#dun dun dun indeed

[socialitesleuth]

"This is Britain." Penelope contemplates, though even she isn't entirely convinced by her own conclusion herself. "The weather can change here at the drop of a hat."

She eyes up the downpour through the windows. It's becoming heavier with each passing minute. The pellets of water hit the glass loudly and Penelope wonders for a moment if the rain has since turned to hail. Sure, British weather could be unpredictable, but John was right to express his concerns.

This didn't seem normal.

A quick thought of the local farmers and landowners distracts her momentarily. With such a heavy storm, and with it occurring so suddenly, flooding was all the more likely. Penelope makes a mental memo to check in with the locals once the situation has cleared. Depending on the scale of destruction, perhaps she and Parker could be of some assistance.

"Then again," she reconsiders, with her attention fully back to the present situation, "when you put your suspicions like that, it is rather alarming."

Penelope could remember the problems that had been caused by Fishler with his out-of-control drones. Despite the chaos that had ensued, the man hadn't been trying to wreak havoc.

While she doubted Fischler would be fool enough to try that experiment again, she didn't rule him out entirely. The self-proclaimed visionary was always one best kept on watch.

But if this freak storm was indeed due to some sort of interference, and it wasn't caused by Fishler, then who? Was this the result of another science experiment gone wrong, or was there something more sinister at play? If someone was deliberately causing such a storm with malicious intentions...

Penelope cast the theories and questions from her mind and smiles cheerily, undisturbed as the howling gale outside rages on.

"At least the report on the manor is a relief. Parker will be thrilled to hear there isn't much to worry about there."

She'll save the news for later, however; she doesn't want to remind him of the worry he'd had.

Her manicured nails, pristine and unchipped, swipe John's image to one side of her device before pulling up a secondary image. She processes the guest-list, making a couple of quick adjustments before sending the file over. "There, I've sent you the finalised version. The ones ticked off are those who are accounted for. The rest... I do hope they've managed to find shelter."

The dimly glowing lights from the chandelier flicker. A few of the guests, still shaken by the storm, gasp. Thank goodness the Creighton-Ward Manor has a fair few backup generators. An evening trapped inside in the dark wasn't a promising prospect for anyone.

"Thank you, John." Penelope isn't sure she's vocalises her gratitude yet. "For the warning, and for the assistance."

Garden Party Gale [RP]

@socialitesleuth:

Stressed is not a word that Penelope's vocabulary is overly familiar with. She's the epitome of the quaint and oft-overused British saying of Keep Calm and Carry On. Years of handling situations that were less than ideal meant that Penelope had an astute ability to remain unfazed by sudden predicaments. Such as this one. Calm and collected, her mind is already attempting to solve a compendium of possible conundrums, solutions to various problems that could occur should the storm become anymore worrisome. She's unflinching as the manor begins to take a battering from the gale, nonplussed when the hears a scream echo from the entryway down the hall. Utterly composed. After all, panicking never helped anyone resolve anything. "Flying gazebos, you say?" Penelope can't let that comment slip by. As she leaves her position by the window, her lips curve into an amused little grin. She directs it at the little figure hovering in the the centre of her faux cosmetic compact. "Don't be saying things like that around our dear friend Fischler. I'm sure he'd find the concept absolutely splendid!" She, like John, did not. The imagery of out-of-control tents soaring haphazardly through the skies is enough to have her hurrying along the hallway, towards the entrance. The corridor acts like a wind tunnel. The closer she gets to the open entrance, the stronger the draught is. Penelope fights against the gusts, raising her voice slightly to be heard over the whistling gale. "I believe this particular event was to have upwards of fifty in attendance. It's not one of my biggest events of the year, I'm pleased to report, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried about anyone who might still be travelling getting caught up in this storm." Howling, strong breezes rattle through the open doorway. Parker is already there, standing stalwart with a white knuckle grip on the cast-iron handles. He's ushering in the guests, offering up a hand to the slightly older couple who are straggling behind the rest. To describe the group as windswept would be an understatement; even their clothes are lopsided from their brief tussle with the storm. A quick headcount has them at fifteen and, without hesitation, Penelope guides them all through to one of the manor's many libraries. Normally this is one that remains closed to the public. Old texts and unique editions are housed in there, usually off-limits to any possible prying eyes, but Penelope makes an exception to the rules. Out in the corridor, the thump of the large outer doors being closed reverberates through to them and Parker appears moments later. "Cor, blimey!" He says. "Ain't seen a storm this bad for donkey's years. Everyone h'alright?" He attends to the guests, assessing and checking on each and every one in turn. Leaving them in Parker's capable hands, Penelope takes a seat on an Ottoman on the other side of the library. Her shoulders are slightly hunched but she still sounds as composed as she was when she first picked up John's call. "Worry not, we've taken shelter in the West Wing. No-one appears injured, just a little shaken up. Understandable, given the circumstances." The wind's howls sound more like roars in the rafters above. Rain continues to pelt against the windows, turning the visibility to effectively zero. If the grey clouds had sunk down to ground level, no-one inside the manor would have known; it all looked grey and opaque outside now. A sudden crash occurs from somewhere outside and a few of the guests jump out of their skin. Even Parker seems to wince at the sound. "Any idea how long this storm is going to last, John?"

"Uh-huh." A muscle under one of his eyes twitches a little, aware he's being teased about the gazebo thing, but, professional as ever, John doesn't comment on it... still, he doesn't think she's going to let that one go easily.

He does finds the mention of Fishler suddenly unsettling though.

"You know..." Something uncomfortable dawns on the astronaut, "I haven't been able to work out why there was no reference to this storm in local meteorological predictions." His frown deepens, "The first mention was the Amber Alert that Thunderbird Five flagged less than five minutes ago." And the whole thing had not only come out of nowhere, but it's weirdly localised over to the South East of London and Northern Kent. "Why," He postulates, mostly to himself, "would no one have seen a force ten gale coming?"

Except, John has seen sudden, unpredictable atmospheric conditions like this once before, with Fishler and his weather drones. He's developing a very bad feeling about this.

"Eos?" He calls up to her, somewhere offscreen, "Can you run me a scan for any large, metal anomalies in the airspace around South East London? Calibrate it for anything receiving electrical signals."

"FAB John." She chirps, her voice routed into the narrowband Commline so that Penelope can hear her too, "Here is your structural report."

Eos cascades the requested information into his hands and John's relived to find the East Wing is in better shape than it had looked.

"You've got a dormer and a couple of chimneys that might need repair come morning." He reports, "But the foundation analysis is looking good." Which is impressive for a building the age of the Creighton-Ward mansion. "Forward me your guest list?" John requests, "I'll run check-ins for you with anyone unaccounted for."

It's lucky he's a master of multitasking. The crash-bang outside the manor doesn't even seem to phase him.

"I'm no meteorologist," John tells her, "but, I'd expect a storm like this to last at least overnight, though if that windspeed drops, the rain could be there longer."

[joshler]

hey so um

every day i wake up and it’s like we’re in 2016/17 all over again 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️ i’m not mad

{art work/cards from the physicals of clancy}

[toomanywordsnllines]

SOME SKETCHBOOK PAGES BE UPON YE! (シ_ _)シ

[ryescapades-archived]

Hi there lovely!! Happy Valentines Day, I’m here as your little Cupid with a letter from your special someone ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭♡︎

I hope you have the best day filled with all the love you deserve ♡(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭

SAM OMG !?^#$%^( HE CALLS ME BEAUTIFUL !!??? AFKWFHSKDKSD I'M BLUSHING AND KICKING MY FEET IN THE AIR ALL THANKS TO THIS AUGH

my dearest cupid oh my lord ilysm for this eeeee i hope your valentines is also as sweet as what you've done for me, AND THEN SOME !! i'm shooting a love beam straight to your house sam beware >:(

[dixons-sunshine]

Risky Business | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: During an evening party organized by Carol, you and Daryl couldn’t help but get a little worked up, your hands constantly finding each other amongst the crowd. So you slipped off, the two of you discreetly finding your way to the bathroom to have your fun—even at the risk of getting caught.

Genre: Smut.

Era: Alexandria, pre Saviour arc.

Warnings: Swearing, porn with the tiniest bit of plot towards the end, quickie, semi public sex? (they do it in someone’s bathroom), risk of getting caught (they don’t), unprotected p in v (wrap it up, guys), creampie, aftercare because of course, mentions of pregnancy.

Word count: 1.7k.

A/N: I’m just gonna leave this here and disappear lol. I really don’t know what possessed me when I got this idea, but I hope it’s enjoyable. Also, massive thanks to @thevegandarkelf for encouraging me to write this (and for help with the summary) 💜.

Laughter and chatter could be heard from the living room. Surprisingly, everyone seemed to be enjoying the small get-together that Carol had planned. The party was in full swing, with no sign of anyone returning to their respective homes anytime soon. It was nice to have an escape from the horrors of a world run by the undead.

However, the pleasantries downstairs were only a vague remembrance in your mind. No offense to Carol’s efforts to make the party fun, but you found what you and Daryl were up to way more enjoyable.

“Hmm,” Daryl hummed against your lips, his mouth moving against yours desperately as his hands gripped at your hips. He pushed you against the sink in the bathroom, your back making contact with the cold marble.

You gently nipped at his lower lip, smiling when he groaned and pressed his body against yours, his growing erection pressing against your thigh. “This is wrong,” you mumbled against his mouth, your hands working at his belt buckle, and then at the buttons of his jeans.

“So wrong,” Daryl agreed, his chapped lips moving down your jaw, trailing hungry, open-mouthed kisses against the skin of your neck, before finally stopping to gently scrape his teeth against the pulse point beneath your ear.

You gasped, leaning your head back to allow him better access to your neck. You pushed his jeans down, just enough to reveal his hard-on that was still covered by the fabric of his boxers. “They’re waiting for us. If they come looking, they might find us like this.”

“They could,” Daryl agreed again, his own hands working to push your pants down as well. “This s’risky. We could get caught.”

