#//he ain’t telling you nuthin

[naked-inkzooka]

why have emperor and vintage, among others, turned stupid after you beat them. Is your stupidity contagious? Are you stealing their intelligence and hiding it from all of us?

And why do you always win all the time, anyway? I get the feeling this silly little guy is hiding some secrets…

*interrogation voice* TELL US

what do you mean? is my stupidity contagious? i dunno :D

we win because we enjoy our battles from the bottom of our hearts :D

…

you’re a bit aggressive..

[darylsdelts]

Hc for Daryl with a reader that had a similar upbringing but is the opposite? Like instead of being cold and guarded like he is, they're super affectionate and forgiving with others?

I was gonna say that this is so me but then I realised I’m not super affectionate… so this is so me apart from that part😭

Before Daryl properly knew you, he had assumed you had the perfect life before the fall. A nice family and two loving parents who spoiled you because you just seemed perfect.

When the two of you got closer, eventually Daryl opened up little by little about his father and his past and how he was brought up and you sympathised, telling him you understood.

Of course he scoffed and didn’t believe you but you left it at that for a while. You’re similar to daryl in the way that it takes a while for you to be ready to talk about certain things.

But eventually you do, you tell Daryl you’re like him but he refuses which is a little confusing.

“Nah, ya ain’t nuthin’ like me girl…”

“I am Daryl, we went through similar shit”

“Yeah maybe, but ya ain’t like me… ya ain’t… fucked”

Daryl finds it hard to comprehend how you can be so loving and forgiving with others when you’d been through similar situations to him and yet he’s the way he is.

He asks you how you do it, how you give so much of yourself to others and how you’re so attentive and… “normal” is how he puts it (believing that himself is not).

“You can’t be afraid forever, Daryl… what happened to us doesn’t define the rest of our lives”

Daryl can’t help the feeling he gets, he’s so unbelievably drawn to you. The way you’re so gentle with him and you don’t judge, you just listen and he wishes he could’ve known you before, when he was younger.

He nicknames you “sunshine” because that’s what you are to him.

You’re the only person who sees how he gets when he’s down, the only person who can help him get the tears out but also stop them.

And he’s the only person who knows about your past.

You’re always so kind to everyone but every now and then, Daryl can sense when you’re wearing yourself out. When you’re giving away so much and not getting anything back from the others.

That’s when he’ll put his foot down. When you come home he’ll hold you on his lap and give the talk he gives every now and then about not overdoing it.

“Ya gotta stop bein’ so damn perfect, sunshine. You’re tirin’ yerself out, baby… gotta look after yerself too, ya hear?”

You always protest a little, saying you’re fine but in the end he has your head on his chest whilst he strokes your hair as you doze off.

You both learn how to take care of each other and you both know the signs of your lover wearing themselves out.

You show him that not all people are out to hurt him and that he won’t get left behind.

He denies it but you know he’s always worried that if he’s struggling and he shows it then you’ll leave him but you’re good at squeezing the worry out of him, even if it means he sheds a few tears. He’s allowed and he begins to learn that.

I need him 😭

[lady-phasma]

Happiness at the end of the world

Chapter 1 of ?

Daryl Dixon x OFC

Warnings: 18+ MDNI; this is really different than anything I have ever shared on Tumblr before - it's fluffy and has lots of feelings and quite a few warnings; Smut, Kinda Friends to Lovers, Bathing/Washing, Awkward Flirting, Not Canon Compliant, No PTSD in chapter 1 (mentions of past abuse in later chapters), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Demisexual Daryl Dixon, p in v sex, Fingering, Choking, ultra-Light Dom/sub

Summary a/n: Making friends in Alexandria is easier than on the road, which also means friendships can evolve and become something more if the connection is there. There's definitely a connection. Non-canon compliant because I don't ship him with Leah. (I think this is my longest fic, probably because this has been cooking for the full 11 years of TWD.) No beta. 9k words.

Daryl opened the door to the small “apartment” he lived in. Not really an apartment as much as the finished basement of one of the original surviving homes. Dog ran in first, pushing past his legs before the door could open fully. He watched as Dog started licking and nuzzling something on the couch. Dog wasn’t warning him but Daryl was always cautious and set his crossbow down gently as he closed the door and grabbed his knife from his belt all in one swift movement.

No one in Alexandria locked their doors, most of them probably didn’t have the keys to the houses anymore if they had ever had them at all. That meant that people didn’t trespass either. It was an unspoken rule made from mutual respect. Even in the faint light coming through the curtained garden windows he could tell this was a someone just not who. He started to relax a little but still held his knife as he turned on a lantern. Dog whined as the head on the couch turned and sniffed and groaned.

“Tha hell,” Daryl almost yelled it. “Dog, sit! What tha hell’re you doin’ here?” He stepped closer to the couch and sat on the coffee table. Eye level with Kristina as she sat up bleary-eyed and disheveled.

“Ya ain’t gotta yell,” she said as she rubbed her eyes open. Her short hair was sticking up all over on the side that had been on the pillow. “Anyway you’re the one that’s late.”

Daryl grunted and put the lantern on the coffee table. Kristina swung her feet onto the floor to make room on the couch for him.

“Ain’t late for nuthin’,” he grumbled as he stood up. He took his vest off and draped it over a chair followed by his belt and all the attachments. He even put his knife on the side table before sitting down on the couch.

“Well you’re late getting back is what I mean,” she said as he sat. “You were out on a run and gone longer than I thought. Find anything good?”

“Nah,” he answered. “Same as most days, ‘bout nuthin’ left here. Why’re ya here?”

“Because…” she let out a sleepy little yawn “you said that we should hang out today but then I remembered I don’t have a calendar and I don’t know what day it is so if you said Friday maybe it’s Monday and I’m the late one.” She chuckled a little at her own nonsense and that made Daryl scoff or grunt or whatever that noise was that he makes when something is slightly humorous.

She lifted her sock clad feet and a portion of blanket up onto the couch, almost in his lap but not quite. She tucked her cold toes between his leg and the couch cushion as she leaned back on the arm of the couch and looked at him.

“You had a hard day, huh?” she tried but he rarely took the bait. She was feeling him out, trying to get the sense of his mood.

Daryl shook his head just a tiny bit then shot her a side glance briefly before looking down at his hands again. He appeared to be missing the “armor” of having his pocket knife to clean his nails to avoid eye contact.

“We’ve been friends awhile,” she leaned up and hugged her knees. “Not as long as some but a while, right? So you should know by now I’m not asking as your therapist, hell I don’t even need full and complete sentences!” The half of his face she could see shifted into a slight grin at this. She desperately wanted to reach out and move the hair back from his face but they weren’t those friends.

“Yeah,” he spoke this more than grunted so that was progress.

Kristina really wanted to be more than friends with him but had never pushed him, would never. She was so curious about him. There was only so much you could learn about someone if they didn’t talk. She knew his relationship with Carol was particularly special because they had spent so many months living out there and they didn’t always need words to communicate. Trauma bonds will do that to people. She really wasn’t his therapist. She functioned as one in Alexandria for most people but never for him unless he asked. She didn’t want him to. She wanted him to need her for other things. She had been through a lot of shit when the world fell apart, made some unpleasant choices. She had survived. She didn’t want him to be her therapist either but she had shared some of the milder parts of her past with him as a kind of proof to him that she wasn’t soft or, rather, that being here hadn’t made her soft. She hadn’t told him everything but she probably would eventually, if he let her.

“Com’on, I have an idea, and don’t argue,” she said as she stood up. Stood up so quickly in fact that she startled Dog who had been nearly asleep next to the couch. “No whining either, just trust me.”

“I don’t whine,” he said, looking up at her and suppressing a bit of a grin. She smiled widely at him but let him win that one. She reached down and grabbed his hands and feigned pulling him up weakly. He conceded and stood up.

She led him by one hand through the small area he called a bedroom (truly an alcove with a mattress on the floor but whatever) and into the bathroom. She barely heard his “huh?” as they walked in. He was tired but he was also filthy. Alexandria’s electricity was mostly out but their cisterns kept water pressure pretty strong as long as everyone wasn’t opening their taps at the same time. She closed the toilet lid and pushed his shoulders down as a signal to sit. He actually didn’t argue.

First, Kristina plugged the tub drain, then she turned on the hot tap and ran the water over her inner wrist testing its temperature. She wasn’t optimistic but what was in the hot water tank had stayed pretty warm. Some of the solar electricity must be working during the day. She ran the water into the tub until it ran almost cold. Looking at the amount and scowling she turned around to look at Daryl and raised an eye brow. He was watching her intently. She blushed a little. He couldn’t read her mind thank god because she had only glanced at him to assess water displacement and how full the tub needed to be for comfort and at that moment thought about him without his clothes on. Naked Daryl, my, well that would be different. She shook her head and looked back at the tub.

The water was cooling off so she instructed him to “stay right there, just a sec” and bounded through to the kitchenette for a pan and a sterno can. When she returned to the bathroom she looked around and realized the best place for the sterno was on the toilet lid but Daryl was still where she had told him to stay.

“Ugh, what now?!” he grumbled.

“Get up! Laws of thermodynamics and all that means your water’s coolin’ off, so I’m going to do this and you get undressed,” she bossed at him while setting up her burner and pan.

“No, wha?” he blustered “Uhn-uh, nope.”

“Oh you big baby, just do it,” she teased, she made sure the teasing was evident in her tone. Once she had filled the pan with water and sat it over the flame she turned to see what she had expected: Daryl pressed so hard against the opposite wall that he might just sink into it, with all his clothes on.

Kristina giggled a very girlish giggle, something she rarely ever had occasion to do in her 30s but damn he was endearing. He looked up at her with those eyes and through his filthy hair and she couldn’t stop herself. Walking slowly as if toward a cornered wild animal she made the couple of steps to him. She slowly reached out her hand and put it on one of his, slid it around so they were palm to palm.

“Look, you don’t have to,” she soothed. “But the water is warm, I’ll add some more hot as fast as it heats so you don’t get cold. I won’t see anything you don’t want me to and anyway, when did you last bathe? That wasn’t in a creek?”

His grin was reply enough to that and was a very sincere grin. He nodded slightly and she let go of his hand.

