#carrie bennet

[whisperhillforo]

12 DE DICIEMBRE, 09:00 AM

Se hace saber que el 29 de Diciembre a las 22:00 en el escenario que será montado en la Feria Navideña, sobre la pista de hielo, habrá un concierto de covers tradicionales de la época de los 80. La entrada será gratuita y el aforo limitado.

Datos de interés

[variksel]

takes a drag of my coolguy cigarette I dont know man the fact that all of the s1 dads' original dad haha funnyman tropes were at first only jokes to make fun of middleaged middleclass middlebalding cishet white american men with but the second their fathers and the traumas of the daddies' pasts stepped into the plot they tied themselves into the initial premise and dad tropes so fucking perfectly i mean TAKINGANOTHERBIGINHALE darryl the christian who married his highschool sweetheart and started living the picket-fence "kid-and-a-house" american dream relatively young while idolizing his own dad has a father who died before darryl had properly talked with him and found out more of his faults and nuance henry the pacifist pretentious vegan dad has a father who thinks hes better than everybody else and wants his son to repress his anger and anxiety because he feels he is morally above emotions glenn the distant but cool rocker dad who tours the country without his son on christmas eve has a dad who glenn wasnt even sure if he had died back on earth because it had been so long since he had heard of him ron the emotionally detached stepfather who doesnt seem to care to remember his stepsons name or a single fact about his personality has a father who used everything in rons life to hurt him including his love for his dog AND his love for his father when he asked him to go fishing with him knowing despite all hes done ron would still somehow desperately want to make his father proud fuck me running anthony burch doesnt get enough credit

[ladysophiebeckett]

I only skim watched ep 1 but there is something so annoying about violet. a very nervous energy about her that would only make sense on a mrs bennet type of character. idk maybe im just being a hater to queen show alums.

[mspirations]

Movie of the month:

“When We First Met” - Shelley Hennig

[hsakuras]

ARE YOU KIDDING ME WE HAVE TO FIGHT THAT THING IM GONNA DELETE THE GAME R U SERIOUS DO U KNOW HOW MUCH TROUBLE I HAD WITH RAIDEN SHOGUN LIKE I AM SONADJJWJFS MIHOYO PLEASE WHO DO U THINK I AM I BARELY UNDERSTAND CRIT RATE AND CRIT DMG

[kanyniablue]

i actually think pride & prejudice & zombies would be a good concept if you cut out the mid 00's orientalism and really focused on the idea of a zombie non-apocalypse where society has changed to accommodate the threat but not actually collapsed

[shanieveh]

call me, "lover boy" !

—how the genshin men won your heart

princess treatment—thoma, DILUC, kazuha, tighnari, zhongli, albedo, scaramouche, ALHAITHAM

It doesn't matter what your gender is he will treat you like the princess you are. Tying your shoes, princess carries and comforting head pats, the moment he tells you that he loves you he will show how much he does. You are his everything, and with all he is doing these past few days its not hard to fall in love with him.

It is very clear and obvious how much he treats you differently, how he wipes the chocolate in your mouth and carries a spare each time you need one. It might take you just a few days to tell him how much you love him too.

being your best friend—bennet, KAVEH, thoma, childe, gorou, chongyun, AETHER , heizou, venti

Since the dawn of time, you have been inseparable team. Even as you both branch out to your own jobs and aspirations he still mantained a great impact in your life. He can't let go. And it seems you like it best that way.

He was there at your every break up and every confession of love for a person that wasn't him. It was pure torture. He was through every step of the way and now... you realize he was more than just a brother, he was you shield, your strength and the love of a lifetime.

make you feel special—baizhu, kaeya, ZHONGLI, dottore, albedo, KAVEH, ayato, alhaitham, dainsleif

Every day with him feels like you were a delicate oyster that came from fresh waters. He holds you so dear and puts you above every mortal being. The way he treats you, with flowery words and creations made just for your liking. It was not hard to fall for a man like him, however strange and mysterious he was.

It is easy to tell when he treats someone different—when he treats someone special. How he spends his days wooing you so visible to everyone. He wants them to know, how he is not available for the other people. He was only to be in love with you. Only you.

overly dramatic gestures—scaramouche, ARATAKI ITTO, kaeya, xiao, PANTALONE, dainsleif, heizou, venti

At first you received an interesting parcel of chocolates in the middle of the night, and then artworks, and then clothes. You question him about and he openly admits its from him. The next he openly says how much he is in love with you as a somber opera of romeo and juliet plays in the background. It may be professional, unintentional or just some silly people trying their best but it made the message clear.

It doesn't really help his reputation for how dramatic he is willing to go, but you find it very endearing. You appreciate every single one and maybe, just maybe you are ready to confess how much you love him too.

[goddessofvalyria]

The sailor and the singer | Tom Bennett x fem!reader

Summary: The sailor Tom Bennet meet his best friend's sister, a singer with angelic voice.

TW and notes: 18+, MINORS DNI, She/Her pronouns, sexual tension, oral (f receiving), fingering, SMUT, virginity loss, sex, Tom calls her "Miss", "Good girl", her brother is called William.

English is not my first language, be kind <3

This is my Masterlist

The sound of the ship's engines was a low, constant hum, reverberating through the metal corridors of the HMS Exeter. It was a familiar sound to the men aboard, a comforting background noise as they went about their duties. Tonight, however, there was an air of excitement that buzzed through the ship like an electric current.

Word had spread quickly: the ENSA had sent performers to entertain the crew. It was a rare treat, a chance to forget about the war for a few hours and enjoy some music, laughter, and perhaps even a glimpse of a pretty face.

As the makeshift stage was set up in one of the ship's larger compartments, sailors jostled for the best view, their faces eager and expectant. The room was dimly lit, the overhead lights casting a soft glow over the gathered crowd.

In the corner, Tom Bennett leaned against a bulkhead, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He was tall and lean, with a lazy grin that seemed permanently etched onto his face. His blonde short hair was slightly tousled, his uniform slightly less neat than regulation required. He watched the proceedings with a bemused expression, taking a drag from his cigarette and exhaling a cloud of smoke.

"What's got you so interested, Bennett?" one of his mates asked, nudging him with an elbow.

Tom smirked. "Just wondering what kind of show the ENSA has sent us this time. Last one was a bloody disaster."

The sailor laughed. "That was your fault, you know. You made the poor girl forget her lines."

"Not my fault she couldn't handle a bit of charm" Tom replied with a shrug.

The crowd suddenly quieted as a figure stepped onto the small stage. Tom's smirk faded, his attention caught by the sight before him. A young woman stood there, holding a microphone with a confidence that belied her slender frame. She wore a long silk elegant dress, her long hair styled in soft waves that framed her face. Her eyes were bright, her lips were red, her smile warm as she gazed out at the sea of faces before her.

Tom's heart skipped a beat. There was something about her, something familiar.

She took a deep breath, and then she began to sing.

Her voice was clear and sweet, carrying over the noise of the engines, filling the room with a haunting melody that seemed to seep into the very bones of the ship. The sailors were captivated, their usual boisterousness subdued as they listened, enraptured.

Tom found himself staring, unable to look away. He felt a strange pull in his chest, a mixture of longing and recognition. He had seen her before, he was sure of it. But where? He was sure she was from Manchester, his hometown.

When her song ended, there was a moment of stunned silence before the room erupted into applause and cheers. The young woman smiled, a slight blush coloring her cheeks, and gave a small curtsy.

Tom took one last drag of his cigarette and stubbed it out against the bulkhead. He pushed his way through the crowd, his eyes never leaving her as she stepped off the stage and disappeared into the shadows behind it.

He found her standing alone in the small corridor backstage, her back to him as she caught her breath. He approached quietly, his footsteps nearly silent against the metal floor.

"That was quite a performance" he said, his voice low and smooth.

She turned around, startled. Her eyes widened as she saw him, and for a moment, she looked as though she might bolt.

But then she relaxed, her expression softening into a smile. "Thank you" she replied. "I hope it was worth sneaking away from your duties for."

Tom chuckled. "Well, when a bloke hears that an angel's aboard his ship, he's got to come and see for himself, doesn't he?"

She rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in her smile. "Is that your usual line, then?"

He grinned. "Only when it's true."

She laughed, a soft, musical sound that sent a shiver down his spine. She introduced herself extending a hand.

He took it, his grip firm but gentle. "Tom Bennett. Pleasure to meet you, miss."

Her smile faltered slightly, and she glanced down, as if gathering her thoughts. "I think you know my brother" she said softly. "William"

Tom's grin faded, replaced by a look of genuine surprise. "Will's your brother?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

She nodded. "He told me about you. Said you are his best friend."

Tom's expression softened, a flicker of sadness in his eyes. "Yeah, Will and I are best friend, your brother is crazy" he said. "I know he's so... stubborn and he talks a lot."

She nodded, her gaze dropping to the floor. "In his letters he don't talk much about the war, but he always speak highly of you. Said you are like a brother to him."

Tom swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat. "He is a good man" he said quietly. "The best mate for all the adventures we had in Manchester. It's strange that we've never met"

"I was living in London with an aunt to study music"

For a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of their shared loss hanging between them. Then she looked up, her eyes meeting his.

"Thank you for take care of my brother" she said softly. "I know he isn't happy to see me here, but he's the only piece of my family that remain."

Tom nodded, unable to find the words. He cleared his throat, trying to lighten the mood. "So, is this that brings you to the HMS Exeter, Miss?" he asked, his usual cocky grin returning. "Surely you didn't come all this way just to serenade a bunch of scruffy sailors."

Eleanor laughed again, the sound like a balm to his soul. "Yes, I joined the ENSA to be closer to him" she admitted. "I wanted to be where he was."

Tom's grin softened into a smile. "Well, I'm glad you did. The boys could use a bit of cheering up."

"And you sailor?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Do you need cheering up, Tom Bennett?"

He smirked, leaning in closer. "Depends" he murmured. "Are you offering?"

She shook her head, but she was smiling. "You really are incorrigible, aren't you?"

"That's what they tell me" he replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "But you should know, Miss, I've got a soft spot for beautiful singers with angelic voices."

She blushed, but there was a spark in her eyes now, a challenge. "And I've got a soft spot for cheeky sailors who think they're God's gift to women" she shot back.

Tom laughed, a deep, genuine sound that seemed to echo through the corridor. "I think you and I are going to get along just fine" he said, a playful glint in his eyes.

She smiled, her heart lighter than it had been in a long time. "I think so too" she agreed. "But not underestimate me, I'm quite smart and surely not the good and innocent girl that I seem."

And in that moment, amidst the noise of the ship and the distant rumble of war, they both felt a flicker of hope—a small, bright flame that promised to burn even in the darkest of times.

The week at sea seemed to stretch and blur into a haze of routines and anticipation. Each day, the sailors went about their duties under the relentless sun, and each night, they gathered again for the one moment of reprieve they had come to cherish: the singer performances. The small makeshift stage had become a beacon of light amid the vast expanse of the ocean, and her voice, like a siren’s call, brought comfort to the weary men aboard the HMS Exeter.

Tom Bennett was always there, leaning casually against the back wall, his sharp eyes following her every move. He watched as she commanded the small crowd with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly, her voice weaving a spell that wrapped around him tighter with each passing night.

Will, her brother, began to notice Tom’s presence more acutely. During the day, he would catch Tom glancing in the direction of the ENSA quarters, or hear him asking the others if they were going to watch the performance that evening. At first, Will found it amusing. But as the nights went on, he couldn’t ignore the growing suspicion gnawing at him.