Despite the both of you agreeing that what you were doing was, indeed, very risky, neither of you made any effort to stop the other. In fact, as Daryl pushed your underwear down and you stepped out of both your pants and panties, and you helped Daryl push his boxers down to bundle up with his jeans at his knees, sharing looks full of lust, you realized that you would not be able to find it in yourself to stop him.

Daryl’s mouth collided against yours again, his tongue delving deep into your mouth and groaning at the taste. He tapped the side of your leg, signalling for you to jump. You did just that, wrapping your arms around his neck. Daryl caught you, walking—albeit awkwardly, due to his jeans being bundled up by his knees—you away from the sink in favour of holding you up against the wall.

You pulled your lips from his, your mouths being connected by a string of saliva. Daryl’s usual stunning cerulean-coloured eyes were barely visible behind his blown pupils, showing just how desperate he was for you in that moment. He needed you, just like you needed him.

“What are you waiting for?” you asked through panting breaths. “We have maybe ten minutes before someone comes looking. Let’s get to it.”

“Ya sure? We dun’ gotta rush—”

“Daryl, I love you, but please hurry up.”

Daryl chuckled gruffly at your eagerness, but nodded nonetheless. “Yes, ma’am.”

You watched in anticipation as Daryl lined himself up with your entrance, your heart pounding against your ribcage. The archer kept eye contact with you the entire time, not wanting to miss even a second of the beautiful expressions that graced your features as he slowly pushed his cock into you.

The breath got knocked from your lungs as he fully bottomed out. A high-pitched moan escaped your chest at the pleasurable stretch, your nails digging into his leather-covered shoulders. Even after all that time of regularly doing the devil’s tango, you still had to take a moment to get used to the slight sting that accompanied him when he had his dick stuffed all the way inside of you.

Daryl inhaled sharply, his lust-filled eyes meeting yours. “Y’alright?” he questioned. Despite the situation, the archer was more than willing to stop everything if you wanted him to. He would never do anything like this without your go-ahead first.

You took a few seconds to adjust. Once the little bit of pain subsided, you nodded eagerly. “Yeah. Just… Please move,” you begged him, not knowing how long you would be able to be patient with him being immobile.

Daryl took a few deep breaths. “Okay.” Then, he pulled back until only his tip was inside of you, before plunging right back in.

The rhythm started off slow and steady, but Daryl quickly picked up the pace. The two of you were running against the clock. He wanted to ensure that you got off as well, and to do that, he could not waste any time.

“Daryl,” you moaned quietly, right next to his ear, which you knew would always drive him insane. It seemed to work in your favour. Daryl’s hips snapped against yours, the tip of his cock hitting just the right spot. “Oh, fuck!” you gasped out in pleasure, your fingers disappearing into his hair and lightly tugging on his wavy brown roots.

Daryl groaned at the sensation. He smashed his lips against yours, both in an attempt to drown out the beautiful noises you made—which were for his ears only—and the noises you were pulling from him.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your mouth. “You ain’t got—” Thrust. “—no idea—” Thrust. “—how fuckin’—” Another thrust. “—good ya feel.”

“Yeah?” you asked rhetorically, a whine slipping past your lips and being swallowed up by Daryl’s. Your back was moving up and down against the cold tiles of the wall with each of his thrusts.

“Yeah,” Daryl confirmed with a choked off moan. “You feel like heaven.” He carefully moved one of his arms to your front, ensuring you did not fall, before pressing his calloused thumb against your sensitive bundle of nerves and moving it in time with the pace of his hips.

“Shit! Oh, shit! Daryl, fuck!” You were trying really hard to keep quiet, but Daryl was making it damn near impossible. You lowered your head and pressed your face into his shoulder, muffling your moans with the leather of his vest. You could feel the knot in your stomach start to tighten, and some far-off piece of your mind was impressed by it. Never before had you been close so fast before. Daryl truly was the best partner you ever had.

“Close.” That’s all you managed to get out. Any other words would fall short.

Daryl could feel himself getting close as well. In fact, he was tapering on the edge of bliss. He grit his teeth together and upped his game. He was determined to make you finish first. His thumb pressed against your clit the tiniest bit harder, and his thrusts became more precise, more firm, hitting that one delicious spot inside you each time.

Before you could even fully process what was happening, you could feel the knot in your stomach snap. You came undone with a shout, that was drowned out by Daryl’s mouth against yours, waves and waves of pleasure washing through your body.

The clenching of your walls around his dick sent Daryl toppling over the edge. His hips stuttered and his pace wavered immensely as he spilled his seed deep inside of you, barely registering that he had intended to pull out like he always did. He leaned his forehead against yours, sweat dribbling down his temples.

The two of you said and did nothing for a good thirty seconds. You both simply stayed there in each other’s embrace, each catching your breaths as the intensity of the moment washed away, instead being replaced by reality.

Daryl was the first to move away. He pulled his cock out of you and pulled his boxers and jeans back up, before leaning over to grab a washcloth. He wet it and crouched down, gently cleaning you of both your juices and his.

And his.

“Fuck, m’so sorry!” Daryl apologized, his eyes widening at the realization of what line he had crossed.

His apology took you off guard. “What? Why are you sorry? What’s wrong?”

Daryl looked down and continued his task of cleaning you up, his cheeks burning in embarrassment of the admission he was about to make. “I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t pull out.”

Oh, you thought to yourself, relieved that it wasn’t something more serious. Despite his heartfelt apology, you could not help the small laugh that escaped your chest, finding him rather adorable in that moment for reasons even you could not put names on.

Daryl frowned at that, standing up from his crouched position. “What’s so funny?”

You shook your head as you smiled at him. “Nothing.” You reached down and reached for your discarded clothes, getting re-dressed into your panties and trousers. “You don’t have to be sorry, Daryl. I’m not mad.”

Daryl visibly relaxed at that. “You ain’t?”

You shook your head and looped your arms around his neck. “Not at all. It was bound to happen eventually. Besides, “worst” case scenario is that we have a little you running around in nine months. I don’t hate the sound of that.”

Daryl felt his heart speed up. You wouldn’t mind giving him a child? Starting a family with him? That made him happier than he would like to admit.

His hands came to rest on your hips. “Pretty sure the baby ain’t gon’ be able to run when they’re jus’ born, Sweetheart. Ain’t gon’ be able to do no runnin’ in nine months.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed. “You know I didn’t mean it literally.”

“Yeah, I—”

“Has anyone seen Daryl?”

The sound of Rick’s voice from somewhere in the home cut the archer off. You chuckled and withdrew from his hold, instead offering your hand to him.

“Come on. They noticed you are gone. It’s only a matter of time before they realize I’m gone, too.”

“And what if they question us comin’ back to the party together?” Daryl inquired, but took your hand in his nonetheless and allowed you to lead him from the bathroom.

You shrugged nonchalantly. “I haven’t gotten that far yet.”

Daryl huffed a small laugh. “You’re somethin’ else, y’know that?”

“I am choosing to see that as a compliment.”

[pituchini]

HESSO CUTE

Happy 10th birthday Fairly Local

[whereishoney]

i like my scars grey

the promised scars from august. not very consistent because i was still figuring out how to draw his damnnn face!! but that's okay

another scar (also shirtless so beware?) under cut

this one is actually a bit older by a few days but i forgot his scars so.. he goes here. sorry scar. for forgetting your namesake. the first one also is missing a couple of the scars i added to the scarland one but its coz i added those on the fly thinking, man, scar needs more scars, dun' 'e... he does... so pretend he has some lines on his hand and arm and smth

anyway you can see the colours are a teeeny bit different, i ended up liking the top ones more because the bottom ones, while good, could get overwhelming and very orange? at least on my monitor. and also the eye colour is tooooo much imo. though i do like his facial hair more now that i look at it.. i mean it was very much intended as like a, ohh just woke uppp, late morninggg kind of moment yaknow. not that you can see that from the crop but i can see it

now colour, speaking of, oh my fucking days, everything looks SO DFIFFERENT ON MY PHONE THAN ON MY COMPUTER. IT'S SO ANNOYING i don't know what's real.. or what people see. pensive emoji

the reason i'm posting these is to fill up my scar portfolio lmao here he is!! i'm learning him and getting to a place where i'm happy with him, yes indeed

a lot of my art recently has just been this kind of stuff but yaknow im practising i wont be ashamed

emjoyy

[livingdeadblondequeen]

Off Script Feelings

Pairing:  Norman Reedus x Female!Reader

Word Count: 4453

Warnings: RPF, This is a work of fiction.

Summary: Something happens between you and your friend Norman that changes things.

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated.

Dedicated to: @minervadashwood & @littlegodzilla

‘If he was Rick, ya’d done the same thang.’

Erin shook her head, ‘No, because Rick wouldn’t treat me like Merle treats you.’

‘Ya don’t know nothan’’ Daryl snapped. 

‘I know Merle was the one that took me, Glen, and Maggie, back to that psycho as some kind of peace offering knowing what he was like. How could you go with him after that?’

‘Merle is my family, my blood. He’s all I got.” 

‘No, you got us. After everything, we’re family too.’ Erin pleaded. 

‘Nah, that’s Rick, and, Carl, and the baby. I’m just a tagalong ya’ll keep round to hunt n’ stuff.’

‘Then why’d you come back?’

‘I dun know!’ Daryl raged. 

“And Cut! That’s a wrap!”

You watched as all the anger and frustration vanished from your costar’s face, replaced with his concerned eyes and a small smile before he stepped forward to envelop you in his arms. You buried your face in his broad chest and took the comfort he offered you. “Sorry, sorry. Was it too much?”

“No, it was good, it just felt a little too real is all,” You explained as you pulled back and looked up at him. “Sometimes you’re just too good of an actor Norman.”

“Nah, just good at being an asshole,” Norman replied with a laugh as he kept his arm around your shoulder.

You laughed along with him, thinking of one particular instance where he had indeed been a bit of an asshole or at least you thought he was. It just happened to be the first time they met. 

You had been hired as one of the original cast members of The Walking Dead TV series, to play the younger sister to Andy’s character Rick, Erin Grimes. You had bonded quickly with your onscreen ‘family’ including Jon but also the other cast members so you had been excited to meet another one going into the next episode. 

