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orpheusredux · 2 years

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The First Time - Part 2

Fic Summary: Four first times for Eddie Munson: angst, redemption, romance, and true love.

Fic Rating: 18+ only

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Female Reader, Eddie Munson x OFC

Warnings: A description of underage sex, non-con, statutory rape of a minor, period homophobia in part one only, future parts will be more uplifting and fulfilling.

The First Time Masterlist - Masterlist

“Your girl coming over tonight,” Wayne asked as he emptied his thermos into the sink, and started rinsing it out.

It was their little ritual when Wayne came in from the night shift: Wayne would clean his dinner pail and thermos and ask Eddie how he’d slept and what his plans were, while Eddie ate breakfast and asked him about his shift.

“She’s not my girl,” Eddie replied, alternating between shoveling eggs into his mouth and taking mouthfuls of coffee. He had a copy of a batteries science text book in one hand, and his attention flicked between the page, the plate and his cup. “But, yes, she is. She’s got some big bio test and wants me to do some flash card thing. I don’t know.”

Wayne had nodded and hummed, noncommittally. He didn’t believe Eddie’s bullshit. Not for one second.

Eddie tries not to have impure thoughts about you, but he is only one man, and between the shorts skirts, and the way literally everything you own ends up in your mouth at some point is almost more than he can take.

The thing is, you’re only 17. You’re also his friend and - surprise! - he doesn’t have enough real friends to blow one on sex.

Everything will change if he fucks you, he knows it. But Jesus Christ, he really wants to.

Like last weekend, you’d come over to watch Back To The Future and fallen asleep on the sofa with your sock-clad feet in his lap.

Eddie had turned to say something incredibly witty and scathing about Marty Mcfly - you’d let slip you thought he was kind of cute, so now Eddie hated him on principle - but instead of your cute little face, he’d been confronted by the sweet curve of your ass in those pink and white floral panties. The hem of that godforsaken little skirt you always seemed to be wearing these days flipped up almost to your waist.

For a second he’d been transfixed; the idea of just reaching out and touching the faint pink line where the elastic had bitten into your skin, meandered we into his head nonchalantly, sat down and kicked up it’s feet. He pictured squeezing your thick flesh, kneading it, pushing the hem out your panties higher and slipping his thumb inside, touching the tiny, dark pink, puckered rosebud he imagined you were hiding between those luscious cheeks.

Then you’d snuffled a little, wiggling your hips deeper into the sofa cushions, and spread your thighs a tiny bit more. God help him, he’d wanted to touch so much his hand itched.

Thank God, his better nature had appeared out of nowhere and smacked his hormonal desire to do a goddamned sex crime on you in the head. He’d dragged the afghan off the back of the sofa over you instead.

Later, after he’d driven you home, he pulled the van haphazardly off the road half way onto the kerb in his rush to get his pants open, and just about broke his wrist beating off to the memory of those panties.

God knows what he’d have said if one of the deputies had spotted him, parked like a crazy person, and decided to check it out.

“Can you tell me why Eddie The Freak Munson’s shaggin’ wagon is parked up in well-heeled Clerville Heights, Son?”

“Why yes officer, I was bearing off to the thought of molesting a minor!”

He’d have been caught, jizz-handed, and immediately put on some sort of register or watch list and, fuck’s sake, he’d have deserved it.

You arrived at the trailer after dinner, a walking pile of books, papers and energy, ditching your bike in the yard and talking a mile a minute before you were even half way through the door.

“...And then he says, ‘no! No, it’s the coefficient’. The coefficient! Like, has ever even read a book?”

“Reeves giving you grief again?” Eddie said from the kitchen where he was upending a bag of chips into a bowl.

Reeves is your lab partner. Eddie cannot believe that the douche gets to spend three periods a week sitting next to you for an hour, and yet has somehow managed to fuck up that sweet deal completely. Eddie loathes the guy almost as much as you do. “Want me to rough him up for you?”

“I want to put a hit out on him. You know people, right? People who will accept cash money to - to ace Hawkins High’s stupidest senior?”

Eddie grins, slightly tickled that despite being a two time senior himself, you don’t think of him as stupid, never have.

“I think you mean ‘ice’ Hawkins High’s stupidest senior, and I choose not to be offended that you only want me for my criminal connections,” he jokes.

“Oh I want you for way more than that Munson,” you reply.

You both go stock still.

“Wow,” Eddie says, managing to deftly disguise the fact he’s just about choked to death on his own tongue.

“I mean the flash cards!”

He just chuckles and give you one of those “sure, sure” looks, so you throw your book bag at him and it devolves into slapping, pinching and tickling as he ducks your half assed attempt to beat him up, giggling like a pair of middle schoolers all hopped up on red sodas.

“Ow! Ow! Help, I’m being assaulted by a nerd! Ow!”

“Gah!” You yell, finally, stomping into the living room to collapse onto the sofa. “You spent 12 hours writing a campaign for five 9th graders and Gareth last weekend, but I’m the nerd?”

“Excuse you, Missy. I’m a goddamned craftsman,” Eddie follows you with the chips and a couple of sodas. He puts them down on the coffee table.

“OK, give me these fuckin’ flash cards,” he says, making grabby hands and throwing himself onto the sofa next you.

The way you kick off your shoes and clamber up on the couch, crossing your legs under you, the way you seem so at home, it does something melty to Eddies’ insides.

And then the melty feeling has to go and ruin things by shooting straight to his dick when you lean over the side of the couch to pull some papers out of your bag, and that God-damned, tiny, little bastard skirt flips up again.

Eddie is a good man, but he isn’t a particularly strong one when it comes to self control, he certainly isn’t strong enough to stop himself from staring at your lap; at the pink and white floral panties barely covering your mound; at the little crease where your sex is defined by the taut cotton. Like a slack jawed don’t, he stared at your pussy way, way longer than is really acceptable considering you are a minor.

The word 'minor' goes off like a siren in his head. He jerks his eyes up to see you staring back at him eyes like saucers.

Without breaking eye contact, you tug your skirt back down.

“Fuck,” he says. “Fuck, I’m sorry. That was - I don’t know why I did that.”

You just stare at him, unblinking, breathing hard.

“Please say something,” he says, feeling like the worst kind of asshole.

“Was that - did you - Eddie, have you heard about the Juliette clause?”

That’s not at all what he was expecting you to say. In fact, it was not what he was expecting you to say so much he had no immediate response. Then his brain comes back online with a whoosh.

“Sweetheart, are you fucking serious right now? We’re not discussing English class. We can’t just pretend I didn’t just perv - I just want you to know that despite what I just did, I respect you so much. I lo - I care about you. You’re practically my best friend.”

You take a deep breath and hold your hand up. Your eyelids flutter, not in the come hither way but it the “does not compute” way, like you’re trying to process a bunch of stuff you don’t quite know what to do with.

Eddie’s seen this before at the All State Interscholastic Quiz Bowl last year, when you were the only Junior on a team up of Hawkins High’s biggest brainiacs. There were ten points and two questions between Hawkins and Kenney High. You looked just like this.

(You also got both questions right, and won the All State Interscholastic Quiz Bowl cup.)

Finally, you look up and pin him with your stare.

“I have given you every imaginable opportunity to jump me, Eddie. Every time, every time, you do nothing.”

You hold up one hand and start counting ‘every time’ off: “There was that time in your van, I was wearing a thong, and you didn’t even seem to notice.”

Oh, he’d noticed. His poor abused dick had noticed too.

“And the time at Gareth's pool party, when I wore that yellow bikini…”

He hadn’t even been able to talk to her the entire party, and every time someone male that wasn’t him had gone anywhere near her he'd thought he was going to have an aneurysm. He’d ended up leaving the party early.

“Then there was the time we watched Back To The Future, I thought - I thought if I just… showed you my ass, maybe you’d cop a feel, but no! You covered me up so fast I thought, well. I felt like I was grossing you out. Like I was some kind of freaking sex pest,” you said, looking stricken. “Oh my God, Eddie am I a sex pest?

Eddie realizes his chin is just about on the floor. He thinks about all the times he’s sweet talked women and girls; all the flirting and saying things he thought they wanted to hear. He thinks about how you’ve been his friend first, through thick and thin, and how much he doesn’t just want to bone you, but how much he really likes you, too.

He realizes that for the first time in his young romantic life, he doesn’t want to play any of the cutsie-pie games he’s played in the past. He wants to be real with you because, well, he loves you - the big L and the little l versions.

“Honey,” he says gently, reaching out to take a hold of your hand - you’ve been twisting them together in your lap.

“If your a sex pest, then I am one too, because if knew the sorts of things I’ve been thinking about you, you’d call the fucking cops on me.”

He just about swoons when he sees the heat flood your face and you cheeks go almost scarlet.

“But then, why won’t you - Am I not… I mean, I know I’m not ‘hot’...“

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart, stop,” Eddie says, squeezing your hand. “You are absolutely hot in all the ways that matter to me.”

He could tell you were really struggling with something, but he didn’t want to push you, he’d be honest with you about how he felt, but he wasn’t going to push anything.

Your brow crumpled so adorably, as you processed this new bit of information.

“But Tommy said there was only one reason someone like you would want to hang out with someone like me. That if I wanted you to like me - like me - I’d have to, you know, do…that.”

Eddie tamped down a spike of rage at the thought of your meathead jock brother saying something like that to you. He thought about his first time, about how he couldn’t see clearly after that, what he really wanted from a girlfriend, how he’d always played this kind of dirtbag casanova part because he thought that’s what dudes did. Yeah, he’d been one giant desperate hormone at 17, but no one had ever just… held his hand and kissed him and let him enjoy the longing, the build up, the anticipation.

“You don’t - Sweetheart, I love spending time with you, you don’t need to - to put out for me to like you - to l-love you. I always want you around.”

“Oh Eddie,” you said, covering her face with her hands. Eddie wasn’t sure if it was exactly the right thing to do, but he slid closer, and slipped his arm around your shoulders.

“I’m only a couple of years older than you, but trust me, those couple of years are going to feel like a couple of decades. You don’t have to rush any of this. You don’t have to do one single goddamned thing that you are not ready for.”

And then because he was only one man, he asked, as gently as he could: “Do you, um, do you want - like, are you - do you feel, like, ready?”

You squeeze his hand and giggle.

“No,” you said after a minute or two. “I don’t think so. I mean… all I know is that I kind of think of you as more than a friend. But Tommy says….”

“No offense, Sweetheart,” Eddie interjects, shifting back a little so he can see your face. “But your brother Tommy is a fucking idiot, who once fucked a football for a dare in front of our entire male half of our gym class, junior year.”

“Ewwww,” you wail, pushing him away. Eddie doesn’t let you get too far though.

“Oh my God, my fucking brother? Jesus Eddie.”

“I know… I know, it was fucking gross.”

“Ew!”

Your disgust makes him all but cackle.

“Look, I’m just saying that he’s not someone you should be taking romantic advice from. His idea of romance is when you finally have sex sober, you’re engaged.”

“Oh God.. no, please stop talking!” you put your hands over your ears and scrunch up your eyes and Eddie doesn’t really believe in much, but he believes he loves you.

“For the record, I don’t think we’re just friends either,” Eddie says, when he stops laughing. “I don’t think we’ve been just friends for a while.”

He looks down at your tiny hand in his, you’re pink nails, the way the skin is so thin and fine between your fingers it’s practically blue.

“Wayne calls you my girl, asks ‘is your girl coming over?’ And I always say, ‘she’s not my girl’, but… you know what? I never have to ask him who he means. Because there isn’t anyone else it could be. You are my girl… or maybe, I’m your boy, man… whatever, you know what I mean. I’m yours, if you’ll have me. No strings attached.”

You lean your head on his shoulder and he rests his cheek against the crown of your head.

“For a couple of smart people we really are dumbasses,” you say.

“Damned straight,” Eddie says. He shifts back again.

“OK, listen. Sweetpea, I would love to touch you one day. I would love to - Jesus - to do everything we could want and more, one day. Like I will… lick, suck bite every goddamned last inch of your body…”

“Eddie,” you sigh and shiver a little. Eddie shakes his head a little to clear it himself.

“But! I am not going to do any of that until you are fucking begging me for it. Ask that feminist pamphlet woman, she calls it ‘enthusiastic consent’ and it sounds fucking hot.”

You scramble up onto your knees and throw your arms around him.

“Oh my God, Eddie! You read it?"

“Course!” He says, his face pressed into the crook of your neck. “You asked me to.”

You kneel up, till you’re looking down on his upturned face. You cup his jaw between your palms, and stroke your thumbs across his cheeks.

“I don’t think it’ll be long,” you say, so softly. “I mean, you - we - won’t have to wait long.”

Eddie has a bit of a lump in his throat when you say it. Everything will change if he fucks you, if you fuck him. But that doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing. Not it you’re in it together.

“But I’ll tell you one thing, Eddie Munson. I’ve never been kissed, and you have my enthusiastic consent to be the first to -”

He doesn’t let you finish asking. He’s dreamed about this, about the feel of you, slight and tender in his arms, about your mouth, soft and open under his.

He cups your head and tilts you slightly, deepening the kiss, dipping his tongue gently into your mouth, trying to show you, in the only way he can, how good he wants to make it for you, giving you everything he has to give.

Your hands gripping his tee shirt, anchor him, ground him, but inside he is flying. He’s kissed… been kissed by women he regretted, but this - this kiss at once so innocent and chaste, yet filled with a very carnal kind of promise - this feels like the first kiss he’s ever had.

When you lean back, he chases your lips for a single, smacking peck that makes you both grin.

“Mmm,” you hum, melting back into the sofa.

“Ok, for a first kiss?” He asks, “I pass muster?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, lifting your arms over your head to stretch languidly. “Yeah, I don’t think we’ll be waiting long at all.”

Part 3 Coming Soon!

#eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #orpheus writes #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic

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twdmusicboxmystery · 3 years

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How Scars MIGHT Relate to Leah and Daryl

Okay Everyone, this is a post that I wrote like 6-7 months ago. It was after we learned about Leah and 10x18, but before the episode actually aired. It was really just conjecture on my part. Me, trying to connect patterns and similarities I was seeing.

Why didn’t I post it back then? Because we decided we thought Leah was a hallucination, and at that point, I thought this less likely to pan out.

What I’ll say now is that, if she IS real, this may still be true. And if she isn’t, this pattern may hold but it might be about some other character, other than her.

Even if it turns out to be completely untrue, just see this as patterns I’m seeing that may come into play in the future. And I wanted to post this today, before ep 1 airs and ep 2 shows up on AMC+.

Also, someone sent me this yesterday:

Norman saying there’s some double agent stuff going on DOES suggest she might be a villain. It’s hard to interpret exactly what he meant by that, but this is one possibility. So here’s what I wrote to my fellow theorists several months back:

Here’s what I have to say about Scars, and I’m still grappling for how best to frame this, so I’m sorry if it meanders a bit. And honestly, it’s nothing super ground-breaking. It’s a lot of what we’ve already talked about concerning Leah, and it comes from what you found about the “masks” lines in the Michonne/Zeke convo, as well as between Daryl and Michonne in Scars. I’m really just giving more evidence for this and predicting a future storyline. You know, like I do. ;D

And one thing I will say is that, while I WANT to tie this to Leah because both her storyline and Jocelyn’s happened during the 6 year time jump, I’m not 100% sure this even has to do with Leah. It might, but it also might not. So, I think this is a coming storyline one way or the other. But it may have to do with Leah or may be completely independent of her. No way to tell, yet.

So, in both conversations (both between Michonne and Zeke and Michonne and Daryl on the swings) they talk about people wearing figurative masks. Daryl specifically talks about someone who has so much evil in their hearts that they actually lie about who they are and present themselves in one way, as one type of person, when really they’re the opposite.

We see this theme played out all through Scars, because obviously Jocelyn did that. But now that I’m alert to it, I’m seeing it a lot. Even in 10x17, the Sniper fell under this theme. Mostly literally in his case because he was wearing camouflage (a kind of mask) to hide out and kill people. But figuratively, that’s kinda what Jocelyn did, too.

Okay, so let me start at the beginning. I’ve watched Scars twice now and I’m thinking more and more that the thing with Jocelyn happened BEFORE Leah. Now that we know Daryl’s story spans 5 of the 6 years, I think Leah must happen after Jocelyn. Michonne is big and pregnant, so Scars can’t be more than 6 mos after Rick disappeared.

Michonne asking Daryl if he’s okay being alone definitely hints at the Leah storyline (another reason to link Leah and Jocelyn). But I think it’s a jumping off point for his story. Because he tells Michonne he’s okay being alone, and in that moment, I think he really is. Or at least he really believes he is. The story with Leah will be him realizing he really doesn’t want to be alone. Romantically or otherwise. Which pushes him back toward TF when Carol comes knocking with Henry.

But let’s get to the good stuff.

After Jocelyn shows up, she tells Michonne that some of her kids aren’t with her and she wants to go get them. Jocelyn is hurt and Michonne’s about to pop, so neither of them go. But this is interesting. The three people who go to get her kids in the one building are Gabriel, Aaron, and Eugene.

It was Eugene that really caught my eye. I started going, “hmm. What could this foreshadow?” And I don’t know the answer in detail, but I think it may foreshadow his entanglement with Beth’s return in some way. And of course Aaron and Gabe are both major proxies for Beth, with Gabe being the resident Sirius character. So yeah, kind of side-eyeing that.

The next thing is that we see two hand-drawn posters detailing, through pictures, how to skin and drain both a deer and a rabbit. These are things Jocelyn has obviously made to teach the kids to survive. And I know we noticed them before, with the deer and rabbit being big Beth symbols. But I’m seeing a much bigger theme, having watched the episode several times.

The poster of the deer shows the deer strung up by its legs (head pointed down, I assume). Then, after they bring all the kids to Alexandria, we see several deer strung up this way, and Michonne comments that Jocelyn’s kids are amazing hunters. So, we learn that two of them, Winnie, the blond, and Linus, one of the boys, killed the deer and even prepared them for everyone at Alexandria.

But here’s where it gets more interesting. When Jocelyn captures Daryl and Michonne, she strings them up over pipes in exactly the way the deer being slaughtered are strung up. And of course she brands them like animals. So, in a way, they’re meant to be the deer that she’s going to slaughter.