“Enjoying the shows, are you?” Will asked casually one evening, as he and Tom shared a cigarette on the deck.

Tom grinned, flicking the ash off the end of his cigarette. “I’d be daft not to, wouldn’t I? It’s not every day you get to hear a voice like that.”

Will’s eyes narrowed slightly, searching Tom’s face. “It’s just her voice, then?”

Tom shrugged, his expression neutral but his eyes twinkling with mischief. “What else would it be?”

Will smirked, shaking his head. “You’d better not be getting any ideas, Bennett. She’s my sister, and she’s here to do a job, not to get tangled up with some sailor and especially not you, I know the type of man you are...”

Tom raised his hands in mock surrender. “Just there for the music, mate.”

Will nodded, but the look he gave Tom was skeptical, his protective instincts clearly on high alert.

That night, her performance was more captivating than ever. Her voice seemed to float above the gathered men like a soft breeze, carrying with it a sense of longing and hope that tugged at Tom’s heart. He watched her intently, his eyes tracing the curve of her lips as she sang, the way her fingers brushed against the microphone stand.

When the performance ended, the sailors erupted into applause, their cheers filling the room. The singer gave a small bow, her cheeks flushed with pleasure and exhaustion. She stepped off the stage and slipped into the shadows, as she always did, to return to her cabin.

Tom was quick to follow. He moved through the crowd with practiced ease, his steps silent against the metal floor. He kept his distance, watching as she turned down a narrow corridor that led to the cabins assigned to the ENSA performers. She walked with a graceful stride, her head held high, but he could see the slight tension in her shoulders, the way she glanced around as if sensing his presence.

When she reached her cabin door, she paused. Her hand hovered over the handle, and then she turned, her eyes narrowing as they met his in the dim light.

“What do you think you’re doing, Tom?” she whispered, her voice low but not unkind.

Tom stopped, a sly smile tugging at his lips. “Just making sure our angel gets back to her cloud safely.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a spark of amusement in them. “You’re going to attract attention if you keep following me like this.”

“Then let me in” he murmured, taking a step closer. “Unless you want the whole ship to start talking.”

She hesitated, her breath catching in her throat. She glanced down the corridor, then back at him. “Fine. But just for a minute.”

She opened the door and slipped inside, and Tom followed, closing it quietly behind him. The cabin was small, barely large enough for the narrow bed and the little table beside it. A single bulb hung from the ceiling, casting a soft, warm light over the room.

Eleanor leaned back against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest, watching him with a wary expression. “What do you want, Tom?”

He took a step toward her, his eyes locked on hers. “You know what I want” he said softly, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine.

She swallowed, her heart racing. “And what is that?”

He closed the distance between them in one smooth, fluid motion, his hands coming to rest on either side of her against the wall. He leaned in close, his breath warm against her cheek. “You” he whispered, his voice thick with desire. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you.”

Her s breath hitched. She could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint scent of tobacco and the sea on his skin. Her mind was spinning, a thousand thoughts racing through her head, but none of them made sense. All she could think about was the way he was looking at her, the intensity in his eyes, the way his lips were so close to hers.

“Tom…” she began, but her voice trailed off, her resolve crumbling under his gaze.

He didn’t wait for her to finish. His lips were on hers in an instant, capturing her in a kiss that was fierce and hungry, filled with a fire that had been smoldering for days. She gasped against his mouth, her hands instinctively reaching up to clutch at his shirt, pulling him closer.

The world outside the cabin seemed to disappear, the noise of the ship and the ocean fading into nothing. All that existed was the heat of his mouth on hers, the press of his body against hers, the way his hands moved to her waist, pulling her even closer.

Tom kissed her with a passion that left her breathless, his lips moving against hers with a hunger that bordered on desperation. She could feel the thud of his heart against her chest, the way his fingers dug into her hips, anchoring her to him as if he were afraid she might disappear.

When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing heavily, their foreheads resting against each other. Eleanor’s eyes fluttered open, and she found herself staring into his, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

“Tom, Tommy” she whispered, her voice shaky. "If my brother see us...”

He shook his head, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “I know,” he murmured. “But damn it, I can’t help myself.”

She bit her lip, torn between the intoxicating pull of his touch and the voice in her head telling her this was a bad idea. “What do you want from me?” she asked, her voice barely more than a breath.

He smiled, a slow, wicked grin that made her heart skip a beat. “I want you” he said again, his voice rough with desire. “All of you”

She closed her eyes, a thousand emotions crashing over her like waves against the hull of the ship. She knew this was reckless, that it would only lead to heartache. But the feel of his lips on hers, the way his hands held her like she was something precious, something he didn’t want to let go of… it was more than she could resist.

“All right” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Just… just for tonight.”

Tom’s smile widened, and he kissed her again, softer this time, but with no less intensity. As his lips moved against hers, she felt herself melting into him, the last of her reservations slipping away like sand through her fingers.

Tom’s lips moved over hers with a fervor that left her breathless, his hands skimming over the fabric of her dress, feeling the delicate curve of her waist beneath. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions, her body responding instinctively to his touch. She’d never felt like this before—never felt her blood race so fast, her skin burn so hot, her heart pound so wildly in her chest.

He pulled away slightly, his breath ragged, his forehead resting against hers. “Tell me to stop” he murmured, his voice low and rough, filled with a mix of need and restraint. “Tell me to leave, and I will.”

Her breath hitched in her throat. She could feel the tension in his body, the barely restrained desire in his touch. And yet, beneath it all, there was something else—a tenderness, a carefulness that surprised her. She could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he was holding himself back, waiting for her to decide.

But her body had already made the decision for her. She shook her head slowly, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Don’t stop” she whispered, her voice trembling but resolute. “Please, Tom… don’t stop.”

A low growl rumbled in his chest, and he kissed her again, more urgently this time, his hands moving to the buttons of her dress. Her heart raced as he undid them one by one, his fingers brushing against her skin, sending shivers down her spine. She knew she should feel embarrassed, exposed—but all she felt was a heady rush of anticipation, a desperate need for his touch.

As the dress slipped from her shoulders and pooled at her feet, Tom stepped back for a moment, his eyes dark with desire as he took her in. She stood there in the dim light, her skin glowing softly, her breath coming in short, shaky gasps. He reached out, his fingers trailing down her arm, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“You’re… you’re beautiful.”

Her cheeks flushed, her eyes dropping to the floor. “I… I’ve never…” she began, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Tom’s gaze softened, his hand lifting to cup her cheek. “I know” he said gently, his thumb brushing over her skin. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

She shook her head, her eyes meeting his again, filled with a mix of fear and longing. “No… I want to” she whispered. “I want this. I want… you, Tommy.”

For a moment, Tom just stared at her, his eyes searching hers as if looking for any sign of hesitation. But all he saw was determination, a resolve that took his breath away. He leaned in, capturing her lips in another deep, searing kiss, his hands moving over her body with a gentleness that belied the hunger in his touch.

Slowly, carefully, he guided her toward the narrow bed, his lips never leaving hers. They stumbled slightly, their movements awkward in the confined space, but neither of them cared. All that mattered was the feel of each other, the desperate need to be closer, to feel skin against skin, heart against heart.

Tom’s hands moved with a practiced ease, slipping beneath the thin straps of her undergarments, peeling them away until there was nothing between them but the heat of their bodies. She gasped, her skin prickling with goosebumps as he traced a path down her spine, his lips following the trail of his fingers.

"Lean back against the pillow" he whispered as he drove. "Open your legs for me" their lips touched. She nodded and responded with a kiss, Tom's fingers caressing her warm skin and soon disappeared into her cunt. She caressed his bare chest, tracing with his fingers the naked skin, the outline of the toned and defined muscles, the veins of her arms. He continued to kiss her, making her melt as his fingers caressed her wet slit.

"Open your eyes" he whispered with a sweetness that had never belonged to him. He caressed her slit starting to play with her wet folds, she found herself panting on Tom's lips when two fingers opened her. "Look at you, you're beautiful" he whispered penetrating her with his middle finger and ring finger.

"Tommy" she pressed herself against him who in response began to tease her clit with slow circles. "My good girl" he praised her admiring her naked body: so beautiful, so… angelic. He continued to move his fingers, preparing her for what would come next. He saw his singer lost in the most absolute pleasure and slowly began to kiss her on her naked breast, sucking on her nipple and slowly moving his lips down her body, causing her to shiver and tremble.

"Look at me" Tom looked at her from under his lashes, his hands parted her thighs and he brought one of her legs to his shoulder. Lying on the bed, despite the little space, Tom was between her legs, his lips depositing hot and humid kisses on her womanhood and then with his tongue he grazed her sensitive clit, she gasped and slipped her hands into his blond hair.

A smirk formed on Tom's face, he began to pleasure her with his tongue, licking her between her soaking folds, torturing her clit and then invading her slit and making her feel such a strong sensation of pleasure that she arched her back. "Tommy…" she whispered panting. "Tommy, Tommy, Oh god!" her sounds of pleasure were like music to her ears, it was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard.

Tom continued to lick her again and again until his beautiful singer found herself panting with a hand over her lips so as not to be discovered. Tom grinned, got up on his knees and finished undressing. She was reduced to a mess, shaking and so aroused. Her hair was loose, spread over her body she looked like in a painting.

"Tom…" she whispered when she saw him take his cock in his hand. "It won't fit" she murmured nervously. "You're…" "Big?" he said with a proud and cheeky smile.

His breath caught, his eyes meeting hers with a fierce intensity. “I won’t hurt you,” he promised, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I swear to you… I’ll be gentle.”

She nodded, her fingers curling into his shoulders as he lowered her onto the bed, his body pressing against hers. The room seemed to close in around them, the air thick with heat and the scent of the sea. She felt every inch of him, every muscle, every breath, and she knew there was no turning back.

He moved with a slow, careful precision, his touch light and soothing as he guided her through the unfamiliar sensations. She gasped, her body tensing at the unfamiliar intrusion, but he murmured soft reassurances, his lips brushing against her ear, her neck, her collarbone. Tom pushed himself inside her, his cock invading her thightm wet and soaking pussy. "

Tommy" she moaned quiet.

“It’s okay” he whispered, his voice a low, calming murmur. “Just breathe… I’ve got you.”

She nodded, her breath coming in short, shallow bursts as she tried to relax, to focus on the feel of him, the warmth of his skin, the steady rhythm of his heart against hers. Slowly, the tension began to ease, her body softening beneath him, her mind drifting in a haze of sensation.

Tom iniziò a muoversi dentro di lei, his hips rocking gently against hers, his breath hot and ragged against her cheek. She gasped, her fingers digging into his back, her body arching instinctively to meet his. There was a brief moment of discomfort, a sharp sting of pain that made her wince. "It's all okay" he reassured her, but then it was gone, replaced by a warmth that spread through her like wildfire, igniting every nerve, every cell, every part of her.

Tom groaned, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate, as he felt her body respond to his. He kissed her deeply, his tongue sliding against hers, his hands roaming over her body, exploring every inch of her with a reverence that made her heart ache. She could feel the fire building inside her, a slow, steady burn that grew hotter with every thrust, every touch, every whispered word.