She tested the water in the tub again, nodded to herself, and tested the water that had been heating while they talked and sucked in a sharp breath when she felt the hot water hit the tips of her fingers. She grabbed a towel to hold the pan’s handle and gradually mixed in the heated water with that in the tub. She filled the pan again from the sink. It probably wouldn’t take many more of these to make it comfortable. She waited, looking at the pan of water on the flame as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world because she didn’t dare turn around.

At first she had only heard the soft swooshes of shirt fabric as he began to get undressed. Then she had heard one boot, then the next, thump onto the tile floor. The next sounds were out of context so she could only imagine what was happening while staring at this incredibly interesting pan of water. She heard Daryl’s bare feet make a few steps on the floor and then a hand moved past her to grab a bath cloth off the rack.

“Scuse me,” he said very close to her ear. All of the muscles in her neck froze to keep her from pivoting to see how much progress he had made.

“Yeah, of course,” she replied. Except she kind of croaked the words out and had to clear her throat a bit. She decided to test the water.

“Shit! Okay well that’s hot enough.” she yelped. “So I need to pour this in and I can’t do it with my eyes closed so if you don’t want me to see something, whatever, cover it in 3… 2… 1….” She turned slowly looking mostly at the pan and the floor then the tub. But she knew she would look at him once she started pouring. Who wouldn’t?

Daryl stood looking mostly at his feet but not cowering or shy like she had expected. It occurred to her that he probably bathed naked or just in his underwear out in the woods but there just wasn’t anyone to see him. So in this small room the only things that were modest were his gaze and using the bath cloth like a loin cloth. He was tan but also very dirty and she was pretty sure this one bath wouldn’t be enough but he could deal with that tomorrow.

“Okay, I think it’s ready for you but I’m going to heat at least one more pan,” she said far too quickly, almost making one word from them all and turned to the sink to refill it.

“Uh, thanks,” he said from behind her. Then the water in the tub made a sloshing sound and then another. There was some squeaking on porcelain, presumably his hands on the sides as he lowered himself in, and that mental image was actual the first one that consciously made her flush and feel the tug between her legs. She had thought Daryl sexy very, very many times and had probably had this normal, biological reaction to him many times, but this was different. This time was not brief or from her own imaginings. She took a deep breath and relished it.

Daryl sighed and then inhaled sharply. He went all the way under the water, coming up sputtering and smiling to himself a bit. She noticed the shampoo on a high shelf and, without looking, sat it near the tub so he could reach it.

“You good on soap?” she asked the pan of water.

“M’fine,” he said. “You don’t hafta keep starin at that water. I’m in now, won’t embarrass ya.”

Kristina looked over at him and the blush rose from her cheeks to her hairline. Shit, yup, Daryl was now Naked Daryl. She didn’t stare at any one place and after making eye contact briefly she put her gaze on the floor. Mostly out of respect. She decided she could sit on the bath mat and keep an eye on the heating water without feeling like an interloper. He didn’t tell her to leave and it didn’t occur to her to leave but there was more water heating so she’d stay until that pan was finished.

He sighed and leaned his head back, dipping his hair into the water again. She had seen some of his scars before but he still kept most of them out of view. She had a clear view of one on his chest she had only glimpsed before through an open shirt or when he changed quickly out of blood and dirt covered clothes. She desperately wanted to touch each of them. She equally didn’t want to get caught staring though she was pretty sure he already knew she was.

She tested the temp of the water on the sterno and it felt hot enough. Maybe he would ask her to leave and that would be that and she’d wait with Dog in the living room. She blew out the sterno flame and he opened his eyes, looking at her sideways without moving his head. Now the only light source was the small lantern. The sudden semi-darkness had surprised them both.

“Uh, do you want me to, um, or you can if you’d rather,” she stumbled through that question without finishing. “I don’t want to burn you. How’s the water?” She wanted to sew her mouth shut. Wow that was embarrassing.

“You can if ya want,” he answered as he closed his eyes. “I trust ya. Water’s good. Thanks again. Ya knew I’d just go to bed smellin like the woods.”

“Like the woods for starters and dead things and dirt and Dog. He needs a bath soon too!” she was able to tease unselfconsciously again in the dimmer light. She couldn’t see anything below the surface of the water, not that she was looking, but that made them both less tense it seemed. Like he were less naked.

Kristina turned to pick up the sterno can and take it and the pan to the kitchenette when she felt his hand lightly on her wrist.

“Don’t go,” he whispered without looking up.

She placed everything on the sink and went to sit on the bathmat again, this time she put her back against the tub wall, facing away from him, and hugged her knees to her chest. They sat in silence like that for some time. She really did cherish that he enjoyed silence. The world before had been so loud that it made her anxious. Now the sounds of walkers was almost constant depending on your location. Any silence when you were able to be unguarded was sacrosanct.

She heard the water sloshing gently behind her and smelled the mingled odor of the outdoors with the floral soap and smiled. He would definitely feel better and sleep better.

“Hey, could ya do one more a’ those?” he asked in a low whisper trying not to disturb their silence too much. Wordlessly she set everything up, lit the sterno, they both squinted at the extra light, and filled the pan. She sat back in her exact spot on the bath mat.

At first her brain lagged and didn’t know how her arm got wet. She felt the warm water on her upper arm before she felt his fingers. Then his fingers went up under her t-shirt sleeve and back down, up then down. So slowly that she almost shivered and she did make the smallest moan then clenched her jaw tight so no other sound could escape. He was so guarded against the world that touching someone seemed impossible. She had analyzed that from afar for a while now, not infrequently. But the part of her brain trained in analysis wasn’t in control at the moment. Right now she just wanted to feel this. When she leaned to check the water somehow, not intentionally on her part, his fingers grazed the side of her breast. She hitched in a small breath. She was pretty sure he had been looking at her and aimed that last touch.

The water was hot enough so she blew out the sterno and turned, still on her knees, with the pan ready to pour in the hot water. His blue eyes glinted in the dim light as he watched her. He was beautiful like that. Strong, lean, hair wet against his head, muscular arms on either side of the tub, amazingly unselfconscious. Just waiting on her. She nearly dropped the pan when he quirked up one corner of his mouth.

“Whasa matter with you?”he asked.

“Nuthin’,” she muttered. She started gently pouring the water into the tub and unconsciously glanced at him under the water. The bath cloth was strategically placed and she relaxed a little. Then she knelt next to the bath and swallowed hard.

“Well, I’ll let ya get on with it,” she told him. “You probably need two or three good scrubbin’s and your hair. Do you sleep in mud?!” Her hand was halfway to smooth back his hair before she realized it. She followed through and pushed a lock back from his cheek. He didn’t look at her.

“Nah,” he replied and cupped both his hands full of water and swept it over his head. He sunk down into the tub just a bit, knees poking out of the surface now. “An’ don’t go.” His eyes were closed as the water ran down his face.

“Okay,” Kristina replied. “So whatcha wanna do, talk?” She laughed a little and she noticed the corners of his mouth twitched up at that. She enjoyed teasing him because he knew his own idiosyncrasies and wasn’t embarrassed around her… most of the time.

Daryl started fiddling with the soap and cloth nervously and unproductively. He seemed to finally realize he was naked. He looked over at her watching him. It was a good thing his face was flushed from the warm water or she would see him blush.

“Lord, why am I even in here then?” she asked exasperatedly. She snatched the bottle of shampoo from the side of the tub, anxiety forcing her to do something. “Sit up.”

He did as he was told while she put some shampoo on her hands. She started out gently and then the absolute mess of his hair distracted her from her nerves. She had never washed a grown man’s hair before in her life and had not planned this but now that she was doing it she wondered a bit about why he was letting her. She had her suspicions about his experience with women and understood his shyness. But this felt out of character at the moment, out of character for both of them.

She scrubbed at the tangles and grumbled. “Dunk,” she commanded. He did. She added a bit more shampoo and massaged it in. From the corner of her eye she saw him start to actually use the bath cloth to clean his face, neck, arms. His arms. Her breath hitched a little at the sight of his bare biceps.

She rose up on her knees to get better leverage on this mess and her breast pressed into his shoulder. The water soaked through her t-shirt and bra. She tried to continue with the task at hand but both of them had frozen for a moment, keenly aware of the contact. She didn’t pull away. She decided to appear to ignore it, maybe it would be a signal to him. She took advantage of the accident and pressed a little more against him. He made a sound like quietly clearing his throat. She smiled to herself a little.

When she was satisfied that his hair was as clean as it would be this time she told him to rinse. She sat back on her heels as he sunk under the water and ran his fingers through his hair. He came up sputtering and immediately shook his head like a dog, spraying her and the bathroom with water. She laughed and instinctively shoved his shoulder.

“Hey! Not fair,” she played but her hand lingered a bit longer than intended.

Daryl scoffed, that small laugh of his. He leaned back and started working the soap in his hands. Still avoiding eye contact. What on earth is he thinking, she wondered. The longer this stretched out the more she began to feel things, things she wasn’t sure she was supposed to feel. She had always been bold with men but most weren’t as… as what? delicate? as he was. Timid might be the more accurate word. She couldn’t just grab him and drag him to his bed even if that’s ultimately what he was trying to get her to do. So she stood up and perched on the edge of the tub. She held out her hand. He looked up at her slowly from her hand, up her arm, to her face, questioning.

“Gimme,” she said. “Soap and cloth.” Neither of them broke eye contact as he put them in her hand. Their fingers grazed.

She had never done this before and felt a very awkward. She wasn’t judging him for wanting this, she could probably psychoanalyze why he wanted her to, but she was trying to enjoy it for him. If she was tense he would pick up on it. He was too perceptive not to.

Kristina wet the cloth and her hands in the water next to his legs, extra careful not to touch him. She tried to exhale as quietly as possible. She slid closer to the end of the tub and positioned herself almost behind him. She pressed her fingertips on his shoulders, indicating she wanted him to lean forward. He did but he kind of crumpled and drew his knees up and rested his arms and head on them. She really had never seen all of his scars and tattoos. He kept them hidden. She gently started washing the back of his neck, then she realized she would actually have to scrub. She was honestly embarrassed, more than he was it seemed.

Her mind was racing as she washed down his shoulders and back. All these thoughts and at the forefront was the idea that he knew exactly how uncomfortable this made her. Dixon could be that manipulative? Nah. she argued with herself. She scrubbed a bit too hard over a recent bruise and he pulled away and hissed air through his teeth.