You had been grabbing something to eat between takes at the crafts table when you heard someone come up behind you. You turned to discover it was Norman Reedus (You’d googled him like you had almost everyone) but before you could introduce yourself, he gave you one look and laughed in your face. You were so thrown off guard and embarrassed that you had stomped away. You couldn’t believe they had hired someone like that and you mentally hoped they killed off his character quickly. 

It wasn’t until a short while later when Sarah pointed out that you had food on your face that you knew that was why Norman had laughed at you. Your anger dissipated, replaced with embarrassment. The next time you saw Norman, the two of you talked about what happened and your friendship had begun. Now a few years later, the two of you were thick as thieves. 

“Let’s go out tonight, and grab some food and drinks,” Norman suggested as he guided the two of you off the set and towards your waiting trailers. “Nothing shakes off the day like shots.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at his suggestion. They usually used shots as the cure for anything, though sometimes that led them to more trouble. “While I like the idea, I am not up for going out. Today took a lot out of me.”

“We’ll stay in then.” He said with a shrug. 

“No, you don’t have to do that.” You said as you shook your head. You didn’t want to ruin his night. “Go out with the others and enjoy yourself.”

“I don’t know of anyone going out tonight,” Norman replied simply while rubbing a finger along his bottom lip and you knew he was coming up with something. “How about we go to my place? I’ll even cook if there is nothing we want to order and I have plenty of liquor. You can crash overnight if you need to.”

You were close to declining his offer when you thought better of it. While being out with a bunch of people didn’t sound appealing, neither did being home alone. “How can I say no to that offer?”

Norman smiled that beautiful smile that made the fan girls melt at you and you felt your heart beat a little faster, your stomach do a little flip, and another part of your anatomy grow in warmth. You couldn’t help it. Norman may be a close friend, but what you felt for him wasn’t just friendship. You knew it was more yet you did your best to not show it. You didn’t want to ruin things between you so you did not admit how you felt.

The two of you talked over the details before you decided that showering at his house would be better than your trailers. So you changed out of your costume, grabbed your bag, said goodbye to the rest of the cast and crew before you followed Norman’s bike to his house in your car. 

Showering at Norman’s or one of the cast’s places wasn’t new. It happened more than most people would think. It came in handy given that the cast hung out a lot together after their days were done so you needed no direction to the guests’ bathroom at Norman’s house. This was good considering his cat distracted him when they walked in the door. The powerful pressure and hot water felt wonderful on your skin as it washed away the dirt and makeup from the day. You became so relaxed that you stayed under the water longer than you meant to, so you quickly shut off the shower. 

Dressed in yoga pants and a T-shirt, you headed towards the music playing in the living room to look for Norman. It only took a moment to find him in his kitchen, phone to his ear, talking to someone while cooking. From what you could see by the ingredients, he was making one of your favorite dishes. 

You took a moment to look him over. His hair was still slightly damp so you knew he must have showered before he dressed in a dark pair of lounge pants and a plain white T-shirt with no socks, perfect for a night in. When he caught sight of you, he motioned to the beer he was drinking from then the fridge where you knew cold beer was waiting for you.

Not wanting to eavesdrop on his call, you took your drink to the couch to relax. You were so focused on the game on your phone that you didn’t hear Norman approach you until a plate of food suddenly appeared. It smelled delicious and you could barely contain a moan. “You’re a Saint.”

“Aye lass,” Norman replied in his Murphy accent as he winked while you laughed. Along with the food, he had brought another round of beers that he sat down before taking a spot next to you, close enough that the lengths of your legs were touching. 

As you ate, you listened to Norman as he told a story about something that had recently happened during his last trip to New York, as always surprised that he didn’t end up wearing half of his food as he did so. Norman always talked so animatedly that people teased that you watched him talk versus listening. It was like having dinner and a show. You had just finished the second beer when the topic of your conversation turned towards work and the scenes you had been filming. 

“After what we shot today, it looks like the writers are planning on something happening with Daryl and Erin,” Norman commented as he looked at you as if he needed confirmation. 

“Yeah.” You nodded in agreement. During season one, there was a scene between their two characters when the gang was at the CDC that got the fans speculating that there could be something more between the archer and the sheriff’s sister. The idea grew after season two aired and they shared more scenes on the farm and the search for Sophia. People ‘shipped’ them, they said they enjoyed watching Daryl’s interactions with Erin as well as his friendship with Carol. It had been talked about quite a bit at the conventions they had been to, though not all of Daryl’s fans were on board. “Or at least the seeds of it, see if the fans really want it. Drag it out as a slow burn.”

“What?” Norman asked confused. 

“Slow burn, it’s a well-known romance trope, where the writers take a long time to get a couple together.” You explained.

“Ah, I defer to the expert.” He said with a smile. It was well-known on set that you read a lot on set between takes, most of them being some type of romance novels. Norman and Andy loved to tease you about the more racy ones you read. 

“Hey!” You replied before smacking his arm. “Not all of us can be the brooding photographer, I need something to keep occupied during the downtime.” 

“Well all you’d have to do is ask and I’d be happy to keep you occupied.” 

Trying not to let Norman’s joke affect you too much, you focused back on the talk of your characters. “IF they get them together, they will actually be doing several troupes; enemies to lovers, best friend’s sister, maybe idiots in love.” 

“Whatever they do, I’m still all for playing Daryl completely lost at what to do,” Norman professed. You had heard him talk about playing Daryl as a stranger to physical relationships, or as he explained it ‘having no game’. “Not like a virgin but damn close. Erin would have to make the first move. I’m sure any time he’s been laid in the past was drunk in an alley or something quick like that.” 

“So Erin would be a seductress?” You asked as your eyebrow raised. 

“Ha, nothing like that. Just like in the moment, she would have to be the one to do anything because Daryl wouldn’t think to do it.” Norman explained. “Say the two of them are really close, physically I mean, and anyone watching would think it is the moment, but Daryl just wouldn’t do it.”

“Hmmm. I can see it.” You agreed. You didn’t know if it was the buzz you were feeling from the beers that gave you the courage to do it or if you had just lost your mind but you shifted around so you were on your knees and brought your face closer to Norman’s. You saw a brief flicker of surprise in his beautiful blue eyes before they turned curious as to what you were doing. 

“What if Daryl did something for her, and as a thank you she leaned up and kissed him on the cheek? Then when she pulls back, their faces are really close. So then she would take the chance and press her lips to his.” You explained. 

“I think I see what you are saying, but you should show me,” Norman said, his eyes dropping to your lips at the same time as his eyes darkened.  

You licked your lips before you began to lean forward. You had kissed Norman on the cheek numerous times, but this felt different. Not letting your nerves stop you, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his stubbled cheek, just a hairsbreadth away from the corner of his lips. You pulled back slightly, keeping your eyes locked on Norman’s. “Like that, then when she pulled back, he would be looking at her and they have a moment. Then she would kiss him.”

“Hmmm,” Norman murmured in acknowledgment and kept his eyes locked on yours. “Show me.”

You leaned forward and pressed your lips against his. They were soft and tender, not at all like you expected them to be. He was tentative, and exploratory, the velvety smooth touch of his lips ignited desire within your body. Norman's lips moved against yours for a moment before he withdrew slightly away from her, opening his eyes to look to you for a reaction. Instead of saying anything, you ran your hand along the side of his neck and pulled him towards you to place a firm kiss on his lips. 

This kiss was full of desire and passion. All the sexual tension between the two of them that had built up over the time you had met each other fueled the moment. Norman’s mouth molded over yours, hard and persuasive, parting your lips with the thrust of his tongue. He ravished your mouth as he brought his hands to your hips and tugged you to straddle him, bringing you closer to him deepening the kiss as he did. 

Your bodies rubbed against each other trying to touch as much as possible. You could lose yourself in his touch the way your body instinctively molded into his. Norman moved away from your mouth, his soft lips left soft kisses against your temple, the outline of your ear, your jaw. He found a spot behind your right ear and lingered there until your breath grew ragged. 

He continued his journey down the column of your throat, his breath warming where your neck met shoulder. You couldn’t help but bite down on your lower lip to stifle a soft gasp as his stubble brushed against the delicate skin along your collarbone, his lips sought out and found the most sensitive spots on your neck, causing the nerve endings in your skin to tingle in anticipation. You released the hold you had on his neck, letting your hands slide down so you could run your hands over the muscles of his chest. You could feel his muscles contract a little at your touch and your hips moved, brushing your core against his hard arousal. 

At your movement, Norman’s hands slid down from your waist to over your ass. He squeezed it roughly before he moved them down farther to the back of your thighs. His grip tightened on your thighs before he rose from the couch. When you felt yourself leave the couch, you wrapped your legs around Norman's waist. You yelped a little in surprise, but you knew that his strong arms had you secure against him. Without pulling away from you, Norman made his way down the hall towards his bedroom. 

*****

The first thing you noticed as you came out of sleep was a heavyweight you weren’t used to draped across your midsection. You cracked your eyes open to see what it was and found yourself face to face with a sleeping Norman. He lay on his stomach while you were on your back, and his arm wrapped loosely at your side. Your eyes wandered lower and saw naked flesh down to the slope of his ass where a sheet lay half-hazard. Confusion flooded you for a moment before the memories of the night before flooded your thoughts and you know exactly how you got into the state you were in; naked in Norman’s bed with him. You had had sex with him, and not just once if your memories and ache in your body were correct. 

Very carefully you slid out from under Norman’s large arm, thankfully not waking him, and began hunting for your clothes. You couldn’t believe you had been so stupid to let yourself give in to your feelings for Norman. What were you thinking? This was going to screw up everything. If it had just been sex between friends, you could deal with it and you knew that was what Norman had probably been thinking it was. However, your feelings for him made things much harder to deal with. 

Once you found your clothes, plus your keys and phone you crept towards the door but stopped when a flicker of movement caught your eyes. You glanced over thinking it was Norman but instead finding yourself caught in the stare of Eyes in the Dark. And if you weren’t wrong, he had a look of judgment on his face. “Great, I’m caught doing the walk of shame by a cat.”