And then, all at once, it was too much. "Tommy" she cried out, her body tensing, her nails digging into his skin as the heat inside her exploded, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her. "Cum for me, my good girl" he whispered still moving inside her. She was so sensible, her clit was again pinched in his fingers and he cummed over all his coock while kissing him in a desperate, hot and messy kiss with tongue. "My goog girl" Tom followed soon after, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips as he found his release between her thights but not inside, his body shuddering against hers.

For a long moment, they lay there, their bodies entwined, their breaths mingling in the still, heavy air. Her heart was racing, her mind spinning, her body tingling with the aftershocks of pleasure. She felt Tom’s weight on top of her, solid and reassuring, and she realized with a start that she felt… safe. Safe and whole in a way she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

Tom slowly lifted his head, his eyes searching hers, his expression soft and tender. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’m… I’m more than all right” she said softly, her fingers brushing against his cheek. “That was… that was perfect.”

He smiled, a slow, satisfied grin that made her heart skip a beat. “You were” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

They lay there in the dim light, their bodies tangled together, their hearts still racing. The cabin was warm, the air thick with the scent of salt and sweat and something else—something sweet and intoxicating that seemed to linger in the space between them.

As the minutes passed, a soft, golden light began to filter through the small window of the cabin. She turned her head, her eyes widening as she saw the first rays of dawn breaking over the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange and gold.

“Look” she whispered, her voice filled with awe. “The sun… it’s rising.”

Tom turned his head, his breath catching as he saw the beauty outside the window. “It’s beautiful but not beautiful as you” he murmured, his arm tightening around her waist, pulling her closer.

The soft light of dawn cast a golden glow over the small cabin, wrapping Tom and her in its warm embrace. They lay in silence, watching the sunrise through the tiny window, the world outside coming to life as the darkness of night gave way to the vibrant colors of the morning. Tom’s heart was still racing from the intensity of their sex, his body humming with the afterglow, but there was something else too—something deeper, a feeling he couldn’t quite name.

He turned his head to look at his singer, her face illuminated by the soft morning light. She looked peaceful, her eyes half-closed, her lips slightly parted in a soft smile. He could feel the steady rise and fall of her chest against his, the warmth of her body pressed against his own, and for a moment, he felt a strange, unexpected sense of contentment wash over him.

But then, like a shadow passing over the sun, a flicker of doubt crept into his mind. This was all so new, so unexpected. And once they were back home, away from the endless sea and the isolated reality of the ship, what would happen to them? Would this fleeting moment of passion simply fade away, or could it turn into something more?

He shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look at her more closely. “When we get back home… would you—would you go out with me? On a date?” he said softly, his voice breaking the silence.

She turned her head to look at him, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. “A date?” she echoed, a smile tugging at her lips. “You mean… like a proper date... you with me?”

Tom nodded, his expression serious. “Yeah, a proper date. Dinner, maybe a dance… something normal. Something… real.”

Her smile widened, a soft, warm laugh escaping her lips. “I’d love that, Tom” she said, her voice filled with genuine happiness. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

Relief washed over him, and he found himself smiling back at her. But then, as quickly as it came, a wave of worry followed, tightening his chest. “But what if…” he started, his brow furrowing. “What if things change when we’re back? What if you realize this was just a moment, just… just the sea and the stars playing tricks on us?”

She reached up, her hand gently cupping his cheek, her thumb brushing over the stubble on his jaw. “Tommy” she whispered, her eyes searching his. “What happened between us wasn’t just a moment. It was real for me. And whatever happens when we get back, I want to find out what this could be. With you.”

He gazed at her, the sincerity in her eyes making his heart swell. “But what if... you know the war, your brother, fuck, he's gonna fucking kill me—”

She silenced him with a kiss, her lips soft and warm against his. It wasn’t like their earlier kisses, filled with fiery passion and desperate need. This one was slow, tender, filled with a love and reassurance that went deeper than words could express. She poured everything into that kiss, all her hopes, her fears, her longing for something more.

Tom felt something shift inside him, a warmth spreading through his chest, right over his heart. It was a strange, almost overwhelming sensation, like a tight knot loosening, a door opening. He’d always been good at keeping his guard up, at hiding behind his cocky smile and his easy charm. But with her, he felt exposed, vulnerable in a way he hadn’t been in a very long time.

When she finally pulled back, he was breathless, his eyes searching hers. “I… I don’t know what this is. I don’t know what I’m feeling, but—” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

She pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him again. “You don’t have to know” she whispered, her eyes soft and understanding. “We don’t have to have all the answers right now. All I know is that I want to be with you, Tom. And whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

He stared at her, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel the sincerity in her words, the quiet strength in her gaze, and he knew then that this was different. She was different. And maybe—just maybe—he was different, too.

“Okay” he said finally, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Together.”

She smiled, a beautiful, radiant smile that seemed to light up the entire cabin. “Together,” she agreed, and then she kissed him again, her lips soft and warm against his.

Tom felt that strange, wonderful sensation in his chest again, a feeling that made his heart swell with something he hadn’t felt in years. He didn’t know what the future held, or what would happen when they finally returned to shore. But in that moment, with her in his arms and the sun rising over the endless expanse of the sea, he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time: hope.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

He only cared for her singer and she only cared for his sailor.

[bethanydelleman]

Why didn't the Bennet family adopt an heir, do you think? I mean, Frank Churchill was adopted for that reason, so it was allowed. There were plenty of orphans around back then. And if the kid had to be of higher class to begin with, couldn't the Bennets have taken on a boy from a family in similar situations to the Dashwoods or Prices?

Oh I know this one! It was because there was an entail in default of heirs male, which would be specified as "heirs of his body", so adopted children need not apply. You also couldn't use a natural child. It must be a male child, of Mr. Bennet, born in legal matrimony. Otherwise it moves to the next in the male line (Mr. Collins).

Enscombe must not have had an entail, meaning that the Churchills could leave it to whomever they wanted. They chose Frank. Similarly, Uncle Dashwood was able to leave his estate to whomever he wanted (he chose Little Harry, through Mr. Dashwood and John Dashwood), Mrs. Smith was able to choose her heir in Sense & Sensibility (it was Willoughby), and Mrs. Ferrars could choose to leave parts of her fortune to whichever child she chose (why Fanny sucks up to her mom so much, she could inherit too). This means that all of these estates were not entailed.

If the estate was not entailed, the Bennets could have left it to their daughters. Interestingly, if they had wanted to preserve the estate, they could have made Jane, as the eldest child, the primary heiress (ie given her the bulk of the estate as a dowry) and then made it a condition of the marriage that the husband changed his name to Bennet. That would allow the estate to carry on the family line and maintain the prestige and wealth of the Bennet family.

[anyarose011]

One More Reason to Control Myself {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: Angus Tully knows she's hiding something. Why else would she lie about where she was the morning of Christmas Eve?

Part 5 of ?? (Masterlist)

Warnings: Swearing, period typical sexism, and mention of exploitation of a minor.

We get an Angus POV chapter, motherfuckaas!! I had fun writing from his perspective while also giving him a little more backstory as well. Also, considering I want to try and eliminate the Y/N effect, anytime there's a she or her (italicized) it's you, dear reader. Shoutout to me forgetting there was a character named Danny in the movie, so I have to cover my ass for naming the creep "Daniel". Also, part 2 of an Angus/Reader coded song (what do you mean it breaks my heart? No it doesn't!)

Word Count: 7.1k

“So, why’d you miss supper last night, and why is little miss Jane Bennet missing breakfast now too?”

That was what Mary asked Angus and Paul Hunham at Christmas Eve breakfast. Mr. Hunham glanced around, trying not to show his nerves, but failed. “Oh, we went into town on some uh, school-related business. As for my daughter…I do not know; she wasn’t there when I woke up, have you seen her, Angus?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

Mary hummed. The door opened, and in came Danny, the janitor who, even in the below freezing temperatures of winter, somehow almost had a smile on his face. Carrying in a mop and bucket, he greeted. “Good morning, everybody.”

“Good morning,” Mary pointed to the kitchen. “you can go on in and fix yourself a plate.”

He nodded. “I just saw something funny. I walked into the gym, and someone had vomited in there.”

Angus stilled as he drank his orange juice. Mary looked at him and Mr. Hunham, and the two of them looked at each other.

“You don’t say,” it was Paul who spoke first. “I don’t know anything about that.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Angus answered loosely.

“No, uh, I’ll look into that right away. Thank you.”

Mary raised one of her brows. “I see how it is.”

Danny shook his head, walked over to Angus, and placed the bucket and mop by him before walking away. “You’re out your mind.”

Angus sighed, fiddling with the eggs on his plate. It had been a week of a frozen hell for him (perhaps not so bad…he made a friend. A friend who, despite there being billions of nerves in the body, she still managed to get on every single one of them; yet, he knows he does the same to her). Still, as Christmas Eve was supposed to be a time of excitement for the holidays, Angus Tully felt nothing of the sort.

He had no idea if it was because he was getting older, or because his father wouldn’t be there after Christmas mass, carrying him out of the car when he pretended to fall asleep.

Maybe it’s because he didn’t live in the same house anymore where the Christmases he used to love took place…

Fortunately, his moments of wintertime dread were gone once the doubles doors from the outside were opened. He watched as Mr. Hunham’s daughter entered, pulling off her gloves and unwrapping the scarf that was brought up over her hair and around her neck.

“And where were you?” Mary was the first to interrogate, sitting beside Angus, still smoking her cigarette.

She smiled, approaching the table. “Out.”

“Out where?” Her father then questioned.

Chuckling, the girl pulled out a chair by her father and sat down, taking an orange of the fruit basket, peeling it. “Just on a walk. I gotta clear my head from you people sometimes.”

Mr. Hunham shook his head, not necessarily shocked by her response, but still bewildered. “Clear your-? How long were you out?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I woke up around seven-thirty, read for a bit, then went out. So…maybe eight? Not for long, that’s for sure.”

Angus knew she was lying. He didn’t mean to peek into her room when he woke up (genuinely he didn’t, no matter what anyone says). Even though Mr. Hunham decided not to wake everyone up at the crack of dawn since Angus was the only holdover, the boy’s internal clock wouldn’t let him sleep in. So, the first thing he needed to do was go to the bathroom, and as he passed by the doorway to her room, she wasn’t there.

He didn’t think anything of it until he was eating breakfast at eight-thirty, and he still didn’t see her.

“I see.” Her father furrowed his brow, but then shrugged, going back to lunch. “Well, please at least eat something other than fruit.”

She took the whole bowl. “But it’s the candy of the good ol’ days.”

“And what are the good ol’ days?” Mary huffed,

“Ancient Rome and Greece,” she popped a grape into her mouth. “also when women had less rights than they do now.”

Angus snorted, trying to then cover up his amusement with a cough. He didn’t find women not having rights funny (please believe him), it was just unexpected of her to say. Still, he felt all eyes on him, and refused to meet any of them as he picked up a piece of bacon.

He likes to think Mr. Hunham’s daughter was smiling at him when she stood up. “Fine, I’ll get real food.”

She went to the kitchen to grab a plate, and Mary hummed. “Never thought I’d see that girl ever be happy this early in the morning.”

Angus finally looked up. “She usually isn’t?”

Mary smirked, placing her cigarette between her lips. “I don’t think you’d last a day with her if you were both ten.”

There was nothing else to do after Mr. Hunham lectured Angus for an hour about the aqueducts in Rome. What was usually two and a half hours was only one, since the teacher claimed: “I’m feeling a little generous because of the season.”

