “More protein.”

Carol quirks an eyebrow. “Your forgetting—raw means blood.”

“Still better than beans,” Beth insists with a grin.

You wrinkle your nose.

“I think I’d die of sadness if I had to eat nothing but beans.”

“You say that now,” Carl mutters, and they all laugh.

You keep shaping your birds.

Yours come out delicate—tiny beaks and fanned tails.

Carl’s look like flying potatoes with wings.

Beth’s are abstract swirls.

Carol’s are utilitarian, no-nonsense—just enough to rise and bake.

For a moment, it feels like before.

A gentle, flickering thing. Laughter in a world that doesn’t allow much of it.

Bread in an apocalypse.

Warmth in a concrete box.

Beth starts the next round of the game

“Would you rather sleep in the watchtower when winter comes, or the boiler room?”

Carl pipes up quickly. “Boiler room. Warmer.”

“But rats,” Carol warns. “Boiler room’ might be crawling with them.”

You laugh behind your hand.

“I’d still pick the boiler room. I think I’d be more scared of heights than rats.”

Carl leans over to you.

“You know... if you taught me to make real bread like this, we could trade it with the prisoners.”

Your expression softens, touched.

“You really think they’d want blind bread birds?”

“Yeah. You’re good at this.”

That quiet compliment lingers. You blink quickly and nod, smiling again—but somewhere, inside, it lands.

Your just happy to help him feel like a child, even for just a minute.

The sky’s turned a brittle sort of blue, the kind that stretches over winter-stripped trees and watches in silence. Wind hisses through branches overhead, dry and sharp like whispered warnings.

Daryl moves like a shadow through the underbrush, low and quiet, his boots muffled in the softened loam.

The crossbow shifts across his back with each step, familiar weight grounding him.

But his chest?

That’s not grounded. It’s tight.

"Bring back a deer"

Your voice echoes in his mind

"Please ... I’d love you forever.”

In fact your voice won’t shut up in his head. Soft, damn near sweet. Said like a joke, sure. But jokes like that don’t land soft—not for someone like him.

He huffs under his breath, scoffing at nothing. His hands are tight on the crossbow, knuckles pale.

“Love you forever.”

He can’t stop hearing it, twisting it around, dissecting the tone.

Was it a joke? Course it was. He knows that. Girls like you don’t say things like that and mean it.

Not to the dirty, backwoods, rough-edged redneck who barely talks right and smells like guts half the time.

His boots crunch over brittle leaves as he spots tracks—deer, probably—but his heart’s not in it.

Not yet.

“Think some girl’s ever gonna look at you like that boy?”

His father’s voice, bitter and slurred, cracks through the trees.

Daryl’s lip curls without meaning to.

The bastard’s been dead years, but that voice of his never went quiet and some days, it lived in the very back of his head.

“Ain’t nobody gonna love a Dixon. ‘Specially not the messed-up one with them little pussy eyes.”

The phrase always stuck.

“Little pussy eyes.”

Something about the way Daryl would flinch when whatever was in his father's hands landed—how he didn’t look back with hate, just with hurt.

Then Merle’s voice follows, always grinning, always mean.

“You fallin’ for that little foreign thing, Darylina? Hah. You think she’s gonna stick around when she figures out you ain’t got shit to offer? Can’t even look a woman in the eye without flinchin’.”

Daryl stands suddenly, too fast, scattering leaves. He exhales hard through his nose, shaking his head like that might clear it.

“C'mon man stop being such a pussy” he mutters under his breath, hoping to silence his own thoughts, jaw tight.

But they don’t stop.

Those voices never did.

His chest aches with something he can’t explain, and it burns hot, then cold.

You were just playin’. Just like Merle used to say girls did. Mess with your head, your gut.

Make you think y'mattered, then laugh while you sat there dumb and wantin’ it.

He kneels by the tracks, fingers brushing the earth. His breath comes out sharp.

“Ain’t funny,” he mutters again. “Don’t talk like that if it ain’t real.”

He crouches by a patch of churned earth. Deer, definitely. Could be close. His fingers press to the dirt—cool, damp, recent.

Still, his focus won’t settle. Instead, it drifts…

“Love.”

Daryl scoffs under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s trying to scrub the word off his skin.

He walks on.

Tracks wind down toward the creek.

He sees them before he hears them—two deer, not huge, but even one would be enough to feed the group.