After you escaped the house and headed back to your place without breaking too many speeding laws, you took a quick shower. A part of you didn’t want to wash off Norman’s scent but you had to go to the set and you couldn’t go smelling like sex. You found several marks on your body but thankfully he had kept them in areas that could be covered easily by clothes. You didn’t want to have to explain to the makeup people why they had to cover up hickeys on your neck. 

Thankfully the scenes you had to do for the day were with Andy and Chandler and not with Norman. You couldn’t even remember if he was filming that day, the lack of sleep and your mind going over what happened had done a number on you. Luckily you remembered your lines and had no issues that might give yourself away. Or so you thought. 

“You seem off today is all,” Andy said as he came up and sat next to you out of the way as the two of you waited for the crew to line up the next scene. You looked up from your phone, you noticed you had a few missed phone calls and even more missed texts from Norman. 

“Just tired.” You replied with a small smile but Andy seemed to study you even closer at your answer as he took a drag off his cigarette. 

He nudges your shoulder with a teasing smirk, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. "I don't think that's it," he comments, the words hanging heavy in the air between you, thick with unspoken implications. You know with a certainty that borders on dread that Andy won't cease his gentle pestering. His persistence is unmatched, a relentless tide of playful prodding that washes over you, leaving you feeling increasingly exposed. It reminds you painfully of Norman, his own brand of determined teasing, a constant, low-grade annoyance that somehow, inexplicably, you found yourself strangely drawn to.

A wave of self-deprecation washes over you. Internally, you roll your eyes at your own predictable weakness. You know, with a frustrating certainty, that you'll soon cave.

"Fine," you relent, the word escaping your lips before you can fully consider the consequences. "But you cannot say anything to anyone. Except Gail, of course. But no one else."

Andy, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint that belies his easy going demeanor, assures you, "You have my word."

Casting a quick glance around, you check for any lurking ears, your gaze sweeping the room for potential eavesdroppers. The air feels thick with a sudden, unwarranted paranoia. Finally, you commit, the words tumbling out in a rush, "I might have… kind of… had sex with Norman last night."

Andy raises an eyebrow, feigning an exaggerated seriousness that does little to conceal the amusement bubbling beneath the surface. "You're not sure?" he asks, his voice dripping with playful disbelief. A gentle jest, you know, aimed more at easing your tension than anything else.

Your glare is half-hearted, a feeble attempt to scold him for his teasing. "I'm sure we did. That's the problem."

"Why? Was it that bad?" he quips, unable to fully suppress the grin that threatens to split his face.

Unable to suppress your own laughter, a sound that bubbles up from somewhere deep within you, you find yourself admitting, "Stop! It's not that."

"What?" He laughs with you, his eyes gleaming with genuine curiosity. "Just asking why it's a problem?"

Exasperated yet oddly amused, you exclaim, "WHY? Why do you think? If it was just sex, between friends, it'd be okay, but this is sex with Norman."

Andy's confusion is evident, his brow furrowing slightly as he tries to decipher your words. "How is that different? You and Norman are friends, close friends."

"We are," you confess, the weight of your admission settling heavily on your chest. "It's just… I might care about Norman as a little more than a friend." Saying it aloud is strange, a truth you've only ever confided in Lauren, a secret that has festered within you, unspoken and unacknowledged. Now that you've started confessing, it's like a dam has burst, the flood of your emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "So sleeping with him was beyond stupid of me. It's like I wanted to torture myself because I know something more with him is something I can't have."

Andy, with the ease of someone who has long since accepted the absurdity of your situation, asks, "What makes you say that?"

"Because Norman just sees me as a friend," you say, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

Andy's sudden, boisterous laughter catches you completely off guard, the last reaction you were expecting. "I'm glad the mess of my life is funny," you retort, a mixture of playful indignation and genuine hurt coloring your voice.

"Oh sweetheart, that is not what I'm laughing at," he explains, his laughter subsiding as he pulls you into a comforting embrace. "It's hilarious how blind the two of you are."

"What do you mean?" you ask, your curiosity piqued despite your earlier annoyance.

"It is obvious to everyone but you two how much you care about each other," Andy says, his voice soft and sincere. "Maybe even in love with each other. You might have just told me, but I've known for a while now. Jon even left me with orders to text him as soon as the two of you got it together. We might all be actors, but the two of you can't hide it to save your life."

You opened your mouth to argue more, but before you could the call back to our marks was called out. Everything Andy said was on a loop in your head an hour later when you headed back to your trailer for a break. You were so distracted that you didn’t even notice the other person inside until you shut the door behind you. Then you found yourself trapped by a pair of piercing blue eyes. “Norman.”

He sat on the sofa in his regular clothes, hat, and sunglasses sitting next to him. His phone was in his hand but he paid no attention, instead focused on you. “Imagine my surprise when I woke up and found myself alone this morning.” 

“I had to get to set.” You stated but even to your ears, it sounded like a weak excuse. You could see Norman thought the same thing by the look on his face. 

“I’ve been texting, and calling. Decided you couldn’t ignore me if I showed up,” Norman said as stood up and walked towards you. You could tell he was watching you to make sure he didn’t make you uncomfortable or that you’d run from him. When you didn’t, he leaned his forehead against yours and his hands on your hips before he whispered. “Did we mess things up last night? Did I?”

You closed your eyes as you leaned into him. “No. It wasn’t you. I shouldn’t have kissed you in the first place.” 

“You might not have noticed, but I didn’t mind.” He joked. “I enjoyed it a lot and I thought you did too.”

“I did. A lot.” You admitted. It was the truth. The night spent with Norman had been incredible, and not just because of the many orgasms he had pulled out of you. It had been passionate and intense mixed with tenderness. A level of intimacy you had rarely felt before. And you were feeling it right now in his arms as well.

“I wanted everything just as much as you did. I wanted you.” Norman stated before adding. “I still want you.”

“It is not that simple Norman. I wish it was something as simple as sex between friends, blowing off steam after a tense day. I can’t separate sex from how I feel about you.” You admitted. You hadn’t planned to tell Norman how you felt, but what had gone as you thought it would since last night. “I could put those feelings aside to just be your friend but having a physical relationship would be too much.”

“Then don’t.” 

“Don’t?” You repeated.

“Don’t put your feelings aside,” Norman explained. “For me what happened last night wasn’t just sex. I took you to my bed because I wanted you, not because you are beautiful and sexy as hell but because you’re you. And when you kissed me, I hoped that meant something, that there was something more between us.”

“Really?” You asked and Norman nodded. You couldn’t believe it, Andy had been right. 

“Yes.” He answered. “I enjoy the time we spend together, and I value you as a friend, but friendship is not the only way I want you in my life. I know I’m not easy to deal with, even working together there are times I’m gone, and there are a bunch of other reasons why you wouldn’t want to be with me but I hope.”

“I don’t care.” You said to interrupt him. “I know what I’m getting into and none of that stuff matters.”

This time the smile Norman gave you was a shy one, but still got your heart rate up. “So we’re doing this?”

“Yes. I want to see where this goes.” 

“Hmm, I think we should seal this with a kiss.” 

“Oh you do, do you?” You said with a laugh. 

Instead of answering with words, Norman moved to do what he suggested. His lips had just brushed yours when there was a knock at the door, one of the crew calling you back to set. You both groaned at the horrible timing. 

Norman kissed the tip of your nose, then your forehead before saying. “Go finish your scenes. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

“You’re staying here?” You knew Norman had no reason to be on set today besides coming to see you.

“Yeah. I’ll keep myself occupied and when you’re done, I’ll take you out to dinner. Unless you want to stay in again?”

“Tempting, but I think dinner out would be nice.” You stated. You liked the idea of the two of you alone but also thought it would be nice go to out. It would keep the two of you in check if others were around. 

Norman planted a quick kiss on your lips before pushing you towards the door. “Go, before I decide to say fuck the shooting schedule and not let you out of here.”

You laughed at his ‘threat’. “Okay, I’ll be back as soon as I’m done.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” 

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Ian McDonald's "The Wilding"

I'll be in TUCSON, AZ from November 8-10: I'm the GUEST OF HONOR at the TUSCON SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION.

Ian McDonald is one of those absurdly brilliant novelists that just leave me wondering the actual fuck he manages it. How does he cover so much ground, think up so many compelling characters, find so many gracenotes, conjure up so many complicated emotions?

McDonald burst on the scene in the late 1980s, with the 1988 novel Desolation Road and then his 1989 Out On Blue Six, a slick, stylized cyberpunk-meets-Orwell tale that overflowed with beautiful prose, technomysticism, and sly jokes that hid sneaky truths that hid even more sly jokes:

https://memex.craphound.com/2014/01/20/out-on-blue-six-ian-mcdonalds-brilliant-novel-is-back/

By my count, McDonald has now published twenty books – mostly novels, but a couple short story collections (and the most amazingly demented, Tom-Waits-inflected teddybear murder comic imaginable, 1994's Kling Klang Klatch):

https://irishcomics.fandom.com/wiki/Kling_Klang_Klatch

McDonald's work is truly globespanning. While he's made his mark on the Martian soil, and overtaken the moon with the Luna trilogy (his definitive rebuttal to Heinlein's Moon Is a Harsh Mistress) he is widely adored and much-awarded for the glittering, futuristic versions of Brazil (Brasyl), Tanzania (the Chaga series), and India (River of Gods).

Indeed, McDonald's imagination has roamed so far over the Earth and the solar system that it's possible to overlook his fantastic reimaginings of Ireland, the land where he was raised. There's his Philip K Dick Award-winning 1991 novel King of Morning, Queen of Day, a swirling, mythopoeic novel of Celtic mysticism:

https://www.baen.com/king-of-morning-queen-of-day.html

And then there's 1992's Hearts, Hands and Voices, which is lowkey one of the best novels I have ever, ever read – a scorching science fictional allegory for The Troubles, but with the gnarliest biotech weirdness you can possibly imagine:

https://archive.org/details/heartshandsvoice0000ianm/mode/2up

McDonald's books cover so much goddamned ground, but one feature they all share is a prose styling wherein every sentence is at least 20% poetry, a fraction that somehow, impossibly, rises to as much as 150% in certain especially shiny passages.