“Sorry, shit,” she said and laid her bare palm on the bruise. He softened a bit with that but didn’t speak. She slowly finished what she could reach and then pulled back on his shoulder for him to lean back. She rinsed and re-soaped the cloth and decided to be a little bold, test his intentions a bit. His eyes were closed so she started on his neck and down his shoulder, bicep, to the water’s surface. She retraced her path and then moved the cloth slowly down his chest. His eyes fluttered but he didn’t move. She wanted to feel the hair and the scars on him with her bare hand but it was too soon to drop this ridiculous pretense.

She leaned across to reach his other shoulder deliberately pressing her breasts against him. He did move a little then. A kind of shrug, not to move away but to reciprocate. She wiped the cloth down his other arm and then slowly sat back up. She cleared her throat a bit more loudly than she intended. In the silence of the bathroom it almost echoed.

Daryl opened his eyes and looked at her. She just couldn’t put her hands under the water. She panicked and dropped the cloth. She stood up, didn’t quite run from the room but almost. She was out so quickly that she left the door open behind her. She leaned against the wall in his bedroom and exhaled, shaking all over. Nope, I did not just do that, she thought. She had. She had fled. Whatever he was doing, on purpose or not, was too much for her. She heard the drain start in from the bathroom. A few more noises and then Daryl was in the doorway, the towel wrapped low on his hips.

“Thas how it is, huh?” he had a great poker face.

“Mmmm,” was the best she could muster in front of his defined muscles. She felt herself shake her head side to side without meaning to. God how she wanted to start babbling and explaining and deflecting but also not do those things and just let this play out how he wanted.

He walked toward her. So big and silent. He could look menacing if he tried but his face was always kind to her. His hair was tousled and in his eyes again. Unph. She almost made that sound out loud. Instead she tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down. His eyes caught on that movement while he took the few steps to her. She could feel the heat coming off him, he was so close to her. He smelled wonderful, not entirely clean as she suspected. She could smell him.

There was no way he was doing this, being the opposite of shy with her. He looked down at the wet spots on her shirt. He started to touch her hand but only hovered next to it then let his drop to his side. He started talking, mumbling, toward the floor.

“Dunno, it’s dumb,” he said. “Jus wanted to see if you would, ya know, do somethin.”

Wow he was so uncomfortable even after trying to seem otherwise that she ached for him and the courage he must have dug up from deep inside. Very slowly she thought she understood how he could see something incredibly awkward as an opening. Realization dawning, she smiled up at him. She would not laugh because she didn’t want to risk him ever thinking that she was laughing at him. She had to pause to choose her next words and actions carefully. He wasn’t confident enough to overtly take control but wanted it, wanted her to give in, meet him more than halfway.

“Yes, Daryl,” she almost whispered. She brushed a wet lock of hair back from his forehead and trailed her fingers down his jaw. She liked that he didn’t shave. “Yes, I would do anything but only with your consent. Probably, I’d do some things I didn’t want to,” she tipped her head in the direction of the bathroom, hopefully indicating that had been awkward for her.

“Yeah?” he almost growled, the single syllable rumbling in his chest.

“Sure,” she let her fingers move to his lips and she thought she had finally lost her mind. “Sure, just as long as I know it’s what you want.” He pulled away but not in a way that made her regret her honesty.

“Yer prolly doin that head shrinkin’ thing,” he said dubiously, inspecting her eyes for any reaction, any tale-tale sign that she would lie to him.

“Never!” she said a bit louder than she planned. “I couldn’t anyway,” she winked at him. “You’re a completely open book.” He almost laughed at this, almost. Kristina was relieved that he was great at picking up on her sarcasm.

They stood silently for nearly too long, it was almost uncomfortable. Finally Daryl took a step back. He held the towel at his waist and started to walk toward the living room. She was pretty sure he was going to put clothes on and she would miss this window, this giant window with a neon sign flashing “entrance” above it, and she’d be damned if she would miss that.

“Wait,” she grabbed the wrist of his free hand and he stopped. He didn’t turn toward to her, just froze. She stepped up behind him. Still wishing not to rush things and probably failing, she lightly touched his shoulder, a scar. He winced. She traced her finger down his spine to the top of the towel. She flattened her palm on his hip and pulled their bodies together. He was quite a bit taller than her so her head was exactly level with the space between his shoulder blades. She watched them flex, he was now holding the towel with both hands. She continued to slide her palm around him, to his stomach. He stiffened as she placed her other hand there as well and pressed her entire body into him. She hugged him tightly, waiting, hoping he would breathe and start to relax. She felt the rumble against her cheek as he sighed or moaned or whatever that sound was. He shifted and placed a hand on top of hers.

She didn’t know how long they stood there but it seemed neither of them was in a hurry to move. She did though. She gently pulled her hands back, trailed her fingers along his back in the direction she was walking, summoning him. She stood in front of the mattress on the floor and waited for him to turn around. When he did, when she knew he was watching, she started to lift her t-shirt over her head but he nearly pounced to stop her. He grabbed her hand while only her stomach was bared. He tightened the towel around his waist and hesitantly grabbed the hem of her shirt, sliding it up and off. He dropped it on the floor. His hands hovered momentarily and then he slid them down her bare arms.

Daryl stepped so close to her that they were nearly touching again. He tipped her chin up to him with his fingers. She looked at him and parted her lips slightly. He leaned down as if to kiss her but stopped with their mouths only millimeters apart. He licked his lips but still seemed unable to make up his mind. Then, suddenly, he was kissing her. Lips pressed hard together against teeth. Inexpertly but lovely. She kissed him back, desperate, but not opening her mouth further, letting him lead. She felt his tongue against her lips and the surprise ran down her spine to her clit. She encouraged him with her own. God how she wanted to press against him, hurry him.

He put a hand on the back of her head and twisted his fingers in her short hair as best he could. He didn’t pull her into him but tugged, almost pulled on her hair. He groaned into her mouth. She pushed her tongue past his lips, exploring his tongue, his mouth. She placed her hands on either side of his face hoping to help him relax his clenched jaw. It almost worked. Until it didn’t. He overthought everything and this touch startled him enough to pull back from their kiss.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I, uh, I don’t know if I can…” he trailed off. He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. She enjoyed this for a few moments, the closeness, breathing each other in.

“That’s okay,” she said in a near whisper. “Com’on, sit down.” She sat on the mattress and leaned her bare back against the cold wall. She shivered. He slumped down next to her and the towel slipped a little, showing one of his thighs more than he might have wanted if he had noticed. She turned to look at him, not stopping herself from smoothing his hair back just a bit. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him but she was pretty sure that was not what he wanted.

She pressed the side of her body up against him completely. She let her fingers slide over the back of his hand and then rest on it.

“Hey…” she whispered. When he looked at her she kissed his cheek, jaw, then his bottom lip. Using her hand to guide him she lifted his and set it gently on her breast. Her bra was still damp and her nipple was hard against his palm. He made the best sounds, this one between a grunt and a groan, and she was positive he had no idea how sexy he was when he did that. She pressed the back of his hand lightly until his fingers flexed. She arched her back. He turned toward her more fully and started to explore, edging his finger tips under the edges of her bra.

Kristina made all of her movements slow and deliberate, contorting her arms behind herself to flick open her bra. She nudged the straps down and he took the hint. His breath was warm on her chest but her nipples ached they were so hard. He sat up, leaned down, and slowly put his lips on one nipple then carefully licked at it. Her moans encouraged him. He sucked her nipple into his mouth. He caressed and kissed and licked with singular focus, adjusting based on the noises he drew from her.

Then he knelt and pulled her under him. It was strained and awkward at first. Her legs were curled under her, he held her up with a hand on her back while the other kneaded her breast. She sighed and pushed against his mouth. His hands were rough and strong. The feeling of his scruffy beard on her bare chest sent electricity through her entire body. He was perfect and a quick study. She tested putting her hands on his sides, smoothing them up his back, wrapping her arms around them to pull him closer. As she did this he started to lay her back on the bed. She straightened her legs out under him. She became acutely aware that her jeans were still on and he was mostly naked. He moved his hand from her back and cupped both of her breasts in his hands. His sharp, ragged breaths made her hips rise. She was pinned by him as he straddled her, holding her in place with his thighs. She squeezed her eyes shut harder not allowing herself to find out if his towel was still holding on for dear life. That would ruin this moment of focusing only on Daryl’s mouth and hands.

He felt her hips move and her back arch. He split his attention between her breast and finding his way to the waistband of her jeans. One handed he unbuttoned them and ripped open the zipper. She gasped a little and dug her fingers into his back. She wanted him to do everything at once, anything he decided to do next was fine by her. He slowly let her nipple slide from his lips. He began kissing her collarbones, her neck, her jaw, and then, finally her mouth. She opened her eyes to find his were open as he watched and decoded every her every move and expression. She felt his fingertips under the elastic of her panties and stayed as still as possible, kissing him harder, brushing her tongue over his lips.

She was so wet. She probably had been since he first undressed in the bathroom. He moaned into their kiss as his fingers slid between her folds and over her clit. He was learning, exploring, and taking his time. He moved his other hand to the bed beside her head to support his weight and get a better angle. He drug his finger through her wetness and up onto her belly. He started to sit up, ending the slow, delicious kiss and she lifted her head trying to keep their lips together as long as possible. His large, strong hand pushed her back, actually shoved her, onto the mattress. Her eyes went wide.

When he gripped the waist of both her jeans and panties she had to look down. He was pulling them down while he worked his way to the foot of the bed. Miraculously the towel was still on his hips but only barely. She could see how hard he was. He was basically naked and when he slipped her pants off her feet he also dropped his towel on the floor. This is happening, she thought. Holy shit. Before any more thoughts could form he was spreading her legs, opening them by her ankles. He looked at every part of her with such intensity that she wasn’t at all surprised when he kissed her calves. Then he started his way up placing kissed behind her knee, on her thigh, on the inside of her thigh. He smoothed a hand up over her hip bone and rested it firmly on her belly as he kissed the sensitive skin in the crease of her hip. It was clear he wasn’t going straight to her pussy. Her eyes were fixed on him and as soon as he was within reach she put her hands in his hair.