And I’m not even sure exactly what to make of that where the deer symbol is concerned. I thought about how killing the deer does keep people from the danger of starving to death, so it fits with Deer = Tractor = getting rid of the threat, as I discussed HERE. But I also wonder if deer is synonymous with captivity in some way.

Then there’s the rabbit. I have less to say about it except that the biggest place we saw rabbits were around Lizzie and Mica. And the poster specifically lays out how to kill a rabbit, which is what Lizzie did to Mica. And I think it works here because we’re dealing with evil kids. Like Lizzie. (I will have more to say about the rabbit theory next week. We’ll see them in a big way in 11x01.)

This is where I’m going to link it to the good twin vs evil twin theme. Remember I talked about this with Noah’s twin brothers and of course Lizzie and Mica, even though they aren’t twins. I don’t think we have to have twins or even siblings for this theme, though it’s common for them to do it with siblings like Lizzie/Mica and even Daryl/Merle. Back in S4, there was Pete and his brother as well.

It occurred to me that we have a representation of it here, with Michonne/Judith on one side and Jocelyn/Winnie on the other. Sorry to go racial, but even the ethnicities match up. Michonne, a black woman with a Caucasian daughter (Judith) who isn’t biologically hers (good). And Jocelyn, a black woman with a Caucasian daughter (Winnie) who isn’t biologically hers (evil). See what I mean?

One scene that really jumps out at me is when Michonne and Jocelyn talk in the kitchen. Jocelyn goes out of her way to REALLY earn Michonne’s trust in that scene. Michonne even says, “I’m so glad you’re here,” so she’s obviously fully trusting and loving having her friend around. This is the biggest place where we see Jocelyn’s “mask.”

Then, when Michonne and Daryl are on the swings, Michonne says, “she was a friend. Like, a real one.” She talks about how they’d been through a lot together before, like heartbreak, losing parents, etc. And then she says, “I wanted it to be that way again. I believed her. I let my guard down. I should have known. Should have sensed something.”

Okay, so many ways I could go with that. First of all, it’s REALLY close to what Carol said about Lizzie. “I should have seen it. It was already there.” So, another link to Lizzie/Mica.

But I was also thinking that I can see Daryl thinking this about Leah. Like, he wanted to believe that she would stay with him, that he could love her, but it was all just a mask.

Okay, that may feel like it came out of left field, but it’s essentially where I’m going with this. Let me keep going and I’ll circle back.

When Scars first aired, I said I thought Jocelyn was an anti-Beth parallel. I don’t think many people agreed with me, but I believe that more than ever. And @wdway’s X/Chevron stuff actually backs it up. My biggest reasoning, originally, was just all the child/baby stuff around Beth. I can see her doing something similar to this—raising an army of mini-Daryls—but of course she would be good and raise them with good values. Jocelyn will be a foil to her.

Watching it again, there are SO many Beth symbols around this Jocelyn story. There’s the deer and rabbit, which I’ve mentioned. At one point, Gabriel is telling a story to all of Jocelyn’s kids, and he covers one of his eyes, showcasing only his Sirius eye. We have Eugene going to find the kids. And of course, the X-shaped brands in Michonne and Daryl’s backs, which is where the Chevron stuff comes in.

So, one way or the other, I feel like this is a foreshadow of something to do with Beth and/or her return.

Then, at the end, I paid close attention to what Michonne says to Judith, and I picked up on a few things that had never registered for me before. Remember that, in this episode, they juxtapose these Jocelyn flashbacks with Daryl coming to Alexandria with Lydia and Henry, and Michonne doesn’t want them to stay, but Judith does, etc. And at the end, Judith takes off on her bicycle and Michonne has to go find her.

So, at the end, they’re sitting on the rock together and Michonne is telling Judith about the Jocelyn situation. She says that when Judith came out of the trailer, it “was like you were looking right at me and didn’t know it was me. I thought you’d changed, or that I’d lost you.” (Emphasis mine.)

Think about that. It’s a really odd thing to say about a two- or three-year-old kid. Like she thought Judith had turned evil or something. And I think plot-wise, she means that she thought Judith would think differently of her because she’d just killed all these kids. Michonne had a lot of guilt about that. But it’s a really odd wording, and kind of hearkens back to the mask symbol. People wearing masks, appearing to be something they aren’t.

We’ve also discussed extensively the idea of Beth’s memory loss: (X, X.) Maybe her seeing Carol but not knowing who she is, or Daryl seeing or hearing Beth but not believing it’s really her. It just sort of plays into the whole hallucination theme obliquely.

Judith then says that Michonne just didn’t look like herself because of all the blood, but after a moment, she saw it was her. So, more masks. And Michonne was kind of right. At first, Judith really didn’t recognize her, or at least thought she looked like someone else. More of the same theme.

But that bicycle is a big deal. It’s showcased obviously in the episode, and bikes almost always represent kidnapping or captivity. We saw them around Glenn in S1 when he was taken by the Vatos gang. We saw one outside the Claimer house when Rick got away. I feel like this foreshadows Judith being kidnapped. She already was once by Jocelyn. But Michonne sees that bike in the present-day scenes, which makes them a foreshadow, not a callback.

So, I’ll be the first to admit that this is mostly speculation and at least half head canon, but I’m really wondering if Leah and Beth will be the good and evil to one another. (This is obviously going to be the case in terms of a good/healthy vs unhealthy romantic relationships. And if Leah is a hallucination, and Beth will obviously be real, you can already see how they’re doing this with Beth and Leah.)

Leah is wearing a mask when Daryl is with her. And once again, she may not be totally evil like Jocelyn was. But she may be misrepresenting herself in some way. Toxic at the least, evil at the most. But maybe the reason she’s practically wearing Beth’s clothes is that she’s a foil or anti-parallel to Beth.

And you see what I mean about how, if Leah turns out to be a hallucination, clearly this won’t apply to her in a literal way.

I still think there’s a good chance she’s a hallucination, but I think this still applies. It wouldn’t be literal or physical if that’s the case, but she’s still the “bad” relationship as opposed to the good one Daryl will have with Beth. We all talked extensively about how unhealthy the relationship was right after 10x18 aired. How Leah gave him an ultimatum, didn’t seem to want to meet his family, etc. So, you can see that, real or not, the relationships will be juxtaposed, with one being good and the other, bad.

The other thing want to mention is that it’s interesting that they did this story (Scars) with Michonne instead of Daryl. It makes me think that something about Michonne and Rick’s reunion story might follow this template as well.

We’ve discussed how Leah might be part of the New Mexico symbolism, and I’ve had people message me that they’re afraid that when Daryl and Carol take off together for the spinoff, he’ll be looking for Leah. Now, I obviously don’t think he would be looking for her in a romantic/looking-for-Beth sort of way, but it’s possible that she may be involved.

And like I said at the beginning, I think there’s a good chance of parallels between Leah and Jocelyn, because they both happened during the 6-year time jump, and then there’s all the other ties like, “are you okay being alone,” the mask theme, and that Carol knew about her/the acorn conversation.

I’m actually thinking this less and less, now. I really don’t think the New Mexico symbolism will be fulfilled until the spinoff, and we already know Leah will be in s11. So, I suppose if she survives S11 (and depending on whether she’s real or not) she COULD still be involved, but the timelines just don’t seem to match up to me. At least, not right now. This may change depending on what S11 brings us.

So, total conjecture here, but I’m really wondering if Leah (or if not her, someone else Jocelyn foreshadowed) will kidnap Judith, and that’s why Daryl and Carol leave to go after her. It would fit with the TWB template for Daryl and Carol (Felix and Huck on TWB) to be following Judith (Hope and Iris on TWB). If so, Daryl might really might be following Leah to New Mexico, but not out some romantic inclination, but rather because she took the kids.

Another possibility, of course, is that Leah is real, but Daryl was drugged or is just remembering things wrong. If that ends up being the case, then this could still happen. But again, we’ll just have to wait and see.

So yeah. Let’s just say I have plenty of head canons filed away in which Beth kicks some evil Leah butt. I would enjoy that very much. :D Granted, it probably won’t play out quite that neatly for us, but that’s what head canons are for, right?

And as I said, I can’t be sure this has to do with Leah. It’s possible this storyline is completely independent of Leah, and she’ll be something else entirely. But I think something like this will happen either way. And I’m sure I’ll recognize it as fulfillment when it does.

Any thoughts?

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

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lunatic-fandom-space · 3 years

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Alright, Period Cramps just set in and Im looking for songs anyway so Im gonna be listening to every RWBY Song (V1-V7) in chronological order and rank them, starting with the worst. Lets go!

Caffeine: Thank god the team with the Nazi-based leader has the shittiest song so far.

Celebrate: Why tf is this here

Shine: Ehhhh. I dont really know why but the vibes were all off, somehow. The fact that really dislike Jaune (and as an extension, Arkos) doesn't help either.

Forever Fall: This song was 5 minutes long and it felt like 20

Brand New Day: I barely even registered that

Fear: not the worst

Lets Get Real: Either Im too tired or the songs are getting worse

War: Im ranking this one higher because it wasnt over 4 minutes

Bmblb: All the love songs are so generic

Dream Come True: Im listening to all these songs in the form of Lyric Videos and the art used in this one made me think 'Oh, a Jaune Song... Great. Well, maybe we'll get Jaune pining after Phyrrah now! Yknow, to balance it out. A cute lil song of him pining for a nice girl might me like him a bit more!' and guess what. It wasnt that. It was another Arkos Song from Phyrrahs perspective. AND this one had unnecessary Girl-Hate towards Weiss! For no reason! The only reason its above Shine is because they atleast got the vibes right this time.

Not Fall In Love With You: I think Im just not a big fan of the love songs.

Boop: It was pretty cute but nothing to write home about

Until The End: slow piano

Touch The Sky: Its not that bad, its just that Im tired and this song is too goddamn long

This Time (From Shadows II): A just fine song for a shitty arc

I Burn: I liked fine, until they started rapping.

Like Morning Follows Night: I thought this was gonna be one of the better love songs, then he started rapping.

Smile: All this does is make me question how Ilia was in the wrong even more. Sounded alright though.

The Triumph: Eh, pretty unremarkable opening for an unremarkable volume

This Will Be The Day: A very promising start! There's honestly not much to say here

From Shadows: It was fine. I liked the overall sound but the lyrics and the singing are just a bit too edgy for me.

Bad Luck Charm: Someone in the comments under the lyrics video said "looks like someone found his middleschool poetry" and honestly, yeah.

I May Fall: Hey, yknow how the FoB was apparently meant to happen in Volume 1? Yeah. Overall, I thought it was pretty alright. (You can probably already tell that Im not too big of a fan of the louder, more energetic songs so far.....

Trust Love: This is by no means a problem I have with only this song, but I hate how theyre all like "oh this isnt some FaIrYtAlE kid, this is real n dark n shit" as if RWBY isnt the least dark and least subversive story Ive seen in recent time

Rising: Alright but unremarkable

Miracle: Another alright but unremarkable one. At this point I feel like listening to these songs is frying my brain

Ignite: I was just gonna say its an alright Yang Song but that rap...

Big Metal Shoe: I can appreciate some fairy tale references

Gold: The chorus got a bit repetitive but I thought it was pretty cute

Home: Another cute lil family song! This one was kinda long though

Lionized: I really appreciate the vibe of this song

All Our Days: Adorable! I didnt really expect a Taiyang Song but this was pretty nice

Sacrifice: Not really much go say about this one, I thought it was fine

Neon: I feel like I just got aggressively flexed on in the nicest, yet most condescending way possible

Lusus Naturae: Very edgy, but in a way that I can appreciate more

Red Like Roses I: I really like the sound of this one! I kinda wish we had more lyrics, but this was the song used in the Red Trailer so Im assuming it was made to compliment the action more than anything. At the start and end there was this series of notes, that Im assuming is gonna be the Leitmotiv? Either way, Im curious how theyll use it

All Things Must Die: I feel like this song is definitely at its best during the slower bits

Lets Just Live: First of all, I cant believe they live-laugh-loved us. They kept mentioning like, stories and how 'this isnt your TYPICAL fairytale', I could practically feel the writers being like "Huh, huuuuuuuh? Arent we CLEVER? Yes we are, yes we are!" But other than it was mostly fine. A bit long, maybe.

Armed And Ready: Pretty alright Yang Song, I felt like it was just a bit too long

It's My Turn: Not much to say, I thought it was a fine Weiss Song

Nevermore: I think its good

Wings: I really enjoyed this song! Caseys voice is lovely and I think its a very good Blake Song

Indomitable: I liked this one, but I feel like its mainly because the line "the spirit is indomitable" reminds of Flame from VRAINS

When It Falls: This song is trying very hard to convince you that RWBY is Dark Now. And given that Im pretty sure this is V3s opening, I guess it fits. Oh well, it still sounded pretty nice.

One Thing: A real slappin song thats going straight to my YGO-playlist as well

All That Matters: Very neat song about Yang's conflicting feelings on Blake's return. Shame theyre literally not conveyed at all in the show.

Die: Very agressive title, but okay. I also enjoyed this one, who wouldve guessed. I love this whole vibe of Desperate Heroism In A World In Ruin, yknow? Its there in Time To Say Goodbye and Red Like Roses II (two of my favourite songs so far) too. Though it is quite dissapointing that the show never really matched it.

Hero: I dont get how people can look at this and go "yeah, Ironwood was clearly always a tyrant who never even remotely cared for others". Also Caleb Hyles my beloved

Time To Say Goodbye: Another very nice song! I also think the foreshadowing in the third verse (yknow the slow one) was quite well done. The only real issue is, that the plot point its foreshadowing is stupid as hell

The Path To Isolation: Why is Weiss a better character in her songs?

Divide: This song is trying very hard to convince you that RWBY is Dark Now pt 2. It is a banger though, so its fine.

Mirror Mirror: Funfact: This was technically the first RWBY-Thing Ive ever consumed! A Youtuber named Strawbelly made a german cover of this song (and the songs from the other trailers, I believe) and it was one of my favourites for a while. Ive also already listened to some of Weiss' other songs and I remember enjoying them too. I can definitely already tell that I prefer Caseys voice in the slower songs, so I really hope this keeps up

This Life Is Mine: Yoooooooooo, Caseys voice was amazing in this one(especially at the very start)! This is one of the Weiss Songs I listened to before I even watched RWBY and what can I say, I loved it back then and I love it now

I'm The One: Oh, this was absolutely lovely. For the first few seconds I thought I wouldnt like this one, but its a banger! I love the lyrics too, theyre very clever I think

Red Like Roses II: DUDE, I adored this! I did not expect there to be lyrics for Summer at all and I was so pleasently surprised! Sandra's voice was lovely, and I really hope I'll get to hear her again. But on a slightly more negative note, I feel like this is really where the whole 'RWBYs Songs Characterize The Protagonists In A More Compelling Way Than The Show Does'-Problem starts.

I originally wanted to write some kind of conclusion but Im tired and wanna read angst fics. Have a good night!

#rwby #rwby review

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grifalinas · 3 years

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Batter Up (Working Title) Chapter 3

-/-

Things began going wrong immediately the next morning.

Okay, maybe not immediately. Samuel arrived at the shop a little bit early, and Flint and the kids showed up a few minutes later with donuts and coffee, the former of which they shared with Samuel (and Eddie even offered to run back down the block to get a coffee for Samuel when she realized that he didn’t have any), and they had a very agreeable fifteen minutes of chat before it was time to get to work.

(Eddie spent that time asking Samuel questions about Rosie, who she had decided was going to be her best friend, and Samuel was suddenly regretting the fatherly pride that had pushed him to talk about how great his daughter was. Not that she wasn’t everything he said, but Eddie’s enthusiasm had him worried both about her own expectations as well as her behavior when she and Rosie did finally meet.)

And then everything started going to pot.

First of all, the guy who was hooking up the register and the guy who was fixing the freezer showed up at the same time. This in itself wasn’t a huge problem, since they were working in different areas of the store, but it did mean that Flint and Samuel had to split up to get them both set up.

(Eddie glued herself to Samuel’s side for this; he worried that she was going to start bombarding him with chatter that he wouldn’t be able to attend to, but she seemed to grasp time-and-place better than he’d given her credit for, and mostly just offered answers to questions the register guy had that Samuel didn’t yet have the answers to himself.)

And then the food delivery truck came while the guy was still fixing the freezer and, oh yeah, turned out the freezer needed a part to be able to be fixed, which meant the food from the delivery couldn’t be put into it.

This was all right for stuff that didn’t need to be frozen, and Flint set Radley and Eddie to getting that stuff into the stockroom to be sorted through later, when they sorted through the rest of the boxes that they’d stored back there yesterday, at which point they remembered that, oh yeah, they hadn’t put up any additional shelving in the stockroom so they’d just put the boxes on the floor, and they hadn’t wanted to go far from the door so the boxes were now stacked just near enough the door that there wasn’t space to get the food delivery in without first moving the boxes they’d put in there yesterday.

And there was still the matter of the freezer to be fixed.

“I know where to get you the part, but it’ll be a bit to go get it and get back,” the repair guy said. “Dunno what you’re gonna do with this stuff before then.”

“We’ll think of something,” Flint told her, sending her on to get the things she needed, and turning his attention to the delivery.

“I don’t suppose you can leave the trailer here for the day until we’re ready to unload?” Samuel suggested.

“No can do, chief. I need to get back to the warehouse and pick up another delivery soon.”

“Of course.”

Flint sighed and turned to head inside. “Hold on, I’ll make some calls.”

At which point they discovered that their phone line was down while the other guy was getting the register hooked up. Flint buried his face in his hands and screamed in frustration.

“We may have to send all this back to the warehouse… that’s gonna be a fee, ain’t it?” He looked a question at the deliver driver, who nodded and passed over his phone, already dialing the warehouse manager.

While Flint dealt with that, Samuel turned his attention to a young man who was watching them from a few feet away, eyes roaming the chaos with a slight disdain.

“Is there something I can help you with?” he asked.

“Uh, are you guys… hiring? Yet?”