Not because he wanted to drink alone in Dr. Woodrup’s office reading mystery novels (Don’t be ridiculous).

So, that brought Angus Tully back up to the infirmary, to do what, who fucking knows? He glanced into the other room and saw Mr. Hunham’s daughter laying on the middle bed, reading. When she looked up, sensing his presence, he instinctively hid behind the corner.

“You don’t have to be creepy anymore.” She spoke with the sarcasm he knew so well. “We’re friends, remember?”

Angus, playing it cool, entered the room, leaning against the wall. “Who says I was ever creepy to begin with?”

“I did.” She placed a bookmark in her book before setting it down and sitting up. “And you know, ordinary people just enter a room; they usually don’t bother checking.”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “maybe you’ve convinced me there are ghosts here and I just want to be safe?”

Not because he was hoping she was in her room and had a reason to go talk to her (Don’t be ridiculous).

She rolled her eyes yet smiled anyway. “Took you long enough to figure out I’m always right.”

“I said ‘maybe’. What’re you reading?”

“Just now or in general?”

“Yes.”

She held up The Two Towers. “You ever read Tolkien?”

Angus sat on the spare bed across from her. “I read The Hobbit my freshman year; one of the only books I liked reading in school.”

His eyes fell to the stack of books on her nightstand. Little Women, Sense and Sensibility, Giovanni’s Room, andThe Count of Monte Cristo.  

“You’ve read all of these?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Yeah.” She then pointed to The Count of Monte Cristo on the bottom. “Well, I actually tried to read this one when I was fourteen but got bored with it; I’m trying again.”

“Right after you reread everything else?”

“Shut up.”

She tried to sound serious, but he watched as she turned her head to try and hide her smile. He wasn’t ashamed to show her his. Angus’ eyes went back to the stack of books, and he took out Little Women, flipping to the first page.

“‘Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents.’ Grumbled Jo.” He read aloud, then looked up from the book. “Now I know why Mr. Hunham calls you that.”

“Are you saying I’m selfish, Fitzwilliam?”

He shook his head, going back to reading. “No, you just complain a lot.”

She scoffed. “Just wait until you meet Amy. I love her, but I’m glad I don’t have sisters.”

Angus’ didn’t respond, his eyes trailing over the words on the pages. He didn’t truly know why he kept reading; whether it was out of boredom, or perhaps he was already hooked on the story, he would never tell.

“Wait,” he heard her. “are you still reading?”

“Damnit, you made me miss my spot.” He glared at her.

She already knew he didn’t mean it (that much). Still, the girl giggled, laying back down on the bed and opening The Two Towers, going back to her own reading. They were like that for ten minutes perhaps? It was a strange time that went by fast and slow. No, Angus Tully wasn’t even doing this to think of what to say to her, he was genuinely engrossed by Louisa May Alcott.

Then, it was when he was more than half-way done with the first chapter, that he asked. “Where were you this morning?”

She looked over at him. “I’m guessing you hate the book?”

“Don’t change the subject.” He sat up. “And no, it’s actually tolerable.”

“Tolerable for it being written by a woman?” She sat up as well. “And for your information, I just went to the woods. What, were you worried about me or something?”

“Maybe…I don’t know, maybe.” Were the only thoughts behind his eyes, but his mouth moved differently.

“No. Wait, you’re walking around the woods, and you’re calling me creepy?”

“What’s so creepy about walking around the woods by myself?” She questioned. “If there was someone following me, then they would be creepy, dumbass.”

“I’m just saying, I don’t know anyone who spends their time frolicking through the woods for fun.”

“You didn’t really know anyone, but neither did I, so we’re even.” She stood up, going to the window to look out of it. “I also prefer frolicking through flower fields, but this isn’t the best season for that.”

Angus hummed. “Yeah, I noticed.”

He debated on asking her why she was out there for an hour and a half; if she was in the woods, or if she was even outside. Just as he was battling with himself and wondering how to ask her without her biting his head off, he saw her tremble.

“Are you okay?” Was the first thing he asked.

“Come over here.” She commanded without looking at him.

He stood up immediately, and as he was halfway to the window, she giggled; a sound he had heard before but…not like this, somehow. Angus stood beside her at the window and watched as Mr. Hunham walked on the sidewalk by the quad, stretching.

“Look at that sad, little man.” She tisked.

Angus asked without looking away. “You talk about your dad like that?”

“You would too if he was yours.”

“Point made.”

They watched as the teacher picked up a stray football on the ground, and with perhaps the worst technique ever, threw it. Both she and Angus, as if her father would see them in the window, backed away from it, laughing at the absurdity.

“I almost feel bad now.” She said through her enjoyment. “That’s a lie, I don’t.”

Her honesty only caused Angus to laugh even more, and he can’t remember when the last time it was he had ever laughed this much. Especially over something so stupid.

“Well, it’s obvious he didn’t play football in high school.” He said.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “he’d go on and on about being president of Latin and Chess club.”

That’s where Angus’ amusement ceased. Even if it was at his own expense, he didn’t mind it at all since he could see just how wide her smile could get.

“Angus Tully, don’t tell me-.”

“-What’s wrong with Chess club?”

“I knew it!” She pointed at him. “You nerd!”

“You’re the one that knows all of Roman history and mythology like the back of your hand, and you’re calling me a nerd?!” He teased.

The girl snorted, crossing her arms. “Not all of it.”

“Yes, you do.”

“So why have I lost to you twice now?”

 “I just got lucky.”

“Uh huh, sure.”

“I’m serious!” He tried to brighten the strange air that settled in the room. “Your dad didn’t drill it into you for nothing.”

 “Yeah, you’re right about that.” She hummed, sitting back on the bed. “So, you’re good at chess?”

He shrugged, taking a risk and sitting next to her (with about two feet of space of course). “I guess so. My…my dad taught me how to play, and I never beat him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled, nearly losing himself in the memory. “I was like nine when this snowstorm hit, I was out of school for almost a week, and my dad and I just played the whole time.”

“So, you played without bathroom breaks, and you still didn’t win?”

“Okay, smartass.”

She smiled. “My dad tried teaching me chess and he beat me every time too.”

“You still play?”

“Hell no.”

“Why not?”

“I always cussed at my him whenever I lost, so probably not a good idea to keep going.”

Angus snickered. “How old were you?”

“Seven.”

“You were cussing at seven?”

“He was an asshole!”

“Yeah, I’ve met him.”

It was almost horrifying how her face dropped at his comment. One where it was like the words themselves shocked her. Then, before Angus could fully register what had just happened, she was laughing.

“Sorry,” she shook her head. “I’m just imaging what you looked like as a kid.”

He tried to laugh it off with her, but that odd tension crept its way back in. “I was weird.”

“So was I. You should’ve seen me when I was twelve, my father drilling Roman knowledge into my head, proclaiming how, if I wanted to be better than all of the boys in my class, I had to work for it.” She grinned. “It’s like he tried to make me a small version of him, which was impossible from the start.”

Angus nodded, not exactly knowing how to respond. “Yeah?”

“Of course.” She shrugged. “Well, he doesn’t mean to, but I feel like he sometimes forgets I might want to wear ribbons in my hair, put on makeup, girly things like that that I almost called stupid, but they’re not. But could you imagine it? My father wearing makeup and…okay, he doesn’t have much hair for ribbons, but you get it.”

“I do.” He smiled.

She nodded, and they fell into another beat of silence. It was almost a competition as to who would speak first, and in the end, she surprisingly lost. She stood up from the bed.

“I uh…I promised Mary I’d help her in the kitchen.” She walked backwards. “You’re more than welcome to keep reading my ‘tolerable’ books written by women.”

Angus hummed, trying to shake off her abrupt exit. “Yeah, I got nothing else better to do. Maybe I’ll meet you downstairs and keep harassing you?”

“Yeah sure.”

With that, she turned on her heel and scurried out of the infirmary. Angus always found her to be strange; from the moment she stepped into Mr. Hunham’s classroom in September, to her just then. Still, it was a strangeness he couldn’t help but be intrigued by. Not the same as how a scientist would study a foreign species but…he had grown quite fond of her.

He already had a liking for her that first day he met her (despite her harsh and course attitude towards the others in class). Not a liking enough to have it be a crush per say (he was still annoyed with her). Then, the whole catastrophe of him being stuck with her over Christmas break only added fuel to a fire.

A fire that has both warmed and burned him all at once.

What kind of shit was he going on about? He read half of a chapter from Little Women, and now look at him!

Not knowing what else to do with himself, Angus slid The Count of Monte Cristo out from the bottom of the stack of books. It had been one of his favorites as a kid; ironic in both a sense that he read it as a child, but also his mother of all people recommended it to him. Before he could even flip it to the first page, he saw a small gap in the middle as if there was a bookmark. He opened it and found a letter; an already opened letter.

Angus’ blood ran cold at the sight of it, and as he took it onto his hands, he turned it over. It was addressed to her, and the stamp was a toy train. He had only gotten a glance at the first letter when Teddy stole it, and he recognized the stamp.

Sighing, it almost felt like the envelope was burning in his hand as he hunched over himself. He could’ve read it…it was right there, and it was already opened so it’s not like she would’ve ever known.

But he would’ve. And he knew there was no going back if he read whatever Daniel wrote to her, and even if it wasn’t bad (how could it not be), then he knew she’d be able to sniff him out like a rat that he’d read it.

Wait…Daniel…Danny…The janitor.

“Shit!” Angus hissed, almost falling off the bed, then sprinting out of the infirmary and running blindly though the school he has gone to for months.

He ran outside without a jacket on, looking around for Mr. Hunham. When he already saw his fingers beginning to turn white in a matter of a minute, he ran back into the school and navigated the halls as if he were a bat out of hell.

It took him quite literally running into Mr. Hunham for him to finally stop.

“God almighty, Mr. Tully!” He gasped. “What is the meaning of this?!”

Angus, trying to catch his breath, said. “Mr. Hunham, I have to tell you something.”

Immediately upon noticing his distress, the teacher’s harsh demeanor and voice dropped. “Well…alright, what is it?”

“Can-.” He looked around, feeling suddenly exposed in the hallway. “Can we do this somewhere else?”

“Sure, sure.” Mr. Hunham nodded, looking around as well until his eyes landed on the first door he saw. “Let’s uh, is there fine?”

“Yeah.”

They both entered into a classroom that neither had been in before. It was smaller in size, more than likely meant for honor’s classes, but it looked like it hadn’t been dusted since the beginning of the year when parent’s would visit. When the door was shut, Mr. Hunham turned back to him.

“Now, what’s going on?”

Angus said her name. “Someone’s been sending her letters.”

“What kind of letters?” He asked, his face a mix of confusion and even a hint of denial.

“I…” Angus looked down at the one he had in hand and held it out to the teacher. Mr. Hunham took it, slipping his reading glasses out of his pocket. Angus continued. “Someone named Daniel sent her one days ago, Kountze stole it and read it aloud to everyone back in the woods. I think it’s Danny, the janitor.”

The moment he said ‘Daniel’, he’d already seen Mr. Hunham’s entire demeanor change. He saw him visibly tense, as he read the letter what must have been a million times. As time stood still in the dingy classroom, the teacher swallowed thickly.

“You said she got another letter a few days ago? Where is it?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head.

“Mr. Kountze read it aloud, what exactly did it say?”