Daryl’s eyes shot up at her, his mouth still on her hip. For just a second he seemed to being making a decision. Then he lifted his head and grabbed her wrists, one in each of his hands. He slammed them down on the bed firmly. Message received. She pressed them down to indicate she understood. He almost smiled as he dipped his head to place more kisses on her belly and just below her breasts. Her hips moved and tilted and his hands stopped them as well, fingers digging in hard against her hip bones. She moaned. So this is it, she thought, this is what he was afraid of?

He roughly forced her legs wider apart, careful not to put his thigh where they both wanted it. He leaned over her, his knees holding her thighs open, the cool air on her pussy making her tremble. Okay not just the air. His hands were on either side of her head now. How badly she wanted to put her hands on his arms, feel his muscles, touch every part of him. He looked down at her, almost drowsily, and the groaning purring rumble started in his chest again. He kissed her fiercely, briefly.

“This good?” he asked because he had to. Not because she needed him to but he needed assurance, guidance.

“Mmmhmmm,” she mewled and her body reflexively arched and tried to roll her hips against him.

“No,” he said tonelessly. She stopped.

“This ain’t the time to say this,” he started. He licked his lips and closed his eyes, gathering courage. “But I ain’t never, I mean, well, shit.” He blushed. She started to lift her hands to comfort him, sooth him, and let them fall back to her sides. So she just tilted her head slightly and smiled.

“S’okay,” she whispered. She felt like it would be disobeying too soon if she were to touch him so she had to find the words. She licked her lips and looked directly in his eyes. “Take your time, tell me what you want, show me, we do it how you need to, kay?”

Daryl answered by sliding a hand down her body, without breaking eye contact, and slipping a finger through her wetness again. She let out a small breath and he smiled just a bit. She swallowed hard.

“May I?” she nervously asked.

He grunted assent. So she carefully slid a hand over his, lining her fingers up with his. He groaned and closed his eyes, concentrating. She used her fingers to guide him, first circling her clit then dipping lower. She gently pressed his finger into her and sighed. She slid her hand to his wrist and pushed. It had the desired effect and his finger moved deeper into her. The sounds he made were always guttural, sincere, almost feral. Maybe he had never even had his fingers in a woman. This thought made her cunt ache and she clinched around him.

“Another,” she begged.

He obliged, slipping a second finger inside her. Her hips twitched toward him. His entire body started to move as he began to fuck her with his fingers. They seemed to become aware, for the first time, of his dick pressed between them. She struggled not to push her hips down on his fingers. She wanted him to fill her and she didn’t know if he could read the signs. She spread her legs wider and moaned, almost begging wordlessly. He obliged and slid a second finger in. Certain that it was not possible for him to being enjoying this as much as she was, Kristina flushed when she opened her eyes to see him watching her. That intense focus aimed at her. Like tracking an animal, he was reading every sign available to him. He bit his bottom lip. His eyes moved over her arms by her sides, her chest rising and falling, her hips rolling, the place where their skin touched at the hip.

He ground his palm into her clit and pulled his fingers almost completely out. Then, very nearly roughly, he pushed three fingers into her. He bit his lower lip. He was using only a fraction of his strength but watching his arm working to make her feel this good made her want to grab onto it, claw and scratch at him. He really was paying close attention and curled his fingers slightly inside her. Her cunt clenched tight on him and she balled the sheets of the bed in her fists. She didn’t recognize the sounds that came out of her mouth but some of them resembled his name. Then his thumb pressed on her clit. He didn’t move it, only increased the pressure.

“Oh god Daryl,” she gasped. “I’m going to come.” She couldn’t fill her lungs with air.

He put his mouth close enough to her ear that she almost felt his lips move. “No.”

She couldn’t contain a deep groan but it wasn’t protesting, it was resignation and she tried with all of her focus to relax her grip on his fingers. She squeezed her eyes shut. She felt the mattress dip with his weight as he pressed up to be right above her, on top of her. His dick nudged at her belly and he hissed sharply. He had moved his weight to his knees to free his other hand. With it her gripped her jaw, under her chin and lifted it up. She was learning him as quickly as he was learning her. She opened her eyes. She was supposed to be looking at him, not escaping the sensations. His thumb was harder on her clit, he had more leverage with this angle. He leaned in and kissed her. This time forcing her lips apart with his tongue. He was hurried and desperate and hungry. She gave in and made room for him.

She wasn’t completely sure she had ever allowed anyone to control her like this. She was excited, thrilled, by it. The release of control, no longer making decisions, but mostly allowing him to take pleasure from her… that was flattering for lack of a better word. It made her feel sexy and uninhibited. In the past few years there hadn’t been time for those feelings. Every moment of life was filled with decisions and nothing remotely sexy. She wanted to relax and enjoy this but she was so close and it had been a while since anyone had given her an orgasm other than herself. And this was giving, if he ever allowed it this would be a helluva gift.

At almost the same moment that he pulled his mouth from hers he removed his fingers. The sudden emptiness made her gasp. He actually smiled. Still kneeling and holding her face he placed his fingers on her mouth. He inhaled deeply in an almost crude way, smelling her. He started to slowly part her lips, encouraging her to do what he wanted. She did. With her inhibitions nearly forgotten she started sucking his fingers, doing whatever this enigmatic man asked. Whatever pleased him. If she took the time to really think about it she might panic, think this was too different from some core part of her. She wasn’t going to do that. Instead she sucked his fingers deep into her throat, wanting only to pull those sounds from him. Or to finally make him grind into her, give her the friction she needed.

He took his fingers away and briefly kissed her. Then he mumbled something into her mouth.

“Huh?” she was barely able to focus. He released her chin and propped himself up, one hand on either side of her head again, and leaned in close.

“Ya want it?” he growled. She wasn’t entirely sure it was a question but she moaned and nodded emphatically.

Daryl straightened, placed a hard, heavy hand on her belly, and stared at her pussy for a moment. He wrapped his hand around his dick and began to slowly stroke. She couldn’t look away but watching made her ache. She realized his hand was on her stomach to keep her still so he could watch. He pressed harder when she started squirm and push her hips toward him.

“Uhn-uh,” he said without looking at her.

He was actually expertly rubbing the head of his dick against her clit. His sighs were deeper now. He slid his hand from her belly to her hip, nearly to her ass, and guided her to tilt and lift her hips how he wanted her. She felt exposed. Now embarrassment washed over her. Her legs were spread wide, her hips raised, and all for him, only him. So he could look at her. She could follow through and trust this or she could stop. She didn’t want to stop. She was amazed at how exciting this humiliation was, wanted to let her mind examine how much he intended to humiliate her. She was relieved when he guided her ass to rest on his thighs, her calves were trembling from the position.

Once she had relaxed and trusted him with her weight his hand went back to her belly. He stroked her clit with his thumb while also holding her down. She let out a small huff when she realized what he was doing. That made him glance up at her face. His head still tilted down but his eyes studying her behind his loose, messy hair. She wanted to pout, put on a show for him, antagonize him, but thought maybe that would come later, if they ever did this again. Instead she mouthed please and he lowered his gaze again.

His dick nudged at her pussy, sliding in just a bit but it was enough that she completely understood why he was holding her still. He’s really never done this?! her mind yelled. He pulled back almost punishing her for trying to rush. Then he started to slowly, excruciatingly slowly, slide into her. He released his grip on his dick and pushed into her until their hips met. He found her hips with his hands and pulled her closer. She didn’t know if he could go any deeper but she wanted it. Wanted all of him in her. She didn’t want this delicious slowness to end but she desperately needed him to move. Her hands pulled at the sheets using anything she could to stay still like he wanted. His eyes flicked up when he saw the movement but she didn’t notice. Her eyes were shut tightly trying to center herself.

“Kristina,” he said. A flat toneless word the way he said it but it had more meaning behind it than she had ever heard. She moaned and looked at him. He wanted needed? her to watch, to be present. He withdrew and using her hips as leverage pushed back in. He intended for her to feel every inch of his dick but was taking it slow for himself. Out nearly completely, back in tapping lightly against her cervix. This sudden, unexpected resistance was the first thing to elicit an involuntary reaction: “shit” he hissed, drawing out the word. She had always enjoyed it when her cervix was involved in sex, if it wasn’t hard pressure it was pleasant but this, this was mind altering. His exploration, his excitement combined with her inability to move and control the fucking made every sensation heightened.

Daryl was definitely exploring. He repeated the action. Out, in, pressure on her cervix. His fingers were going to leave bruises on her hips and she didn’t care. He increased his speed, shortening his strokes, lifting both of them just a little each time. His eyes had barely left the place where he disappeared inside her cunt but now he looked up to watch her breasts sway with his efforts. He leaned forward, unintentionally pushing in farther than he had yet, and ran his hands up her sides. She was liquid, pliant, and let him move her like a doll. He scooped her up with his arms under hers, hands gripping her shoulders for leverage. She was no longer in control of any part of her body and instinctively wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist. She had enough presence of mind to think he is so strong before letting her head fall into the crook of his neck. She was panting with the speed of his thrusts.

He had lifted her off the bed and into his lap and she felt small and dizzy and wonderful. There was no space between them, no room for him to pull out with each thrust. Her clit rubbed against the coarse hair on his lower belly. She couldn’t stop the rolling of her hips, clenching and unclenching around him. He kissed her neck, sometimes scraping his teeth over her skin, not quite biting. His lips brushed against her ear. One hand moved up her neck and into her hair, then back to her shoulder, lower to her ass. He was exploring, touching every part of her. She felt like he was touching her everywhere at once, inside and out.

When his hand snaked between them and his rough fingers found her nipple she started to beg and plead and warn “I’m going to come, please Daryl, oh god please.”

He breathed against her as his fingers dug into her shoulder, finding more purchase and bringing them closer together when she was sure there had been no more room. His other hand still rolling and pinching her nipple. They were both moving faster now. No difference between them, in perfect rhythm, and she noticed more than felt her fingernails dig into his back.

“Mmhmm,” he grunted. “I want ya to.”

An incoherent stream of ohfuckDarylohfuckfuck poured out of her mouth, head flung back, body arched toward him. She clamped her legs tight against his sides as her orgasm spread from her center. His arms moved to encircle her and press her breasts against his chest. She moaned with this new sensation. Groaned actually. It was going to be too much soon.