Samuel opened his mouth to say no, please check back when the store was closer to opening, only for Flint to beat him to it with, “Yeah, you applying?”

“Yes.”

“Can you start immediately?”

“Yes.”

“Flint-“

“Can you bake?”

The boy hesitated a moment, and said, “...Yes.”

“What’s your name? Are you over eighteen?” Samuel asked, before Flint could say anything else.

“Deacon,” he said, and after another of those hesitations, “Smith. Deacon Smith. And yes. I’m twenty one.”

“You’re hired,” Flint said, interrupting Samuel’s attempts to say- literally anything responsible whatsoever.

Deacon looked as startled as Samuel felt; Samuel, for his part, hooked a hand around Flint’s elbow and pulled him toward the door. “Can we speak privately for a minute?” he growled, a little more aggressive than he meant, but it had been a stressful morning.

-/-

“So what’s the problem, Sammy?” Flint asked, leaning back against his desk once Samuel had closed the door on their office. “You can see what kind of situation we’re in; we need all the help we can get.”

“It’s Samuel. And the problem is we’ve done absolutely nothing to ensure this boy can be trusted as an employee. He probably lied in that joke of an interview, you saw how many times he hesitated.”

“So what? I don’t need to know his real name and if he can produce an id saying he’s over eighteen I don’t need to know his age, either.”

“We run background checks for a reason.”

“And we will, but right now I need someone willing to help us get the store ready. We’re opening in less than a week, there’s a lot of work to be done.”

“What?!” Samuel stared. “We’re opening in less than a week?!”

“Yeah, so you can see why I need a quick hire. Our grand opening is this Saturday.”

Samuel sagged in horror. “It’s Sunday. How are we opening Saturday?”

“By not arguing with me and letting me just hire the kid so he can help us get ready. You already seriously limited my help as it is; if Deacon out there can do the stuff you won’t let Eddie do he’s already earning his keep.”

Samuel dragged his hands down his face, and took a deep breath before saying, “Okay. Okay. We can hire him- but in future, we consult on any and all hires. And starting today, I’m taking over organization of our opening. It’s what you hired me for anyway-“

And with that he stormed out of the office, leaving Flint staring after him.

-/-

Flint took a seat behind the desk and buried his face in his hands, muffling a frustrated noise that he was careful not to let carry.

That growl in Samuel’s voice had been hot. The aggression, too. The nearly-bruising grip on his arm? Lord.

And, yes, Flint was aware he couldn’t let his business partner treat him like that, but it had been a stressful morning and he was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt- though if he kept on they wouldn’t be business partners anymore, that was sure.

But. Lord. That had been hot. He couldn’t shake the fantasy, now, of that aggression in different circumstances: that growl, digging his own name into his skin; that bruising grip on his hips instead; Samuel, tightly wound and frustrated, pressing him into the desk, rutting like horny teenagers because it was too much to bother undressing.

Woof.

Flint shook his head, dispelling the fantasy. There was no point to it; Samuel was straight, and besides, Raphael had been right. Mixing business and pleasure wouldn’t work out.

But still. No reason he couldn’t enjoy his fantasy in the privacy of his own thoughts later.

-/-

By the time Flint rejoined the others in the back of the shop, Samuel had learned that Deacon didn’t have his id on him; he’d been out for a walk and asked about them hiring on a whim, and would be sure to bring his id tomorrow first thing, promise.

Samuel looked like he wanted to start scolding Flint again, so Flint told him he’d get paid in cash at the end of the day, and would start on the payroll tomorrow, and be sure to bring that id, or he was fired- and set him to work with Radley in getting the stockroom put together.

Fifteen minutes later, they were interrupted from going through the final steps of register set-up by a crash from the stockroom. Samuel took off, but Flint was faster, and beat him: the sight that greeted them was Radley with Deacon in a headlock; just as they arrived, Deacon, animal-fury in his eyes, brought his head back and cracked it against Radley’s face.

Radley dropped Deacon and stepped back, and Deacon would have taken the opening to turn and tackle him if not for Samuel getting a handful of the back of his shirt and snatching him back just as he turned.

“What the fuck is going on?!” Flint demanded, hurrying over to his nephew and checking his now bleeding nose for damage.

“Sorry,” Radley said, a little muffled for the blood pouring out of his face. “We were arguing and things got a bit… heated.”

“Yeah, no shit. What were you arguing about?”

The two exchanged a Look; not one of solidarity but mistrust, and Radley said, still muffled, “Nothing important.”

Flint looked between the two in disbelief, but Radley had clammed up and Deacon was looking surly, and neither seemed inclined to answer. When he turned to address Deacon, though, Radley said quickly, “I started it. It wasn’t Deacon’s fault. I was pushing him.”

Rather than relief, Deacon’s expression swapped into fury, but Flint waved him silent.

“All right,” he said, looking from his nephew to his employee again. “I’ll… look the other way, then. This time. Don’t fucking let it happen again or you’re both out. C’mon, Rad, let’s get you cleaned up-“

He led Radley away to the bathroom, Eddie trailing after them, leaving Samuel and Deacon behind. Samuel sighed.

“Are you hurt?”

Deacon glowered at him and swiped at a cut on his lip: it was bleeding, but not badly. He shrugged. “M’fine.”

Samuel looked, for a moment, like he meant to say more, and then he shook his head and said, “All right. Let’s get these shelves put together. We’ve got a lot to do before Saturday.”

-/-

#this one feels so rushed but w'ever #anyway here's deacon #batter up (working title)#please don't reblog this!#comments will suffice; thank you

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etherealwaifgoddess · 4 years

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Run To You - Chpt.1

Summary: Bucky has had the day from hell and all he wants is to buy what he needs and get home to his sick kid. Enter Steve Rogers in the wrong place at the wrong time and Bucky’s day goes from bad to mortifying. Master list is HERE :)

Content Warnings: A smidge of bad language, but really ya’ll should expect that from me by now lol

Word Count: 2.3k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! Who’s ready to start a new adventure with me? I knew I wanted to write a kid!fic with Bucky and Steve but I didn’t expect it to go quite this way until I jokingly called a friend “Captain Clueless” and then couldn’t get that name out of my head in relation to Steve. I fell completely in love with this little universe as I went and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did. XOXO - Ash

Chapter One

Bucky Barnes is not at his finest. He just got off a sixteen hour shift from his job as an ER nurse and can barely keep his eyes open. The shift should have ended four hours earlier, but a tour bus accident had them overwhelmed on what had already been a busy night. Bucky was looking forward to catching a few hours of sleep while Becca was at preschool but nope, he came home to a frazzled best friend/ babysitter and a sick four year old. It was always something with Becca, her immune system just wasn’t what it needed to be. Bucky couldn’t fault her for that, she had been born premature and that unfortunately resulted in a whole host of health issues for the little girl. He would never regret adopting her, it was the best decision he’d ever made, but some days parenthood wore on him.

Bucky moves the load of laundry Natasha had started for him into the dryer. It smells clean but there will forever be a slight stain from puke on the ladybug print sheets. He can try his heavy duty stain remover on it later, but he knows there is only so much that can be done for white fabric and bodily fluids. There’s a reason most of his scrubs are black. After checking in on Becca, Bucky begs Natasha to stay a little longer so he can run down to the bodega to pick up a few things for when Becca wakes up. He would have sworn they had an extra bottle of Pedialyte, but apparently they’d used it up during Becca’s last bout with the flu.

Natasha waits patiently, listening to Bucky complain about his shift while he quickly changes out of his scrubs into a pair of soft grey sweats and an old Blink 182 tshirt. She’s been his best friend since their first year of college when they met in Intro to Biology. The two of them have been inseparable ever since, both even choosing to stay in Brooklyn after college instead of going back to where they were from. Natasha’s family was from Russia but traveled a lot so she was happy staying in the city that felt like home to her, and Bucky would have done just about anything to avoid going back to the tiny town in Indiana where his parents were still selling drugs out of their trailer and making each other miserable.

Bucky had thought he was free of his family forever when NYU accepted him into their nursing program. It was his way out of a poverty stricken little town that people rarely escaped from. Bucky had left home at eighteen with no intentions of returning, and he probably never would have, but during his last year of nursing school he found out through Facebook that his thirty eight year old mother was pregnant. To no one’s surprise, his mom was still dealing, still with his deadbeat dad, and was too far along when she found out she was pregnant to have any other option than having the baby. It was a repeat of the situation she’d found herself in at sixteen when she had Bucky. Knowing what it was like to grow up in that house, Bucky couldn’t allow another child to be brought into such a toxic environment. As soon as his mom confirmed the news was true, he hopped on the next flight out to Indiana and started the process to legally adopt his sister once she was born.

When Rebecca Grace Barnes came into the world nine weeks early the doctors said it was a miracle she survived. She was so small, just barely three pounds, and needed to stay in the NICU for just over a month. Bucky had made arrangements with his professors to turn in exams and papers online, barely managing to finish up his nursing degree while biding his time before he could go back to Brooklyn with his baby sister. It had been a wild ride trying to get his nursing career started while caring for a newborn but Natasha had been a life saver. She and their other friend Clint had stepped up in a huge way, helping to watch Becca when he needed to work and daycare wasn’t open. Their schedules had gotten even messier recently when Becca started preschool. Bucky is counting down the days until kindergarten starts so their schedules will align enough for him to only lean on Nat and Clint one or two days a week at most.

“Are you even listening to me?” Natasha throws a balled up Minnie Mouse sock at Bucky who’s too tired to dodge and instead gets a face full of pink fleece.

“Yeah, Nat,” Bucky sighs, wishing he could take off his aching prosthetic but knowing he’ll need both hands for shopping bags. “I’m getting you a choco taco and a red bull this time. I got you.”

Natasha nods happily, completely unphased by Bucky’s eye roll. She’s getting her wake up juice and her crunchy chocolatey sugar, and that is all that matters.

Bucky rushes around the bodega grabbing everything he’ll need to deal with a sick kid, throwing things in the basket without even bothering to check price tags. His bank account will hate him, but he doesn’t exactly have time or options to find the best deals. Grabbing Nat’s items and an iced coffee for himself, he waits in line as an older man chats with the clerk while the teenager rings up his order. The television in the corner is playing the local news, apparently Captain America visited a rec center in Brooklyn recently. There are sound bites from elderly residents and young kids fawning over him, and one of the Captain himself extolling the importance of community and keeping kids off the streets.

Bucky thinks his eyes will get stuck in the back of his head with how hard he rolls them. “This fucking guy.” Bucky grumbles as he places his basket on the counter, unloading his stuff.

The clerk nods in silent agreement.

“I’m sure he was a ‘bright shining beacon of hope’ back in WWII but he has no clue what’s going on in the real word nowadays.” Bucky continues.

The clerk nods once again and Bucky, feeling particularly exhausted and grumpy, yells over at the TV, “It’s not all rainbows and sunshine Captain Clueless!”

“Captain Clueless?” A deep voice rumbles from behind him, “I’ve been called a lot of things over the years, but that’s a new one.”

Bucky sees the clerk's face go pale and the kid freezes, confirming what Bucky feared when he heard that rich baritone behind him. Oh fuck.

Turning around, Bucky prepares himself for the worst. Instead, he finds an extremely amused looking Captain America holding a bottle of water and a bag of swedish fish.

“I’m… I… I didn’t mean…” Bucky stammers. He doesn’t know how to politely explain I meant every word but never meant for you to hear it.

The register pings as the clerk frantically finishes ringing up Bucky’s order, trying to get both men out of the shop before the situation can get any worse. The sound startles Bucky and he turns around to see the green blinking $58.79 on the little box. His stomach sinks, there went grocery shopping for the week. But, he reasons, Becca won’t want much for a few days while she recovers and he’s no stranger to a ramen-only diet. They’ll get by, just like they always do.

Before Bucky can hand over his last three twenties, a sleek black card taps against the card reader and the machine starts blinking, processing it. Bucky spins around in surprise only to literally face plant into a solid wall of muscle. Muscle that smells like tea tree and mint, yum. Bucky moves backwards in surprise, bumping into the counter but getting himself away from the giant of man who’s also moving backwards after their collision.

“It’s on me.” Steve tells him with a shrug.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Bucky insists, “I insulted you.”

“You were just being honest.” Steve reasons, “I don’t get to hear people’s honest opinions all that much.”

“That has to be weird.”

Steve chuckles, “Pal, you got no idea.”

“Well, thank you. And I am sorry you heard that.” Bucky collects his bags, still dumbfounded by the whole experience.

“I’d like to hear more about why you said it. Whatever you think it is I’m missing about the twenty-first century. I’m just out for a run so if you don’t mind company on your way back to wherever, maybe we could talk?”

Bucky shakes his head. The man actually wants to learn how to be a better person after being insulted by a random grungey stranger in a bodega. “You really are Captain America.” Bucky murmurs, still stunned.

Steve chuckles again; a deep, throaty sound. “Yeah, guilty as charged. But you can just call me Steve.” Steve winks conspiratorially and Bucky thinks he might actually combust. No one should be allowed to be that good looking.

Bucky waits as the cashier rings Steve up for his things and Steve taps his card again to pay. “I thought it was weird enough getting a card that swiped when I came out of the ice, but now this one doesn’t even swipe. It just taps and poof, done.” Steve says with a faint tone of awe.

Bucky can’t imagine how many things Steve needed to adjust to after waking up from the ice. “Far cry from what you were used to, huh?”

“Well, it sure beats keeping coins in old coffee cans.”

Bucky glances over at Steve as they leave the bodega together, “You do that whole ‘awe shucks, man out of time’ thing really well. Is it real though? No offense, you can’t really be that well adjusted. You’re still human.”

Steve meets Bucky’s eyes for a moment, crystalline blue piercing into smoke grey-blue, assessing him. After a few beats he decides Bucky is someone who can handle the truth. “It’s a lot easier to do that than to curse up a storm every time some piece of tech pisses me off. Plays out a lot better with the whole Captain America image too.”

“I didn’t think Captain America even knew how to swear.” Bucky teases.

“He doesn’t, but Steve Rogers does. I grew up in Brooklyn, I know how to curse.”

Bucky laughs, swinging his bags idly as they walk in silence for a few steps.

Steve breaks the silence, reminding him of why they’re walking down the street together in the first place, “So really, why do you think I’m so out of touch? Because I thought SHIELD did a bang up job teaching me about the world and what I missed while I was out.”

“I’m sure they did, but SHIELD is still an agency with their own ideas and agendas. I promise you, you got a watered down version of real life. Do me a favor; when you get home look up what they say about The Great Depression and WWII. Do a little research on how we look back at those times. Then think about how it really was back then when you were living it. I would bet you lunch that the two don’t line up.”

“I never thought about it that way.” Steve admits. “I’ll look it up today, promise.”

They arrive on Bucky’s stoop and he climbs up a step, looking down at Steve instead of up at him. He wants to know what Steve thinks once he does some research but doesn’t know how to ask. Luckily, Steve beats him to it.

“I’m going to need your number if you’re taking me out to lunch.” Steve says casually, a light hint of teasing.

Bucky blushes, trying to remind himself that he was the one who threw the lunch bet out there. Steve Rogers would never just ask him out like that. “I… uh… um…” he fumbles anyway.

Steve takes a step back in retreat, his own cheeks flaming. “I’m sorry, that was. I’m sorry. You clearly have a sick kid to get back to, and I’m sure a lovely wife waiting for you too.” he motions at Bucky’s bags. “Thank you, for being honest with me.” Steve turns to hurry off and, thankfully, Bucky’s brain catches up with him.

“Steve, no.” he blurts out. “No wife. Sick kid, yes. But no, um, no one else. If you want my number, I’ll give it to you. My schedule is a little weird because of my job but I do want to know what you think when you get done looking things up.”

Steve smiles up at Bucky, soft and hopeful and genuine. It isn’t the All American facade grin he uses for the cameras, and it feels all the more special to Bucky because of it. Steve hands over his phone to Bucky so he can enter in his contact info and then sends him a quick text so Bucky has his number too. “So, I’ll call you later then?” Steve tries, sounding a little unsure still.

“Yeah, I’ll look forward to it, Steve.” Bucky looks up at his doorway, knowing he needs to get back to Becca but not wanting Steve to leave quite yet.

Steve takes the hint and gives him another soft smile and a small wave as he turns and heads off down the bustling city sidewalk.

Bucky stands there a moment, collecting himself and trying to process it all, before hurrying back upstairs to his little apartment to relieve Natasha of babysitting duty.

*** New chapters will be posted on Sunday and Wednesday nights until the fic is complete ***

#stucky #stucky fanfic #shrunkyclunks #modern au #modern day au #steve rogers #captain america #non winter soldier bucky barnes #nurse!bucky #parent!bucky #becca barnes #kid!becca barnes #adopted child #marvel #steve rogers x bucky barnes

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barrysjumpsuit · 4 years

Text

blindsided - oc (barry’s sister) x rafe cameron (ch.6)

series masterlist • series playlist

wc: 3.1k

synposis: christy is a lifelong resident of the outer banks. after a series of hookups with rafe cameron, kook royalty, she’s smitten. what she doesn’t know is about what her boyfriend and brother are involved in behind her back

warnings: use of guns, cannabis use, verbal/physical abuse and violence, cigarette use

a/n: the last chapter! i might have write up an epilogue if anyone wants one?? this was so fun to write and i don’t have any works in progress so please send me requests!

---

Rafe threw his truck into park, and stumbled out onto the tall grass. He was surprised he made it all the way to the Cut, with his pounding headache and waves of anxiety, panic, and fear that shook his body. The previous night’s events were too fresh on his mind.

He remembered seeing the cop, her gun pointed at his father. Then his father in handcuffs. Then John B was blaming his father for awful, horrible things. For killing his father, for stealing gold.

Rafe’s brain was already off from withdrawal. That much was obvious to him - he had hit Christy, he had destroyed his bedroom.

Rafe had destroyed himself.

He hardly realized that he pulled the trigger until it was too late, until Peterkin was laying on the ground, blood pooling around her. Rafe had hardly registered the yells and screams around him, and instead, blindly obeyed his father, telling him to return home, that he would handle it.