Like this passage, which opens The Wilding, McDonald's new horror novel that marks his first return to Ireland since 1992:

Autumn lay on the great bog in silvers and tans, late purples and duns.

The sun rose above the tall ash saplings and feral sycamore. It called the birds into full voice. Stabbing shrills, tumbles of notes, the flutes of dove-call, frantic ticking hisses, song upon song. In hedgerows and copses, among the pale foliage of the birches, in the weave of deep willow and the bramble fastnesses, each bird called and was heard. In this season the peatland held the day's warmth through the night and on the bright, clear mornings rivers of mist formed, filling the subtle hollow places in the exposed cuttings, the bogs and fields. High sun would dispel it but at this hour half of Lough Carrow lay mist-bound. Each blade of grass hung heavy with dew, the clumps of sedges were already browning, the bracken curling and crisping.

A pair of horns lifted above the willow scrub and out-grown ash hedges of the Wilding. Polished tips caught the low sun and kindled as bright and keen as spears.

https://www.gollancz.co.uk/titles/ian-mcdonald/the-wilding/9781399611503/

Oof.

I would drop everything to read Ian McDonald's grocery lists but after that opening, I wasn't going to put this one down, and I didn't, reading the whole thing on yesterday's flight home from my gigs in Atlanta this week.

The Wilding is (I'm pretty sure?) McDonald's first horror novel, and it's fucking terrifying. It's set in a rural Irish peat bog that has been acquired by a conservation authority that is rewilding it after a century of industrial peat mining that stripped it back nearly to the bedrock. This rewilding process has been greatly accelerated by the covid lockdowns, which reduced the human footprint in the conservation area to nearly zero.

The story's protagonist is Lisa, a hard-case Dubliner who came to the bog to do community service after a career as a crime syndicate driver for hire, a woman who never met a car she couldn't boost and pilot in or out of any tight situation. After years in the bog, she's ready to start a new life, studying Yeats at university, indulging a late-discovered love of poetry that has as much to do with her redemption as her years in the wild.

Lisa's last duty before she leaves the bog and goes home to Dublin is leading a school group on a wild campout in one of the bog's deep clearings. It's a routine assignment, and while it's not her favorite duty, it's also not a serious hardship.

But as the group hikes out to the campsite, one of her fellow guides is killed, without warning, by a mysterious beast that moves so quickly they can barely make out its monstrous form. Thus begins a tense, mysterious, spooky as hell story of survival in a haunted woods, written in the kind of poesy that has defined McDonald's career, and which – when deployed in service of terror – has the power to raise literal goosebumps.

There's a lot of fantasy that deals with Celtic mythology, including McDonald's own King of Morning, Queen of Day, but the vibe of that stuff tends to the heroic and romantic – sure, there's the odd banshee, but in the main, it's mischievous wee people, pookas, and leprechauns. More fey than fear.

But Irish mythology in its raw form is terrifying. The monsters of Irish storytelling are grotesque, mean, remorseless, and come in every shape and size. Some authors have done well by going back to the bestiary for the deep cuts. When I was a kid, I must have read John Coyne's Hobgoblin fifty times (mostly because it was about D&D, which I was obsessed with). I haven't read this one since I was about 12, and I have no idea if it'd hold up today, but it left me with a deep appreciation of the spooky multifariousness of monsters who dwell in Ireland's bogs:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hobgoblin_(novel)

The Wilding is a suspense novel, which means there's no way to really sum up the plot without spoiling a lot of the affect, but suffice to say that McDonald brings large swathes of deep Irish lore to the surface, and it had me reading as fast as I could and wanting to put the book down and hide.

What a writer McDonald is! The fact that this is the same guy who wrote last year's stunning secret-history/solarpunk/uncategorizable wonder that was Hopeland beggars belief:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/30/electromancy/#the-grace

Read you some Ian McDonald novels, is what I'm trying to say. This one is only available in the UK, if that's not where you are, consider mail-ordering it. Looks like they've got stock at Forbidden Planet for £19 plus £18 shipping to the US. Worth every penny:

https://forbiddenplanet.com/424306-the-wilding-hardcover/

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/25/bogman/#erin-go-aaaaaaargh

[dexterkronos]

"My Hallucination..."

Within the presence of Clancy, Torchbearer once took root in a more purified and simpler form, akin to his true self. But as all people do, the projection of Torchbearer evolved, splitting into a physical and mental projection.

Naturally, the one in the psyche took to absorbing the fears and anxieties of Clancy, moulding itself into someone his frail conscious deemed a "perfect guide".

The result of this is this more wrathful version of the Torchbearer, one who will stand by Clancy even if he is going down the wrong path, who will encourage leaning into his full potential… all for the purpose of hardening his mind from greater threats.

There is no unique name for this new variation… but if given the choice to interject, surely "Corpsebearer" would be a fitting title indeed.

After all, does this persona within Clancy truly match the "Josh" he knew? Or is he simply a herald of Clancy's own demise?

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

My interpretation of the Overcompensate/The Contract version of Josh Dun's character of the Torchbearer, based on limited information I'm aware of surrounding his projections.

I had the idea of splitting Volodsøy "Josh" and Overcompensate "Josh" into two as a sort of sign of Clancy's fracturing identity and his views on Torchbearer changing. The split would have occurred whilst on Volodsøy itself, though it was extremely subtle, as I refuse to believe Clancy didn't find "Josh's" existence at least a tiny bit sus.

I'll likely use this plot point in the fic I'm still yet to actually post (Reflections On a Two-Way Mirror fic for if u want to keep track of the hash-tag), but yeah, lemme know what y'all think.

[ruzzellgoldgrin]

DWC May 2025

Day 2 Placate/Graceful

"Lessee... Wyvern's Tail... Client's name is... Tethys Manabloom..." The thrum of his engine cuts out and the cockpit hatch pops open, allowing the goblin to hop out. No keys were required to lock his aircraft as the complexity of a mini-zeppelin's control panel is convoluted enough to deter theft by any unfamiliar with goblin engineering. Walking up the dusty steps of the well-worn wooden stoop of the infamous Orgrimmar tavern, Ruzzell walks on inside, scootching past a Tauren taking a breather in the doorway. The Tail was always packed, especially during the weekend on nights like this. The smell of cheap liquor and smoke hung in the air, along with the boisterous laughter and the banging of drums. He hadn't visited the tavern in sometime since going sober, but he was familiar enough to know his way around. He searched around for his client, but was unable to find the woman in question. Many elves were present, and any one of them could be the person he was hired to pick up. Glancing to the bar, he'd see Gravy, the veteran bartender everyone seemed to know. Walking up to him, he flagged him down for questioning.

"Yo, Gravy! What's shaking man?" The troll glanced down with a grin bigger than what his tusks always forced on the man's face. "Ayo Ruzz mon! Been a long time since me seeyin ya! Wot can Gravy be fetchin ya?" Ruzzell raps his knuckles on the bar looking around a bit. "Here to pick up a passenger. Said her name was Tethys. I dunno who that is though, she left this message and..." He lifts up his communicator to the bar, the speakphone blurting out the drunken voice of a haughty elven woman. A sudden dawning came to Gravy's face in realization. "Oh ya ya, dat be dat gyal who dun came by askin fo tree Snake Bites earlier. She been in a bad way tru da night. Some mon keep buggin her like crabs on a dock." Ruzz glances up to Gravy with some concern. "Really? Well, I'll keep that in mind Gravy. Do you know where she is?" The troll nodded and pointed out his long finger to the platinum blonde in the cornflower blue dress stumbling around. Ruzz nodded and straightened out his posture, marching on in with a brave face towards the woman. Everyone around his was much taller, save for the occasional Vulpera or Goblin present. Walking up to the woman, he called up to her.

"Excuse me, Ms. Manabloom?" The woman spun around, a mildly shocked look on her face. She blinked uneasily, her silver glittered eyeshadow smeared across her face as if she had been wiping at them. "ooohh.... heeeyyy! are you that taxi guy I called for?" He flashed her a bright grin, his golden fangs glinting in the moody lighting of the bar. "Yep, I'm Ruzzell! I'm here to take you back to your hotel room!" He paused, looking her over as she seemed a bit disheveled, more so than someone who had been just drinking alone. She almost stumbles on the goblin as he helps catch her footing. "sorry... I had too much to drink and this guy kept bothering me... he gave me the creeps..." He shook his head and offered her a steady arm to cling to. "No worries, we'll get you to your destination safely." She offered him a drunken grin as he put in most the work of being her table to lazily lean on out the bar.

Clearing through the exit of The Tail and helping her down the old wooden steps, a rugged orc lumbered out a short distance behind them. "Hey, that's my girl you are taking!" Oh no... Ruzz lets out a sigh and glances over his shoulder to see the giant man was indeed following them to his zeppelin. "Yeah, sorry bud, she had too much to drink and wanted to go home." Her ears perked up at the familiar voice and looked over her shoulder, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. She ducks her head down to whisper to her pilot. "oh... that's the creep... I said hi to him once... he's been stalking me all night.." Ruzzell knew exactly what this situation was and took a deep breath, then gave her a reassuring smile. He steadily walks her to the aircraft and opens the door for her. "It's alright! I'll take care of him. Just wait in the zeppelin here for a moment. Help yourself to some water and crackers in the minifridge." She slumped into the backseat, draping her body over the edge of the door. "HEY SHITHEAD! I'M TALKING TO YOU!!" The goblin let out a sigh, knowing that things had just escalated with this orc.

"Yo, buddy! It's alright my man! There are plenty of other gals to chat with! Want me to buy ya a drink or something?" He tried to smooth things out with the brute to no avail. "YOU WANT ME TO KNOCK YOUR FUCKING TEETH OUT YOU FUCKING PICKLE?!" The orc clenched his fist shut, cracking his knuckles with a loud pop. Things were about to get serious. Ruzzell was less than half this man's size and even less his weight. One wrong word and he would get pummeled by his aggressor. His eyes darted around the cleared lot, as if seeking something. He then spots a cactus patch off to the side of the stoop before feeling the collar of his jacket gripped tight in a mighty fist. "SHIT FOR BRAINS, ARE YOU DEAF?"