And then it was too much. His breath hitched in his chest and she felt him tense nearly every muscle in his body. His groan started deep in his chest. She wanted to feel that vibrate through her so she sat up straighter and ground her hips down onto his dick. He buried his face between her breasts and she tangled her hands in his hair.

“I’m gonna…” he tried to say through clenched teeth. “Ah baby I’m comin’. Fuck. Fu…” He crushed his face against her chest. She felt his hips jerk a few times then become still, felt his dick spasm inside her, and now she felt she could sooth and reassure without permission. She stroked his sweat-dampened hair, kissed the top of his head, and ran her hands down his neck and back. Then her hands found his face and turned it up to hers and she kissed him. Hard and rough and deep. She forced his mouth open with her tongue. He kissed her back and as he did her grabbed her ass with both hands and lifted her up. He laid her back on the bed. She untangled her limbs from him. Then he slowly pulled out. She felt his cum trickle out, hot and more than a little satisfying.

He sank down heavily on the bed next to her. Half on his side, he laid an arm across her stomach and curled his fingers over her arm. She snuggled against his chest, still feeling small and safe but now also calm and quiet. Peaceful. With her eyes half-closed she languidly traced a scar on his arm.

“So that’s it huh?” he said quietly. She felt him smile as he kissed the top of her head.

“Well, when you put it like that,” she teased and giggled. She kissed his chest, pressed as much of her body against his as possible. “Yeah, that’s it, exactly it.”

Chapter 2

[oneeyedgrimes]

Beat This World.

Summary: you were inlove with Daryl. you had been for a while but you hid it telling yourself you’d tell him one day, one day too late.

Tw: major character death, angst, pinning, all that good stuff.

ELLO TUMBLR This is my first time writing here I just needed to write for my husband because if I didn’t I would COMBUST. this DEFINITELY isn’t proof read as I started this at 2 and it’s 4 now so if there’s any errors don’t be afraid to let me know, constructive criticism is always welcomed and appreciated, enjoy loves!

You had always noticed Daryl. Since the day you stumbled upon the quarry, you’d been by yourself for who knows how long and when you finally found the group, he was the first person you laid your eyes on, pointing his bow ready to shoot and end your life at anytime and the only thing you could think was how pretty his eyes were in the sunlight.

From then on you found yourself trying to get to know him more, sitting next to him when the group would cook the squirrels he found, trying to get him to teach you how to hunt. The two of you even found yourselves up late unable to sleep and you would find eachother and just sit and look at the stars and that was all the both of you needed, you’d barely speak on nights like that you’d just soaked up each others presence.

By the time the group found Alexandria you and Daryl’s relationship was better than ever, though with the recent loss of Beth after just finding out she had been alive, watching her die infront of him Daryl had been more closed off, but you understood, ofcourse you did, so you gave him space, made yourself busy working on things around Alexandria.

But soon distance became barely seeing each other, and that only made your heart ache for him even more, you so desperately wanted your bestfriend back even if that was all it would be, even if you wanted him to yourself, even if you did want to feel the feeling of his lips on yours, you would take what you could get.

You’d finally found Daryl sitting on carol’s porch sharpening his knife, you stopped just before you came into his view and just looked at him, seeing him up close after not seeing him for so long, it felt like you’d fallen inlove with him again right there and it hurt.

“ Daryl can we talk please? I get it if you’re too busy but I really just wanted to talk to yo-“ Daryl looked up at her the slightest bit of a smirk sitting on his lips before he cut off your rambling “ hey, I ain’t ever ta’ busy for ya’ wha’s up” Daryl’s attention was fully on you and now you were nervous.

“ I miss you. I’ve barely seen you since we got here at this place and everything’s so weird and these people look at me like I’m some kind of alien and I know you’re working and doing things to keep people safe and this may be selfish of me but I miss you and I want you to be around more” Tears prickled at your eyes, whether it was from frustration or genuine sadness you didn’t know. Daryl looked up at you and and sat the knife down and brought his finger up motioning you to come towards him

“ c’mere,” You looked at him and slowly walked over to the porch sitting next to him blinking away the tears now feeling embarrassed you let your emotions get the best of you. “ why ain’t ya’ tell me ya been feelin’ like tha’ i woulda’ done som’ ‘bout it” Daryl guided your head to his shoulder, his voice a soft tune he only ever used with you. “ because i.. you were busy and I didn’t wanna bother you and I just..”

You trailed off going silent realizing you’d almost said something you’d probably regret, and Daryl just pulled you in closer wrapping his arm around you “ I’m sorry I ain’t been checkin’ on ya, I’m gon’ try an’ be around more, can’t promise nuthin’ but I’m gon’ try”. You got your friend back, and that was more than enough for you, even if your heart screamed to tell him what you really want.

It was a few weeks later, and Daryl did what he said he would, he was around a lot more and he kept you company whenever he could, and you were the happiest you could be. You were both sitting on Carol’s porch eating whatever cookies she made that day when Rick walked up to the both of you asking if you guys were up for a run with a few others from the group, you agreed and went to get ready.

As you walked inside your house you told yourself you’d tell Daryl how you felt when the two of you were back from the run, you thought of how you were going to do it as you finished putting on your boots and grabbing your bag putting a few water bottles in your bag. Daryl came and got you walking with you to the gate helping you into the car and you laughed looking at him thru the window “ thank you mister strong man” He looked at you with a straight face though you could see the tiniest smirk on his face “ stop.” He told you as he got into the car nodding to Rick as he pulled out of the gate.

Everything was going fine, they found a few cans of food and some bottles of body wash in a nearby store, you turned your back for just two seconds, you saw a toy you thought Judith would like and you smiled and reached on your tippy toes to grab it, at the same time a walker turned the corner from behind the shelf and fell onto you knocking you down to the floor, you reached for your knife but couldn’t reach it, atleast not before the walker sunk its teeth into the side of your hip causing you to let out a scream as you finally got your knife out of the holster plunging it into the back of the walkers head pushing it off of you as Daryl came running to you.

“ wha’ tha’ hell happened “ Daryl kneeled infront of you he saw the walked beside you and looked back at you all the confusion on his face gone “ you ain’t bit are ya’?” He looked up at you waiting for your answer, his face falling a bit when he saw the tears building in your eyes, his face now filled with worry as he looked down seeing your hand covering your side, he gently moved your hand lifting your shirt revealing the bite “ no, no you can’t fuckin’- this ain’t fair! You can’t leave me y/n you can’t” Daryl’s voice became wobbly and his lip quivered, something you had only ever seen a few times “ I’m sorry d, it all happened so fast I couldn’t get my knife out fast enough” You looked at him squeezing your waist tighter, your own lip started to wobble. “ you know what’s funny? I was gonna tell you that I’m inlove with you after we got back from this run, was gonna take you to my house and take you up to my room, and I would let you lay in my lap and run my fingers thru my hair and tell you how I’ve been inlove with you since you held that big crossbow at me” you laughed regretting it after as you started to cough harshly, Daryl just stared at you his eyes wide in shock “ I’ve loved ya for a while y/n a good long while too. Wasted all dis’ time when we coulda’ been ta’gether”You smiled finally letting the tears fall

“ we would’ve been a match made in hell dixon, will you be okay?” You ask him holding his face in your hand that wasn’t covered in blood “ Hell no, I don’ know how i’ma go on without’ ya. “ “ you’re strong I know you are, you’re gonna live for me and you’re gonna be okay I know you will I love you Daryl.” “ I love ya’ too girl.” “ then beat this world for me Dixon”

You smiled at him with the last bit of energy you had before your eyes shut and your movements stop completely, daryl sits there almost as still as your own lifeless body before he pulls out his knife stabbing you in the back of the head and sits with you for a few more seconds before he stands up picking up your body laying you in the back of the car as he calls the rest of the group, and they all see it on his face, so they don’t ask. They have a makeshift funeral and Daryl dressed up in his best button down he has, and when he goes to his room and it’s late at night and it’s quiet and you’re not there to fill the room, he doesn’t cry but he whispers into the air

“I’m gonna beat this goddamn world for you .”

[ivestas]

the lady of crime alley

Summary: Jason had heard rumors of a woman who ruled Crime Alley and all of its underworld connections, so he pursues her for a favor. 

Tags: jason todd x fem!reader, canon typical violence, unedited

Word count: 1.2k

Notes: i’ve been on a red hood comic binge and i always thought his narration was corny in the best way, so i hope i was able to emulate that through this fic hehejejjejehe (also i use ‘tugging at your pigtails’ as a metaphorical descriptor, not an actual physical attribute of reader!) alsoo, please send some batfam requests! 

Jason had heard murmurs of the woman who was the true ruler of Crime Alley and all of its underworld connections. 

At first, he dubbed it a win for feminism, because women too can be major players in crime worlds! 

But then it got annoying real fast, because for some reason, you were real good at hiding your trail; every turn he went, the moment he thought he caught a glimpse of you, you were gone moments later like ash in the wind. 

It took him five of your men and his a few hours of continuous beating to get the vaguest clue of where exactly you resided; he spent the rest of the week nosing his way through that misty trail, his irritation growing by every second he had to march down Gotham’s shittiest streets, and it didn’t help that his red hood hardly had any breathing holes. 

He was trying to keep his cool—he really was!—but the more you seemed to toss at him your half-starved homeless men at him, the more brutal the remnants of them became. 

“God fuckin’—jesus, just tell me where the lady is!” He spat. “I just have some questions, that’s all, why does she keep sending you guys—“

“We’re telling you nuthin’, that woman’s an angel and you ain’t gettin’ yer dirty mitts on ‘er!” The man—a ragged, gaunt-looking guy—heaved, blood pooling out his mouth. "You’ll never see ‘er—!” 

“You just wanna talk?” 

Jason’s head snapped up, hand still wrapped around the man’s throat. 

In the warehouse which he had 'accidentally’ beat everyone half to death, a woman stood at the entrance. Though it was night, the moon was bright enough for Jason to make out some of her features. 

She’s easy on the eyes.

Suddenly, all the pent up irritation that had been writhing under his skin dissipated. 

He’s a sucker for hot women. 

“Hey,” He rose from the man’s body, standing tall. “You must be the ‘true ruler of Crime Alley’ or whatever—it’s a bit of a dumb name, don’t you think?” 