From there, he learned his father blamed John B for the whole incident. Rafe had found Topper and then Kelce, caught up in the manhunt, distracting his brain and fueling his rage.

And somehow, someway, here Rafe was, needing to escape his mind.

“Barry,” he called, pulling open the screen door into the living room. “Barry,” he repeated.

Barry was doubled over, doing a line. He sat up as he finished, snorting and wiping his nose before he answered. “Heyyy, what’s up, Country Club?”

“I need cocaine, Barry. I… I need it.”

“Ay, you lied to me, and I don’t like it when people do that. And, that was it right there, brother.”

Rafe could feel his body and mind weaken at Barry’s words. He tore through the trailer, opening cabins, stumbling down the hallway and into Barry’s room, trying to ignore Christy’s bedroom right across the hallway. “That’s bullshit, Barry!” he yelled, throwing open Barry’s closet doors.

“Yo, get out of my room!” Barry said, grabbing Rafe and throwing him back into the hallway.

He stumbled down onto the floor in the kitchen. “Barry.... Barry, I fucked up.”

Rafe could hear his labored breaths, and feel himself shaking.

“Hey, you’re good, you’re good, dog,” Barry was saying. “I’m sure you did, Country Club,” Barry continued, his voice almost a purr as he pulled out a chair and sat down in front of him. “But I can assure you, I’ve done worse. But y’know, my sister isn’t very happy with you.”

Rafe grasped at his hair, Barry’s words crushing him even more. He was crying, but didn’t care. “Barry… I did… something, and now I’m fucked, and like... for life, and I can’t get out of it.”

“My sister know about whatever it is you did?” Barry asked, and Rafe shook his head. “Hey, don’t come here telling me there’s no way out, because that’s a lie,” Barry was saying. “What you need to do is you need to nut up, bro. I got a big fuckin’ problem here, Rafe, you see me crying about it?” Barry fake cried, and Rafe glared at him, anger and adrenaline coursing through him. “No. Rafe, I ain’t got no money, them kids took it. But one of them kids got a twenty-five g reward on him. You help me out, I help you out, I can’t get no more product until I get some money.”

“John B,” Rafe whispered. He looked up to Barry; he sat with his forearms leaning on the back of the chair, grinning.

“That’s the one,” Barry said, leaning forwards towards Rafe. He could smell his breath. “And when they get him, he’s gonna start snitchin’. On me, on you, on your girlfriend, and I don’t want that happening, cause we’ll all be fucked. What about you, Country Club?”

“No…”

“That’s gonna happen unless we get to him first. So how about we go get him?”

---

“What?”

Christy was still on the ground, shaking. She could feel her nose and lip bleeding, the gravel digging into her skin.

“Someone’s in trouble,” Barry grinned, and Rafe kicked him again.

“Rafe!” Christy screamed, grabbing onto his legs, trying to wrestle him to the ground.

“Baby, I swear, I didn’t mean to-” Rafe was saying, crying, shutting down.

“But you did,” she just said, dumbly, in shock.

It was at that moment that Christy realized she didn’t really know who he was. She had overlooked everything. He was a manipulative, violent drug addict. He had murdered a cop. He had kept so much from her, while she poured her heart out to him, and would have gone to the ends of the earth to help him, to make him happy.

She realized she was still clinging to his leg, and she crawled backwards, repulsed, to end up beside Barry.

“Rafe… why?”

“She was about to arrest my dad,” he responded, his voice breaking, but she felt no sympathy.

“So you fucking shot her?” Christy countered back, and she saw his face visibly break.

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t myself…” he was saying, breathless.

“And you knew?” she asked Barry, shoving him roughly.

“I’m not either of your all’s mother,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “All I knew is that he needed something to take the edge off, and that I needed my money back from those kids.”

“I can’t fucking believe you two,” she spat, pushing herself away from Barry this time. Some blood came out of her mouth as she spoke. “So what’s your big plan now, huh? Barry, he got away, no reward money for you. Congratulations, Rafe, you’re a fucking murderer. So now what?”

She saw Barry and Rafe exchange a glance. Rafe was visibly shaking from the anger.

“You’re a little team now? Barry, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“I own him now,” Barry slurred, grinning.

In that moment, Rafe crouched, picked up his gun, and aimed it back at Barry. Christy reached to grab hers, but Rafe kicked it away, wagging a finger at her.

“Rafe, if you shoot him, you know what’s going to happen? You’re going to jail.”

“Actually, Christy, I’ll be able to get out of here. You won’t be able to bring yourself to lay a hand on me. And if you rat to the cops, I’m going to rat right back about your operation,” Rafe said. The man in front of Christy was completely foreign, one she had never met before. “It’s your word against mine, and I don’t think your criminal record will help you out.”

He was right.

“So I can do whatever the fuck I want,” Rafe finished, gripping the gun tighter.

---

Rafe remembered when he sobered up the first time.

It was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

That was the first time he ran to Christy. There had always been something between them, but he was too scared to admit it to anyone, even himself. Topper would shun him, Kelce would insist he could do better with literally any kook. Rafe knew that Christy wasn’t an ordinary pogue.

They had interacted a few times before. At keggers, when they ran into each other at Barry’s place. He didn’t fail to notice her lingering glances, but she never made a move.

Rafe was drunk the first night they hooked up. They were at a kegger at the Boneyard, Christy slinking throughout the mass of people handing out joints. She wasn’t drinking, just a little stoned, mellowed out and laughing freely. Her dark hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, the navy blue of her bikini top almost blending in with the dark seawater.

Topper went home with Sarah, and Kelce with his girl, leafing Rafe alone. It was shitty of them, and they knew it. Rafe couldn’t be trusted alone, especially in his current headspace.

So he made a move. He sought out Christy. So few things brought him pleasure those days, and he knew what he wanted.

She seemed surprised. She agreed to go home with him. She drove his truck back to his place, because she didn’t think going to her place, with Barry, with the drugs, was a good idea. She made sure he wasn’t going to get sick, she made sure he used protection.

Christy was there for him. Every step of the way. In the morning, he pushed her away, realizing who he had hooked up with. A pogue, his ex drug dealer’s baby sister.

But still, she came back for him when he needed her. She made him feel good, like he could do anything, without the drugs.

When Rafe was finally clean, out of the “withdrawal” phase, he pushed her away. He had his eyes set on tourons and other kooks. He could get anyone he wanted, without the strings Christy had attached to her. After almost a year, he realized that it was those strings he liked: he liked being with someone totally unlike him, someone whose entire life was dedicated to those she loved, and he liked being someone she loved.

That night at Topper’s house, when Rafe saw her, his heart skipped a beat. He had seen her around since they had hooked up, and he started wanting her back in his life more and more.

That night at Topper’s house, he knew he had to make the jump.

He watched her all evening. Do her normal thing. Fake flirt just to make a deal. Exaggerate her laughs and her smiles. Rafe could see right through it all, that she just wanted to get out of here. When she wandered away to her two friends, lighting a joint, Rafe knew it was time.

The rest was history.

She poured her heart out to him, and him to her. When Rafe was with Christy, it was like he was living a life he had never lived before. He didn’t have to worry about impressing his father, because to Christy, he was already perfect.

Rafe knew, deep down, he was using her. Just like when he was using drugs. He just couldn’t bring himself to admit it.

---

“Rafe,” Christy said. She was aware of how weak her voice sounded. “You can’t shoot him. You never would.”

“Shut up!” he yelled, this time, waving the gun towards Christy. “You don’t know me!”

The gun was on her, and she was frozen. It wasn’t the first time she had been in this position, but it was the first time it had been with someone like Rafe.

“I know you better than you think,” she replied. “Rafe, I know you hate your life, and I know you can’t bring yourself to fucking shoot the two people who work to make your life better. Without Barry, without me, where would you be?”

Suddenly, Rafe grabbed the front of Christy’s t-shirt and pinned her against his truck. Barry yelled something, but Rafe kicked him, and pressed the gun to the bottom of Christy’s jaw.

“Barry, you move, your sister’s dead!” he yelled. Christy met her brother’s frantic eyes before returning to Rafe’s. He leaned his face towards hers, his lips peeled back in a snarl. “You don’t know me.”

A split second was all it took.

Barry threw himself onto Rafe, the gun firing. Christy dropped to the ground on her stomach, the gravel digging into her stomach, grabbing her discarded gun and levelling it towards Rafe from where she was laying.

Rafe was the only one standing. Barry had a hold of his gun, training it on him, grinning wickedly despite the blood dripping down his other arm, which he held close to his body.

“Rafe, you get the fuck out of here, and our mouths are shut and yours better be too,” Christy said with an unnerving calmness, shooting Barry a look. He glared back at her but didn’t argue. “And I never want to see you again.”

There was a long period of silence and no movement from anyone. Rafe was visibly evaluating his options. Then, he moved, Barry and Christy’s guns following him until he climbed back in his truck and drove away.

Both Christy and her brother stayed on the ground, stunned. It wasn’t until then that she realized how badly she was shaking, dropping the gun back to the ground in disgust.

“Hey, Chris,” Barry said, pulling her out of her trance. He was sitting ten feet from her, his hand pressed over his bloody arm.

“You good?” he asked as she looked over at him, and she nodded, but was still unable to move, processing everything that had happened in the past five minutes.

Rafe pulling up. Pulling a gun on Barry. Pointing a gun at her. He hit her, he threatened her, and told her he killed Peterkin, pressed a gun to her head. The look he had in his eye was foreign - it wasn’t the Rafe she knew. She had told herself she would stay with him through his best and through his worst, but she never realized he could stoop so low.

Christy had known, deep down, that Rafe was using her. At least that’s what happened the first time. But when he came back for her, there was something there. She had pushed those thoughts away, but they resurfaced too late.

Barry’s touch finally fully brought her back. She could feel the wetness of blood from his hand on her arm, and she shoved his hand away, looking at his arm. The discharged bullet had ripped through the inner muscle of his bicep.

“Barry…” she said dumbly, going to take off her shirt to press around it or tie it around it or do something to stop the bleeding. Her brother protested, but she shut him up with a quick “let me be the one to take care of you, okay?”

The words came out of her mouth without her even thinking, and Christy realized her ultimate flaw. She cared too much for everyone. Maybe it was from a lack of people truly caring for her, but she knew that a lot of her love for Rafe was due to the fact that he was broken and she was able to fix him.

Temporarily, at least.

You failed, her brain told her, but she pushed the thought away as her fingers were coated in blood from her brother’s arm. Christy knew he had been through worse when he was in the Army, but she didn’t care.

“Come here,” he coaxed as she finished tying the shirt around his arm. He pulled her into a one-armed hug, her face in his chest, and she cried.

---

That night, after walking back home with her brother and making sure his arm was okay, Christy packed a bowl and walked out to the end of the dock to watch the sunset.

As she smoked, she thought about the constants in her life. There weren’t many. There was Barry, of course. That’s all she came up with at first. But then, she realized she loved where she lived, even if it meant existing on the same island as Rafe Cameron. She liked the sunshine that warmed her skin. She liked the waves she could escape in on her surfboard. She liked the shorebirds, hopping around the beaches terrorizing the tourons.

Those were things that would never go away. While there may be more Rafe Camerons in the future, or maybe someone better than Rafe Cameron.

As Christy laid back on the dock, she remembered her stoned thoughts from a few weeks before. The world is like a snowglobe. Agatha shook everything up. Most people settled, their lives back to normal. Some flakes rested precariously on trees, on houses, on people. They had a new vantage point, but gravity was always trying to suck them back down to the ground.

She remembered that she viewed herself as the snowflake, with Rafe as her pillar of support, but Christy realized that was all wrong. Rafe was the snowflake. Rafe was the one who was unstable, seeing the world as he never had before. With Christy, he was exposed to the rough and tumble life of those who lived on the Cut, packing weed into emptied-out cigarettes, spending nights in stuffy, humid trailers without electricity. Christy was his tree, holding him up, supporting him.

Rafe had fallen hard off that tree.

He went back to old habits. Nothing had changed about him. He was continuously exploited by his father, wrapped up by the scandals that came with life as a kook, especially as a Cameron. Rafe had pushed her away, surrounding himself with people who lived the same life he did instead.

It was at this realization that Christy understood. She came to peace with herself.

She stood, walking back across the dock. Barry had built a fire and was sitting in one of the beat-up lawn chairs, watching it. One arm was bandaged. One hand held a beer, several discarded cans laying on the ground beside him.

“The alcohol will thin your blood and make you bleed more,” Christy said flatly, sitting down in the chair next to him.

“You got any weed left on you, then?” he asked, his words slightly slurred. She knew he had an embarrassingly low tolerance, and handed him her pipe and lighter.

“Should still be some in there, I repacked it not long ago,” she said, but he was already coughing out smoke.

“You already over him?” Barry asked after he recovered.

Christy looked at him through her hooded eyes and smiled, lighting a cigarette now that Barry had her pipe. “There’s nothing I could have done for that boy and nothing he would have done for me. Rafe Cameron is Rafe Cameron. I shouldn’t have been stupid enough to not see that.”

“You live and you learn, baby sister,” Barry said, raising the pipe up in a toast. She lightly hit her cigarette against it, taking a long hit.

Nights like these were what she had as a constant in her life. People come and go, but Christy was always going to exist. What she realized now is that she could control who to give her love to. She would continue to love her brother, no matter how much he pissed her off. She vowed to continue to love herself, and not let any more toxic people in her life.

As Christy smoked her cigarette, she smiled to herself, knowing that she got something out of her time with Rafe Cameron. In reality, she and him weren’t that different. Before Rafe, she was lost, just trying to find someone to love before chasing her next high, broken by their pasts.

But now, Christy knew who she was and where she belonged. She was a pogue from the Cut and proud of it.

taglist @stargazingstarkey @letsgofullkook @ims0golden @ampanonyg @hoeforpankow @jjsmentalpolaroids @queenk00k @drewstarkey @obbx-tings @bricksatanakinswindow @sortagaysortahigh @prejudic3 @delinquentstarkey @rudypankow-whore @drewxxrudy @jjmaybcnks

#rafe cameron #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #obx #marie writes #jj maybanks #topper thornton #nick cirillo #drew starkey #john b #john b routledg #kiara carerra #pope heyward #sarah cameron

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belladonnaappreciation · 5 years

Text

Blake Belladonna and Myself.

Here’s the thing. I’m gonna tell you a bit about some semi dark times in my life. So, Trigger warnings are applied here for those that suffer or have suffered from Physical, Mental, Emotional, and Sexual abuse from a partner or parental figure. And hopefully that will shed some light on what I am going to say about my connection to my favorite RWBY character. Blake Belladonna.

When I was about two years old my parents divorced. My mother had met this man by the name of Robert Domin. They got married and as a two year old I was excited to have a dad again. Seeing as my actual dad was not allowed to see me at the time due to my mothers manipulative tactics and managing to get a stronger custody hold on us than she should have. So this man, Robert Domin, He seemed like the greatest father figure alive. I looked up to this man until I was about 5 years old. That man went from what I thought was a blessing..... to a wolf in sheeps clothing. My mother often had to work a tad later than he did. She worked at a bank and actually did an amazing job. So she was often stuck working later. Rob would get my brother in the shower and when he got out I was next. He would wait until he heard the water running, since we were 5 and 6 we had to leave the door open just in case something happened there was no chance of it being locked, after I had began getting in the shower he would creep into the room without saying anything and approach me. I don’t know the reason..... nor do I think I ever will...... But he would grab me by the arm and proceed to spank me as hard as he could several times. Now, spankings. Not the worst thing. But he would do it until I was unable to sit down without feeling like I had knives in my rear. (Attempted to say that as humorlessly as I could.But feel free to laugh at the other ways I could have said it.) And this went on for the next 4 and a half years. My mother never caught on because I would often hide the pain or just flat out run away to dress myself whenever she was home. Jump ahead to 10 year old me. Despite the traumas left behind by Robert I was excelling at school. I loved books and had actually begun the Harry Potter series.

I thoroughly enjoyed the series! I wanted to grow up to be as sassy as Snape, as Brave as Harry. and as Courageous as Harry. I had good friends and things were..... happy. Aside from the man I still had to come home to after school. Fortunately we moved to Jacksonville, Florida. He decided to divorce my mother because he did not want to move to Florida. I had thought that things were finally going my way. Until I found out my mom had been seeing a man by the name of Douglas Humphrey. Now here’s the trip. Amazing at first. He took us mudding in a big old truck and with a couple of four wheelers! It was awesome! We watched NASCAR together, we went and saw the 3rd spider-man movie in theaters together! But it didn’t last long. I had broken my foot while playing around with my brother but he had told me it wasn’t broken. To walk it off. My mother wanted me to go to the hospital but he wouldn’t let her take me. When she tried to leave anyways he got scary..... I spent 4 DAYS crawling around the house and limping with tears in my eyes at school. I kept telling everybody I was fine at school. But finally my mom had him take me to the hospital because it got to the point where I couldn't even walk on it without crying. The doctors took X-rays and found I had a break in between my big toe and what I call the index toe. I’m sure there’s a name for it but that’s what I call it. The doctors had to do whats called “resetting” because my food had actually partially healed. But it was very much so incorrect. They had to break my foot again. And this time it hurt worse. When I cried, as all kids would, He smacked me upside the head and told me to “Man up”. That was the first time he had hit me. And it.... gave me a feeling of impending doom. I was terrified that he was gonna turn out to be just like Rob. And I can say that I was wrong..... He was worse. Not only did he let his children walk all over us and do whatever they wanted to us. But he would punish my brother and I for retaliating. He would push us, choke us, he even held us while his children would hit us. He would physically abuse our own mother in front of us.He caused my mother and my Aunt to turn on each other..... I had to save my mothers life from my aunt. My brother managed to get her outside and I went and helped my mother up and locked her and myself in the bathroom..... She had a broken nose.... several cuts and gashes all over her face. Our living room was a literal bloody crime scene. It looked like somebody DIED in there. I had to lie to child protective services. I HAD TO DENY MYSELF AN ESCAPE FROM AN ABUSIVE ENVIRONMENT. Because if I had left.... I’m pretty sure he would have killed my mother.... I was thankfully removed from that situation and sent to live with my grandmother back home in Illinois. Then proceed the best years of my life. I finally met my best friend. Was the guy that a lot of people avoided. But those who did interact with me either loved me or hated me. And.... I felt normal. I FELT SAFE for once in my life.