He crouches behind an old tree trunk, heart slowing, breath steadying.

He raises his crossbow.

And for a moment… he hesitates.

Because your voice is there again—not mocking this time. Just there.

“I’d love you forever.”

And for one stupid heartbeat, Daryl wants to believe it.

Wants to believe you meant it.

That maybe—just maybe—you weren’t joking.

That someone could say something like that to him and not be messing around.

That he could take care of someone.

And be taken care of too.

But then the doubt creeps in fast.

Ugly.

Loud.

“Love. Tch.” He scoffs.

“Not for someone like you, boy. They don’t stick around. They don’t want nothin’ broke.”

He fires.

The bolt lands.

The deer falls.

Clean shot.

No struggle.

Daryl's knife sliced through the buck's belly with practiced precision, his movements swift and methodical despite the storm brewing inside him.

Blood slicked his forearms as he worked, the metallic scent mingling with the earthy forest floor beneath his knees.

His wet hands yanking the entrails free with more force than necessary, steam rising from the cavity in the cooling air.

He rolled his shoulders, trying to dislodge the unwelcome thoughts as he separated the heart and liver, setting them aside for later.

"She'd probably run screaming if she knew half the things I done before the world went to shit." he growled to himself.

He paused to wipe his brow with his forearm, leaving a streak of crimson he didn't notice.

The buck's glassy eyes stared up at him, accusatory in death, and Daryl found himself looking away.

His hands continued their grim work, muscle memory taking over.

Daryl hauls the body over his shoulders, muscles burning, but the sting in his chest is worse. He trudges through the woods, back toward the prison, but slower now.

He wants to be proud of the kill.

But all he feels is a tight, gnawing ache in his chest.

What if she meant it?

Bullshit, 'course she didn’t.

It doesn’t matter, because even if she did… he'd just screw it up anyhow.

He pauses at the edge of the trees, looking toward the prison’s razor-wire silhouette. Your shadow moves past the window inside.

You’re smiling about something—talking to Carol, probably.

And it just guts him.

He tells himself he’s mad at you.

But really.

he’s mad at himself—for letting it get to him.

For hoping.

For imagining—for one stupid second—what it would feel like to be loved.

[mercuryisfronting]

Hot Chocolate

Very fluffy little comfort thing for a flash prompt that I wrote on my phone at midnight and have not edited. Enjoy! 🩷

Pairing: Cyrus/Daniel

Word count: 620

Cyrus Becker.

They shaved your hair.

Like the Farm.

Your fingers comb through your thick curls, stopping absently at the shaved patch where your head had split open in the car crash and they had to sew you together like a damaged doll. You feel the wirey yarn of sutures against your fingertips and press down. Marvel in morbid curiosity at how familiar it is.

You hate it.

How many days did they say before the stitches would dissolve? Two weeks, you think. How long has it been? You don’t know—it’s hard to keep track of the days when you’re this doped up.

At least you aren’t confined to a bedroom anymore. Caged.

Soft hands tangle with yours, gently tugging your grip—and thoughts—away from the sutures. You blink. Cringe. “Shit, Danny. You startled me,”

“I’m sorry,” Daniel soothes, predictably apologetic. “What’s on your mind?” He hands you a steaming ceramic mug and fixes his equally warm attention on you. Your cheeks flush against your better judgment and Daniel’s mind perks up, cautiously sanguine. Daring to hope, but knowing that look in your eye.

“Not happy things,” You let him down gently, accepting the mug with a soft inhale. Peppermint hot chocolate. Your favorite. You squint suspiciously at Daniel, “How…?”

Daniel winces with a playful smile, sitting down beside you. “Ortega told me. I thought it could… maybe help?” His gaze softens and the ribbon of concern in his mind slips free, waving in front of you like a flag. You snap your gaze down to your hot chocolate. Wonder how far you could get if you ran with your casts on. He’s too much, sometimes. Too kind.

“Did you slip bourbon in it?”

“Not while you’re on painkillers,”

“Then it won’t help.”

Daniel’s mind recoils, his concern and guilt suffocating his mindscape like a butterfly net. “I know,” he whispers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insinuate anything.”

Remorse jams into your ribcage, “No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” You sip on the hot chocolate as though it might double as an I’m sorry. “That was mean. I’m just… sore,” Daniel is already doing so much for you—housing you, nursing you back to health, loving you—you have no right to be so harsh with him.