You were silent, face scrunched. 

“Jeez, tough crowd—”

“What do you want, Red Hood?” You sounded mildly annoyed, as if he’s just some pesky kid tugging at your pigtails or something. 

You took a step forward into the warehouse, arms crossed. “Talk. You have my attention now.” 

“Oooo-kay, great! So, I kind of need help with something—a favor, if you will,” he raised his sword. It was busted and dull, practically just a dented piece of iron than an actual blade. “I need a replacement for this—” he grinned. “—And all the information you have about Black Mask and his connections with Joker.” 

“...are you dumb?” 

“What?” 

“Do you actually think I’m some ruler of Crime Alley? You weren’t joking?” You laughed, eyes wide. 

“You’re not?” 

“No! I’m not the fucking ruler of anything! Come on Red Hood, is critical thinking not your strong suit?!” 

“Hey, hey, c’mon lady, go easy on me—“

“I’m just the woman who gives the people here a place to stay! That’s it! Is this the reason you’ve been up my ass?!” You scowled at him. Were you a model, because you even made pissed look delicious. “Beating up a bunch of homeless guys ’cause you thought I was a fuckin’ mob boss or something?—yeah, mob boss of the homeless? Seriously?"

He raised his hands. “Okay, when you word it like that, I feel dumb.” 

“You are dumb—anyway, do me a favor and stop beating up the guys here? Please!?” You hissed, your hands balled into fists. “Because I’m the one that fixes up their wounds and I don’t have the money to keep buying gauze and shit.” 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll lay off—though you coulda just have talked to me earlier?” He muttered the last part but you somehow still heard.

“You think I’m gonna go talk to the ‘Red Hood’? The guy that kills on his free time?” 

He sighed dramatically. “Touche—and it’s for a good cause! I only kill people that—“

“Yeah, yeah, don’t list me your commandments to be on your fuckin’ hit list, God you’re annoying.” 

He laughed. “I have a feeling I’ve pissed you off—”

“You beat a bunch of guys I take care of half dead. Pissed is hardly covering it.”

“—and you know what? I don’t like pissing off pretty women—I said it! I don’t like it. So, I humbly apologize.” He swept his leg and arm in unison into a grandiose bow. 

You scoffed, going to one of the unconscious men and pressing your fingers to his pulse. “I only accept apologies in cash.” 

“Oh, okay, that’s much easier,” making his way to you, he tugged off one of his blood-soaked gloves and rummaged his pocket. A couple hundred dollar bills were in there. 

He extended them to you. “These enough to soothe any hiccups?”

You carefully moved the unconscious man to the ground. From the pockets of your giant jacket came a small bag with a bottle of antiseptic, bandages, and a bunch of other shit. 

You then looked at him, brows furrowed. “That’s... a lot of money.”

“Is it?” 

“Yeah? Do you have enough money for yourself?” 

Jason stared at you for a moment before barking out a harsh laugh. That earned him a frown. “You’re worried? About me?” 

“No, I just don’t want you to beat some person up for their money if this is all you have—“

“Baby, I’m rich, I shit gold bars, just take it.” 

You glared at him for a second before snatching the money, shoving it into your pocket before tending to the man. Pushing up his shirt, Jason saw his body was covered in lacerations and bruises. 

Jason whistled. “Damn, didn’t think I was that strong.” 

“Fuck off.” You sprayed some antiseptic. The man groaned. 

Jason sat. He should be going off and looking for more trails of Black Mask, but he didn’t really want to—not right now, anyway. 

Even if you’re not some mob boss or whatever, you were still intriguing, and he’s a curious guy, he can’t help but want to watch you some more. 

However, he was quick to notice how stiff you were under his gaze.

His head tipped to the side. “Hey, do I scare you?” 

You ignored him, running a rag along the guy’s body. Blood stained the white cloth instantly. You lifted the cloth and looked at Jason. 

“This is the worst you could do. Beat someone. Maybe flay them. Then they die.” 

He hummed. 

“So when you say ‘scare’, I assume you mean the idea of you beating me or whatever—killing me, or torturing, your shit.” Your eyes went back to the beaten guy, continuing with the cleaning. “You don’t.”

“If that’s the case, then why’d you avoid me?” 

“Because I had shit to do, that’s why.” You unraveled a gauze. “Not everything’s about you—eugh, I can’t lift him, hey, since you’re just sitting here, help me a little—yeah, just like that, thank you,” you swept the gauze under the man’s back then brought it back up. You repeated that motion. “But yeah, not really scary. Death is just—well, death.”

Jason nodded along. You were weird. 

He liked weird. 

When you were done, Jason put the man back down.

“Well, I gotta go now, duty calls and all.”

“Okay.” You got up, moving to the next guy. 

“Bye?” 

“Just leave.”

AO3

Masterlist

Requests are open

[estrellami-1]

(Push Away the) Lonely Times

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

“Just this, please,” Steven says politely the next time he rolls through Melvald’s.

Jim stops, looks for a second, then sighs. “Y’know how Jim wann’ed me t’look after ya?”

“Yes, sir?”

“I’s a-thinkin’ there’s a conversation we best be havin’. Nuthin’ bad, not t’you, but we gotta get all the duckies in a row, huh?”

“Okay,” Steven agrees, slightly nervously. “Um. Now?”

Jim shrugs a shoulder. “Now. Or you’s could come over after work. Or I could come by yers.”

Steven considers it. “Now?”

“If you wanna,” Jim agrees. “‘Ere’s the whole of it. Yer folks ain’t lookin’ out for ya the way they’s supposed ta. Could mean lotsa trouble for ‘em. Could mean you get taken ‘way, put inna fos’er er summin’.”

“Oh,” Steven says quietly. He looks vaguely nauseous.

“Or you could stay wi’ me,” Jim continues. “No trouble. O’course, there might be when yer folks come back inna town, but Hop’s got ‘em.”

“Oh,” Steven says. “And… I can’t just keep living in my house?”

Jim shrugs. “Not the way we figure.”

“Oh.” He sighs. “I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”

“You ain’t,” Jim says, a tad harshly for the situation, but the kid needs to know. “I’unnow who tol’ you yer an inconvenience, kid, but it ain’t true. You needa place t’stay. I gotta empty house, jus’ me rattlin’ ‘round in there.”

“Just you?” Steven parrots, in awe, like he can’t believe someone else would befall the same fate he did. Jim wants to hug Steven, punch a wall about it. He does neither, takes a slow, deep breath. Lets it out.

“Yeah, kiddo. Y’wanna keep me comp’ny?”

Steven thinks about it. Fidgets with his fingers, looks down, back up. “Y-yeah. Um. When?”

“Soon ‘s yer ready. I c’n pick up you ‘n yer stuff after m’ shift.”

“Okay,” Steven agrees, then looks at the groceries between them. “Should I buy this?”

Jim leans down to smile at Steve. “Long as yer in m’ house, y’don’t gotta buy nuthin’ y’don’t wanna. I’ll get groceries. You be a kid.”

Steven blinks. “But I’m not, sir. I’m ten. Practically an adult.”

The way he says that is metered, stilted, and Jim grits his teeth. “Yer father tell y’that, boy?”

“Yes, sir, he did.”

“Yer father’s wrong. Yer a kid ‘till y’ c’n get a job. By my math, y’got six years still.”

“Oh,” Steven says, eyes wide. “Okay. Um. I’m gonna go pack.” He hesitates. “Should I put these back?” He motions to the groceries.

Jim laughs. “‘S m’ job, kiddo, not yers. Y’ go pack.”

“Okay,” Steven agrees, running out of the store after another small smile directed at Jim.

Jim sighs, rubs a hand over his face, and starts to put away the groceries Steven had brought up. He pauses mid-reach and considers the brownie mix in his hand before changing course, stashing it behind his register and resolving to get a tub of ice cream after his shift. He’s a kid, after all, and kids deserve brownies and ice cream.

So do adults, Jim reminds himself, smiling a little. Not without humor, thinks, especially adults who take in ten-year-olds who are too young to be living on their own.

Jim Bronsaw doesn’t pretend to be a saint, but he knows he’s a decent person. Maybe even more than decent, sometimes.

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme

[miintsprigz]

Casanova, Crushed

Half-baked Dadspy hurt/comfort drabble, go

Ok fine, bigger explanation: Scout asks out Pauling, she says no, whether it’s because she doesn’t like him like that, because she’s a lesbian, I don’t know exactly what’s canon.

Either way, Dadspy tries to help.

Had this idea for my scout OC and her spymom, but decided to try it with the canon characters

—

It was quiet on the base. Much too quiet for a team with a Scout.

The other mercenaries sat around the table, smoking, playing blackjack, slinging a couple drinks.

Spy sat back, a silent observer even amongst the members of his own team. Seemed that even in the casual moments, he was still a spy first.

But even now, he noticed only seven other men in the room. The eighth, the noisiest one, was suspiciously absent.

His son, as much as he’d never admit it, was nearly as good of a hider as he was.

How could he admit it though, he thought. The kid hated him, and why shouldn’t he. He was a mercenary before he was a man. There wasn’t much there to like, let alone love.

Jeremy had been especially loud earlier—something he himself couldn’t recognize as nervousness. But Spy did. He was shocked at how well he knew his own, despite his careful dodging of the actual responsibility of raising him.

“Arright, arright, shuddup! Cuz I’m actually gonna do it today.”

“Ye always say that, lad.”

“Well I mean it dis time! I’m gonna tell ‘er.”

He had a feeling that he knew what that meant…and if he was right, Scout’s absence meant things had either gone miraculously well, or…

“I’ll be back.”

“No rush, Frenchie! Haha!”

The boy’s room was suspiciously vacant.

Now. If I was an idiot, where would I hide…

Climbing up the side of the fort, sure enough, he got his answer. The limber figure sat hunched on the edge of the roof, his feet dangling over the edge.

Oh…

In a split decision, Spy decided to render his footsteps audible, despite knowing a tumble off the roof could be easily explained away as stupidity. If he was right, and it looked like he was, then the last thing the poor fool needed was a few broken bones in addition to a broken heart.

His hearing sharp, Jeremy turned to look over his shoulder, but not before quickly rubbing at his eye.