Fast forward to age 19. I’ll keep this one a bit shorter. I was in a semi-broken home living with my mother once again. Except there wasn’t any man trying to hit me. Or abuse me. A guy who was a bit of an ass hole but relatively harmless none the less was there instead. I had two baby sisters who I love so very much and are my best friends to this day. My mother and I got into a fight about money and she kicked me out. I wound up living on the streets. I thankfully had a job. But would constantly be found couch surfing or sleeping either inside a McDonald, which I had to buy something every couple hours to not be kicked out, or I would be sleeping under a highway bridge near my job. I met a guy who was really sweet. He said he wanted to fix the injustices that had been done to me. Just to clarify I am Bi-sexual. But I avoid men romantically for reasons you are about to learn. He sought to right the wrongs and love me for me. He wanted to help me heal. My traumas. My scars. My past. He made me feel..... whole. To this day I can’t recall his last name. But his first name haunts me. ad I hadn’t realized just how much until I met a particular character in RWBY.

ADAM. The fall of beacon hurt. But the part that hurt the most wasn’t Ruby losing two friends. It wasn’t Penny. It wasn’t Pyrrah. It was Adam. Fucking. Taurus. I couldn’t recall previous mentions of his name from earlier in the show. But Blake catching sight of him as he butchered Yang at the end of Volume 3. The terror in Blake's eyes struck a very personal chord with me. I have seen Adam after he and I have gone our separate ways..... and it truly is that terrifying.

My heart sank. You could hear the despair filling her soul. And it hurt me. My anxiety was at a high and honestly..... Hearing her say his name..... Adam... It terrified me. Adam Taurus represented everything I HATED about my Adam. The lies.... manipulation..... the mental and emotional abuse. Admittedly I had written Blake off as the stereo typical moody, edgy, goth teen character. Because I had neglected to watch trailers for anyone except Ruby. I was certain Ruby Rose was going to be my favorite because she was fun and exciting and bad ass. But I would only be proven wrong in time.

Come Volume 6. Learning more about Blake’s past and her struggle with Adam. Her demons haunting her constantly. We all know why she ran. And why she feels the need to take on Adam alone. But you can see during their whole fight. She not fighting to beat him. She is NOT fighting to best her abuser. She is fighting to SURVIVE against someone she knows she could not beat on her own. But she still feels as though she HAS to try. Because this is HER battle. This is HER demon. She does not even register the idea of asking Yang for help. And this.... also hit home very hard. I have been struggling with my demons for years. Not letting anyone in to understand them. Until I met my current group of friends. one of which is here on tumblr. And she helped me realize why I love Blake so much. ( @songbirdforever ) Blake realizing she could let people in and help her with this fight.... It helped me open up more to the people I care about.

Much like when Blake is able to set her fears aside and show a resolve unlike anything she has put forward with Yang being there. She gains the will to fight her demon. Yang, her friend, being there. Even though Blake did not tell her she needed her. And that Blake did not WANT her to be there out of fear of Yang getting hurt. She didn’t have a choice. She knew Yang would never leave her until she knew she was safe.

Blake's Demon had already lashed out and maimed a loved one (Yang) once already. And seeing that same loved one face her demons with a resolve that she could not bring to muster up herself gave her a reason to stand firm. To stay her ground and tell him that she is not afraid anymore. Together. Blake and Yang kill Adam. Almost in mental synchronization they know what each other needs to succeed. This is a bond forged in fires that were kept by the demons of the past and fueled by scars.

This is why I love her so much. She has not only shown me that it’s okay to not be able to fight your demons on your own. That sometimes you lose the struggle and cave.... But whether you know it or not.... someone sees your struggle. And there is going to be that one person that will always be there for you whether you want them to be or not. In your darkest hour the person you need will find their way to you and help you fight these battles. The victim turned victor.

She has found someone she can confide in.... and someone who can help her heal. And it makes me so happy. In conclusion.... Blake's demons and my demons share a scary amount of beats. Including the point of us both being mentally and emotionally tortured by a man named Adam. A man who promised us safety and love. A man who betrayed us and only when we were all but destroyed did we manage to escape.

She found her Happiness. And I hope to one day be in the same light that she is. Thank you all so much for taking the time to read this. I hope this explains why I have absolutely nothing but love for Blake Belladonna and can even see myself in her. As well as my undying support for the bees. This post is.... a lot more personal than I ever thought I would have gotten on this sight. But I couldn’t fully express my love and identification of this character without telling you what I have. And if any of you ever need an ear... I am always here to listen. I love you all. And I want you all to know you have a friend in me. Now I end this post with a question: Is there a character in the world of remnant that you find yourself identifying with? Why? BONUS BLEP:

#RWBY #rwby7 #rwby spoilers #blakebelladonna belladonnaappreciation ifuckinglovethischaractersomuchyoudontevenknow #belladonnaappreciation #blep bumblb bumblebee thebees iloveyouall

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hellzyeahwebwielingessays · 4 years

Text

The Not-So-Amazing Mary Jane Part 22: MJ is seriously overestimating her abilities

Previous Part

Next Part

Master Post

Over the last few instalments I’ve examined MJ’s skills, her experiences in crises and how she stacks up next to Spider-Man.

With all this context established we can now examine how well MJ can cope with the situation present in AMJ #1.

As a little refresher let me remind you that as of AMJ #1, Mary Jane found herself on a film set where a lot (the implication is most) of the crewmembers are former felons or current villains, all of who were under the employ of Mysterio.

She decided to go along with this on Mysterio’s word that he just wanted to fulfil his ambition of a biopic and give his crew a chance to do something good.

When Peter (who was totally in the dark about all this) proposed the hypothetical scenario of MJ being surrounded by villains she casually joked about the time she defeated a villain with a baseball bat. Peter dropped the subject after that.

The implication here is that Mary Jane can look after herself as evidenced by this (and other) prior experiences.

But now we’ve thoroughly gone over everything MJ is capable of and those experiences in question is she really in a position to look after her here?

If we are talking about just defending herself personally (with no assistance) then the answer would be…’probably not’.

And if we are talking about defending her self and others (which the comics never brought up at all) then the answer would be…’highly unlikely’.

In either case I can’t definitely say yes or no. And the reason for is because there are so many different variables that could come into play here. But that cuts right to the heart of the problem.

Between

Mysterio’s abilities and tech

The unknown number of enhanced people on the crew (whose powers are not specified)*

The unknown ratio of felons/villains/enhanced crew members to non-powered/non-criminal crew members

Filming at different locations, which we should presume they are doing as it’d be standard practice

However many journalists, onlookers and other civilians may or may not be observing the film crew

Whatever Beck and his crew might do in their downtime or whenever MJ isn’t around

there is any number of scenarios that can play out.

How much MJ can protect herself, others and private property (which could be someone’s livelihood) would depend heavily upon exactly what each scenario is.

This isn’t as simple as just Mysterio attacking her or the whole film crew turning on her. Even if it was there is any number of ways those scenarios could play out.

Beck could slip into her room whilst she is sleeping.

He could be talking calmly then abruptly pull a knife on her.

He could go off set somewhere then remotely attack her using his X-Men robots (those same ones who gave Spider-Man trouble in ASM Annual #1).

He could have the villains of the crew hold the non-powered members hostage.

One of them could simply go rogue and hold up a bank.

Several of them could get mad and go on a rampage whilst civilians are watching the filming.

And in each of those scenarios Mary Jane could resolve the crises with 0 damage done to life or property.

She might use and alarm system to alert her to Beck’s entry, then surprise him with a baseball bat or gun.

She could observe his body language closely then use basic self-defence skills to block the knife and disarm him.

She could stumble across Beck’s holographic tech and activate it, baffling the robots enough to escape.

She could use her psychology skills to talk the crewmembers into releasing the hostages.

She could simply knock out the crewmember holding up the bank because they happen to not posses enhanced strength or endurance

She could rally the endangered civilians with a megaphone towards a trailer then hit the gas to drive them to safety

But what if…

She didn’t have an alarm system or a baseball bat?

Beck was such a good actor he never gave away any ‘tells’ that MJ could detect so she was not ready for his attack?

She didn’t stumble across his tech or didn’t know how to make it work or if the robots weren’t affected by it anyway?

She misread the people with the hostages or if her negotiations failed in some way?

The bank robber had invulnerability and super speed?

There were too many civilians running in too many different directions for MJ to help all of them? Or if there was no megaphone, no trailer no gas or the villains were capable of catching up with them anyway?

All of the villains turn on MJ at once whilst she is surrounded?

Beck slips her a drug as he did Daredevil in ‘Guardian Devil’

Sends one of his robots to Aunt Anna’s home to kill her

He wires his suit for super strength as he did in ‘Guardian Devil'

He uses his illusion powers to disorientate MJ and beat her up, as he did to the super strong Spider-Man in their very first battle

Tricks her into thinking someone has died to make her emotionally vulnerable and potentially exploit information from her?

Fakes his death and escapes again

Switches himself out for a robot duplicate and goes on to sexually violate more teenaged girls and con the more seniors out of their life savings

Beck has superior psychology skills to Mary Jane and successfully gaslights her, causing emotional trauma

Uses his holograms to cause a riot that results in people being injured

Beck or any of the villains under his employ slip away during or after the filming and kill someone somehow…like perhaps some kid’s uncle...

Do you see how there are a billion things that can go wrong here?

Sure, there are always things that can go wrong in any potentially dangerous scenario. You could die of any number of things just in your house.

The difference here though is the chances are exponentially higher. A large group of criminals with physically dangerous powers evading the law often surrounded by groups of other people and being given access to a lot of money?

That’s a recipe for disaster even if nothing gets cooked!

There are discussions to be had about falsely accused people, those whose punishments were out of proportion for their crimes and the existence of criminal actions that should be legalized. But putting all that aside, there is a reason when criminals are assessed for parole.

There is a reason they are still required to check in with an official body after their release.

There is a reason sex criminals like paedophiles are put on a register.

There is even a reason many job applications at least ask if someone has a criminal record.

Whilst none of them guarantee anything, they all (in theory) minimize the risk of those criminals committing further crimes against people or property.

Let’s drop the idea of criminals altogether and use some analogies.

A surgeon cannot possibly guarantee the success of any operation. Even the most minimal of procedures carry some level of risk to the health of the patient. It’s impossible to mitigate that risk, but it is possible to prepare thoroughly to minimize it.

A fire fighter can’t be 100% certain of what might happen if they enter a burning building, though they still have to assess the danger as much as possible and then evaluate whether the risks to themselves, their colleagues or civilians is worth undertaking.

A soldier in a warzone does both. In theory a soldier should be as prepared as possible for an ensuing mission, but there is no guarantee of success. Their actions before and during a mission can depend upon their assessments of the situation as it unfolds. Sadly many people (soldiers and civilians on any side) have died unnecessarily due to poor preparation or bad decisions made without enough assessments of the consequences.

Now how about Spider-Man? Isn’t it true that he can never know exactly what will happen in any given crises he gets involved in? No he doesn’t, but the skills and experiences we talked about in parts 19-21 greatly minimize the risks and give him a far greater ability to potentially influence the outcome of a crisis.

What I am saying is that in Amazing Mary Jane MJ has not properly assessed the potential risks, she literally cannot assess them because there are far too many variables in play (or that could be in play, this is Mysterio after all). This combined with the limitations of her own skills means that she can’t o much to minimize the potential risks. Her abilities to influence the potential outcomes of any of the crises that might arise are not that great.

She is the equivalent of:

A surgeon just walking into the operating theatre with very little training, having a very general idea of what problem the patient has and not having familiarized themselves with the specifics of that patient.

A fire-fighter rushing into a burning building unaware of what type of fire they are dealing with, where it is, if there is anyone still inside and where they might be

A soldier going into battle unarmed and with just the basic knowledge of whom the opposing army is. Not how many men they have, not what they are armed with, not where they are likely to be. They are just relying on the fact they’ve survived other battles and defeated other opponents to see them through on whatever might arise now.

In short Mary Jane is being unforgivably stupid and irresponsible. Which is to say she is acting extremely out of character!

The only thing she DOES know is that she doesn’t know everything going on. She can’t possibly know if there is an ulterior motive, what Beck or the crew may or may not do. She can’t possibly be sure at all that she, her loved ones, innocent people or their livelihoods would be safe. But she can be sure that if they are going to be safe it would rely upon a Hell of a lot of things playing in her favour.

Basically MJ is banking on luck. She is banking upon being aware and present for a crises as it unfolds, that there will be resources available for her to use to resolve it, that she would even be aware of those resources and how to use them and that the crises would even be within her abilities to resolve in the first place. And most of all she’s banking on a criminals with a long history of deceit and repugnant behaviour to not be lying to her.

Those are ridiculously bad odds. They’d be bad odds even if it was Spider-Man in her place. He might possibly be safe from Beck trying to kill him as he sleeps, but he can’t be everywhere at once. He can’t necessarily crowd control every villain on set. He can’t keep tabs on all of them all the time.

The only practical things Spidey could do would be calling the authorities, the Avengers or use his powers (those things MJ totally lacks) to simply physically capture Beck and every criminal around. But allowing them to continue as they were on the belief that they definitely wouldn’t step out of line?

He would never and could never do that. And MJ would be the same because, as I established in part 9, MJ’s sense of morality and justice is very similar to (and very influenced by) Peter’s.

But just to put this aspect of my analysis to bed completely, next time I will more thoroughly examine whether Mary Jane really could beat Mysterio herself or not.

*Because Beck is using his own technology on the set and doesn’t seem to be using anyone else’s super powers in a particularly creative way one would imagine that the crew’s powers amount to just looking different and/or having enhanced strength to move stuff around.

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Master Post

#Leah Williams #Amazing Mary Jane #mjwatsonedit #mary jane watson #Mary Jane Watson Parker #MJ Watson #Spider-Man #Peter Parker #Mysterio #Quentin Beck

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unfolded73 · 5 years

Text

Gifts (1/1) - schitt’s creek ff

Reaction fic to 6x04. Patrick and Jocelyn talk about their relationships to the Roses. Rated G, 1300 words

Other Season 6 reaction fics: 6x01, 6x02

___________________________________

“Hi, Patrick!” a chipper voice at a similar pitch to the bell above the Rose Apothecary door called. Patrick glanced up to see Jocelyn maneuvering into the store backward, pulling Roland Junior’s stroller through the narrow entrance.

“Hey, Jocelyn,” Patrick called absently, focused on putting a fresh roll of receipt paper in the credit card reader. “How are you?”

“Oh, you know. Sleep deprived as always.” She’d swung the stroller around and began glancing at the shelves. “I wanted to get something for Moira. A little congratulations gift to celebrate her movie.”

Smiling, Patrick closed up the card reader and tested that the paper was feeding correctly. “That’s nice of you.”

“Well, she’s so excited. And I think she’s… nervous about it. I thought maybe David could suggest something she’d like.”

“David’s out meeting with a prospective new vendor, but you probably can’t go wrong with wine.” He came out from behind the register and gestured to the containers of moisturizer. “She also likes to steal those whenever she can get away with it.”

Jocelyn picked up one of the jars, examined it, and set it back down. “You saw the Crows trailer, I assume?”

Patrick chuckled. “Mrs. Rose had me watch it four times as soon as we got back from the tailor’s yesterday.”

Jocelyn gasped. “Were you and David picking out wedding tuxes?”

“Well, I was. It probably won’t surprise you to learn that David wouldn’t be caught dead in something you can buy in Elm Glen, so he’s been shopping consignment sites online for a suit from a major designer that he can afford.”

Jocelyn rolled the stroller back and forth, a habitual motion to soothe her son, although Rollie seemed content enough at the moment. “You mean David didn’t try to outfit you in the same kind of high fashion couture?”

Patrick walked over to the wine display and picked up a bottle of Moira’s favorite varietal. “I managed to convince David that it wouldn’t be the best use of our limited wedding budget since I literally couldn’t care less.” He smirked, bringing the wine back over to Jocelyn. “The fact that it leaves more money for his wedding suit might have contributed to me winning that little debate.”

“How’s the rest of the wedding planning going?”

“David could give you a much more detailed answer to that question, to be honest. I’m mostly the numbers guy. But I’d say it’s going reasonably well.” He watched as the baby stretched his hand out futilely for some bottles on a shelf that was fortunately out of his reach. “Of course, it’s early. There’s still time for things to go off the rails.”

Jocelyn was visibly wincing. “Sounds a little bit like David is sidelining you from your own wedding plans. That doesn’t bother you?”

He thought about his answer for a couple of seconds before speaking. “The fairy tale wedding, it’s important to David. After what happened to the Roses a few years ago — look, it’s easy to scoff at, the idea of a super rich family losing all of their money and having to slum it with the rest of us. But no matter how you slice it, it was a traumatic event in his life.”

“In all of their lives,” Jocelyn said.

“The only part that’s truly important to me is that we have all of our friends and family around us when we say our vows. Beyond that, I don’t know how much I really care about the clothes and the food and the… aesthetic of it. But David cares. And I want David to have as much of that fairy tale as I can give him because, after everything that happened to him, I think he deserves it. And because he’s given me… everything.”

“Wow,” Jocelyn said, fanning her face. “I almost forgot about how seductive your eyes can be!” She gave him a wide grin. “David’s a lucky man! Aaaanyway…” Rollie threw a toy on the ground at that moment and started to fret, and Patrick was grateful to have an excuse to focus on something other than Jocelyn calling him seductive. He bent over and picked the colorful teething ring up and started to give it back to Rollie before he thought better of it.

“Okay if he gets this back after it’s been on the floor?” he asked Jocelyn.

“Yeah, it’s fine! The germs are good for him.” Patrick held the ring out for Rollie, who grabbed it and immediately put it in his mouth. “It’s funny, but I’ve been thinking a lot of the same things about Moira,” Jocelyn said.

Patrick tilted his head and squinted at her. “I didn’t realize you and Mrs. Rose were that close.”