He shakes his head, his smile finding its authenticity again. “It’s okay. If I were you, I’d probably be mean and grumpy too,” Daniel’s voice is light and airy and you laugh because for everything your brain can conjure up, you can not imagine a mean Daniel Sullivan.

Angry, yes, you’ve seen him angry. But never mean. Never cruel.

You love him.

“Thank you,” you say with a little laugh. He’d been right. The hot chocolate is helping. Soothing. And unlike vodka or tequila, it tastes good. Daniel tips his head at you and blonde locks of hair tumble in front of his eyes, shaping his face with the same tenderness his mind holds. “For… all of this.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Daniel says, laughing a little before actually winking. Either he’s been spending too much time with Ricardo or he’s getting bold in the face of your soft honesty. “I like taking care of you.” Sincerity overtakes any intended flirtation and the moment’s warmth flushes through your system as intoxicating as liquor.

“I love you, Danny,”

Daniel inhales softly, surprised, and his butterflies envelope you with doting adoration. “I love you too, Cyrus.” And his mind says it too, and you believe him, and you trust him, and shit, you really, really love him.

It terrifies you but it’s enough for now. He’s enough. He makes it all okay.

They may have shaved your hair but you are not at the Farm.

You’re safe.

[yanako-san]

Combine them to Mr.Krabs (from spongebob squarepants) and Stanley Pines/ Grunkle Stan (from Gravity Falls) to

Hitori Hana Marigold (from Blood n' Gold, my work)

I was gonna add Hank from detroit become human but it didn't suit his grumpy and lack of practice body in him. Hank's personality was basically how he treated Conner, assistance and beckering while being overprotective father to Conner.

I could imagine what's it like when they are in the nightclub lol.

Can't confirm his a con man like Stanley, but he has a charm and energy for business. And how he treated Wendy similar to how Mr.Marigold to Rosemary.

For Mr.Krab, was likely how their dynamic with Spongebob. Between the comparison to Mr.Marigold and Rosemary dynamic, the admiration and devotion Rosemary put a pedestal on Mr.Marigold like his a hero(or a legend lol)

Gosh, i wanna make a comic I actually have the writings but I'm soooo tired. Gosh I'm actually excited to show you all about Mr.Marigold and the rest of my work, his likely my favorite character in Blood n' Gold. Despite I keep drawing Rosemary haha.

And yes he is a womanizer, that Rosemary is going to handle his flaw.

[sarksarkos]

DC 1956: Superhero Clickbait

The more I read these comics the more I feel they have the same format as clickbait stories. "You won't believe this mysterious Good Samaritan of Smallville is! Page 13 will shock you!" Welcome to the gutters.

So in fairness, I did a clickbait on myself. I basically had that realization upon seeing the issue's cover and guessing that it would be some silly answer, like Superboy himself was doing the good samaritanizing in his sleep or when he had amnesia or something. Or that he had a low-level hypnotic field that made other people want to do good deeds after they met him. Silly stuff like that. I will in all things try to be fair to these comics, and this one actually surprised me.

Smallville is running a contest to acknowledge their town's goodest samaratian. Naturally, Superboy is winning by such huge numbers that it's completely unfair, and he disqualifies himself. The town postmaster, a huge grumpus named Thad Becker, gives Superboy all the letters nominating him for the award as a souvenir. When he's reading through the letters, Superboy finds people thanking him for good deeds that he didn't even do. Every time, somebody found some good deed being done and a note from Superboy, but never actually saw him.

Superboy reasons that whoever is leaving these letters is the real good samaritan, and sets out to track him down based on his handwriting. Eventually, he finds out that it was Thad Becker, the postmaster from the last paragraph! Becker had come into an inheritance and was using it to help people, but always put down Superboy's name because he didn't want anyone to know he wasn't a big grumpypants. He won the award and was really grumpy about it.

I... honestly just like this. As a self-identified curmudgeon, I love seeing stories about grumpy bastards with hearts of gold, and I love seeing Superboy putting all his efforts into helping recognize somebody who is genuinely doing selfless good deeds that might never otherwise come to light. I seriously expected this just to be some pointless fluff piece and it honestly really touched me.