“‘Ey. What’sa matta? Got real borin’ wittout me down there, huh?”

Spy rolled his eyes. “Bored to tears.”

He motioned with a tilt of his head to the spot next to Scout, and was surprised when he moved over.

“What are you doing up here, Scout.”

“Could ask you da same.”

“…fair enough. It wasn’t obnoxiously loud enough in the game room, so I went looking for a good source of noise. Found it.”

Jeremy scoffed, shaking his head softly, then fell silent. Unlike him.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“…are you alright?”

Scout’s eyes widened. The Spy noticed his jaw lock slightly.

“…yeah, yeah I-I’m fine. I uh…I had a weird day.”

“Mm?”

Spy felt a pit in his stomach as the boy’s voice went soft.

“I uh…asked Pauling out. For a date. An’ I called it dat.”

He arched an eyebrow, biting back a smile. Although he’d never own up to it, he knew the look. He’d seen it in the mirror. Although it sometimes felt like he’d been born the devilishly charming rogue he played, he knew deep down that it was learned. Seeing Scout in such a state defrosted memories of more than a few failed passes.

“Well…what did she say?”

“…”

Scout kept his eyes down. Not a sound out of him, other than a soft exhale as he took a gulp.

“…I’ll change the subject.”

“No.”

His eyes went half-lidded.

“She said no, Spy. Long ‘n’ short of it.”

“…ah…”

“Said it ain’t nuthin’ personal. Don’ really wanna get into it, don’t think she’d like dat. But…yeah. So…dat’s it.”

“That’s it then.”

“Yep.”

The two men sat in silence for a while. The Spy pulled a cigarette from the case in his pocket and lit it, taking a short drag before watching the blue-gray smoke twist upwards in a plume as he exhaled.

Ugh. What do I even say to this? Why do I want to do anything at all? I missed my chance for this…he’ll probably punch me if I try anything even resembling comfort.

And yet…he tried. Lifting his free hand, he gently put it on the Scout’s shoulder. Scout didn’t budge. The normally fidgety, hyperactive young man had been still as stone for this whole conversation, as if it had taken all his energy just to sit up there.

“Well…you can never know unless you actually come out and say it. So I’m glad that you did that.”

A smile tugged at his lips, barely there.

“I see why you like her. Dangerous, but sweet. Not bad. Not bad at all. Let me guess: she was polite, but didn’t pull any punches…”

Jeremy nodded, looking up at the watchtower across from the fort.

“Yes, that’s our Pauling. Well…it’s too bad that it didn’t go the way you wanted it to. Even though she was surely graceful about it.”

Spy couldn’t believe the nonsense that was coming out of his mouth. And the fact that it…wasn’t really nonsense. This was stuff nobody told him when he was the one staring into space with a hole shattered through his heart.

Things he needed to reassure himself of, before he was the world’s greatest. When he was just…whoever that was that stared back in the mirror when the mask was off.

“But it really is much too quiet in there, and Soldier thinks he’s the best at blackjack now, so…I know you’d hate that.”

Scout turned his head ever-so-slightly, and Spy could just barely see his face. A dull pang struck his chest.

Jeremy’s eyes were full of tears.

“I’m…sorry, Jeremy. I know how much you liked her. I’ll be honest, I don’t have much experience with this side…”

Liar.

“…so I don’t know how to hel—”

Spy reeled back slightly as Jeremy’s arms snapped around him, locking him in a rough embrace.

“…Spy, I dunno what ta do…I…I love her, but...”

It was so uncanny to hear the normally bold, cocky voice so shaky. So fragile. As if concerned that the boy would dissolve if he touched him, Spy gingerly closed an arm around Scout, giving the closer of the two shoulders a slight squeeze.

He remembered saying those exact words again and again about a woman they both knew very well…

I love her, but…I can’t be with her.

“…I know, Scout. I know.”

Spy felt his stomach twist as Jeremy lowered his head over his shoulder, arms rattling with silent sobs as he fully latched on. He could feel tears dampening the back of his suit, and yet…as much as this would normally repel him—it certainly felt wrong—he couldn’t bring himself to let go of his boy.

His boy.

While the other men did God only knows what down below them, Spy rethought those words.

Could I have been with her?

If I had…

This would be happening under much different circumstances.

He stayed quiet, letting the fellow mercenary get all of his emotions out, eyes falling closed as he held the boy just a bit tighter.

I’m sorry.

[kittycatlukey]

Warning ~ Slight NSFW Content. Contains TWD Spoilers.

🏹Meeting Daryl Dixon For the First Time🏹

-When you and Daryl first met, it was at the prison. You came with your partner, Michonne, leaving Woodbury.

-He was obviously wary about you and Michonne, as he would to any newcomer.

-When you and Rick laid Michonne on the floor to help get her patched up, in walked in Daryl.

-“Rick, who the hell are they?”

-“Sword Lady and Firecracker” You spat, reaching for your hidden Smith and Wesson as Michonne tried to snatch her katana from behind Rick. “Don’t force my hand.”

-“Hey, hey, put the gun down. We’re not gonna hurt y’all unless you try somethin’ stupid first. Alright?” Rick attempted to calm you and Michonne down while he kicked her sword further away. “Hand me the gun.”

-You reluctantly gave Rick your handgun.

-“Y’all wanna tell us your names?” Rick questioned, helping Michonne stand.

-“Y/N and Michonne.” You told Rick, Hershel, Carl, and Daryl. Your partner glared at you. “Michonne, we’ll earn their trust if we’re honest.”

-“You’re a dumbass, Y/N.” Michonne rolled her eyes, still gazing at Rick with eyes full of hatred.

-“Whatever.”

-Some time passed by— a few months since you and Michonne joined Rick’s group. All of the members of the group had trusted the two of you, all except Daryl…

-And since you were one of the most skilled members of the group, that meant Rick assigned you and Daryl on runs together. Most of the time you two being alone. On other occasions, it’d be you, Daryl, Rick, Glenn, Maggie, and Michonne for larger supply runs.

-“Aw that’s real great, Rick. Forcin’ me ta go onna run with Firecracker.” Daryl would scoff, storming off in the opposite direction, tugging his crossbow on his shoulder. “I’d rather go ‘lone.”

-“She and Michonne have earned their places here. They contribute.” Rick would retort. “You have to look out for each other. Besides, you gotta learn to get along. My decision is final, Daryl. End of discussion.”

-Daryl would grumble in response, but wouldn’t say another word.

-As you and Daryl rode on his motorcycle, you got the nerve to ask him something you’ve been meaning to ask for a while.

-“Daryl, why do you hate me?”

-“I don’t.”

-“But you act like you do.”

-“I just don’t trust ya. That’s all. And I ain’t polite ta people I don’t trust. It ain’t nuthin’ personal.”

-“Well, what do I have to do to earn your trust? I’ve done a lot for our people.”

-“My people. Not your people.”

-You scoff. “Whatever, Daryl.”

-And on that particular run, he begins to trust you more. Why? Because you saved him. You saved him from a walker that nearly took a chunk out of his neck.

-You two were in a grocery store. And you had gotten excited about finding baby formula for Judith. “Daryl, I found some formula for little asskicker.” Then you turned around and seen Daryl already looking at you with a smile on his face, oblivious to the walker behind him. “DARYL! BEHIND YOU!”

-You had pulled out your Smith and Wesson, immediately putting a bullet in the walker’s skull.

-“Daryl, you ok?” You scurried up to him, dropping the baby formula and your gun, instantly enveloping him in a hug. “I almost lost you,”

-“No you didn’t. I’m here, I’m here…” Daryl gulped, his heart racing. “Thanks.” And he let go of you, taking off in the other direction. “Don’t forget to pick up the formula.”

-The ride back to the prison was silent.

-But that night wasn’t…

-You and Daryl had guard duty that night up in the tower.

-And let’s just say… you made the first move and one thing led to another…

-You had kissed him and he pushed you away with no hesitation.

-Daryl’s face fell at the realization that he had pushed you.

-“I’m sorry for all tha shit I’ve put-cha through these last few months. It’s just— shit, I think I was tryin’ ta avoid my feelin’s towards ya… But that kiss… you didn’t mean that did ya?”

-You nodded your head. “I… I think I… like you, Daryl.”

-And Daryl grinned. It was the same kind of smile that you seen in the grocery store when he was looking at you.

-Daryl grabbed your hips, pulling you close to him. He smashed his chapped lips to yours, an angry tension turning into a lust-filled one. He had pulled away, licking his lips. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

-“Don’t stop now.”

-“Trust me, I ain’t, darlin’.”

[two-raccoons-in-a-trench-coat]

Bleach has sucked me in once more.

And since I can't find the very specific found family trope I want to read about, I decided to write it myself.

Where Gin gets turned into a child and Aizen becomes Rosa from that one B99 episode. ------

Out of all the possible outcomes Aizen had calculated when the Hougyoku had suddenly activated, finding Gin sitting in a pool of his now oversized clothes blinking at him in complete confusion had not been one of them.

Nor for Gin to turn to him and look at him without a single flicker of recognition. Aizen would be impressed by the Hougyoku’s considerable power and thoroughness if it hadn’t happened to Gin.

Oh, he knew the boy was planning on killing him (or at least, attempt to), but the fact that Gin hides it so well… well, it’s impressive. Aizen can really only admire him for it—and after all these long years Aizen really has become quite fond of the boy. A part of him has been dreading the day Gin will turn on him because no matter how fond, Aizen will cut him down without any hesitation if he stands in his way.

But now that calculating look on that grinning face is gone. Almost like he doesn’t know him at all.

How far back did the Hougyoku de-age him? Aizen frowns thoughtfully, thankful that his Espada keep well out of the way of this place unless he summons them here. Gin looked spooked enough as it was.

He kneels down with Gin still half a room away and smiles in that soft, comforting way that used soothe Hinamori-kun, and once upon time, Gin (not that the boy would ever admit to needing comfort).

But the Gin before him now only looks at him dubiously. And remains pointedly silent. Smart boy, even as a flicker of anger licks at Aizen’s heart because someone so young shouldn’t have such hollowed, suspicious look on their face when confronted with nothing more than a smile.

The unfairness of it makes something in his chest bristle.

Soon that unfairness will be confronted, Aizen promises himself (promises Gin, who is still watching him carefully).