“I…” Angus paused, trying to remember just what was written so he wouldn’t miss a thing, “He asked her to send a picture of herself to him, and wished her a Merry Christmas. He sent her thirty-five dollars too; did he send more?”

Mr. Hunham shook his head, obviously bewildered at the amount of money. “No, he didn’t. Mr. Tully, did you even read this?”

“No.” His response was instant.

“Why not?”

Angus’ eyes trailed to the side, somehow finding the blank chalkboard much more appealing than Mr. Hunham. To be honest, anything at the time was more-.

“Angus,” His voice was stern, but not mean. It was enough to catch the boy’s attention, but not enough to scare him. “I need to know what you know, so we can help her.”

He took a deep breath. “Teddy made a joke that she…she…has pictures of herself in a skin mag.” It was absolute hell to watch Mr. Hunham sigh, so Angus looked away as he continued. “She didn’t say that she did, but she didn’t deny it, and I didn’t want to know whatever creepy shit Danny sent-.”

“-First off,” Mr. Hunham interrupted, rubbing his face. “this isn’t Danny the janitor.”

“How do you know?”

“Daniel,” He tried to say the name like he was a historical figure and not someone who made his skin crawl away from his body. “was...a family friend of some sort. That is all you have to know about him.”

Angus nodded, but couldn’t ignore the tightness in his chest, and how his stomach began to tie itself into knots as he asked. “Why did he stop being a family friend?”

“I said that’s all you have to know about him.” He said with more of a bite, then calmed himself. “I’ll speak to her about this the next time I see her, and rest assured, I won’t mention you.”

“She’ll know it’s me.” He shook his head. “I found it in one of her books when she left the infirmary after we talked.”

Mr. Hunham clutched the letter in one hand while removing his glasses with the other. “Regardless of details I cannot share with you, this little incident should not effect on how you view my daughter-.”

“-It doesn’t! I just-!” He lashed out unexpectedly at even the assumption of him finding any shred of blaming her for what was happening to her. “I just…I want her to be okay. That’s it.”

The teacher all but froze at his response, it is apparent that he was not expecting him to say that. Still, after regaining himself, he nodded. “You’re a good man for doing this, you know that, right?”

Angus scoffed, shrugging. “I don’t think she’ll talk to me ever again.”

“She may not,” he nodded. “but she also might. I won’t force her to do either. Again, thank you for letting me know.”

“Sure.”

The two of them walked out of the classroom in silence, and with Mr. Hunham’s “See you at dinner?” and his student’s nod, Angus Tully was left alone again in the grand halls of the school.

 A fate that has somehow always caught up with him ever since he got there.

Angus read the same Popular Mechanics magazine three times over since he found it the night he was the only one left behind at Barton, and he’d gotten sick of it after the second time.

So, with nothing else better to do, and with it starting to get dark, he went down into the kitchen, where apparently everyone but Danny was, helping Mary cook. Including her. She was washing vegetables in the sink while Mary was preparing a roast, both of them laughing at someone one of them said. Mr. Hunham was just at the table, peeling potatoes like his life depended on it.

“Mary.” Angus greeted, smiling at her. Mr. Hunham’s daughter immediately turned back to the sink upon seeing him.

Mary looked up. “Speaking of…”

Deciding to ignore the strange tension in the room (He has a knack for doing that, doesn’t he?), Angus’ eyes traveled around until they landed on a dish beside him. “Oh, brownies? God yes, I want all of these.”

“Ah, ah!” Mary scolded when he took one. “Just take one. The rest is for the Christmas party tonight.”

“What Christmas party? There’s a Christmas party?” He said her name. “Did you know there’s a Christmas party?”

She didn’t turn around, and only responded with. “Uh-.”

“-Yes, at Miss Crane’s house.” Mary interrupted her. “She and I are only going for a little bit, show our faces, and say we were there. Well, she might stick around since her little friend is there. You know, Miss Crane said she invited you too.”

Angus furrowed his brows, looking over at Mr. Hunham. “I want to go to the party.”

He stammered. “She-she didn’t mean it. We were just making small talk.”

Mary shrugged. “If you don’t want to go, don’t go. I’ll take him.”

“Mary can take me.” Angus reiterated.

“No, that’s not how it works.” Mr. Hunham raised his voice a hint. “You’re under my supervision.”

Angus frowned. “So, your own kid isn’t under your supervision, but I am?”

“Don’t even think about pulling me into this.” The ‘kid’ in question shook her head, not even turning around.

Still, he scoffed, bringing his eyes back to Mr. Hunham. “Okay, maybe it’s fine for you to sit around here and read books all day,” he turned on his heel, beginning to walk out. “but I’m losing my goddamn mind, Jesus!”

“Hey!” Mary yelled at him once he threw the brownie across the room. “Watch your mouth, young man! Not on Christmas Eve.”

Angus ignored her, storming off back to the infirmary. He didn’t even make it to his room and a bed to dramatically throw himself on and scream into a pillow. He rested his back against the wall before sliding down it. Now sitting, his shoulders still tensed at what just happened. He’d been stuck in the school for a full week, only being able to go out when he dislocated his entire shoulder.

Who the fuck did that piece of shit think he was for holding him captive?!

Closing his eyes, he thought back to what Dr. Gertler told him. Sure, the guy was a quack, but once or twice he actually had a few things that helped him. Angus breathed in, counting to four, held it for three, then released it for another four.

He repeated that until he felt the tension (mostly) fall away from him, and there was even a hint of calmness in his head.

Which was then lost when he opened his eyes, and she was peeking from around the corner.

“Jesus!” He gasped, and she immediately hid. Once his heart stopped beating so damn fast, he said. “Okay, now who’s being creepy?”

“…Me.” She said after a moment’s silence, still hiding.

Sighing, rested his head against the wall. “I’m sorry I yelled earlier.”

She finally showed herself, standing in front of him now. “I don’t think I’m the one you should apologize to but thank you. My dad said you can go to the party with Mary and I.”

That got Angus to sit up taller. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, but he’s going with us, so it won’t be that fun.” She joked.

He snickered along with her, before asking. “What about dinner?”

“We’ll probably just have it at Miss Crane’s. We’ll just have a nice lunch or something tomorrow instead of tonight.” She explained before walking into her room.

This was what caught Angus Tully off guard. She wasn’t exactly acting like her father had just confronted her about the letters, she was being too nice to him…so did she know it was him? She had to; or was he just overthinking it and getting in his own head (Something he did frequently)?

“When are we leaving?” He asked.

“In an hour!” She yelled, her voice somewhat muffled. “So, get on it, Fitzwilliam.”

“Anything you say, Amy!”

He ran off before she could storm after him (like he assumed she would), and went back into his room, which had darkened quite a bit. He went to his bag and took out the razor and shaving cream that he had only opened a few times since the beginning of the semester. He shook the can and applied the cream to his face before bringing the blades of the razor up to shave.

There was honestly no need to. It’s not like he even had “sawdust under his nose” as one would put it when talking about the mustache men would try to grow after watching Top Gun, which didn’t exist at this time, but that’s beside the point.

Even so, as he wat attempting to shave what was not there, he heard a knock, and her voice asked. “Are you decent?”

“Yep.” He answered, not even bothering to glance at the hall of lockets she had knocked from.

She came into his eyesight and stood so close to him in the mirror that he could feel the heat of her skin on his. “Move over.”

“Why?” He scoffed playfully, yet still did so.

It was only then he noticed the small makeup bag she had in her hand, and she placed it on the sink before opening it and taking out a sponge and small jar of liquid that matched her skin tone (it was foundation; he’d heard the word before but didn’t know it was that until perhaps a year later).

“The lighting’s better in here.” She answered, getting close to the mirror and dabbing the liquid on the sponge and upon her face.

Angus took a second (and only a second, if he took any longer she’d yell at him) to look at her entire self, and saw that she was wearing a dress. A dress that he would never have imagined on her. Her hair was almost the same as always...but there was something more to it he couldn't quite verbalize.

She was still herself, and it was silly to Angus Tully that it took a different dress and perhaps some makeup (something he’d hardly see her wear) to realize just how…just how…

“You look…” His mouth trailed off faster than his brain before he could stop himself.

After finishing her foundation, she took out a powder and brush. As she applied the powder, she glanced up at him through the mirror, a smirk on her face that was holding back a laugh. “Yeah?”

He couldn't call her ‘pretty’ (both because she’d never talk to him again, and that would be belittling her), and he couldn't call her ‘beautiful’ (she just wouldn’t talk to him again period; and he’d probably be scaring her off). So, apparently, the best thing he could think of in a limited amount of time was-.

“-Like a girl.”

Oh, how attractive it was to open one of the windows and jump out of it. If it wasn’t the fall that would kill him, it would certainly be freezing to death in a foot of snow.

Instead, to his surprise, while she momentarily scowled at him (as she should have), she giggled. Shaking her head, she said. “I would say you look like a man, but there’s nothing about you to prove that.”

As his heart began to beat again from her apparent lack of offense, he took the towel off the rack and wiped the residue cream off his face. “Oh yeah? What am I then?”

“A boy.” She set down the brush and took out a small tube of liquid, shaking it. “A tall, little boy.”

He snorted, walking away from the mirror when her gaze became just a little too much. “You said you were friends with Miss Crane’s niece?”

“Yes.” Her tone changed somewhat (or was he just overthinking it).

“Do you think I could-?”

“-Should I put on eyeshadow?”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“You know,” she turned over her shoulder. “the color that goes on the eyelids?”

“I know what eyeshadow is. I’m not that big into makeup, so I don’t know.”

“Really?” She teased. “You aren’t into makeup?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She turned back to the mirror, opening the tube. “Nothing.”

Angus’ eyes scrunched as he smiled at her playfulness. “Well-.”

“-Shut up.” She interrupted him.

He scowled. “Huh?”

She had the pen (it was eyeliner; he actually knew what that was) hovering over her right eye, and she was glancing at him again through the mirror. “I’m doing the most important part, and it’s the one I’m horrible at, so I need complete silence.”

Angus Tully merely nodded, looking away. He didn’t know how long she took, but she knew she was finished when he heard her gasp.

“I did it!” He looked back and saw that she turned to him with the biggest smile on her face, and blackened wings kissing the corner of her eyes. “I did it!”

He could only nod. “Yeah, it looks good.”

She grinned from ear to ear before turning back to the mirror, setting down her eyeliner and getting out an eyelash curler. “Could I ask you a question, even though you’ll feel stupid afterwards?”

“Do your worst.”

“Why ‘Amy’?”

Angus felt safe to smile at that. “Does that bother you?”

“Why, on God’s green earth, would you say I was like Amy?!”

“Well,” he shrugged. “it pisses you off, that’s the first reason. Second is…she grew on me.”

She scowled, turning to look at him. “Oh yeah? How so?”

“I mean…you made her out to be so annoying, and someone who complains a lot which, yes she does. But she’s funny, and she sticks to herself like Jo does, but…I don’t know, I just like her.”

Her face fell for the second time that day; but not like it did that afternoon when he made a joke about her father. No, this time, he knew it was because she truly didn’t think he would say anything like that.

And, for the first time since he’d known her, she almost looked shy.

Something he thought would be the thing that terrified him the most that entire Christmas break.

So, when she didn’t respond, and wanting to disrupt the awkward silence, he then asked. “Wait, why was your dad so against going, but now he’s fine with it?”

She looked back at the mirror, looking at him through it. “Besides the fact it wouldn’t be fair that you’d be stuck here while I’d go, he has a crush on Miss Crane.”