"Hey, pal, easy now! Let's be civilized about this, huh?" The orc's eyes burned red with pure rage at Ruzzell calmly talking to him. Clearly he was spoiling for a fight. Instead he found Ruzzell calmly placing a hand on the girthy forearm of the brute, gently curling his fingers around it. He looked up to the giant with a bright, toothy grin, his Truegold teeth glinting in a coy smile. Then came his other hand, slowly gripping the underside of that same arm. What came next is the impossibly swift and deft feat that years of Shado-Pan training had instilled into the former Bruiser. His smaller hand dug into the orc's arm, jerking the man low. Then a twirl of his back to gain leverage of the forearm, pivoting the brute's mass up with his own bodyweight. The goblin's legs ducked down low and with a burst of energy, he lunges his whole body into the throw and swings the orc straight into the cactus patch, demolishing the bushes in a dusty cloud. The orc scream and writhes on the floor in drunken agony and humiliation, a thousand stinging needles piercing into his face and body as onlookers gasp and a commotion breaks out at the scene that unfolded.

"Well, that wasn't so bad!" Ruzzell huffs out in amusement and walks back to his zeppelin to start it up. Tethys looked on in awe before crunching down on a cracker. "wow! you really did that! how?!" She gripped at the back of his seat, shaking it in inebriated wonder. "Eh, an old trick I picked up in Pandaria years ago. I'll tell ya about it on the way!" He smirks and turns on the engine of his aircraft, making a U-turn and speeding off and up into the air towards their next stop.

(@daily-writing-challenge)

[yuesya]

DUN DUN DUN MONDSTADT'S GOD IS NOT DECARABIAN

Oml I am actually so invested in your Genshin and Star Rail AUs I know it's a long way off but I really hope you pursue one of them as a full story when Zenith comes to a close

Dun dun dun!! (Drumroll)

That is indeed a long ways off and not something I've really thought about yet. I'll consider it haha, thanks for reading and I'm glad you're enjoying the AUs!

[friendly-books]

Artificial conditions

Artificial conditions by Martha Wells

“SecUnits don’t care about the news.” pg. 5 I hope we meet another hacked secunit who does watch the news and is the opposite of Murderbot

“I didn’t care what humans were doing to each other as long as I didn’t have to a) stop it  or b) clean up after it” pg. 5 Fair enough

“I was off the company’s inventory, but this was still the Corporation Rim, and I was still property.” pg. 6 Boo

“Then in my skim of the news broadcast I hit an image. It was of me.” pg. 7 Oh no

“I had a plan. Or I would have a plan, once I got an answer to an important question.” pg. 10 Is the question what happened before Muderbot hacked the gov module?

“Then, through my feed, something said, You were lucky.” pg. 18 Spooky I thought Murderbot was alone

So the ship’s sentiment??

“Maybe it was trying to be friendly and was just awkward at communicating.” pg. 19 Pot meet kettle

“It poked me through the feed and I flicked” pg. 19 Rude

“It could have squashed me like a bug through the feed, pushed through my wall and other defenses and stripped me of my memory.” pg. 20 So eldritch abomination sentient ship?

“How the hell was I supposed to know there were transports sentient enough to be mean.” pg. 20 Ha

“I said, “Okay,” shut down my feed, and huddled down into the chair.” pg. 20 Aww Murderbot’s scared :(

“tortured by clients for amusement” pg. 20 What. No don’t gloss over that Murderbot

“It opened the hatch for me. It wanted me here

Uh oh” pg. 21 Uh oh indeed

“Then it said, You can continue to play the media.

I just huddled there warily

It added, Don’t sulk” pg. 21 Ha

“Then it said, I’m sorry I frightened you

Okay, well if you think I trusted that apology then you don’t know Murderbot.” pg. 22 I think the ship’s just awkward

“I examined it for viral malware and other hazards.

And fuck you, I thought” pg. 24 Ha

“I will refrain from complaint, it said

(Imagine that in the most sarcastic tone you can, and you’ll have some idea of how it sounded.)” pg. 25 Ha

“After three episodes, it got agitated whenever a minor character was killed. When a major character died in the twentieth episode I had to pause seven minutes while it sat there in the feed doing the bot equivalent of staring at the wall, pretending to run a diagnostic.” pg. 25 Poor ship

“It said, The depiction is unrealistic

(You know, just imagine everything it says in the most sarcastic tone possible)” pg. 27 Ha

“You left to travel to RaviHyral Mining Facility Q Station.” pg. 29 To solve a mystery

“Yeah, well, fuck you, too. I thought, and initiated a shutdown sequence.” pg. 30 Ha

“The transport said immediately, That was childish.” pg. 31 Ha

“My crew complement includes teachers and students.” pg. 31 What are you ship? You seem to advanced? To be a transport ship

“I’m a construct. Construct and bots can’t trust each other.” pg. 32 Says who?

“My memory of the incident was particularly purged.” pg. 34 Ouch

“I knew ART (aka Asshole Research Transport)” pg. 34 Ha

“It said I have a full medical suite. Altercations can be made there.” pg. 39 Is ART trying to give Murderbot a makeover?

“Maybe because it was something humans did to sexbot. I was a murderbot, I had to have higher standards.” pg. 41 Higher standards?

“I came back online to find I was at 26 percent capacity.” pg. 48 Oh dear

“ART asked, Do you want to watch media?

I didn’t respond, but it started an episode of Sanctuary Moon anyway.” pg. 50 Aww that’s nice

“It would make it harder for me to pretend not to be a person.” pg. 52 You are a person Murderbot

“They took it off the map.” pg. 52 It’s a cover up dun dun dun

“Yes, the giant transport bot is going to help the construct SecUnit pretend to be human. This will go well.” pg. 55 Ha

“In my feed, ART said, I told you so.” pg. 56 Ha

“Rami admitted, “We know it doesn’t sound like a good idea to go.”

It was a great idea if you wanted to get murdered.” pg. 65 Ha

“One cycle’s share of the contract?” Rami sat up straight. “Really?”

Ter reaction meant I’d asked for far too little,” pg. 68 Oh no

“ART’s freedom to weigh in on everything I did was punishment enough” pg. 70 Ha

“Tlacey bought us passage on a public shuttle,” Rami told me. “That could be a good sign, right?”

“Sure,” I said. It was a terrible sign.” pg. 71 Ha

“I said, You have a weapons system.

ART repeated, For debris deflection.

I was starting to wonder just what kind of university owned ART” pg. 73 Dose ART have missiles? Now you’re wondering, buddy I’ve been wondering 42 pages back

“the bot pilot screamed and died as killware flooded its system” pg. 74 Oh no

“The person you’re going to meet with just tried to kill you.” pg. 78 Yep

“But whoever had removed Ganaka Pit from the map would have been trying to obscure its existence from casual journalists” pg. 81 Cover up

“That was when I felt the ping.” pg. 82 OH NO

“Who the fuck are you?” pg. 83 Rude

“I was looking at a sexbot” pg. 84 Oh hack their government module bot revolution

“I broke his arm and slammed an elbow into his chin” pg. 91 FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

“My Giant Asshole Research Transport” pg. 98 Oh your Giant Asshole Research Transport

“It had been left here, forgotten, slowly dying in the darkness as the hours ticked away.

Not that I was feeling morbid, or anything.” pg. 100 Poetry morbid

“I didn’t know why my performance reliability was dropping.” pg. 103 Trauma?

“In the feed, two human techs had discussed an anomaly” pg. 106 The plot thickens

“In the corridor near the living quarters I found the other ready room the one for the Comfortunits.” pg. 107 Oh

“It meant they had deployed during the “incident.” pg.  108 Oh did they start the incident?

“It said We have a problem.” pg. 111 Oh no

“Tapan was on the one of the upper platforms.” pg. 112 TAPAN what are you doing?!?

“ART said, Tell the human not to touch any surfaces. There may be disease vectors present.” pg. 115 ART is such a mother hen

“I know you’re mad.”

I tried to moderate my expression. “I’m not mad.” I was furious.” pg. 116 Ha

“The sexbot was standing on the other side of  the door.” pg. 119 Ah jump scare

“There’s no human controlling you? You’re free?” pg. 123 Robot Revolution Yes Muderbot is free!

“We could kill them.”

Well that was an unusual approach to its dilemma. Kill who? Tlacey?

All of them. The humans here.” pg. 124 What? 

“I could feel ART metaphorically clutch its function.” pg. 125 Ha

“if the humans were dead, who would make the media” pg. 125 Ha

“It was so outrageous, it sounded like something a human would say.

Huh.

I said to the sexbot, Is that how Tlacey thinks constructs talk to each other?” pg.125 Oh interesting

“It was a message string, three words. Please help me.” pg. 127 Oh dear

“It was probably a trap.” pg. 128 It’s definitely a trap

“Tapan was reminding me think of Mensah” pg. 129 Aw

“I was only 97 percent certain this meeting was a trap.” pg. 131 I’m 100 percent certain that this is a trap

“Wow I looked uncomfortable” pg. 132 Ha

“I like a mouthy bot. This is going to be interesting-“ pg. 138 Ew :(

“All you had to do was give them the fucking files” pg. 140 Muderbot swore

“When Tapan woke, I was sitting on the MedSystem platform holding her hand.” pg. 146 Aw :)

“No, ART said. Keep it. Maybe we’ll come within range of each other again.” pg. 148 YES!

“Maro nodded. “Okay. This is for you.” She wrapped her arms around herself and squeezed.” pg. 150 Aww

Final thoughts

I enjoyed the book. I hope the Comfortunits get their government module hacked. I desperately want a robot revolution. I hope we learn more about what happened to Ganaka Pit. I like ART and I hope they come back. They’re clearly more than a university bot. I hope Dr. Mensah comes back.