A lot of the Superboy stories from this year are pretty standard stuff, but Superboy #52 has some pretty classic wild shit. While flying through space, Superboy comes across a dwarf planet called Juno that somehow supports an advanced humanoid civilization. On Juno, he encounters Zarl Vorne, AKA Juno's superhero, Power Boy! Zarl was sent to Juno from Atlantis, but a different Atlantis from Aquaman's - or maybe not? This will be very funny in like 30 years. Because Juno's gravity is so light, Zarl has superhuman powers, as was the accepted explanation for Superman's ability at the time.

Superboy and Power Boy quickly become friends, but Powerboy starts to lose his abilities. Superboy looks for some kind of kryptonite factor that might explain it, but can't find anything. Just then, an unrelated threat happens! The Creeping Jungle, an all-consuming forest that's already eaten half of Juno, starts to advance. Superboy decides the best solution...

...is to just cut the whole dang thing in half and throw the bad part into the fucking sun. Sure, he grabs a spare planet and sticks it back on but like... he just killed everyone on that planet like three times over! Even if the massive gravitational disruption of cutting the planet in half didn't kill them, he still exposed the molten core of the planet to the vacuum of space! And you know the continental plates aren't going to match any more, let alone the composition of the core and the mantle. You just ruined the resale value of that planet, Superboy. You are not getting the security deposit back.

Power Boy is trapped on the side of the planet that's fucked, but the farther away he is from Juno, the more strength he gets back. Superboy realizes that he was the one who actually caused Power Boy to lose his abilities, and that if he stayed there, he might kill his friend. Superboy leaves Juno forever and they never see each other again. It's actually really sad. What a tragic piece of doomed superhero yaoi from 1956 of all years.

Speaking of superhero yaoi, next we're going to take a brief look at World's Finest and see if it lives up to the title. Until next time!

[squeiky]

Oh. My god...??

I just realized, i dont think a collab between whay wilbur soot, tommyinnit, and i dunno who else that was.. like CG5 and i think 2 or 3 other youtubers- actually made a weird stickman universe (the type of shit alan becker makes but irl) here they called eachother green, red, blue, pink, ect, set in the apocoplytic/scientific world.

Somehow, i convinced myself- within MY DREAM that that was real, plausible, and that thinking about doing a series in which this dream could be a reality, is infact just me "copying off" an idea- a video- THAT DOESNT EVEN EXIST OUTSIDE OF MY MIND????????

THATS IT. IM DONE WITH MY STUPID PERFECTIONISM AND FEAR OF BEING A COPYCAT- IF MY FUCKING DREAMS DO THIS TO ME.

Also, apperently i wanted to marry green. Just because like he was so cool ;-;. I cant eveb remember why. I just know that i really like blue because he was a cool mix of lenardo from rottmt and sonic, but also a very big whiny failboy so i started getting annoyed by his antics. And then purple was like, ever anime person with glasses ever. Intelligent stoic smart.. pink.. i cant remember how she started off as, but i know by the end she helped save me and was a pretty cool resiliance leader. Stuck with me all the untill the end where we got into the sacrafice cult room, and even discovering more "test chambers" similar to the one i was in (its like poppyplaytime boiled down to a single corridor, that looks like a childrens decorated classroom wall), and crossed to the true original one, where i learned about the truth of this all. She cared for me a lot and was super cool. At some point i called her "cherrybomb" because well... she was reddish, and yeah.

Black and white was there, thy were both eneimes (gaurds) i had to face off, but i dunno what happened to black. But i think white had a redemption arc, and started helping me escape/survive.

Those so far are the only colors i can remember who helped me escape the confindes of the hellscape i found myself in (untill i realized that i all just leads down to the cult sacarfice room, which sucks ass.)

If red was there he probably was angry or grumpy. But tbh i dunno how big the teams was cause i barely remeber other colors, or if they were at all signifigant.

Also: had to escape some weird playground area by not getting shot by water type pokemon who kept spitting water at me (i had to shoot my water gun at the first to progress) and when i was done with that- turrets came out of the ground and threatened to shoot me to death. In the jungle gym, i managed to find the stuff to turn them off.