Angus snorted. “Figures.”

She shrugged. “I kind of always knew. I mean, she’s worked here for five years, but I think he only started liking her last year. I’m also not sure what he’s more afraid of; how I’d react to him liking someone after Mom died, or him just liking her period.”

“And how do you feel about it?”

“My mother’s been in the ground for six years.” She decided to take the eyelash curler back in her hand, then brought it up to one of her eyes. “We still visit her of course. She wasn’t selfish either, and it’s been so long, so I don’t think she’d mind. Besides, I’m going to technically graduate next semester, and I don’t want to be stuck here, but I also don’t want him to be alone. Mary’s really his only friend so…yeah, I think I’d be okay if he was with Miss Crane.”

Angus nodded. At first, it felt almost invasive and even wrong for her to tell him all of that so effortlessly. But…he leaned into it the more she went on. She’d been vulnerable with him before (whether she thought it or not, she had been), but this time…it wasn’t a huge confession, it was just a simple conversation.

“I don’t…” He found himself saying.

He didn’t what? What was he going to say? Something about his father? His mother? It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her something.

She took the curler away from herself and turned to look at him. Her eyes…her damn-no, they weren’t damned; they were kind, gentle…but still he felt damned just as she looked at him in a way he hadn’t ever seen her look at anyone before. She was waiting for him to say something.

Say something.

Say something.

She hadn’t said a word, hadn’t done anything but stare at him, but he was suddenly twelve again. Angus Tully, with his hair that was just beginning to have out of place curls, walking into his parent’s room at two in the morning. He woke his mother up, who gasped when he touched her. After she calmed down, she was appalled to see him crying.

It wasn’t a bad dream, it wasn’t because something had happened to him at school; he didn’t know what was making him weep, but he was doing it anyway.

He could barely say anything, he babbled like a baby learning to talk, and all he could get out was “I don’t know, I don’t know.”

His mother tried her best (he liked to himself that), but she could only say “I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s wrong.”

Didn’t she hear him? He didn’t know.

Even now, at seventeen, he didn’t know what to say to her.

“I don’t know how you can use that.” He glanced at the eyelash curler.

She furrowed her brow upon the change in tone. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, it looks like a torture device.”

Scoffing, she looked back to the mirror and curled the lashes of her other eyes. “You’ve just never tried it before.”

 “And I never will.”

She looked back at him once she was finished. “Are you scared?”

“No, I just don’t see the reason to.”

She shrugged. “I think you’re scared.”

“Am not.”

“Okay, then let me put mascara on you.”

He scoffed. “You’re kidding.”

“No.” She shook her head. “If you’re not scared then you’ll let me stick something in your eye. You don’t have to wear it to the party, but I think it’d be fun.”

Angus was at a loss. She was a good actress, so how was he supposed to know she wasn’t messing with him? Well…he didn’t; he just had to trust her. To be fair, he had been weird around her this whole time, so…

“I’m not doing the torture device, just the makeup.”

Her face lit up, and she took the mascara out of her bag, setting everything else inside of it. “Get over here.”

He followed, leaning against the wall by the mirror. Suddenly, as he stood in front of her, he was nervous. It wasn’t the first time he was (whether that was because of her wit, her confidence, or even her meanness), it was because it was just her.

“How uh,” he stammered. “how are we doing this.”

“Lean down first of all, fuck why are you so tall?”

“Not one of my favorite qualities.” He joked, pressing his hand against the sink for support as he lowered himself slightly.

“Meh,” she shrugged, unscrewing the cap of her mascara. “girls usually like tall guys.”

His heart flipped. “Yeah?”

She froze momentarily before continuing. “I guess. Elise told me.”

“Right.”

“Okay, close your eyes. You’re going to want to open them when you feel something touch your eye, but I promise you, you don’t want to do that.”

“Sounds good.” He closed his eyes, waiting for the feeling of discomfort. He could feel the heat of herself hover around him, but the pain from the mascara never came.

He heard her sigh. “This isn’t going to work.”

Angus opened his eyes when he felt her draw away, and he saw her sit on one of the beds. She titled her head. “Come here.”

He didn’t know if his heart was still or was going to beat itself out of his chest. Obviously, he sat by her before but…he had to be closer to her. Angus did his best not to make a big deal of it, but he felt like he was almost watching himself outside of his body as he sat beside her and closed his eyes.

“Do you want to know what my mom called me when I was younger?”

She was trying to distract him and he knew it. “Sure.”

“Ever heard of Orpheus and Eurydice?”

He tensed but soon relax when she rested her hand on his cheek; it felt like she was burning him, but the way that he felt whenever he had a fever. Somehow…it was comforting.  Breathing shallowly, he answered. “Greek? Kind of.”

“Well,” he cowered away a little when he felt something brush his eyelashes but kept calm as she continued. “where my father loved Roman history and mythology, my mother was more into the Greeks. They’d go back and forth debating on which was more influential, and that was more so how they became friends. She…before I was born, she talked about naming me Eurydice because it was her favorite story. My dad was obviously against it, so that was a no. So, that’s when she’d just call me Eurydice at home a lot, just to piss him off which was funny.”

Angus hummed, paying attention to her words, but having to bite his tongue to keep himself grounded from losing himself within her touch. “What’s she like in the story?”

“Not much to her.” She moved onto his other eye. “Well, what it gives us anyway. I always had my mom tell me their story, and Eurydice kept changing. It was always who I was like growing up.”

“Really?”

“Really. I was shy around the other kids when she first told me-.”

“-You, shy?”

“Shut up, I’ll mess up your eye if you make me laugh. But yeah, so Eurydice was quiet and shyer. Then, when I’m like nine, I’m a bit more outspoken, angrier even, so she became that.”

He didn’t move his head, scared that he’d mess her up. It was then, after she stopped speaking, he could feel her breath on his face. Her hand was still warm against his cheek, and he found himself leaning into it more and more. He had not felt this sense of peace since…he couldn’t recall.

“Done.”

With one word from her, she took her hand away and he opened his eyes. She was still so close to him, and while he saw her smiling at what he assumed had been her work, it was him staring at her that made it drop. Still, she didn’t look frightened nor upset, she was just…looking at him.

The moment his eyes dropped to her lips for only a second, it was all over.

He’d thought about it, of course. He wanted to. But…like with everything about her, he froze.

She didn’t.

“You…” She stood up from the bed, straightening the skirt of her dress. “you should probably wash that off after taking a look.”

Angus didn’t have time to respond before she grabbed her makeup bag and ran off. He just sat there, trying to process if he was waiting to wake up from a dream, or if it had been in fact real.

When nothing happened, he sighed heavily, getting up and walking towards the mirror. His eyes looked different, and he felt weird. He could not tell if it was from the makeup, her, or both. Still, what he did know, was that he made a fool of himself.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

[whisperhillforo]

[gold-rhine]

anyway, if you look at free to play guides and articles, recommending 4 stars only teams, and these team don't work for you, it's not just "skill issue". tho ofc average player will not have as much practice as ppl who play this game for a living. artifacts play a huge role, if you don't have good artifacts, even broken 5 stars won't help in the abyss, at least.

but also, these guides almost always use c6 r5 characters without mentioning, and for many 4 star constellations matter SO MUCH. some characters straight up unplayable without cons.

so i wanted to go thru the list of most popular meta 4 stars and list the importance of their cons and weapons just so you can have reference if it makes sense for you to use them:

Xiangling - literally unplayable in serious abyss teams before C4. C4 gives plus 40% burst duration, at which point she's broken. She wants r5 catch or basically any 5 star spear, as long as you have like 200% er. 4 piece emblem set, no options, crit hat, pyro cup, er\em\atk sands, should have at least 100 EM overall.

Bennet - his importance con is C1, bc otherwise he either heals or gives atk buff, but most teams that want him will be ok with C0 Benny. Unless it's a nche team that relies on Benny's pyro infusion, then only C6. wants a sword with highest base attack you have.

Xingqiu - C0 feels so bad to play, bc it's so hard to get enough energy off-field. Teams that want him like pyro carries with vape or hyperbloom will still be playable, but just feel kinda bad. Starts feeling ok at C2, at C6 becomes comparable to C0 Yelan. Wants sacrificial sword R5 or at least R3, if your sac sword is lower than r3, it's better to use favonius sword. 4 piece emblem set, no options.

Fischl - pretty good at C0, but truly broken at C6. Wants stringless bow or 5 star bows. 4 piece golden troupe best options, but can work with thundering fury or combos of 2 pieces

Yao Yao - actual free to play hero, already great at C0, her cons basically don't matter. Event hp healer staff or just fav lance is good.

Sucrose - becomes playable at C1. When guides say she's as good as kazuha, they mean C6, and it's a lie anyway, bc what they mean is that on paper damage calculations are similar. But in actual play her grouping is nowhere near kazuha and her burst actually ungroups enemies when unlucky. Wants sacrificial fragments and 4 piece vv with EM stats, no options.

Kuki - another f2p hero and hyperbloom goddess, good at C0, great at C2, immortal at C6. get as much EM as you can on her, should be near 1000, weapon usually iron sting.

Chevreuse - already good at C0 if you have strong pyro or electro carries. at C6 pretty broken. ONLY good in teams with only pyro and electro, nothing else, both need to be there. wants HP stats.

Beidou - good against 2+ enemies, but CANNOT trigger hyperbloom. Can be okay at C0, good at C4, pretty good at C6.

Thoma - for burgeon can use C0.

Layla - decent shield only after C2.

Noelle - usually shown in Furina teams as a driver, becomes decent at C6.

[1427]

When the Levee Breaks (pt. 4)

Daryl Dixon x OFC

The one in which a stripper that used to know Merle and Daryl shows up at the Atlanta camp. Daryl’s feelings are complicated but mostly he hates her, right?

Chapt. Setting: Highway outside of Atlanta. 

Chapt. Warnings: degrading and sexist language, degrading behavior, season 2 Daryl, smut, oral (m receiving)(kind of) weird. Just weirdo perv (out of desperation) Daryl. 

Word Count: 3200

A/N; Daryl’s POV 😩🤷‍♀️ 17+ mdni

masterlist

Been keepin’ Merle’s stuff pretty well hidden. Guess I should probably just get rid of it, right? But I can’t. S’not mine to get rid of. So I just hide it. Separate bag from the rest of his meds, all the way at the bottom of a backpack, stuffed under the seat of my truck. 

Beatle says she’s been sober off spazz shit for three years. Pretty sure three years ago s’when I met her though, so I’unno how she figures that. 

But now we’re ditchin’ the truck and I gotta find a way to carry it without Beatle finding it. Don’t even have time to be upset about my truck. Had it for at least the last ten years. Loved this thing like it was the only thing I had. Basically was for a while. 

Takin’ Merles bike. It’s got some dumbass Nazi shit on it, but ‘m not complainin’. That shit don’t matter anymore. Neither does bein’ upset over a truck that’s not gonna do me any good without gas. 

Pack myself two bags. One goes with Beatle in Dale’s RV, the other is the pack I’d had stuffed under the seat. Spazz gets hidden underneath a few shirts, smokes, the couple sips left of girlwhiskey, and the rest of Merle’s scripts. Stuff I don’t trust Beatle with.  

I think she knows, too. She doesn’t say it but she gives me a look when I tell her ‘m holdin’ onto it. I offer her a whole cigarette. All for herself. And it shuts her up enough not to push it. 