She sort of scream-laughed at him. “No, what I mean is, I’ve been thinking about everything she went through, you know. This movie is so important to her. And I really care about her and want her to succeed.”

“It’s…” Patrick wasn’t sure how truthful to be; how under the thrall of Moira Rose, the unreliable narrator, Jocelyn was. “It’s a pretty low budget movie.”

“Oh yeah, I know.” She was nodding emphatically. “But maybe it’ll become a cult film, you know? Beloved because it’s sort of weird. And maybe critics won’t be as hard on it if they see it through that lens.”

He hoped she was right, if for no other reason that he didn’t want to get married while clustered around the closet that Moira Rose refused to emerge from.

“I just want her to get a win, that’s all.” She took the wine bottle from him and gestured with it. “Moira deserves a win.”

“On that we agree,” Patrick said, following Jocelyn over the register to ring up her purchase. “You’re a good friend to her, Jocelyn.”

“Well.” She threw her hands up briefly. “I don’t think she’s had a lot of friends in her life. Like, actual friends who care about her, I mean. I’m sure she had plenty of people hanging around who wanted something from her, back in her old life.”

Patrick thought about David’s so-called friends from the past while he dug around under the counter to find the wine bottle gift bags. “That’s certainly the truth.” He stood back up once he’d found one.

“Do you ever think about where we’d all be if the Roses had never come to Schitt’s Creek?” Jocelyn asked as she paid him for the wine.

He did, actually, and those thoughts never led anywhere good. “I try not to, and not just for selfish reasons. This town really changed them.”

Jocelyn snorted. “You don’t know the half of it; you weren’t here when they first arrived in town.”

“True, but Stevie’s told me stories,” he said with a grin.

She reached over and gave him a pat on the arm before gathering up Moira’s gift. “See you later, Patrick. I can’t wait to watch you and David tie the knot.”

“Have a good one, Jocelyn,” he said, waving goodbye to little Rollie and then going over to help Jocelyn with the door. “Tell Mrs. Rose I hope she enjoys the wine.”

He stood by the front window of Rose Apothecary for a while, looking out at the downtown that had become so familiar to him over the last couple of years. Patrick had discovered who he was here in Schitt’s Creek. He’d met the love of his life here. He and David had built this business together here. Soon, they’d get married here. He stood by the window until a group of women from the senior center came into the store, and he braced himself for their inevitable cheek pinches and inquiries about his upcoming wedding.

“Hi, what can I help you with today?”

#sc s6 #sc spoilers #schitt's creek fic #schitt's creek ff #jocelyn schitt #patrick brewer #my fic

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atinytokki · 5 years

Text

Here’s my first impressions (aka this is what 2020 is gonna sound like folks)

Alright so I’m really behind today, as some of you know I literally just got back from vacation and it’s also my first day of classes this semester and it’s just craziness. Yes I’m posting the first chapter of Yeosang’s spin-off today. But people seemed to like my first impressions of the last album so I’m going to do them again. Thankfully (?) this album is a lot shorter so I can pause and talk about stuff.

Warning! a loooong post, squealing, incoherent thoughts smashed together, and crying ahead. A lot of crying. Keysmashes included.

Post-MV thoughts before I listen to it again: There’s way too much to focus on and I’ve watched it many many times to look at the choreo and the storyline stuff that’s happening, but this is my first time listening without the video so I’ll notice more musically this time. But first I wanna say; YEOSANG’S LINES!!!! I’ve been screaming for forever that he has a beautiful deep voice and needs to be given parts that compliment it. And wow it finally happened :’) Anyway here we gooo

건배하자 like a thunder!! Can you believe they literally spoiled the entire hook of their next song in Beginning of the End? *flashbacks to my utter confusion when that happened* San sounds amazing and I like the little echoey thingies. Gives it a real nostalgic feel. Jongho already popping off vocally barely 10 seconds in. Mingi’s rap here and the transition to Hongjoong’s— rap line goals. The attitude in that mm-mm made me smile ngl. This prechorus might be my favourite part of the song. Seonghwa sounds heavenly. An EDM drop bringing back that hook, good decision and again it kinda feels nostalgic?? Especially the oh-oh-ohs which are also giving me a pirate drinking song vibe wow 0.0 Wooyoung with that 불러 불러 lol. Yes the Yeosang part!! I love a good post-chorus switchup and he. handled. it. perfectly. There’s even harmony, yall know how much I love harmony. And SINGING RAPPERS AHAHDJAHAK YESSSSS. Back to that glorious prechorus but it’s Yunho’s turn. This chorus is just such an anthem. I’m bopping rn. San in this bridge— he said I am a VOCALIST listen to my beautiful VOICE. Yay the rappers going back and forth again!! It’s like If Without You. Man I can’t believe I get to replay this song forever. 2020 is gonna be lit. You hit those notes Jongho! I’m always blown away by this kid, and that scoop earlier mmmm. Just nodding very energetically right now. Perfect end to the song. 100/10!!!!

Okay I’m pausing before the next one starts because no I am not prepared. It’s just like last time; I know Hongjoong wrote this and I know it’s gonna ruin me but I have no idea how and when and what it’s even gonna be like but anyway, too bad, let’s just go.

Oh kinda futuristic sounding opening with the synths? Yooo the vocal thingy in the background, sounds like a sample of some kind, that is super cool and I hope we get more of it. Ok I paused just to write that, let me unpause. This is gonna be a long one, I can already tell, sorry guys 😅 And the beat changed right before the vocalists came in. definitely a back and forth thing here in two registers, very sweet. Wow. WOW MINGI WOW. This rap is?? It sounds super mature and idk just full of confidence. I’m shook. Ok the chorus. Holy cow this is LIT lit. Nope nope I need to pause and go back. This is so chaotic, I feel like I’m missing things?? I’m listening to that chorus again because there were so many elements there. I just wanna take this song and break it down second by second to hear every single sound hahahah. I’m only catching an odd word or two here as far as lyrics go. Oml harmonies 💆🏻‍♀️ Alright Hongjoong’s rap. OMG if he sounded sassy in Answer this is a whole new level and I LOVE IT. Flow is 100/10. The “are you gonna take me there” gives me chills. This song needs a dance this chorus is TOO LIT. Am I at a rave rn??? Oh thank God the bridge took it back a level. Ok I’m pausing because I think I caught some of the lyrics this time. If I’m not wrong I heard 난 궁금해 저 끝이 궁금해, 더 가까이 조금 더 가까이 ? Which is something like “I wonder, I wonder about the end. Closer, a little bit closer” if I heard correctly. I need to look up the lyrics in full later because Hongjoong has a big brain and his lyrics are always 🤯🤩 Ok unpause. Final breakdown! Yep this is going on repeat the rest of today. Jongho yussss with the ad libs. No it’s over ㅠㅠ Alright this one is already vying for top spot this album. We shall see. But I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. HONGJOONG GENIUS.

Um so yeah I saw them perform this live for their anniversary thingy and cried so this should be fun. At least I already know the song so how much can it hurt me? 🤷🏻‍♀️

Smart of whoever put this album together to stick this song right in the middle and make us cry between head banging to the other songs. Mingi in the beginning is just 💖💕💘💝💓 San ballad king. I need more ballads from him. Jongho, of course, with perfect vocal control. Oh Seonghwa too, I need more ballads from him. Wooyoung with T H A T part. A tear is forming, I just love this chorus. People are saying the song should be in a drama and I 100% agree. Everyone together FOREVER YOU ARE MY STARRR. The little drum frills it’s so cute :(( Yay Hongjoong, and his cute little voice I’m UWUWU. Wooyoung with the high note and I’m ascending........... Chorus again and this is the real meaning of crying in the club. It just occurred to me that the second verse seemed really short. Yeosang + Hongjoong + that guitar in the bridge is *chef’s kiss*. This is so emotional, do we really need to do this at 4am?!? I’m just gonna vibe for a sec, it’s the last chorus. The ad libs were so perfect and the way it ended— wow. I need a moment.

From my understanding this is a full version of the Precious Overture they gave us last album. Tempted to go back and see my first impressions about that one, but either way i have a distinct feeling my wig is about to be snatched. Let’s GOOO

So far, it’s starting the same. Creepy humming and all. Okay scratch that, we have a vocal melody. Yunho sounds great ugh I’m so proud. Sorry, San’s voice just takes me to another plane of existence or something, how can it be that smooth and gorgeous, someone please explain. Building to something now... Oo. OO?! Hongjoong’s rapping. This is so cool oh wow, and into this vocal part which I believe is the chorus?? wOW wow it’s amazing to hear this having already heard the bgm, this is like a new level of appreciation. It really all goes well. Ah we have a switch up now with Seonghwa. guys GUYS GUYS you know how I feel about switch ups. Sorry I’m going back to catch something. The tempo changed here and really grabbed my attention. The bass is also super cool, it’s actually the same melody as the treasure opening (and the opening of this song) but much lower, I believe. Uh oh guys this might be vying for top spot too. Let’s continue. Ok Mingi’s rap which I’ve already heard. Um I’m confused now. It’s Hongjoong’s rap again? Is this the chorus?? Woah woah hold on I gotta pause. Because. Wait, what?? This is the chorus??!? Yoooooooo bold move! I have no idea what is going on but I love it. Continuing on. Ah yeah ok the vocal part with Yeosang again, so I guess the rap + vocal part is the chorus? Also I neglected to mention but Yeosang is killing this song. Ooh okay this bridge is building some suspense. Feeeelingggggg.... And now a shouted version of the rap for the final chorus. Okay wow I’m impressed that they took it this direction. And Jongho with the ad libs is PERFECTIONNNN. Oop okay they’ve added the revised-lyric Treasure part to the end here. And the lyrics are the same as in Precious (Overture) so I’m guessing we still didn’t find the treasure, good grief. How long is it gonna take to find this treasure 😅. And it ended like that. Well. WOW. Again, I could listen to this on repeat all day. Again, I am deceased. Instant fave.

I’m pretty sure this is the exact same as I already heard on the trailer thingy but we are gonna react to it anyway.

The orchestra really loosens my tear ducts like nothing else. It’s beautiful, who else is doing it like them?? “Did you find your treasure?” Yes, I found ATEEZ 🥺. The way he says “finally found it” . This is Maddox btw. Also about Maddox, hang on I’m gonna pause for a PSA: guys if you don’t know Maddox please PLEASE check him out. He’s doing the amazing narration on this (and Intro too), he’s a soloist under KQ and one of Ateez’s hyungs who they look up to. In addition to his superior narrating talents, he is also an amazing vocalist. If you like R&B and lo-fi music I would definitely recommend him, he just dropped a single called Color Blind, his insta is xxmaddox, he’s a great guy and YEAH that’s all for my plug but go stan him, he is deserving and proof of the fact that KQ artists are talent through and through. Unpausing! The way the orchestra swells and then goes into a piratey sounding theme is so motivating and familiar :))) “Can you hear those voices?” HNGJRKSNDN WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE SCARY. This is the Epilogue, it’s supposed to be like the denouement, the falling action!! The bad guys should be gone now! What’s next?? Treasure Ep: Answer to Question? Because that’s what I have after this album! More questions!!! Anyway, the bass here and the humming 👌🏻 100/10 for the instrumental. And in ATEEZ fashion, they leave me thirsting for more.

So that was my first impression/live reaction to the mini album! I think it’s Horizon and Precious fighting for #1 currently. Maybe I’ll reblog with second and third and fourth impressions... Thanks for reading if you got this far! And tell me what your first impressions were and if I missed something big while I was keysmashing. TTFN~

#ateez #ateez action to answer #ateez answer #ateez reactions #ateez first impressions #first impressions #keysmash #liveblog #tokki.txt

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xserpentlife · 5 years

Text

Make Me

Requested: Can i get a sweet pea fanfic with #7 " if i die first i'm haunting you!" and #10 “Come over here and make me.”

A/N: This one is a shorter one sorry about that but I hope you enjoy it. Thanks to @wayward-river for being my beta, as always check her out!

Warnings: Nothing really just a lot of fluff maybe some cursing

Word Count: 1390

Sweet Pea walked into the trailer to see you asleep with a book laying on your face. He knew you had fallen asleep working on homework. That was all you had been doing recently. He felt like homework was the only thing he ever saw you doing while at home, and when it wasn’t homework then you would be out of the house working. He constantly tried getting you to slow down but you couldn’t your grades had slipped for a while and all you wanted was to get them back up. So that's what you had been doing. Tonight was no different aside from the fact that you promised to go out with Sweet Pea when he got home.

“Pea?” You stirred on the couch after feeling a blanket being pulled on top of you.

“Hey baby girl”

“Hey Pea how was the job”

“Pretty good, easy how's the homework coming”

“Well seeing as I fell asleep it's not”

“Why don’t you take a break”

“Oh my god we were supposed to go out tonight”

“Yeah…”

“Pea I’m so sorry”

“We still can”

“I can’t I need to do all of this homework and I have work early tomorrow” Your hands came over your face rubbing trying to wake yourself up slightly. You took an inhale when you felt Pea throw you over his shoulder. “Pea what are you doing!”

“We are going to bed” his hands gripped into your sides to prevent you from falling and you let out a chuckle.

“I can’t Pea”

“Baby girl you have two options. One we go out. Two we go to bed. Your choice but I think you should choose bed because when I came in here there was a literal book laying across your face so I think just maybe whether you want to admit it or not that you are tired”

“The book was on my face?”

“Yep “

“Yeah I am tired”

“I know baby girl let’s get some sleep okay” He carried you to the bedroom placing you lightly onto the bed before throwing his t-shirt at you to put on. He climbed into bed after you slipping under the covers before pulling you into his chest. He drew circles onto your stomach and hips, and you tried your hardest to subside the giggles that were coming from you. Then he gripped your hip slightly causing you to let out a laugh.

“Baby girl are you ticklish”

“Uhm… no”

“Okay”

“Night Pea”

“Night” With a quick peck to your cheek and forehead you both drifted to sleep fairly quickly.

You felt a peck to your forehead as you woke up and stretched out your limbs from the deep sleep you had been in. You tried moving but you were held in a tight grasp. You tried moving again and heard a grunt.

“Pea what are you doing?” “I don't want you to get up” You turned around in his arms and peered over his shoulders seeing the clock that rested on the dresser. 12:12. You tugged on his grip catching him off guard and began running around the bedroom.

“Y/N what are you doing?”

“I have work, I’m late, I need to go, I’m gonna get fired” Before you knew it you were being held and dragged towards the bed. “Pea I gotta go, stop”

“Baby I called you out, told them you were sick. And before you yell at me just take the day off please, you need the rest, you need to just relax for a change”

“But”

“No baby, please just take the day”

“I mean I don’t really have much of a choice”

“Good, hey I have to run to the Wyrm to grab my pay for the job last night but I’ll be right back okay”

“Okay”

“I'm gonna run you a bath before I head out. Get in it and relax please” You watched his eyebrows raise knowing that you most likely wouldn’t listen.

“I’ll relax I promise”

“Good” You watched Pea stand up and get dressed before walking out of the bedroom. You soon heard the tub run and then the slam of the trailer door closing. You trudged out of bed to the bathroom and got into the bath relaxing for a few minutes before you realized you could do some homework since you had the day off. You got out of the bath getting dressed and then grabbed the books off the counter before sitting on the couch and getting to work. You must've fallen asleep again while reading because you woke up to Pea staring at you from across the room. You pretended nothing happen and got back to work writing down what you last remembered reading.

“Y/N put the homework down”

“I can’t I need to finish”

“Nope, we are going out”

“No please let me finish”

“Nope go get dressed” he began to walk to the bedroom and though you wanted to go out you wanted to tease him a little bit.

“Come over here and make me” You watched him stop dead in his tracks before he turned on his heel folding his arms across his chest.

“What did you say”

“I said make me” You began writing again and next thing you know Sweet Pea was hovering over you on the couch

“You said make you, that’s what I'm doing”

“What you gonna pick me up?”

“No” You couldn’t register what was happening before you felt his fingers digging into your sides. You tried escaping his grasp but you got trapped between his body and the back of the couch.

“Okay, Pea stop I’ll go, we can go out” You choke out, it took a few seconds but he finally stopped the attack on your sides. But he was still inches away from you. He took your face in his hands and pecked your lips

“Your cute when you laugh”

“Pea I swear to god, don’t you even-” Before you could finish your sentence his hand graced over your hips again about to tickle you but he stopped.

“You are cruel”

“No, now go get dressed so we can go out, I have a surprise for you” You got dressed in your normal attire, a pair of jean shorts and a flannel with your serpent jacket and black combat boots. You grabbed peas hand walking out of the trailer and to the truck. A few mins later you arrived in a field, one you haven’t been to before. It was beautiful a blanket laid out across the ground a blanket folded.

“Pea did you do this”

“Yeah, I mean you've been so stressed constantly doing everything you just deserve a day to take a breath”

“Thank you” Pea moved to the blanket laying down and propping himself up with his elbows. You slipped your boots off and laid down on the blanket with your head in his lap as he ever so lightly ran his fingers through your hair. You sat there for hours talking and just being in each others company, something you felt like you haven't done in a long time. It was nice being with him, and just being able to enjoy being together.

“Hey, babe you wanna go to pops?”

“I think we should go home Pea it’s late and I wanna finish that assign-” You couldn’t finish your sentence before you felt his fingers digging into your sides once again as he flipped over you.

“Baby come on I told you to relax today”

“Pea, Pea stop” between breaths you choked out a response as he continued to tickle you.

“Baby your relaxing we are going to pops for your favorite you can do your homework tomorrow, plus you're ahead anyway so stop worrying so much” As you were about to respond he tickled harder if that was even possible and eventually you agreed and he stopped.

“Now was that so hard”

“ if I die first I'm haunting you!”

“Oh stop being so dramatic. I’m gonna buy you a milkshake”

“And fries?”

“You can get whatever you want”

“Yes! You tugged out of his grip before standing up and getting into the truck. He knew fries and milkshakes always won you over. They were your weakness, and now he apparently knew all of them tickling included.

224 notes · View notes

wilhelmjfink · 5 years

Text

Claustrophobic

The dark never bothered you before, but things change.