Not sure if pink started off bad. My brain is telling me she was a officer/guard befoee having sympathy and helping me to escape. I remeberher using her status to talk to another guard during our escape to go ourside the facility. And plus she had extra knowledge on both all the previous test chambers/corridors and how it wasnt always perfect, with many of the "traditionally classroom freindly animals" not being on there- like cows being eels and what not. And then instead of going to the direct end of the corridor, she brought me to this secret door i never noticed, in which some guy was inside there, and.. i think it was some messy as computer room? That or a direct way to enter the cult sacrafice room (which literally looks like a colluseem, where apperently a giant monster god will come down and eat you, whilst cloacked hodded figures- still stickmen- qwill watch and say nothing about. Tberes one guy who give you robes, hes the only cloaked morherfucker that speaks and announces things, and stands of the little platform on the bottom of the colluesem).

Okay the end.

[feith-rikya]

All these characters are from an RPG campaign called; Gehenna's Gates, set in the world of Vampire The Masquerade. Feel free to ask any questions!

We take a moment to celebrate our fallen friends in this campaign

Felix: Felix, our resolute Gangrel companion, embodied the wild spirit of his clan with an appearance weathered by nocturnal adventures. In pivotal moments, Felix displayed unwavering courage, standing as a stalwart defender of our coterie aginst Anselm. Tragically, he met his demise at the hands of the Black Hand, choosing to sacrifice himself to safeguard critical information. In his final act, Felix cemented his legacy as a valiant Gangrel, leaving an indelible mark on the shared tapestry of our nocturnal history.

Meinwald Willem Becker: Former Sheriff of London. A Brujah as strong as a titan but with a good heart, who left from the darkest and most gloomy place in the vampiric world, devoted to hatred and wickedness. Returned with his own strength to find the light for himself and others. So strong and kind that he tamed Spain's most dangerous Lasombra, establishing a deep relationship with him. He was a beacon for the group and his death left incurable scars.

Raphael: Raphael, the archangel, stood as the epitome of celestial strength and benevolence, radiating an aura of divine grace. With golden wings that spanned the heavens and eyes that held the wisdom of eons, he was the paragon among angels. His countenance reflected both compassion and unwavering determination. Tragically, Raphael met his end defending a human soul from the malevolent grasp of his brother, Lucifer, catalyzing the tumultuous events of Gehenna. In sacrificing himself, Raphael's celestial essence transcended, and he emerged as a guiding spirit for Danya, offering wisdom and protection from the shadows as she navigated the intricate tapestry of the supernatural realm.

O'Connel: O'Connel, our irascible Nosferatu, embodied a grumpy and cantankerous demeanor, his visage marred by the grotesque features characteristic of his clan. Despite his surly disposition, his keen insight and tenacity proved invaluable to the coterie when uncovering a spy in their midst. Transcending his initial role, O'Connel became the linchpin of the coterie's technological endeavors, utilizing his skills to bolster their defenses. Tragically, his unlife met a grim end at the hands of the Kuei-Jin, who claimed his head in a chilling confrontation. O'Connel's demise left a void, marking the end of a tumultuous but indispensable chapter in the coterie's history.

[faescreams]

𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒊 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎 ──

𝜗𝒞 ̇🎧 ̟ ❛ ＧＡＢＲＩＥＬＬＡ Ｏ＇ＮＥＩＬＬ．

── 𝘚𝘛𝘈𝘛𝘚

full name :   gabriella anne-marie o'neil .

aliases :  gabby . gabs . she's not fond of either

faceclaim :  ryan destiny .

species : banshee .

age :  twenty - two .

sexuality :  bisexual .

gender :  cis woman .

pronouns :  she / her .

height :  5'5 .

date of birth :  march 19th .

zodiac sign:  pisces .

occupation : library assistant at new salem public library .

living situation : howl hall .

appearance details : dark brown hair, often straightened and kept neatly. perpetually seems to have teary eyes. more often than not wearing headphones to drown out the sounds of spirits warnings and whispers. dresses in a style that can be described as preppy, borderline business casual - plaids, pin stripes, skirts, blouses, and blazers when at work. and more casual with oversized sweaters , jeans, mini skirts, and tank tops in various prints.

── 𝘈𝘉𝘖𝘜𝘛 .

being a banshee is considered a generational curse in the o'neill lineage - it would fall upon the eldest daughter of the first born son for each family. it was one that her current family had thought skipped a generation until gabriella got the warning of her brother's death at the mere age of 8.

despite the incident not being her fault, there was a heavy close of resentment that hung over the o'neill family after all that happened. this led to sent away to boarding schools until she graduated from high school.

when she came home, she only managed to stick around for a few years before her parents demanded asked she go off to college to continue her education. hence gabriella being sent to monster university with all expenses paid. anything for her to not bring what was seen as bad luck back into their lives.

now gabriella attends the university, keeping to herself for the most part and trying her best to avoid trouble.