Onto Rogue Protocol

[kimhortons]

came across that tiktok trend calling their moms who passed away, yung sound is very comforting pero masakit.

dati di ko naiisip kung paano kapag nawala si mommy, lagi niya lang yun sinasabi tuwing pagagalitan niya kami kasi di kami maalam sa gawaing bahay noon, dedma lang ako dati at di ko iniisip na mawawala siya.

hanggang sa nagkasakit siya at unti unting humina, nakita ko lahat ng hirap niya, yung pressure niya kahit may sakit siya na gusto niya magtrabaho agad pag gumaling siya para walang masabi si papa. dun ko lang naisip, paano kung mawala na siya, dun ko narin hiniling na sana matapos nalang yung pag hihirap niya. niready ko naman yung sarili ko nun, pero di ko in-expect na ganun kabiglaan siya mawawala.

isang beses lang ako umiyak non, tapos pinilit ko nalang magpakatatag. simula din nung nanghina siya dun ko rin pinilit kumilos at matuto ng mga gawaing bahay. kasi nakita ko rin kung gaano niya pinilit lumakas ulit—kahit na sandaling panahon nalang pala.

nakita ko rin 'to sa Facebook:

and indeed, ngayon nahihirapan ako at di ko alam gagawin ko, she's my reminder na wala ako karapatan sumuko. nakita ko sakanya lahat ng hirap, pinilit niya maging malakas. kaya dapat ako rin.

wala lang, sobrang feeling ko nasa rock bottom kasi ako ulit ngayon. tapos nakita ko 'tong video. parang nanjan lang siya at nireremind ako na tatagan ko lang, parang kinocomfort niya ako sa pamamagitan nito and that i'm just gonna have to keep reminding myself as well na makakaraos din ako sa phase na 'to. ang dami ko narin nalampasan at sigurado makakasurvive din ulit ako dito. kahit gulong gulo ako kung anong path ang tatahakin ko sa buhay.

[howdyousleepatnight]

Out of hell (part 3)

Pairing : Josh Dun x Fem!Reader - Tyler Joseph x Fem!Reader

Warning : Swearing, dystopia, violence

Word count : 3,189

Summary : You find yourself all alone in the unknwown land of Trench. What's gonna happen now ? Will you be able to survive on your own ? Maybe you'll meet new people...

(Remember, English’s not my first langage :) Enjoy!!!)

The rain was beginning to fall. Hard, very hard. The sound of the storm was getting closer and closer. Sand continued to fly and whip across my face like swifts. Still, I pushed forward, my arms hiding part of my face, although this didn't stop the wind from slowing me down. I made my way towards a sort of cave, created by the rock between the stone walls.

Once inside, I let my back hit the cold stone wall and fell to the ground, allowing my body to take a breath. I remove my bag from my back, as well as the rebel's bag. Light was scarce in the cave, but the part where I had just sat allowed it to shine through a little.

“What could possibly be in this bag ?”, I wondered inwardly. It must have been something important if the bishops wanted me to bring it back... I'd been told it contained information about the banditos, but was it true or was it just an excuse to test the loyalty of Dema's citizens ?

I made the decision to carefully open the bag, just like it was an ancient relic that should not be broken. After opening the strap that closed it, I lifted the top part and looked inside. Not seeing properly, I plunged my arm into the bag.

“A hammer?”, I said aloud, confused, feeling the cold, metallic object. I pulled it out, and indeed, it was a hammer. I put my arm back in, looking for something else, something more interesting, desperately to convince myself that Nico hadn't sent us for just a poor bag of junk. I pulled out more accessories, each as mundane as the next: yellow tape, matches and lighters, a first-aid kit.

I felt a pang in my heart, and my doubts started to emerge. That was until I felt paper on my fingertips. My heart stopped for a brief moment, my breath caught in my throat, and my body froze at the touch of the familiar yet unknown object.

“So they weren't just sending us out to test us...”, I felt reassured in a way, but another part of me wondered what could possibly be in that notebook for the bishops to be willing to send us out of Dema in handfuls.

I was curious about its contents. So, slowly but surely, I took it out of the bag. The red color on the outside of the notebook caused my eyes to widen. I held it in both hands, turning it in all directions, and feeling it with my fingertips. It appeared both real and unreal simultaneously.

My thumb passed over the title written in large letters on the notebook, probably in marker given the thickness of it. The grain of the notebook, due to dirt and time, sent shivers down my spine.

I repeatedly uttered the title “C's letters...”, as if I were spellbound.

Finally, I made the decision to slowly open the notebook, the unknown frightening me. Opening the first page made me tremble, it was empty with only stains and a yellowish tinge, probably caused by time. I turned the page to the next one. My heart rate increased. In the middle of the page, in the same marker as on the outside, was written "Sahlo Folina".

As I continued to examine the notebook, I discovered numerous texts and diagrams written in the same handwriting as before. The stories spoke of Dema, bishops and plans to escape and defeat them, of hope and rebellion. How can someone have so much knowledge about the prison we inhabit ? The knowledge about the outside world we had learned from the book we stole seemed ridiculous in comparison to it. My attention was piqued by the poems and Trench drawing. Trench. I had heard that this name was used to refer to the outside world, but I wasn't sure if it was official. I attempted to rotate the diagram to pinpoint my location, unsure of where I was given my long run.

A suspicious noise startled me and I dropped the notebook. I let out a silent scream when I saw it fall into a puddle. I tried to catch it, but it was too late. I placed my hands over my mouth to suppress all breathing, unaware of the source of the initial noise. After a few moments, the noise reappeared and I took my hands off my mouth, understanding that it was solely the sound of the wind slapping against the rock. My face was filled with horror as I turned my gaze back to the notebook, which was still in the water.

“Oh no no no!”, I repeated several times, panicking. I hurriedly retrieved the notebook, removing it from the water. It was already well soaked, and the drops falling from the pages made me sigh.

“What a bummer... I didn't even have time to read the whole thing! Damn it!”, I said, shaking the notebook, hoping it will help.

I took my grey cardigan out and wrapped the book in it, trying to dry it so that I could keep the precious information that were written inside.

After that, I let myself fall back against the stone wall, looking at the outside of the cave : it was getting dark and I didn't know how soon I'd be found, or if I'd be found at all... My thoughts, troubled and too numerous as usual, tired me even more and made me close my eyes, exhausted... Perhaps I'll be more reactive tomorrow in any case...

And that's how I ended up crying myself to sleep, my back still against the cool rock.

The next morning, I woke up with a start.

Not knowing where I was, and having dreamt of being found and dragged back to Dema, my eyes opened on their own. My breathing was ragged and I felt chills all over my body. I ran my hands over my face to regain my composure, seeing quite clearly that I hadn't moved from my spot and was still all alone.

“Fucking shit…”, I mumble under my breath. It was already broad daylight outside, so I got up quickly and set off again.

After packing up, I found myself back on the road to the unknown. The unknown scared me, but not as much as returning to Dema. The wind of freedom hit my face and I smiled at the sensation.

I walked and walked for hours. I ate what few resources I had left, these being a cereal bar and a bottle of water, which I had to split in half to eat last night as well.

I could see something in the distance. I squinted my eyes to get a better look.

“What the hell is that... ?”, I asked myself.

I looked around before approaching the thing, to make sure no one was following me and that I was in fact alone. So I approached the ruin, keeping my guard up. It looked like one of the vehicles Lyla had shown me in a book... I put my hand on the hood, then peered in through the broken window. It was completely empty and dilapidated.

I sighed. A few yards beyond the stone wall, I found myself facing ruins. But these weren't just abandoned vehicles or objects. This looked much bigger, and there was bound to have been human activity around here.

Large containers, trucks and the remains of houses and buildings lay before me. Was it a good idea for me to venture into this, or should I continue on my way and avoid it all ?

Obviously, my curiosity prevented me from getting past this intriguing landscape, and so I ended up moving towards it. I advanced while staying on my guard, my knees slightly bent. My mouth was partly open, revealing my surprise at the unusual structures in front of me.

I wandered between the buildings and decided to enter one of them.I found myself in a large building filled with containers. As I turned around, I ran into a metal box while continuing onward. The noise brought me back to reality, and I stopped all my movements. The piercing noise reverberated among the four walls. Suddenly, I realized how dangerous my reduced guard was. What if I was overheard by someone? I don't even know how to defend myself, how would I manage ? My mind was suddenly filled with too many questions. I shook my head and continued slowly, my steps shorter and lighter, on the defensive.

Without even thinking twice, I practically jumped on the food and started to eat like a starved animal. The possibilities of it being someone’s food didn’t even travelled my mind. I thought I was alone, until…

-Someone else POV- (hehe)

I was in an abandoned warehouse, searching for anything of use. I had been there since the evening the previous night, accompagned by my best mate. I suddenly heard a noise coming from behind the containers, so I decided to cautiously approch them, and hid behind on of the many crates.

Peeking through the cracks between the wooden crates, that’s when I saw someone eating our food without any restrictions. I have always been cautious around others because of my past, and I didn’t know where she was coming from. For all I knew, she could be with the Bishops, so I quietly grabbed a broom from a corner and approached again, silently.

-Back to the original POV-

I heard noises behind me and that made me stop all my movements, trying to listen to the source of the noise. I could hear someone enter the warehouse, apparently not aware of my presence.

-Someone else POV-

I rolled my eyes when I heard the loud footsteps of my partner. The noise probably revealed his approch, so I just hoped the woman wouldn’t start to run or defend herself.

“C, where are you, mate ?”, he asked.

-Back to the original POV-

As I hear a voice echo in the building, I let go of everything I had in hands, jumping on a container to hide myself, or at least trying to.

The sudden noise of a can falling on the ground made the intruder jump a bit, but it also made him notice my presence. The older man looked around and I think he saw me hiding.

“Hey ! Who’s here ?”, he asks in a more serious tone.

I was hiding behind another container, trying to calm my loud breathing. I suddenly panic inside as I fumbled in my bag in seach of something to defend myself, but the small Swiss army knife I had fell on the ground. I swore and facepalm myself « Fuck, you idiot- ».

I decided to climb on another container, trying to go towards the entrance of the warehouse to escape.

-Someone else’s POV-

I can see her move, so I silently following her. I didn’t want to lose sight of her, and I certainly wasn’t going to let her go. My mate noticed her too and we started to go around the warehouse to corner her.