A/N: hey. i’m here. i wrote this one a long while ago and promised it like 7 months ago so uh, here it is!! it’s a lengthy one so hopefully that makes up for me being absent for the last 4 months or whatever :,) thanks to everyone who is still here with me! you rule. i don’t deserve you.

it’s unedited because i couldn’t wait and just wanted to post it. also it’s totally not following any plot line at all but when they first released the trailer of Daryl and Beta’s fight i was like YO WHAAAT

You could hear the footsteps above your head, pounding across your ceiling as the stranger made his way across the maze of construction to Daryl.

The anxiety was grasping onto both of your lungs with an iron grip, inhibiting your breathing and abilities to try and slowly calm yourself down. Each passing second you waited for Lydia to return felt like years; every minuscule move you tried to make against your restraints required what felt like every ounce of energy your body had left. You couldn’t cry out against the makeshift gag in your mouth and it was so dark that you wouldn’t be able to see a way out even if their was one, like a jagged nail protruding from the doorframe of the closet that could saw apart the ropes that bound your wrists together. It was pitch black as you fumbled blindly for the door handle that was just barely out of your reach, desperate to escape the confines of the dark walls around you, images of that huge Whisperer finding Daryl and overpowering him and tearing him down with ease. Daryl was tough, but you couldn’t get over the size of the man and his footsteps damn near rattled the ceiling above you.

Just as you thought you would lose your mind and fall into an endless pit of insanity, the door in front of you swung open, letting in a flash of bright light that temporarily blinded you. When it faded and your tired eyes adjusted to the sudden change it was Lydia who stood in front of you, her face still perpetually frozen in fear.

“They’re somewhere above us,” she told you, voice wavering uneasily as she stepped to the side out of your warpath. “Wait, you’re still tied up! Stop!”

Reaching out she grabbed your hand forcefully, surprising you with the strength she held, and pulled out a switchblade from her belt and began sawing away at the coarse rope between your hands.

When you felt the pressure that bound you release you rose your hands up to pull down the fabric piece that had been wrapped around your head to silence you, offering Lydia a quick thank you before turning on your heels and sprinting toward the stairwell.

You could hear her call after you but you ignored her, your feet carrying you without any hesitation or thought and solely on autopilot. Your boots squeaked against the concrete floor and echoed through the corridor, the only noise you could hear as you strained to listen for any indication of a struggle or another presence.

The first floor you reached above you was heavy and when you pried it open, you were facing what looked like an auditorium, large and empty, and so you turned and scaled the stairs to continue searching.

Before you pushed the next door open, you barely got a glance into the old office complex when you heard more footsteps above you. This time, though, they were much quieter and more consistent, and you could identify a second set further away, quick and heavy, and your heart began pounding ruthlessly in your ears.

It was the next door you pushed open breathlessly where you spotted the familiar man, the fleshy mask and lo long strands of greasy hair covering his true face as he spotted Daryl before you could and charged through the unfinished drywall that separated them like it was made of paper.

You just managed to scream Daryl’s name with enough time for him to look up and catch sight of you and the Whisperer as he slammed into him and threw him against the wall behind him like he weighed nothing, hitting the wall with a pained grunt as it knocked the wind from his lungs.

His crossbow tumbled from his grasp and, for a moment, he was helpless: dangling from the Whisperer’s suffocating grasp around his neck. Even when you sprinted toward them, attempting to throw your body weight into the giant, it was like you hardly phased him, one swing of him arm sending you scrambling backwards.

Daryl and the stranger battled, fists flying at each other as they fought for the upper hand. You were quite surprised at Daryl’s stamina; the man had at least a foot on him in height and at least a hundred pounds in weight. He was superhuman it seemed, immune to Daryl’s violent hits and punches and not even remotely deterred by your sad attempts at stopping him.

In fact, the next time you threw yourself into him, he grew fed up with you — it took him one swift motion to turn, scoop you up by your neck and lift you from your feet before throwing you carelessly into the wall behind you that crumbled beneath your weight the second your body collided with it.

It stirred a thick cloud of powdery smoke all around you that skewed your vision and interrupted your sight; and the force of the impact itself knocked you senseless and you could literally see the stars dancing in front of your eyes. If you’d had any energy left to spare, you would’ve jumped to your feet in an instant, preparing to throw yourself at the walker for the umpteenth time with no success as he simply flung you back off without a second glance. But this time, you felt so tired, so heavy and numb that you couldn’t bring yourself to sit upright. You hadn’t thought about it right away but you hit your head hard, and the severity of it was becoming quite clear while, ironically, everything else around you blurred out and faded away.

You dreamt of a demon, monstrous and so close to you, so tangible, a low snarl of a voice that taunted you from afar. It smashed through walls and furniture and had little regard to its surroundings, things shattering and splintering all around you.

You saw it take Daryl by surprise, overpowering him with minimal effort, doubling your best friend over an abandoned table saw bench with an exposed blade to his neck and holding him there as he struggled, not letting up as he spoke in tongues. You could’ve visibly see how hard Daryl was trembling, a result of how much strength he was exerting to keep the soft flesh of his throat away from the jagged teeth of the metal disc. You watched this all happen from somewhere outside of your body, unable to feel or react or do anything other than watch in horror.

But suddenly you had completely forgotten about all the excitement and stress that led to you laying helplessly in a pile of debris, the pale drywall crumbled all around you like an uncomfortable bed that lay snug against you as you stirred and attempted to knock some of those sharper ends away from you subconsciously.

They didn’t seem to budge, and as consciousness rolled onto you like waves of water, you became increasingly aware of how sore you were altogether, not to mention the discomfort of the crumbled wall that still lay beneath you.

Inside your dark mind you seemed to know where you were, though you couldn’t remember why.

Not until a familiar voice spoke up in response to your pained whimper as you shifted uncomfortably, like a beacon in the dark that had you reaching desperately toward the source of it for safety. “Lay still. Please. Jus’... wake up, alright?”

But you could sense the uneasiness in his words and you immediately knew something was wrong. Whether or not it was with him had you opening your eyes regardless, desperate to find him and make sure he was alright before you even knew if you were alright.

“Hey!” He barked hoarsely, voice exhausted and low in his chest under a layer of tension. His hand reached forward and dully presses against your chest, halting your weak movements and inhibiting you from sitting upright as you tried to blink the confusion from your eyes.

The bark had been an attempt to keep you still should you have been more severely hurt. But when your vision cleared you still took an extra second to register his face and clothing, coated with blood and dark blue and purple bruises staining his skin. One side was so swollen it was hardly open enough for you to see that even the whites of his eyes were stained red and matched the trickles of blood smeared across his lips and chin, down to his neck and splattered across the front of his buttoned up shirt like paint.

Despite your weakened state your heart jumped into your throat, appalled at how much worse he looked to you; more destroyed than you felt and it had you feeling weak and helpless in the blink of an eye. Daryl looked like he could’ve been dead. If you’d found him that way, asleep or unconscious or whatever, you would’ve been hysterical trying to get him to wake up.

He sat against the wall opposite of you, arms outstretched on his knees, chest still heaving as he tried to catch his breath. You could hear he raspiness of it as he wheezed, the task obviously hurting him. You pushed yourself up from the pile gingerly and, despite looking like he was going to protest, Daryl stayed quiet and watched as you crawled over to him.

“Are you okay?” You asked quietly once you reached him, mouth dry and tongue like sandpaper. You ignored it, pushing down the nausea that rose with it as you reached toward him and pushed a stray strand of hair away from his bruised face, slick with sweat and blood. “Jesus Christ...”

“M’fine,” he replied shortly, still out of breath. You could tell he was hurting on account of how harshly he got out his response, but according to Daryl, upright, conscious and breathing was considered alright. He looked to you, the one eye you could see the bright blue irises of full of worry as he reached his own hands out to gently caress the side of your head where a welt had formed and you winced. “You alright? He hurt ya?”

“Just my head,” you mumbled, ignoring the dull aching in your ribs and back, and the dizziness that was threatening to either make you sick or send you sprawled out backwards if you moved too quickly again. “What happened? Did you...”

With a quick nod, Daryl motioned to the opened elevator shaft beside him, the caution tape strands torn and hanging carelessly from the frames and you knew exactly what had happened. As you peered over the edge into the darkness the thought of an opposing outcome racked your body in the form of a panicked wave and unable to stop yourself again, you turned to the side and abruptly threw up what little you had in your stomach.

Daryl situated himself so that he could lean over you, pulling back the loosened strands of hair that had fallen from your ponytail and onto your face. You knew he was trying to whisper calmingly to you, shushing you and assuring you that everything was okay, but you could hardly hear him over the pounding in your ears.

When you sat back up and wiped your mouth in the crook of your elbow, you drew a shaky breath, turning to search for him through watery eyes. Whether or not it was from getting sick or from worry or a combination of them both you didn’t know, but Daryl stared at you intently, trying to figure it out as well.

“Ya sure you’re okay?” He asked again, his voice slightly fuller than it had even, laced with concern. “Prob’ly got a concussion.”

You wanted to nod and tell him you were fine but at that moment you weren’t positive you could even lie about it. You averted your gaze down to his bloody, tattered knuckles as they fumbled nervously on his lap before reaching toward you inquisitively to which you grabbed them quickly but as gently as you could manage.

“I thought he was gonna...” Your voice hitched at the end at the memory of running into the construction sight and being faced with the giant Whisperer as he charged at Daryl like a god damn rhinoceros on the defensive, his footsteps thundering and his growling even louder. You trust Daryl with your life and have more faith in him than anyone else; if anybody could take a man twice his size, it was Daryl. But that didn’t alleviate the crippling fear you felt when you saw them brawl. “He was so... I didn’t think...”

“S’over,” he interrupted your pathetic fragments and so you only nodded, relishing the words. He didn’t want to relive it either. You didn’t know how far down the elevator shaft behind you went — it could’ve only been a few floors, but Daryl had been sitting long enough to calm down slightly which told you he was sure the Whisperer wasn’t going to return. Daryl was still alive. He looked shaken to the core, battered and bruised and exhausted, but he was alive. You could see his shoulders steadily rising and falling as he inhaled and exhaled, sitting quietly against the cracked wall, gathering his thoughts and calming himself down.

What now? you wanted to ask. Where do we go from here? But you opted to stay quiet, too, letting him recompose himself. All you did was eye him warily, skeptical to believe he was really okay at that moment, physical or otherwise.

Leaning back into your hands you stretched yourself out slowly, tenderly, letting bones crack and muscles strain, evaluating yourself. It brought slight relief and you embraced it, determining your injuries weren’t too severe, aside from your head.

Daryl sighed next to you and you looked at him, frowning at how he slumped his shoulders in defeat and buried his face in his hands.

You made to scooch closer to him for your own sanity and safety. But an unseen force had the end of your ponytail caught and tugged against your head. It not only prevented you from moving closer to Daryl but you quickly realized that it was pulling you and gasped but before you could do anything to fight it, you felt your body tumble backwards over the edge and you were weightless for what felt like an eternity. Falling. Flying. You could hear Daryl scream your name — an animalistic, petrified howl of a cry that came from his already worn out vocal cords and echoed all around you. And then, just as suddenly as it had all begun, there was nothing.

Feeling was slowly returning to your body, limb by limb, an excruciating pain crushing each extremity like there was a weight on top of you. It rendered your arms and legs useless and smothered your chest like an anvil pressing into your sternum, compressing any air out of your lungs that tried to fight its way in, making deep breaths impossible, only heightening the panic you were expediting as your senses came back.

You were positive there was a bench vice clamped around your head — worse than you’d ever experienced before without a doubt. Though it was dark, you could literally feel your head spinning, the world teetering all around you, raising the question if you were in a vehicle or something of the sort, and if you were struck blind or if it was simply somewhere too dark to see.

You were nauseas underneath all of the agony and when you tried to wiggle your fingers and toes out of habit, a bolt of lightening sent searing fire over every nerve in your body that radiated from your feet and hands alike, all mashed into one unbearable cloud of pain that drew a horrific scream from your lips and left you unable to tell whether or not it was your fingers or toes that had caused it and instead just opted to lay still in the darkness and hope that whatever monsters were lurking around heard your cry of anguish and were on their way to come finish you off. You would welcome death at this point; you couldn’t even remember what had happened beforehand. Vaguely, almost as if you had dreamt it, you remember shut being into a closet by that giant Whisperer, bound and gagged after he’d given interrogating you about Lydia’s whereabouts. You had been with Daryl and got separated — was he okay? Did he make it out? Or was he lost and confused like you were?

At least, if you could feel, you weren’t paralyzed. Right?

You were laying on uneven ground, hard and cold, your back and head propped up against something softer and unfamiliar while your legs seemed to lay flat on solid ground. It took every ounce of energy you possessed to grit your teeth and slowly drag your hands around to identify your surroundings blindly in the pitch black around you. Every minuscule movement brought unrelenting pain and you couldn’t stop a whimper from escaping your lips, literally breaking a sweat from the effort you were putting forth. Your fingers were caked with dirt and dried blood you could tell, and you caressed the object beneath them in hopes of identifying a hint as to where you were but you couldn’t tell what the soft material beneath your fingers was. It was warm, rough and your nails scraping against it made a vaguely familiar sound... like a rain jacket? That was the only image that popped into your mind.

They travelled farther, your arm outstretched and jeopardizing the solidarity of a clearly broken collarbone, the pain so violent it instantly caused bile to rise into your throat. But you swallowed it back down, more shocked at the fact that beyond the loud material beneath you was skin. Warm, human skin. You gasped audibly, the action unusually painful, but you had forgotten about the pain at the realization that you were laying on a human, alive or not.

Then, a slight shift beneath you made itself more prevalent: breathing.

You panicked and instantly threw your weight off of the body beneath you, unintentionally wailing at the sudden movements, but rolling off of whomever lay beneath you.

The floor was rock hard and ice cold, the cool concrete a welcomed relief on your flushed skin and throbbing muscles as you laid flat against it unable to move further. Warm, sticky liquid covered your hands and you could feel the heat seeping through your cold clothes and knew instantly there was blood everywhere — yours or the other persons or both. You were a sputtering mess at that point, unable to stop the hiccuping cries of sheer panic that broke the silence around you, reminding you of how alone you really were.

You couldn’t see who it was that was next to you, but were confident that, at least, it wasn’t Daryl, the strangers size much bigger than Daryl’s stature. And that’s when it hit you: the Whisperer.

You silenced yourself instantly, biting down forcefully on your lip to hinder your sobs and clamping both hands over your mouth, shrinking back to make yourself as unnoticeable as you possibly could. He wasn’t stirring, but you could hear his staggered breaths, and you knew he was unconscious but alive. You had no clue on how you’d gotten to that point or where you even were and why you were with the Whisperer. If your current state was any indication of what had happened, it told you that you’d either fought him and clearly lost or were beaten by somebody else, or maybe you were hit by a fucking truck. You didn’t know and your head injury left you in a haze that didn’t help you calm down any quicker as you spiraled into hysterics.

You had never had a problem with irrational phobias before, priding yourself in your courage and strength in dangerous and scary situations. But there was something so hard to swallow with your situation that it had the walls closing in quickly, surrounding you as they closed in and suffocated you slowly. It was like you were watching a horror movie in full screen, experiencing every problem and every emotion the main character was going through so painfully vivid that it became so real that your body began to try and distance itself from reality. You could consciously feel the disassociation trying to creep it’s way in, knowing the telltale sign of an approaching panic attack, a tornado inside your head swirl around fear and panic and not allowing you to form any single coherent thought.

If Daryl was here, he would know what to do. He always did.

Breathe, he’d say. Breathe with me. Okay? One, two — slow down — one... two... three... there ya go...

You were overheated despite the chill that blanketed your body in the form of goosebumps, your hairs standing in end, teeth chattering obnoxiously, sweat coating your fevered skin. Breathing was impossible. The oxygen was being sucked out of the small space you had left and it was rendering you dizzy and faint and you struggled to stay awake solely because you didn’t want to be caught so vulnerable and helpless alone with nobody else but that monster that was still thankfully immobile in front of you. What would he do if he woke up? Would he just kill you there? Would he do it slowly and torture you? Would he do worse?

There was one reason that would explain why Daryl wasn’t with you and hadn’t come to your rescue yet — he was either hurt or in trouble. You had woken up on the floor, which told you you’d been knocked unconscious. How long were you there before? Minutes? Hours? Days? You didn’t know.

He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t just be gone. Not Daryl. It just wasn’t possible — he couldn’t die. He always escaped death. While everyone and everything else around you succumbed to the world and perished, Daryl only got stronger; and that strength was singlehandedly what kept you alive.

You have to move. There’s space to move; space to walk. You’re not suffocating.

Pushing yourself to your knees just enough so you could feel for the walls and maybe even a door was an excruciating task, and as you tried to stand your legs gave out beneath you weakly and you bit down on your tongue so harshly to avoid crying out again. The walls were concrete, harsh and cool against your fingertips. And you strained your aching muscles to feel each inch of them desperately, silently, only to discover that there was no fucking door.

You were trapped.

So how did you get in there? Solid walls and a solid cement floor with no windows or vents visible... The only way that made sense would have to be from above; and as you squinted into the dark above you, your eyes had adjusted just enough for you to barely make out a small strand of daylight breaking through. It wasn’t enough to be if any help to you and it actually upset you more, just reiterating in your head that you were trapped like a rat in a cage and if you’d come from above, that meant the only plausible exit was up as well. And it was pretty far up — maybe you’d be able to climb a ladder or scale a wall any other time, but there was no fathomable way for you to escape in your current condition.

Tears were skewing your vision; tears of pain, tears of fear and sadness, tears of worry and panic. How had you even fallen? It would explain why you felt so battered and beaten, and it made sense that you’d fallen on top of the heavy Whisperer due to the fact that you were actually alive and conscious and he hadn’t yet moved. He broke your fall. It couldn’t have been from very high up, or both of you would be a mangled mess of broken bones. It must have been some sort of elevator shaft. But why were you trapped at the bottom of it? And with him no less?

Claustrophobia was settling in rapidly and you could feel the concrete walls shifting slowly toward you, closing in all around you, compressing you slowly into the body of the Whisperer that lay before you. You didn’t want to touch him — you didn’t want to be in the same area as him, breathe the same air as him. You felt dirty, violated. You were damn near gasping for breath.