── 𝘊𝘖𝘕𝘕𝘌𝘊𝘛𝘐𝘖𝘕𝘚

RAMONA WALSH ── roommate.

PERRY ALMAZAN ── equally grumpy friend.

FRED BECKER ── (more than) one night stand and fond annoyance.

ALONDRA CUCO ── academic rival.

ALWAYS DOWN FOR MORE - <3 let's plot.

[jencsi]

Becker and Chris Season 4 “Mis-steaks”

[songwithin]

✵ (becker)

@startold / meme ; accepting

Their first impression of your muse: grumpy soldier man.

Current impression: this is her big brother! and she loves calling him cap'n bang-bang. she trusts him with her life. 

Are they attracted to your muse?: not in the slightest.  

Something they find frightening about your muse: when he gets angry. she'd hate to be on the wrong side of that...

Something they find adorable about your muse: how he is with betty... big softie! 

Would my muse sacrifice themselves for yours?: yes, she would though she knows he would never let her. 

Would my muse go on a date with yours?  platonic/romantic: a platonic one, sure. she can't see that happening though. unless you count him teaching her to shoot a platonic date.

One word my muse would use to describe yours: loyal. 

Would my muse slap yours if they could?: yeah, probably. not hard though.

Would my muse hug/kiss yours?: hug, yeah! well... when he lets her.

[allthingsdarkanddirty]

COVER REVEAL

We are excited to reveal the cover for NOT FAKING IT WITH JULES by Micki Fredricks releasing 7/11!

#PreOrderHere: Amazon.com: Not Faking it with Jules eBook : Fredricks, Micki

TROPES:

Grumpy Sunshine

Fake Boyfriend

Friends to lovers

Small Town Romance

ABOUT THE BOOK:

Jules:

It all started with a foolproof plan and ended in a dumpster fire. How did I screw things up so badly?

Two words.

Leo Dorsey.

With his disgustingly perfect lips, dark blue eyes, and the type of hair that begs you to run your hands through it.

But that attitude… whew! He growls more than he speaks.

When he approaches me with a proposition, I have a decision to make. I can either help him get his ex-girlfriend back and he’ll return the favor by getting me an interview for my dream job, or I can remain stuck in my little hometown of Blueberry Pointe.

Sounds easy enough, right? Except nothing is easy with Leo.

Leo:

I needed one thing from Jules. Show me what a woman wants in a relationship while acting as my fake girlfriend, and I'd give her a chance she wouldn't otherwise have.

She gets the job and I get the girl. We both walk away happy and with a new start to life.

It’s a solid plan until it isn’t.

The problem is, I realized too late in the game, there’s nothing fake about having your heart broken by Jules Becker.

Now, I just need to make her understand that faking it isn’t an option anymore.

Add to yourTBR: https://bit.ly/3N0RqyG

Influencers sign up here: https://forms.gle/JfGEN38Wzc2Px7rh9

[beckers-betch]

I got grumpy bear 💕

[bma-2020]

This is just a remake of this that I had made for @myrkvae probably 5 years ago at this point 

[ohmytomorrowisthursday]

Until I Fall - Part Five

Levi Ackerman x Fem Reader.

Eventual romance but this is a slow burn, definitely angsty and darker. It will also focus a lot on Hange, Erwin and the original scouts. Eren and the 104th training corps will be around but I’m focusing on the older characters in here. Your self insert name is ‘Azeria Becker’ pronouns She/Her/Hers. Using a name because don’t like using ‘y/n’.  

Cannon universe. I wrote this for myself but I hope that you enjoy it, too lol <3

As you stood in front of Levi on that final day, you couldnt help but remember every last moment of your time in the scouts. How had you gone from that scrawny young rookie trying to fight titans to Erwin’s right-hand soldier who overthrew the government and was about to charge to your death? It was never fair, you’d never get enough time together. Standing before him, his eyes full of the sadness of the truth, it hurt too much to say Goodbye, don’t forget me. I’ll love you forever, so instead you said the only word that you could manage to speak; Survive.

cw: imagine literally every awful/gory thing that happens in SNK. Death, violence and gore. Drinking, sex.