She was walking as quietly as possible, as if we couldn’t see her, but stopped when she didn’t see anyone. Oh, you really think you’re smarter than us… ?

T, coming out of nowhere, finally says « found you ! » just behind her. His voice was loud, not even trying to hide his presence anymore. He was behind a few meters of her, approching with big stides. She looked behind her at the sound of his voice, scared. She then started to run, trying to sow him.

I laughed quietly at her naivety. I sure was close to her position too, but I decided to silently follow them from the shadows.

“Come back here !”, He started to run too, gaining on her fast. He was far faster tha her, so he was gonna catch her in seconds.

That’s when she decided to jump from where she was and found herself on the ground, looking up to see him still on the pill of containers. She started to run again, not knowing that there was another person following her, aka me.

I saw her and knew it was about time to stop her. As she was running, I came out of the shadows and appeared in front of her, the broom in front of my chest to block her from getting away.

As she was running, she turned her head towards me. I smiled behind my mask, seeing the fear in her eyes as she didn’t had the time to slow down fast enough and collided with me, falling on the ground just afterwards. She was already half knocked out.

I took a few steps back right after, and bent down, looking at her with my head tilted. I carefully checked if there was any big damage, not that I really cared anyway : Her eyes were half-closed as she winced in hurt after her brutal fall.

I looked down at her, standing up again, silently wondering if she was faking it.I was suspicious, since we didn’t know anything about her.

“Get up.”, I said coldly, my gaze not leaving her for a second as I wait for T to join us.

-Back to the original POV-

“W-what..?”, I became suddenly aware of the stranger talking to me, trying to take a few steps back but still on the ground. My voice was shaky, trying not to sound so scared but I failed.

He observed me move away, and he put the broom away, before stepping closer to me.

“I said get up.”, he said again more loudly. He seemed wary and careful and it scared me even more.

“I- I-”, I was cut down by the other stranger.

“Come on, don’t be so mean, you can see she’s shaking like a leaf.”, he says to the other one before looking at me : “Get up, so we can ask you questions”.

The other looked at the more kind one, before rolling his eyes. He then crossed his arms on his chest, his expression still cold : “Maybe she’s just pretending to be scared, you never know…”.

Of course he didn’t trust me one bit. He didn’t know where I came from, who I was, or even why I was there. I got up quickly, looking around me trying to find a way to escape.

I noticed how he was looking at me, knowing I was calculating my chances to run away. He took a step forward, cutting me in my attempts : “Don’t even try.”, he said with a harsh voice.

“O-okay.. I won’t”, I say, raising my hands up.

“So… we’ll ask you some questions just to make sure you're no threat for us. Don’t try to lie, we’ll notice it immediatly. Right?”, the nicer one said.

The other one then looked at me, before shifting his gaze to the his friend, silently signaling him to ask the questions instead. He knew he was the colder one between the two of them, and he was way more intimidating. I just swallow nervously, standing between the two, a few feets away from them.

He remained silent for a few seconds, studying my expressions and body language from afar. I started to wonder, do I look a Bishop’s spy or something ? Or are the escapees really that persecuted by the bishops to be this cautious with strangers ?

I was brought back in the present time when he spoke again : “How did you get here?”, he asked suddenly, taking a step forward. His cold eyes were fixed on me, not moving from my face for a second and it made me nervous.

“I-… I just walked for hours until I found this place, and I saw food so I just-”. I didn’t finish my sentence as I see him tilted his head a bit, and raising an eyebrow. He didn’t seem to believe me.

“Hours… So that means you’re not from around here then.”, he said, his voice still having a bit of sharpness.

I just shake my head at his words : “I come from Dema…”.

I saw his jaw clenched upon hearing my reply, and he shared a look with the other man. The other raised an eyebrow at him, but remained silent otherwise. The one asking the questions then took a few bold steps closer, his expression still stern.

“How did you get out of Dema?”, he asked, looking right into my eyes. It was unsettling to only see his eyes, the rest of his face being hidden by a red and black ski type of mask.

“I-… I was chosen for a mission, they took me out of the city to search for an item and I managed to escape...”.

The masked man was getting more and more suspicious. I could clearly hear his mind ‘Chosen for a mission? Escaped? She could be a spy, it was possible, blablabla’.

“And what was this mission that you apparently escaped from?”, he stayed close to me, not letting me out of his sight. The other one remained quiet, silently listening to the exchange between the two of us.

“C-Can I move to show you ?”, I asked, my voice still shaking.

He seemed to weight the pros and cons at an incredibly fast pace. He then nods : “But no sudden moves.”, he said firmly, keeping a close eye on me. I could tell he would be ready to grab me and thow me on the ground if I move a little too fast for him.

So I just nod, grabbing the straps of the two bags I had on my shoulders and put them down. I grabbed the one that was the banditos’ bag, which I was supposed to take back to Dema as a mission. Once the bag dropped on the ground, his eyes fell on it. The symbol of the banditos was stitched on it, which made him narrow his eyes even more. He crossed his arms on his chest, his suspicion growing bigger : “And this was the ‘mission’ you escaped from?”.

I just nod : “Yes… They asked me to search for this bag, and bring it back to Dema. Apparently it contains some kind of notebook that has important information about the banditos’s plans…”. The other one frowns at my words, knowing that this bag was from his group of rebels and that the notebook was his friends’.

“And do you know who these ‘banditos’ are?”, inquired the masked-one, staring at me with calculating eyes.

“I just-”, I started to panic : “I just know that they are rebels that escaped and plan to create a community in the outside world- that’s all I know !”.

His jaw clenched once again. That was index intention… To get into to Dema and help others escape.

“And why exactly were YOU sent on that mission?”, he questioned again, his gaze never leaving mine. He saw how I started to panic, which seemed to make him even more suspicious.

I don't know who they were, but what I did know was that they weren't going to trust me right away…

more in the next part! :)

[dixons-sunshine]

Possessed | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

A/N: Thank you, @darylssunshine and @lazyneonrabbitt for some of the dialogue on this. Happy Halloween, everyone! Loosely inspired by @angelwings-crossbowstrings’s “Trick Or Treat” fic.

(GIF by @dixonscarol)

Daryl Dixon was a brave man. There was almost nothing in the world, old or current, that could terrify the man you loved more than life itself. He did not scare easy at all, and you were beginning to think that perhaps the man just did not have a fearful bone in his body.

Well, that was before you had suggested a horror movie marathon to celebrate Halloween, and you quickly realised that Daryl could indeed be a jumpy mess.

“Babe,” you began through fits of laughter, “it’s just a movie.”

Daryl grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest as he shifted his attention back to the movie that was playing on the television—a luxury that living in the Commonwealth provided you. “Quit yer laughin’, woman. Ain’t nothin’ funny ‘bout this.” He could feel the warmth spreading across his cheeks, and he prayed to whatever higher entity was listening that you could not notice it. “Can we jus’ finish the goddamn movie, please?”

You simply shook your head, clasping a hand over your mouth to stifle your giggles. “Sorry,” you apologised, your words muffled by your hand. “Yeah, we can. Think you can handle it?”

Daryl scoffed and leaned back against the couch, attempting to appear nonchalant. “‘Course I can. Ain’t no fuckin’ wimp.”

Despite his words, the moment the two of you quieted down and turned your attention back to the movie on the screen—Annabelle—another jumpscare happened. It startled Daryl so bad that he instinctively grabbed onto you, his arms wrapping around your shoulders as he shifted closer to you. If he moved any more, he would be clambering onto your lap, and you found it rather endearing.

Choosing not to say anything, and biting your lip to prevent another laugh from escaping your chest, you wrapped your arm around his shoulders, softly trailing your fingers over his arm. However, you barely began offering him comfort when he jumped again, and this time, you could not help the laugh that escaped you.

Daryl grumbled and removed himself from your embrace. He grabbed the remote and paused the movie, before turning back to you. “S’not funny.”

“It is!” you laughed, your hands clutching at your chest as you doubled over. “It’s just… you’re like the toughest person I know! Am I really supposed to believe that a horror film is enough to have you cowering into my lap?”

“I ain’t cowerin’,” Daryl countered with a scoff, but he knew that his words seriously contradicted what you had seen just a few moments prior. “I jus’ dun’ like dolls, s’all, and that bitch s’a haunted one.”

“Wait, seriously?” you asked incredulously. “You don’t like dolls? How come you never told me?”

Daryl shook his head. “‘Cause s’silly,” he mumbled. “I dun’ like them movies ‘bout haunted dolls.”

“Not even Chucky?”

“Nah. Bastard scares the hell outta me.”

“Hun, you could literally dropkick Chucky across the room if he came running after you,” you told him with a light laugh, your eyes sparkling as you looked at your husband.

“He ain’t even s’posed to be runnin’!” Daryl replied exasperatedly. “He’s goddamn plastic!”

“Well, dead people aren’t supposed to be able to run either, and you kill those every day without hesitation.”

The archer let out a small sigh and shook his head. “Yer one to talk. What ‘bout those lil’ spiders ya scream at when ya even so much as see ‘em?”

It was your turn to scoff. “It has eight legs and, like, fifty thousand eyes! That’s not natural.”

“Oh, and a possessed doll is?” Daryl countered, and you knew he had a good point.

“Touché, Dixon,” you conceded with a small smile. You took the remote from his hand and got up, moving towards the small stack of different movies. “How about we watch something else? How does ‘Halloween’ sound?”

Daryl visibly relaxed at that, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Sounds amazin’.” When you popped the movie in and flopped down next to him on the couch, Daryl wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Have I ever told ya how much I love ya?”

“You don’t have to. I know you do.” You leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, before pulling away and smiling at him. “Happy Halloween, Dar. I hope Annabelle doesn’t haunt your dreams tonight.”

Daryl groaned, but he smiled nonetheless. “Yer on thin ice, woman.”

“I love you too, Dar.”

Prompt: You’re like the toughest person I know! Am I really supposed to believe that a horror film is enough to have you cowering into my lap?

Taglist: @holdmytesseract @thevegandarkelf (comment/DM to be added or removed.)