Then, you heard it: voices, ringing out from above you. Several of them.

You couldn’t recognize them at first, either; they were too far away, too distorted by the echo and muffled by the distance that separated you.

You could identify at least one female and as they grew louder you knew there were at least four people above you and you didn’t know if they were friend or foe; so you decided the safest option would be for you to stay quiet and you sunk back into the corner, clamping you’re sleeved hands over your mouth to try and stifle your erratic breathing. Just stay quiet. Just breathe. Daryl always knew how to steady your breathing, always providing comfort and security when you were scared. You never needed to be scared with him around. He would always keep you safe. But he wasn’t fucking there.

These people could’ve been out to get you. They could’ve already killed Daryl, leaving his body somewhere on a higher floor in a pool of his own blood. They could’ve found Lydia and you didn’t even want to think about what her mom would do to her upon her return.

The people were arguing, it seemed — talking over one another as it faded back and forth while they moved around the building, coming closer and turning and walking farther away as if they were searching for something. Probably you. Were they more Whisperers, searching for Lydia and their leader that lay unmoving in front of you?

“Y/N!” A woman’s voice.

Then one presence stood out, the familiar, brash voice catching your attention with a hostile curse as he shouted over top of the others.

“Ya don’t think I fuckin’ yelled for her?” He barked, voice low and hoarse but still identifiable enough to send a surge of hope through your veins. “There’s gotta be a way down.”

You opened your mouth to yell for him before remembering that the man that had made his mission to kill Daryl was laying a foot in front of you — unconscious, but still. What if he woke up? You had no doubt that he would be just as bad off as you, if not worse after having taken the brunt of your landing, but it wouldn’t take him much effort to incapacitate you, broken or otherwise.

Your eyes darted back and forth between the darkness in front of you and up to the small beacon of light that was more metaphorical than it was helpful. You saw shadows casted out onto the wall behind it, moving quickly and flashing by, and you know they were somewhere close trying to find you.

There didn’t look to be a floor within your reach. The closest opening was at least five feet over your head and it was a hell of a drop to the bottom where you were trapped. You imagined the length you fell from the third floor elevator frame and it made you sick to your stomach to imagine how much worse off you would’ve been had the man not broken your fall. But it was also not hard to believe that he would be able to climb out of he needed to, considering his height and strength. He wouldn’t even have to jump to reach the first floor above your head and, if he was strong as e looked, he could make his way out with ease.

There had to be a ladder somewhere you couldn’t see — it was fire safety protocol, wasn’t it? Though you supposed that the work in progress may have halted that, the construction that was taking place interrupted by the plague and frozen in time, and maybe they’d removed the ladder for some building purpose and never replaced it. So where would that leave you?

There was a bright flash and you squinted, bringing a hand up to shield your eyes from the painful ray of light after having been submerged in and so well adjusted to the darkness by that point. It was coming from the closest floor opening, the person wielding the flashlight merely a silhouette behind it but when they yelled for you by name, spotting you curled up in your corner, you were overjoyed but still quickly put a finger to your lips and pointed the other one to the unconscious man in front of you. If he woke up, you would be out of fucking luck. Shut up! Shut the fuck up!

The person who’d been leaning down retracted back in and there was a fleeting second of silence where you thought they may have simply left you, but another person appeared and you immediately recognized Daryl and tears of joy sprung to your eyes.

“Y/N!” He yelled, completely disregarding your pleading motion to stay quiet. If you were being honest with yourself, at the sight of him you completely forgot about your need to stay silent and the fact that the man who was responsible for your crippling injuries who had also just tried to kill you and Daryl both was laying in front of you alive — you were overwhelmed with relief when Daryl appeared, upright and conscious and coherent after having spent those last few agonizing minutes thinking that the Whisperer got to him before he got to you.

Your eyes darted to the body before you frantically, sitting still and silent and anticipating him coming back to life in front of you. But he didn’t move, and you looked back up to the light desperately, hoping that it wasn’t too dark for them to see how terrified you were and how anxious you were to get the fuck out of there.

They were talking amongst themselves before a loud metallic groan echoed through the empty corridor and you jumped, flinching at the sudden noise and hoping with everything that you had left in you that it wouldn’t disturb the man in front of you.

With the silence that followed brought more light, eliminating some of the lingering darkness that enveloped you, and illuminated the elevator shaft that had you prisoner. Your eyes were still adjusting to the light no matter how little it was and you spotted a ladder across from the doors they’d torn open, though it stopped several feet above the ground you sat on, and you had no idea how you were supposed to reach it, let alone climb back to safety and cross the gap between it and the floor.

While you stared up at the opening restlessly, waiting impatiently for anyone to return and formulate a plan that would free you, you weren’t expecting a strong hand to wrap itself around your ankle with an iron grip.

Instantly you began to kick and flail your leg in an attempt to shake him off instinctively but you were so sore that the task was debilitating and you couldn’t even inch yourself away from him. You’d screamed in surprise and it quickly faded to a trembling whimper, your whines wavering as you struggled to free yourself from his grasp.

Luckily your cries had caught the others attention and you could hear Daryl shouting furiously but his words were unintelligible amongst your own wails and gasps and never mind your heart that pounded mercilessly inside of your head. The Whisperer had woken up but seemed to be too incapacitated and beaten to move much quicker than you. And any other time that would’ve given you plenty of chance to escape, knowing his size inhibited his speed, but you were both injured and there was literally nowhere for you to run and hide.

He was grumbling, still dazed from the fall, but unrelenting in his hold on you. It wasn’t until you heard a sharp thwack when he finally released you and you pulled back harshly. When you looked to him, he had an arrow protruding from his skull. Just like that. And he was dead, for sure.

Daryl saved you, as always.

As you tried to catch your breath there was a racket behind you that you hardly noticed, absorbed in your own little world full of fear and shock, until you heard somebody beside you grunt as they landed harshly on the ground beside where you sat, and then a familiar crossbow was discarded thoughtlessly to the ground in front of you before you were wrapped in a pair of strong, safe arms that you could identify in any level of darkness.

The second that his hands found your trembling frame you burst into tears.

Despite the pain that shook you it was the sweetest relief you’d ever felt, Daryl’s presence instantly relaxing your racing heart as you reveled in the feeling of just being surrounded by him. His scent, his warmth, everything about him was like a drug to you. You winced when he unintentionally jarred your shoulders in his embrace but he noticed, leaning back and allowing his own bruised hands ghost over your body in the darkness in search of injuries that you knew he would find over every inch of you he felt.

“M’sorry,” he kept muttering. “‘m so fuckin’ sorry. Shouldn’a even let ya by that fuckin’ elevator. I thought he was dead, I got ‘em with my knife, I thought... ‘m so sorry, girl.”

Before you could respond, wanting to reject his unwarranted apologies, he found your broken collarbone when you yelped at the contact, and he tore his hand back like you were hot to the touch.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” he mumbled, voice cracking weakly. You weren’t sure if it was from his own pain he was experiencing or an overwhelming wave of emotions, just like you were feeling as you blinked the tears away, letting out a pathetic high-pitched groan when his calloused hands reached back to identify the extent of your injuries. You couldn’t stop sputtering no matter how hard you tried. Your collarbone was definitely broken, and you were sure the majority of your left arm was as well, not to mention some ribs that smarted with each breath, your tailbone throbbing along with them. You were a mess.

“No — no, don’t touch it. It hurts so bad,” you sniffled, feeling meek and childish and even more upset. “Daryl, please, make it stop hurting!”

“M’gonna get ya outta here, okay? I ain’t gonna let nothin’ else hurt ya, I promise, girl.”

While you were ecstatic at the thought of leaving the claustrophobic elevator shaft, you’d become increasingly more apprehensive about how exactly it was he planned on getting you out of there. There was no easy way to do it, you realized miserably, and you doubled over already in pain at just the thought of the pain the next couple of moments held for you. “D, it hurts.”

“I know it does,” he reassured you the way only he could. “It’s gonna hurt, but I need ya to be strong for me, alright?” His hands gently cupped the side of your face when you couldn’t tell if he was trying to pep talk you or himself. But you leaned into his touch regardless, allowing his thumb to brush away a few stray tears that fell down your bruised cheek bones. “No tears. Be strong for me.”

He sounded panicked and it was worrying you as well but you nodded nonetheless. You didn’t argue with him, allowing him to situate himself so that he was crouched in front of you and your heart sank at the realization of what you were going to have to do next. “Ya gotta hold on to me. It’s gonna hurt, but it’s the only way I can get ya outta here.”

The fading adrenaline had you hyper aware of just how immense the pain you were in was and your voice cracked with a nervous whimper. The thought of the sheer pain you were about to be in had you frozen, unable to move. Paralyzed with fear. It already hurt so bad. You couldn’t take anymore. “No, Daryl, please...”

“Come on, baby,” he whispered lowly as he turned to you, the new word warming your body in the best way, your heart swelling just at the sound of his voice saying. It. You had no doubt about how Daryl felt about you, but he struggled conveying it and by then you knew exactly what he was trying to do. “I know ya can do this. Yer strong. Just one minute, tha’s all.”

You hiccuped another small sob before finally nodding your head in agreement.

He made it as easy as possible for you to lock your arms around his neck, his strong hands going under your thighs securely, holding you to his body as safely as he could with his own injuries inhibiting a lot of his movements. You could feel how tense he was; hear the small hisses and curses under his breath, but was he determined to stay strong for you, and you were going to do the same for him.

“Ya ready? On three: one, two...”

On three he hoisted you upright with him and you let out a shrill scream of pain, releasing your hold on him against your will, though he had been anticipating it and his hands flew up to your arms and grabbed them tightly, refusing to let you fall.

“No, stop, stop!” You sobbed, trying to pull away from his hold, desperate to alleviate the deathly pain you were experiencing. The world stopped spinning. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t collect yourself. “Please, Daryl, please!”

He apologized repeatedly over your sobs, which further broke your heart but you were unable to pay any mind to them with the unbearable jarring of your broken bones with each brisk movment he made.

He scaled the latter quickly and efficiently, despite his own debilitating injuries, and followed the ledge through the door to solid ground where he lowered you down to the floor behind him with incredible softness before turning to see you in the light. You gripped his hand like a vice, refusing to let go and risk him leaving again. And you couldn’t stop the convulsive shaking your body did on its own accord, an occasional tremor racking through you as you sobbed uncontrollably, praying for death or at the very least unconsciousness.

But amidst all of the torture and chaos as a crew of people you slowly began to recognize beyond Daryl — Connie, Tara, Lydia — you somehow found a shred of strength to stay awake, finding the sought after blue eyes that always reassured you that whatever you were going through and anything that could come your way could be handled and that you would get through it.

It was harder to believe that time, the sickening sensation of your broken bones brushing against one another as your friends tried precariously to set your shoulder in a solid position so that they can wrap a makeshift sling around it was one of the most gut-wrenching, harrowing experience of your life.

It was like you were trapped in a room that was engulfed in flames, the heat burning against your body constantly, singeing any exposed skin at every chance it got, everything screaming in protest no matter what you did to try to alleviate it.

You were a mess by the time they’d managed to tuck your arm close to you and brace it but you still held it there tight with your better arm, afraid to risk moving it again for fear of losing your mind in the unbearable pain.

When you were lifted from the ground again it was less paralyzing with the security of your most crippling injury, the others fading to a consistent ache and rhythmic throb in the background of your mind, still very much there but not demanding as much attention as your collar bone had been.

Daryl was carrying you, bridal-style now, much to your relief as it wasn’t nearly as violent as when you had to hold onto him piggy-back style when he climbed the ladder.

He looked down at you, eyes brighter and more vibrant as they were glossed over with unshed tears. You looked back, trying to tell him that you were okay. You were, in a sense, now that he’d arrived and gotten you out of that dark abyss you’d been stuck in earlier, but you couldn’t find it in you to speak. You were drained — mentally and physically exhausted and the motion of his body as he held you close and moved you with him so they could finally exit the old building was enough to lull you to sleep.

“Ay!”

The peaceful numbness was ripped away from you and you blinked several times to clear the fogginess that had already overcome you after only mere minutes of your body shutting itself down.

“Gotta stay awake,” Daryl told you, glancing downward while he navigated his way through the maze of half-finished walls and flooring. “I know it sucks, but ya can’t fall asleep.”

You felt like a child the way you whined in response, wanting nothing more than to close your eyes and rest peacefully for awhile. It was the least you deserved. “But I’m so tired...” you mumbled, unsure if he could even hear you argue.

“I know,” he replied, and you realized he’d been saying that an awful lot lately in response to your complaints. But his voice was genuine, his expression a reflection of the pain he was feeling just looking at you in his arms, unable to make it go away no matter how hard he tried or how quickly he made it back to the truck. If it were up to him, he’d absorb every last bit of it from you and live it himself if it meant that you didn’t have to suffer through it. And fuck, he never hated himself more than when he had to be one thing keeping you from resting when all you wanted to do was stop hurting, if even just for a moment. It weighed heavily on his shoulders, regardless of the fact that he knew without a doubt it was the best thing for you that moment. “‘m sorry, girl. S’all my fuckin’ fault.”

“Stop saying that,” you slurred, growing fed up with all of the unnecessary guilt he was harboring. You didn’t even know what the fuck it was that had happened — shit, you hardly knew what was going on at that moment — but you knew for a fact that he hadn’t been the cause of any of it. He had made a habit of self-pity long ago and you’d spent years trying to squash it to little prevail. “You saved me, jus’ like you always do.”

“Wouldn’t hafta save ya if I didn’t get ya in this mess in the first place.”

“Did you push me... down tha’ elevator?” You asked pointedly.

“What? ‘Course not...”

“Then you’re not ‘sponsible,” you lectured him, knowing you sounded delirious but you couldn’t straighten yourself out. “S’not your fault...” You were so, so tired. Just wanting to sleep...

“Y/N.” You heard it but you ignored it. “Y/N! Come on, baby girl, stay with me. Just a lil’ bit longer.”

You easily tuned his voice out but his movements were jolting you all over, hitting your broken bones and jarring your injuries again. With a groan, you opened one eye up to see what the fuck he was doing and found yourself staring up at a dull grey ceiling overtop of you, the incessant humming coming into focus and you realized you were in a car and out of the office building.

You picked one single spot on the soft roof above you and stared at it, letting your eyes rest but struggling to keep them open. The material merged into something endless, a grey wall of nothingness, and it reminded you of you of a long time ago when you’d left a closed can of soda in your moms car and it had frozen overnight, and in turn exploded all over the interior of your moms brand new lease. Boy, was she fucking mad. The red pop splattered all over the rooftop and stained it and she made you work off the cost of the detail with chores for weeks.

“You still wit me, girl?”

Had Daryl been talking to you that whole time? Had you been talking out loud by accident? Did he think you were losing your mind? It sure felt like you were. Is that what death feels like? Just a heavy, perpetual exhaustion, limbs made of lead, brain swirling with incoherent thoughts that you couldn’t speak.

“Y/N!”

“What?” You snapped, irritated with Daryl’s yelling. You knew it wasn’t his fault that your head was pounding, but he could at least be more considerate.

“Talk t’me.”

His short response caught you off guard and you shut your mouth, unsure of where to go. Talk to him. He wanted you to stay awake. You accepted he wouldn’t let you fall asleep. Talk about what? You had to think real hard to remember your own name. What could you possibly have to talk about?

You thought of something brief, a flashback to a moment in time, unwarranted and random, but you knew exactly what it was.

“‘Member the firs’ time we met?”

The memory had brought a smile to your face and when you voiced it, the same longing, familiar smile ghosted his own lips. You couldn’t see Tara glance at him in the rear view mirror with a grin, but he could.

“Yeah,” he answered you, and even chuckled lightly at the thought. “The day they all cuffed Merle to the roof in Atlanta.”

You could tell he was thinking of his brother by the look in his eyes; if Daryl had come to term with anyone’s death, it was his brothers. “Crazy motherfucker cut his hand off.”

“You pulled it... outta your bag,” you added lightly, vividly remembering that moment as your first impression of the archer.

“Ya didn’t even know who I was ‘n ya offered to go look for ‘em wit me.”

You remembered that, too. “S’I always had a soft spot for ya, huh?”

Even with heavy eyelids you could see the tips of his ears and cheeks turn pink and you were filled with a rush of comforting warmth, fueling your drive to try stay awake for Daryl.

When he didn’t say anything after that, you spoke back up again. “You’re m’hero, Daryl Dixon.”

“Stop it.”

“No, s’true... my knight ‘n shinin’ armor.”

He snorted in derision and looked away from you, up through the windshield to Hilltop as it rose slowly over the horizon into view. “We’re back. Gonna get ya to Siddiq and get ya all patched up, ‘kay?”

You couldn’t help the way you were staring at him, hearts and stars in your eyes as you realized that, once again, Daryl Dixon had come through and rescued you when you thought you were facing your demise.

“Stop lookin’ at me like that.”

You smiled dreamily, exhaling a breathy, tired but genuine laugh at his shyness, your heart swelling twice it’s size and, for just a moment, forgetting about all of your injuries and pain.

“Thanks for savin’ me ‘gain,” you said quietly, reaching your good arm up to wrap it around he nape of his neck, relishing the warmth he radiated. You pulled him closer to you and he gave reluctantly, allowing you to bring your lips to his cheek and plant a feather light kiss to the bruised, swollen skin that sent euphoric chills through his entire body. “I owe you one.”

He smiled down at you. “Nah. Ya don’t owe me nothin’.”

As he delicately moved you flush with his body as he slid out of the truck with you tightly in his arms, you nodded thoughtfully.

“Well, s’a thing I don’ owe ya ‘vrytime ya save me,” you slurred, more to yourself than to him as he beckoned for some people further across the lot to get the doctor ready for you. “I’d owe ya a lotta fuckin’ favors...”

why can’t i put little lines in for page breaks anymore :( tumblr is punishing me for my laziness

thank you for reading xoxo

#the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead daryl #twd #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfic #elevators are fucking scary #so are giant dudes that weight like 300 lbs and tower 4 feet over you ngl

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