You can find all chapters here.

Year: 845

The training went on like this for weeks. Every morning you would meet and train until breakfast, and then train more with the squads. You trained through the winter, even on the coldest of mornings.

It was exhausting at first, but soon your body could endure it better. Levi wasn't much of a talker but he did seem to divulge some things about himself to you. He grew up in the underground. His mother died when he was young, and he grew up for a time with a man named Kenny. Erwin recruited him. He didn't like dirt. He thought that the Military Police were absolutely incompetent. It wasn't much but you felt this was the closest thing that he could give you to personal information; the man was a wall, a grumpy, sarcastic wall. Every now and them he seemed genuinely happy when you were trining. Not in a beaming smiling way, but he would let out a laugh or make some morbid joke at your expense that amused him. Maybe you were becoming friends. You liked the moments that he did seem happy, and you always tried to bring that out in him.

At times, he got on your nerves a little too much. He was also such an asshole. He would not refer to you by your name, only brat, idiot and loser, and maybe he'd sprinkle in a few curse words. He hardly acknowledged your presence outside of morning training, and sometimes it felt as if he was truly trying to kill you when you fought. "I'm only trying to make you better, you're shit," he would say, but sometimes you didn't believe it.

"Oi brat," He said to you as you walked back to the dining hall from a morning of fighting, "Come find me at lunch. There's someone you need to meet." You were taken back. Levi never invited you to do anything. You searched his face for some answer as to who it was, but he only wore his same cold neutral frown. You'd just have to wait

That lunch, after training with your squad you searched the dining hall for Levi. Finally, you spotted his dark hair and eternally sour face. He was sitting next to Erwin Smith, your heart dropped to your stomach. Erwin was the First Squadron Leader. He was the best of the best. Cunning, brave, skilled. The crowds gathered in the streets to see his fleet. He always rode behind Commander Shadis. What was Levi thinking?

You cleared your throat to get his attention. "Levi," you said, timidly. You stood behind Levi at the bench as he ate his meal. He didn't acknowledge you.

"Azeria Becker," Erwin chimed. You were terribly nervous. "Captain Erwin," You said, saluting. He looked at you with a softened face. He was already much nicer than Levi.

"Please, come sit," he gestured to the corner seat beside him and of course, you obeyed. It was weird to sit with Levi in the dining hall, all you ever saw of him was fighting in the woods. It was so out of place. He continued to look down at his food and ignore your presence.

"Levi tells me that you've been training together," Erwin said, drinking his tea. "Yes, we've been training every morning." Levi told him that? When did he tell him? Levi talks about me?

Erwin nodded in acknowledgement, "He says that you are quite skilled." Hang on. Levi paid you a compliment? That was simply impossible. You blushed a little. You must have. Levi was an asshole, you didn't think you would ever live up to his expectations.

"Oh, uh-thank you," You mustered out, "I've been doing my best to be ready for our next expedition."

He nodded at you, once more. You noticed that despite his softer eyes and kinder face, Erwin was just as unreadable as Levi. "That's good. It's impressive to see such resolve from a recent trainee," he paused, "That's what I am meaning to talk to you about. Our next expedition; I want you to join my squad."

Your eyes opened wide. You couldn't believe it. This was the squad. The best of the best. You had always wanted to fight alongside them, but you never thought it would come this soon. "Captain! I am honoured! I promise I will not let you down!" You were shocked. He smiled. "I am glad to hear it. You start training with us tomorrow. I will inform your squad leader." You watched him as he left the table, a mix of shock, excitement and panic ran through you.

"Levi- I- thank-"

"Don't spoil a good moment, brat," Levi said, finally lifting his face from his plate.

"But you said I was shit," he looked so annoyed with you. You couldn't believe you were going to be fighting alongside him.

"You are shit," He sneered, "I'm just going to use you as titan bait."

You smiled, "I just can't wait to see the look on your face when I kill more titans than you."

"Tch. You wish," He lifted himself from the table and left. You could swear you caught him smiling.

    You were so happy all afternoon. So happy, that your task of cleaning the horse barn didn't seem to bother you much at all. You were going to be in Erwins Squad, riding beside Levi, Hange, Moblit. They were going to be your team.  More importantly, you could finally see it; Levi was your friend. You had finally earned his respect. Perhaps you had it all along and you just didn't know it. In any case, you were elated. This was the beginning of an adventure, and you could feel it.