Don’t know if I like when she’s happy or not. Kinda makes me feel sick so I try not to think about it. Dunno. Whatever. Don’t got time to think about that shit anyway. S’always somethin’. 

Don’t really even got the time to think about what a shit show the CDC was. Just gotta keep movin’. Guess the plan is Fort Bennet? Don’t know. Don’t care. ‘m just goin’. 

It’s nice to be back on a bike again. Can’t feel nothin’ but the vibrating underneath me and the air in my face. Can’t hear nothin’ but the engine. By myself. Like all this shit hasn’t happened…

No use in thinkin’ ‘bout it that way, though. Has happened. And I ain’t gonna be one of those sorry sacks that wants to pretend shit ain’t the way it is. That’s one thing I like Beatle for. She don’t pretend shits gonna go back. Don’t miss nothin’, ain’t lookin’ for no one. Far as I see it, she’s happy mostly. Guess it’s easy when someone’s takin’ care of everything for ya. Me. Giving her my smokes and buildin’ fires for my damn self, thinkin’ everything tha’s mine is hers. It ain’t. 

Other people makin’ plans. Other people findin’ shelter. Other peoples food. 

Too many people in this group ain’t pullin’ their own weight. It’s gonna catch up sooner or later. Beatle’s a weak player. Can’t decide if I should help her out or not. Can’t decide if I should protect her or not. Cuz she don’t want it, she don’t think she needs it. But she’s gonna need it. Sooner or later. 

Cuz I know I hate her and all that. Dumb fuckin’ bitch for sure. But after what happened at the CDC? Thought we were gonna die. Thought she was gonna die. Fuck. I’unno. Guess I felt somethin’. 

I’m in between knowin’ it and hatin’ it. It can be both right? Cuz it’s definitely both. One more thing I gotta care about. Real fuckin’ stupid. 

We’re only on the road a few hours before shit blows. Literally. Dales radiator. Good ‘n done. Then more bullshit happens but ain’t that the way shit is now?

A whole herd of ‘em come through and everyone’s fine. Andrea’s havin’ a panic attack ‘bout the geek that almost ate ‘er, Carol’s kid run off into the woods, and T-Dog’s all but bled out. But to me? Basically fine. No one’s dead or nothin’. 

Don’t know where Beatle was when the herd came. But she’s fine too, and any worryin’ I’d been doin was a waste of fuckin’ time. Not gonna waste any more of it bein’ mad I was worried in the first place. That I couldn’t think ‘bout anything else. Just images of her stupid happy face gettin’ ripped apart. Guess I care now. At least ‘bout her not bein’ dead. ‘Bout her bein’ here.

She’s standin’ outside the RV with me, sharing a cigarette cuz I don’t know how else to tell her I’m glad she’s alive. Can’t stop lookin’ at her. She’s either ignoring my staring or pretendin’ I ain’t doin’ it, and ‘m grateful. Don’t wanna talk ‘bout that shit. Just wanna look at her, and fix all those images in my head. Her face still happy and perfect and smilin’ at me like it wasn’t bein’ eaten by monsters a few minutes ago. 

I feel sick. Somethin’… different. 

“Can I just hug you, please?” She asks like she’s been waitin’ to say it. 

“Why?” I squint at her, dragging the smoke. Kinda want to - kinda mad she asked instead of just doin’ it, “Since when do you ask permi-“ I’m cut off by her body wrapped around mine. All four limbs holdin’ on like I’m keepin’ her anchored to the world. 

I hug her back, arms pulled tight around her. Why am I doing this? What the fuck is this? Goin’ fuckin’ soft for some dumb little girl. I can hear Merle laughin’ at me from inside my head, and I drop Beatle back down to the pavement. 

“I’m glad you’re alive.” She says, and I look down at her. Now she’s all covered in the gross shit I’m covered in. She doesn’t seem to care. Doesn’t even seem to notice. 

“Yeah?” I say at her, cuz I don’t know what else to say. Can’t tell her Im glad she’s alive. Can’t give her that. I hugged her back, that’s enough. She should know. 

She nods, smiling that stupid fuckin’ smile that I’m startin’ to like. ‘Fore her face starts wrinklin’ up somethin’ nasty. There it is. She looks at me, then down at herself. “What the fuck, Daryl?” 

Me?! “‘Pleeeease can I hug you, Daryl?’” I mock her. 

“I was worried!! And then you’re alive and okay and I  didn’t have time to look at you covered in guts and shit!” She squeals. I swear she knows it irritates me. I can see her goin’ to punch me in the arm so I let her, then pull her into another hug. 

Grabbin’ at her head to bring it close to my chest, covered in week old decaying monster meat, “C’mon, Beatle. Gimme a hug!” She’s tryin’ to fight it but ‘m stronger. 

She bends her knees and slips down and out of my arms. The blood on my hands making her too slippery to hold onto. She starts runnin’. I run after her til we get to the side of the road and she tries to hide underneath the trunk of a car crashed into the rail. 

Maybe this ain’t the time for fuckin’ around, but it don’t matter. Not when I finally got her cornered. The look of fear in her eyes does somethin’ to me. Not real fear.  Naw, cuz she’s smilin’. Cuz she’s laughin’. Just excited that we’re both still breathing. Still, smile on her face and laugh in her throat, she’s cowering beneath a cars trunk, beggin’ me to stop. The beggin’s doin’ somethin’ to me too. Fuck. 

I pick her up, slingin’ her over my shoulder, she yelps. Don’t she know how this shit works yet? “Fuckin’ quiet, Beatle. Dumb bitch.” I slap her ass once and she fuckin’ yelps again. “Wha’ did I just say?” And I slap her ass again. This time she’s quiet. 

Shit, that worked? Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. My dicks hard. 

I’unno if it’s cuz I never carried a girl over my shoulder like this, cuz I spanked her couple times, or cuz she listened. My dick gets even harder and I realize it’s definitely fuckin’ all of it. But mostly that she listened when I told her what to do. Maybe I should tell her what to do more often. Fuck. ‘m not helpin’ myself, or my problem, at all. 

I dip my head down to smell the sick I’m covered in to make it go away. It works. Even with her ass next to my face. So close I could bite it. For fucks sake. I put her down but she doesn’t run away this time. We walk slowly back to the group. Not sayin’ nothin’. Me, cuz I’m trying to focus on the smell of rotten flesh and definitely not Beatle beggin’ me to stop. Definitely not about what her face looked like when she felt my hand on her ass.  

Wonder if she’s quiet cuz she’s thinkin’ about it too.

 Wondering what she’s thinkin’ about and tryin’ to will away a stiffy. Fuck this fuckin’ high school bullshit. Like she reads my mind, I feel her needy little fingers snake into my hand. For a second I think maybe I’m smokin’ a cigarette I don’t remember havin’ but ‘m not. She’s just tryin’ to hold my hand. 

At first it feels nice, and then I feel sick again. Too many questions unanswered. Too much shit that’s already happened. Can’t trust her. So I shake her hand off, “Stop.” 

“Fine. Fuck you.” She stomps away and back into the RV. I’unno what the fuck’s wrong with me that it makes me smile. Do I like when she’s happy? Shit, I dunno. If I did, wouldn’t I not like it when she’s upset? So why does her being mad at me do it for me too? 

✨🏹

Whatever. 

She comes with me to go look for Sophia. Andrea stood up like she was gonna come too, but once Beatle and I are standin’ next to the RV Andrea doesn’t follow us out.

 We don’t stray too far from the road. It’s dark, and mostly just came out here to help ease Carol’s mind. ‘m definitely goin’ soft. But I’unno. Hurts to watch people lose stuff. Their families. Hurts to watch people hurt. 

Gonna hurt Beatle in a fuckin’ second if she doesn’t shut the fuck up. We’re walkin’ through the woods. At night. She’s gotta know this shit by now. “Beatle, keep your fuckin’ voice down. Please.” Did I just say please? Fuck me. 

“Did you just say ‘please’?” Fuck. Me. 

“Shut up.” 

“Don’t think I know how.” 

“Yeah, no shit.” She laughs, and it makes me smile. And that makes me feel sick to my stomach. Again. 

Her voice cuts through while I’m makin’ myself even sicker thinkin’ about it, “You wanna play another game?”

My eyebrows raise in her direction, “Yeah, that went real well for ya last time.” 

“Nevermind.” Her face falters and she crosses her arms across her chest. 

“What, you don’t wanna get half naked and cry again?” And for fuckin’ once I wish Beatle had somethin’ to say back. Some smartass shit that isn’t even funny but she definitely means it to be. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t say anything. She just lets my question hang in the fuckin’ air and suffocate me. Cuz now I’m thinkin’ about her half naked and crying and my fuckin dicks hard again. What is this shit? Rock hard cock every time I pick on her now? ‘m not gonna be able to do this. She’s gonna notice. Where the fuck is a guy supposed to jerk off and relieve some of this shit? 

On her fuckin’ face.

Shit.

She’s been quiet for too long and my brain won’t stop. It’s just getting worse. Images of her now, her face covered in my cum, her lips humming together making little bubbles with it, smiling. Shit. 

Beatle, say something. Anything.

“How big’s your dick?” Not. Fucking. That. 

She listens… right? She wants it, right? Why else would she ask that? Now, when it’s just the two of us out in the woods in the dark. She wants me to show her. 

So show her.

“Beatle.” My voice is low, barely there. Just a rasp of a word. 

She turns around, ready to explain herself before she even looks at me, “I-“ 

“C’mere.” If I don’t cut her off she’s gonna say she was just jokin’ but we both know she ain’t jokin’. She wants ta know. So she’s gonna know. 

Feel like I can see her blushin’ in the moonlight as she walks toward me, even though I can’t. Just know she is. Smile on her face like I ain’t about to wipe it off with my cock. Shit, hard as a fuckin’ rock right now. I rub my palm over the length of it, and I watch her eyes follow my arm down. Watch ‘em get bigger, wide and nervous, and it makes my dick twitch against my jeans. I pull out a smoke and light one, for a second I see a disappointment in her face, thinkin’ maybe I’d just called her over to share a smoke. Naw. “Down on your knees.” 

And Jesus Christ, does she kneel so fuckin’ fast. She stares straight ahead, and somethin’ comes over me. Can’t wait. Don’t want to. Don’t need to. Beatle does what I ask, at least when it comes to this. Like a good little slut would. That is what she’s good at, ain’t it? 

So maybe it’s a little fucked up that I grab her head and force her against the rough fabric of my jeans. Pushing my cock into her cheek as hard as I fuckin’ can. Holding her by the hair and rubbing her face on me. 

But this little bitch moans. At first I wasn’t sure, but she keeps fuckin’ moaning. She likes this. Somethin’ close to a laugh escapes my throat, past the cigarette between my lips. I take it with my fingers, letting one hand go from her head, the other hand pulls her back to look up at me. Her expression absolutely blown. She just looks at me for a second, before putting her face back on my cock on her own. It’s not the same amount of pressure but it still feels fuckin’ good. And somethin’ about her doin’ it on her own. Like she can’t fuckin’ help it. Like she needs it. 

She’s starts to lick at the fabric right where my head is and my dick spasms again at the sight of it. This time she can feel it underneath her mouth. She smiles up at me, smirkin’ down at her. Putting the cigarette in my mouth, I drag it, before bringing it down to her lips. A little reward for listening. 