By the time you got back to the dining hall, everyone in your graduating class knew. They surrounded the table that you sat at.

"Azeria! How could you not tell me you're joining Erwin's squad!" Ilse said, grabbing hold of your arm. You laughed, "I just found out at lunch! I haven't had a chance!"

"I can't believe it! I mean, of course I can, you're one of the best from our class but it's just so fast!" She squealed. It was true, you and her were the top of your class that year. "Don't worry, you'll be joining me soon, I know it." She smacked your arm, "I know it too!"

chapter six

[playbucky]

Double Date

Requested by @captain-shannon-becker​ – Ahhhhh some leverage requests coming your way now :P Can I have one of Eliot Spencer x reader. Something along the lines of Parker or Hardison won a double date voucher and don’t have anyone to go with. Reader and Eliot together on the downlow and the reader jumps in and says her and Eliot will go and that’s how the team learns about them?? Characters – Eliot x Reader, Parker, Hardison, Sophie, Nate. Word Count – 644.

‘What’s wrong with you guys?’ You asked, taking the seat next to Eliot. ‘We won a couples dinner, and it’s a double date.’ Hardison said, Parker kept flicking the piece of paper. ‘And?’ Eliot asked. ‘Well we don’t have anyone to go with.’ He explained. ‘I mean, you’re a womaniser that has a different woman most nights.’ He said, Eliot glanced at you and you ignored him, but he noticed the smirk playing on your lips. ‘And well, we don’t know anything about you.’ Hardison pointed his beer bottle at you. ‘Okay, well when is your dinner for?’ You asked, leaning closer Parker let you see the paper. ‘Tomorrow night.’ She said, you pursed your lips. ‘Well, send me the address and ill met you there with my mystery man.’ You told them, they looked at each other as Eliot raised an eyebrow at you. ‘You’ve got a boyfriend?’ She asked, you tilted your head to the side, running your finger up and down the side of the bottle. ‘Well, I have a boy who is a friend.’ You told her, the boys looked at you. ‘Do you fondue together?’ Parker asked, you smiled widely. ‘You are so cute, and yes we do.’ You told her before you turned in your seat and stood up.

‘And why are you dragging me along?’ He asked roughly, rolling the sleeves up on his shirt. ‘stop being grumpy just cause you’re wearing long sleeves, you can stay here, and I’ll go chose a man off the street to join me.’ You said motioning to the few men that were walking across the street, he huffed out before following you out of the car, his hand resting on your back as you crossed the road. ‘Can I help you?’ The lady at the front asked, you smiled nicely at her. ‘Yeah, we’re meeting our friends here. Hardison?’ You said, she looked at you and then back at Eliot before nodding, grabbing two menus and guiding you through. ‘Here you go.’ She said. ‘Thank you.’ You told her, she nodded before disappearing. ‘Please tell me this is a joke?’ Hardison said, they watched as Eliot pulled out the chair and pushed it in as you sat down. ‘Does it look like a joke?’ Eliot asked, you hit the side of his arm and both of them looked at you. ‘Will you two please behave like adults, this is Parkers first date and mine in a long time.’ You said, they looked at each other before looking at Parker who was smiling and dancing in her seat as she read the menu, they both nodded before picking up their own. ‘Thank you, and I could be worse, Nate and Sophie could be here.’ ‘Ehh.’ Hardison said, you looked at him. ‘What?’ You asked. ‘Do you get message from the devil?’ He asked, you looked at him confused before you turned around, Eliot copying you and your jaw dropped. ‘Okay, we don’t need to-.’ Eliot started. ‘Sophie!’ Parker called out, the pair of them turned around and looked at Parker before looking over the table, you all gave them a wave before they had a discussing, Nate pointing towards the back before she pulled him over. ‘What are you guys doing here?’ Sophie asked as Nate stood by her with a surprised but bored expression. ‘It was meant to be a double date.’ Eliot replied, their brows dropped. ‘Double date?’ They both asked together. ‘You guys are dating?’ Sophie asked you and Eliot shocked. ‘Yes, we are now are you going back to your designated table or are you going to work your magic and get on added onto us?’ You asked, the pair looked at each other before nodding. ‘We’ll leave you four to yourselves, but I want to know everything tomorrow.’ She warned you, you nodded before they disappeared.