She drags it once and I drop it on the ground. Beatle says “Thank you.” In the smallest voice I ever heard come out of her mouth. Fuck. I could fall in love with this Beatle. It’s just your dick talkin’ Dar, don’t get crazy. 

I grunt a laugh and start to unbuckle my belt. Unbutton my pants. Barely have my cock in my hand ‘fore her mouths around it. I pull her back by her hair, sharply. She winces in pain and reaches up to her head where I’m holdin’ on. Her eyes shoot up to look at me. 

God, fuck, what I wouldn’t give to have that image burned in my brain for the rest of my life. Her face, all discomfort and contempt because I won’t let her touch me. Like she’s fuckin’ dying for it. “Nah, keep your mouth shut Beatle. Gotta learn ta do what yer told.” 

She nods, and closes her lips. Looking from my eyes back down my body again. I lean back, takin’ myself in my hand and pressing my cock into her face. 

For a while I just rub myself all over, letting her feel the weight of it. Letting her know just how big it really fuckin’ is. Lifting it off her face and smackin’ her cheeks. Makin’ her flinch, her eyes squish closed but I press my hard cock against her eye and push up forcing her eyelid open. Fuck. I do the same thing with her lips. Smushing and rubbing the head of it into her lips to open them, I fuck against her mouth for a second. Beatles groaning and moaning but she doesn’t open her mouth. Somethin’ about it makes me need to cum. Now. No more fuckin’ around. “Open up.” 

She does. I spit into her open mouth, and she moans again, without swallowing it. Like a good slut. “Fuck, Beatle. Shit. Now stick your tongue out.” 

She does. I can see my spit falling off her tongue and I quickly catch it with my cock, before smearing as much of the slick spit from her mouth onto me. Taking myself from the base, holding hard to cut off the circulation. Always feels better when I do that. Rubbin her tongue with my cock til I can’t fuckin take it anymore. I’m about to fuckin’  cum. I pull away for only a second, my breathings all fucked and I can barely speak, “Close yer mouth.” She looks confused for a second but closes her mouth. Good. Was about to smack her. 

My left hand finds a place on the back of her head again, gripping into her hair to hold her in place. I push my hips forward and put the whole length across her face. My other hand pressing myself down into her from above her. And I fuck myself on her face. Grunting and sloppy and desperate to cum. Never done this before, shit, does anyone do this? But fuck, it’s so fuckin’ hot. Her lips and her cheeks and her eyelids and her nose all squished and being fuckin’ ruined by my cock. Shit.  Fuck. 

Right as I’m about to cum I put both hands around her head and hump her face like… I don’t even know. I feel fuckin’ insane, but she’s still moaning at the feeling of being used. Not even in a way that should be enjoyable to her. 

I don’t think I’ve ever cum that much in my whole fuckin’ life. Most of it ends up in Beatle’s hair, but there’s still a whole lot of it on her face. I mess with it for a second. Swirling my puffy post-nut dick in it before I get oversensitive. 

I put myself away, and sit down on the ground next to Beatle. Still in the exact same position. I let her kneel there, don’t tell her she can move or nothin’. Guess that’s why she doesn’t. Don’t think she can open her eyes either. S’funny. 

Relighting the short I’d dropped to the ground, I pull a bandana from my pocket. “Is it big, Beatle?” I ask her while I wipe only her mouth off, and put the cigarette between her lips. 

She sucks on the filter, and smiles. “Yep.”

Eventually I wipe off her eyes too. Can’t do anything about her hair though, so I promise to find her a hat from one of the cars on the walk back. 

And I don’t let myself think about what this might mean. Who cares? I don’t. Don’t think Beatle does neither. We’re just goin’. 

pt 5

A/N: Yeah okay,  I know. Daryl’s all back and forth. Does he not give a shit about Merle and Beatle? Does he know deep down they never did anything together? Or maybe he just wasn’t thinking about it at the time? He’s confused, guys. He also really doesn’t have all the information (Eventually he’s gonna ask but first we have to deal with Sophia. Sorry. I don’t want to either.)

[graciehatesgracie]

shirley fucking bennet carried the show I don't care what u bitches say she's underrated asf and nobody can tell me otherwise

[renewedmotionforjudgment]

Meta (sort of): the use of historical settings to tell contemporary stories

So I was listening to an episode of the Fated Mates podcast (highly recommended, if you read romance novels), and there was one insight about how authors use historical settings as a way to process feelings contemporary events. For example (per the podcast), Judith McNaught wrote the Kingdom of Dreams, a romance novel set in medieval England, about a hero who is tired of the war, as a way for the author to process her feelings about the Vietnam war.

And I thought that was fascinating, because as much as I enjoy a true historical drama (which is really, a drama about historical figures acting in historical ways and reacting to historical events), I do love the use of historical setting as a way tell contemporary stories. Most because you can place your characters in higher stakes in a historical setting the way that you just can't in a contemporary. The loss of reputation, for example, or social standing, carries a different meaning in fictional ancient China or fictional regency England.

(side note, this is why no modern adaption of Jane Austen novels never truly worked for me. And I include the Lizzie Bennet Diaries. Simply because the stakes in 21st century are so different from regency England, that Lydia running away with Wickham just don't carry the same stake and implication.)

This brings me back to my most recent brain rot, the Princess Royal. I was rewatching certain scenes, and it made me think -- I think it’s a drama that explored how people achieve career success at the cost of emotional growth. The use of the ancient setting, however, is to amplify emotions and raise the stakes.

At the start of the drama, we are introduced to Pei Wenxuan and Li Rong at the "height" of their career success, but it is obvious from their initial scene that both of them are unhappy.

There is then this specific internal monologue from Pei Wenxuan:

I will say, I don’t love the Youku translation. Because the OG Chinese is 没有辜负朝堂，没有辜负百姓, the direct translation of which would be “I didn’t fail the court, I didn’t fail the people.”

And then leading up to Li Rong and Pei Wenxuan’s biggest argument in their second life:

I love a scheming Pei Wenxuan and he does plenty for Li Rong’s sake. But what is interesting is that he really is truly not interested in career advancement. He had it , but as he told Li Rong, this is what he remembered before he died:

It’s the adage, “no one on their deathbed wished they worked more.” That said, the historical setting raises the stakes of Pei Wenxuan essentially quiet quitting in that second life.

Having experience career burnout, what hit home for me as I’m watching them exploring emotional growth is that their journey asks the very contemporary question: what is success, what is the cost of success, and why career success is not all it’s cracked out to be.

(As a side note, it is not at all incongruent to me that they are successful people who bicker like children. I’m an attorney who works with a lot of professionals, and well, pettiness and career achievement is not a correlation. Sometimes I almost think there’s a group of us who was so focused on academic and career success that we end up being emotional messes because we never spent time learning how to process emotions in a healthy way. But that’s just my lawyer talk.)

Next up, when my brain is less fried, Li Rong.

[aplaceinme]

Clumsy 'Cause I'm Falling in Love - A Buck/Tommy ficlet

For most of his life, Tommy has always presented himself as a confident, smooth, and suave guy. It all started with his dad, who always talked about what it meant to be a ‘man’, a ‘macho man’. From then on, it continued in High School and joining the football team, it carried on at joining the army, and all the way to the LAFD. 

Back then, through all those years, it had all been an act. A role that he had to play to be accepted, or to at least, not be noticed. He wasn’t proud to say that it was a role that came easy and that he played very well. 

It wasn’t until he transferred to harbor that, for the first time in his life, he allowed himself the chance to truly be himself. Surprisingly, accepting himself and feeling free of all the supposed mandates of how he was supposed to be, ended up with him feeling confident for real. 

His confidence, his smoothness, his ability to flirt and be suave, continued, but this time it wasn’t a role or an act. It was real, it was who he was. And he always enjoyed leaving his dates speechless and breathless. 

He should have known that one day, one person, would change that. And that person was one Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley. 

At first, it started quite small. He was in the break room with his team, chatting and waiting for a call. His phone, which was on the table, vibrated with a message. As soon as he saw the name “Evan”, he grabbed it quickly and opened the message (he might or might have not waiting, perhaps even hoping for a message, but he would deny it if asked). Evan had sent him a selfie of him in his turnouts with a puppy that was dirty with soot. 

Tommy couldn't stop looking at the picture, at the smile on Buck’s face, the way his eyes seemed to be shining brightly, and how small the puppy looked in his big arms. He had been so mesmerized by the picture that the vibration of getting another message, jolted him completely. It was another message from Buck, and as Tommy tried to quickly turn back to the messages, he fumbled with the phone and it dropped to the floor, shattering the screen. 

Tommy sighed in frustration but didn’t think much about it, after all, he wasn’t one for being clumsy… 

The second time it happened was on a date night. Tommy had gone all out: he had music playing, a playlist specially curated with the greatest (Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, Tony Bennet, Nat King Cole); he had made sure that the lights weren’t that bright, in what could be considered ‘romantic’ lighting; he was dressed to the nines; and he was cooking his best dish. He had perfected the recipe through all the years, and he could make it perfectly even with his eyes closed. He was going to rock Evan’s world. 

When Buck arrived at his place, Tommy was left speechless, he was absolutely gorgeous. Tommy forced himself to focus and made him sit by the kitchen island, while he carried on cooking, trying to woo him with his skills. What happened instead was that Buck popped open the wine, and Tommy got distracted while watching his arms flex. That meant that he ended up adding more salt than was necessary to the sauce. Swearing under his breath, he grabbed some more tomatoes to add to it, trying to salvage the sauce. As he was chopping the tomatoes, he once again got distracted by Buck. This time it was because he was drinking the wine, exposing his delicious and long neck. Tommy’s hand slipped and he accidentally cut one of his fingers. Running to the sink, he opened the water and watched the small wound. Buck appeared next to him and helped him with it, softly grabbing his hand and slowly drying it. Buck kissed it better and he was so adorable that Tommy leaned in and kissed him, tender at first but soon it became hard and hungry. The smell of burnt food was the only that made them stop. As Buck ordered them some take out, Tommy was left feeling embarrassed and wondering what was happening to him. 

The third time took place after the ruined date (according to Tommy, but if you asked Buck, he would say that the date had been perfect). Tommy decided to surprise him on shift by bringing him coffee from Buck’s favourite coffee place and a vanilla custard croissant from that new trendy place that had people waiting in lines outside the bakery. 

As he walked through the 118, Tommy found Evan in the gym area doing some crunches with weights, and he sure was a sight for sore eyes. Tommy didn’t know where to look, it was all tempting, from his thighs, arms, and abs, to that drop of sweat that was falling from his neck to his collarbones. Once again distracted, Tommy failed to notice the hose that was on the floor waiting to be dealt with, and he tripped over it. Somehow he managed not to fall and to save the coffee, but the little box with the croissant ended up on the floor. Seeing that the custard splattered all over the box, Tommy sighed in exasperation with himself. Laughing from nearby made him look to the side, and there Hen and Chim were. Feeling a blush creeping up his neck, he chose to ignore them and looked back at Evan, who was making his way to him, smiling brightly. 

As Buck told him that this was a nice surprise and that it didn’t matter that the croissant was a little crushed, he loved it anyway, Tommy realized that falling for one Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley was turning him into a clumsy, tripping, stumbling, flipping, and fumbling mess.

Letting himself be led up to the loft to share the croissant with Evan’s hand holding his, Tommy couldn’t help but think that he wouldn’t change anything about it. As long as he got to be in a relationship with Evan, he had no problem in continuing to be a mess.