“Hello little one,” he says softly, “do you know where you are?”

“No.” Gin cocks his head at him. “Should I?”

Aizen can’t help but smile at the borderline belligerent tone—even small, and alone, and lost somewhere so unfamiliar, it seems Gin will always have that bite to him.

Who taught you that? He wonders. Who wounded you so much that even the slightest hint of kindness inspires such suspicion in you? Because he would dearly like to tear that person apart.

“I suppose not,” he replies mildly. “Would you like me to tell you?”

Gin’s whole posture changes, his reiatsu flaring much like a pup trying to bare its milk teeth; it would be amusing if Aizen knew what had caused such a reaction. He frowns, concern creeping like weeds through his ribcage—his reiatsu is bristling with fear.

“I ain’t suckin’ yer cock. Ain’t nuthin’ ya can tell me that I can’t find out on my own,” Gin snarls at him.

And Aizen—Aizen feels like he’s been punched through the chest, disgust coiling hot and then cold in his stomach as he suddenly understood what made someone so young look at the world with such distrust.

And Aizen doubts that Gin has even hit his thirtieth year (if he were human he would be no older than seven)—the fact that he knows what “sucking a cock” even means… just the thought of it turns Aizen’s stomach.

He wills his reiatsu under control and forces his anger away. Now is not the time to lose his temper. Later. When he has space and Gin is safely tucked away he’ll find a few thousand ants to crush, and maybe a mountain or two.

But now Gin doesn’t need his anger, it would only frighten him—he needs kindness that doesn’t come with strings attached, and most importantly he needs patience.

Aizen breathes out, tucking his anger away as he carefully brushes against Gin’s prickly reiatsu with his own. The boy stills. Aizen knows his own reiatsu is sharp, like touching shattered glass—he can soften it of course, make it warm and soft like he did for Hinamori-kun, but Gin needs to trust him and even for as young as he is, Aizen can’t risk him sensing something off about his reiatsu and trying to flee.

That would only lead to disaster.

So Aizen lets Gin feel him out, lets his young, untrained reiatsu poke at him curiously like he’s trying to find his measure. Clever boy. Aizen hides a smirk, no wonder Gin was hailed as a genius—there were fully grown shinigami who couldn’t use their reiatsu like this.

It was truly remarkable to see it one so young.

“May I know your name, little one?” Aizen tries again.

This time his question isn’t met with a towering wall of suspicion, but Gin’s bare shoulders were still hunched defensively. It was a long moment before he answered.

“Gin,” he said quietly, “Ichimaru Gin.”

“Gin. It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Aizen Souske.” He lets his reiatsu tangle more firmly in Gin’s, allowing the boy to truly feel his intentions when he speaks because if Gin believes nothing else, he needs him to believe this. “And you’re safe here, I promise.”

“I…” Gin looks at him, startled, “believe ya. Why do I believe ya?” He asks almost to himself.

Aizen smiles at him fondly. “You can feel my reiatsu, right? Well, reiatsu can’t lie,” it was why he got so good at masking it, “when you can feel someone’s reiatsu—if you’re good at it—you can feel those persons intentions, whether they’re lying for instance.”

“And ya ain’t…lying?” Gin asks, sounding so painfully hopeful it makes something in Aizen’s chest twinge.

What an odd feeling. He pushes it away with a reassuring smile. “I’m not.”

He watches Gin twitch when he feels the truth of his words resonate through his reiatsu. And it is the truth, untainted by pretty, empty words—he will slaughter anyone, even Tousen, if he dares to lay a hand on Gin with the intent to hurt him.

“And ya’ ain’t gonna ask me too—”

“No.” Anger slams through his reiatsu before he can stop it and Gin whimpers beneath the weight of it (a sound that stabs Aizen through his ribs like a hot blade) before he manages to reign himself in.

“No,” he says more gently, “never. No one will ever ask you for,” he can’t even bring himself to say it, “that.”

And anyone who does won’t live long enough to regret it.

He sees Gin swallow hard, a mixture of hope and fear on his face.

He doesn’t move from his kneeling position as he holds out his hand. “Come Gin, you will never know fear or hunger again.” You will never again suffer under the uncaring cruelty of the Soul Society.

Gin doesn’t move for one long moment, but suddenly his reiatsu is tangling with his as Gin gets shakily to his feet, naked as the day as he was born and reaches for him. Aizen has him in his arms in a flash, Gin’s adult haori wrapped around him like a blanket. He cradles Gin tight against his chest and some distant part of him feels something click into place though he has no name for it or the sudden feeling of rightness that flows through him.

[gweelczz]

Milk N Honey’

“Lord… please guide me on this journey, get me safely from A to B. I know you’on put nuthin’ on us we ain’t goin be able to handle so imma trust yo word as I always do… Amen”

Rising to her feet Mo tipped her hat walking down the aisle of the small church house, her hand brushing over the wood of each pew as to silently say another prayer. She’d been down this path before thinking she’d have a somewhat smooth journey but the lord does work in mysterious ways. She gathered her belongings climbing back to onto her horse, gun in tow. Mo was a religious woman not a dumb one, she knew where she was wanted and right now with her being free that was hardly nowhere.

She clicked her tongue snapping the reins signaling the brown beauty to take off. “Imma get my rivers of milk n honey, my piece of the promise land. I’m finna get what’s owed to me” she spoke to herself as she rode through the dusty desert, the brim of her hat forever hiding her eyes. She made a fire in the middle of a spot housing a pond, resting against a tree with her hat over her eyes when she heard footsteps. Hand already on her gun she cocked it back waiting silently, “uh.. cuse me Sir, you know where I can find some dried meat and maybe some seeds?”. She lifted her head eyeing the white man in front of her with a stern expression, “No sir” quick and simple the way she preferred it. “Well do ya know what direction to go to get somewhat of an idea?” Her patience was now running thin with this man, if she didn’t know where to get any why would she know what direction to go?.

“No sir” she stated once more glare on full display for him to see. Apparently he didn’t like that too we’ll be reached down grabbing Mo by the collar of her shirt yelling into her face. “Now you listen here boy, I know you know something so tell me what the fuck I want to know!!” Mo quickly pushed the man off pulling her gun from the holster. She kicked him in the stomach grabbing a handful of his shirt pointing the gun at his head “white boy, don’t put yo hands on me. Don’t you ever put yo hands on me again.. don’t even tempt it ya hear?”. The white man below her nodded his hand now trembling as he realized who he was looking at, “M-Mo Washington” he stuttered out causing her to smirk. She shot the man in the leg gathering her things climbing onto her horse taking off once more towards her promise land.

@imjusthere2readbruv @oceean @newctrll @greenbeenjade @desswright29 @inmyheadimobsessed @blacksapphicsluv

[petra-creat0r]

A gift, for you.

Deltarune: In the Pocket (Exclusive Edition): Issue #1.

Babysatin’ New yorkan.

[The TV]: “In others news, the giants take an embarrassing and quite emotional loss this evening as the jets-“

[Spamton]: “AW, FER FUCKS SAKE, DER AIN’T NUTHIN’ [[Good Quality!]] ON TV! UGH, THIS IS JUS’ BULLSHIT, FIRST: JEVIL GOES OUT, THEN DEY TELLS ME TAH WATCH DA KID. JUST GREAT. JUST, FUCKIN’ GREAT [[How-]] *KZZZ* [[Flippin’-]] *KZZZ* [[Dandy!]]”

“…”

“MAYBE I CAN COOK MYSELF SOME POPCORN…”

*Spamton walks to the Kitchen, only to see a shattered plate and Wilbur standing above it ominously.*

Spamton: “I-WH-YOU-“

“…”

”THE HELL HAPPEN’ ‘ERE?!”

Wilbur: “…”

“Heheh..”

Spamton: “WHAT THE FUCK IS SO FUNNY?! DAT WAS MY FINEST CHINA YET! AND YA [[Ya broke it, ya bought it]]!!!!”

Wilbur: “PFFFFF-“

*Wilbur breaks into a Hysterical Laughter, causing Spamton to look at them, horrified.*

*Jevil opens the door.*

Jevil: “*sigh* ALRIGHT FELLA’S, I GOT YA’S MCDONALD’S ‘N-“

“…” ”WHAT THE HELL, HELL HAPPEN’ HERE?!”

Hycrisik: “DID WE GET ROBBED OR SOMETHIN’ ?! ~ WHY IS DA GLASS BROKEN?!”

Spamton: “…”

“FELLA’S, I CAN EXPLAI-“

*Wilbur points to Spamton accusingly.*

Wilbur: “he did it!”

*Jevil looks at Spamton murderously.*

Jevil: “…”

Spamton: “…”

“AW FUCK.”

*Episode End.*

I-

I don't know what to say

Why is Wilbur in the pocket? Why are Spamton and Jevil watching him and not Veratus?

I- Wilbur why did you break the plate and blame it on Spamton! Asgore raised you better than this!

Lol, regardless of my questions, thank you. Very funny episode, would use as a plot in Problem City.

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #280: FAITHFUL SERVANT

June, 1987

"To serve no more...”

No Jarvis!

Say it ain’t so!

Tell these floating judgement heads that its a lie!

You are a delight and a boon to this book called Avengers!

On the other hand, he got beaten pretty seriously by Hyde when the Masters of Evil stormed Avengers Mansion and took him prisoner.

Compared to Hercules, who is in a coma and possibly godnapped by this time, Jarvis is doing okay. But it turns out that when you’re a normal if capable butler man and a super-powered dude that tussles with Thor beats the shit out of you, the shit stays beaten out of you.

Hyde beat Jarvis so severely that he’s 90% blind in his left eye, will need a mobility aid indefinitely for leg injuries, and the doctor can’t rule out brain damage.

Because Jarvis was punched in the head repeatedly by a dude that fights Thor.

Considering that Jarvis spends this issue uncontrollably flashbacking, the doctor may have a point.

(Although he only predicted short-term memory loss from time to time. Dunno if uncontrollable flashbacking is a symptom of anything except LSD usage.)

Anyway, despite how severe his injuries are, the doctor doesn’t see a reason why with physical therapy, Jarvis couldn’t return to a fairly normal life. But he advises Jarvis to find a less dangerous job.

Which brings us back to: Say it ain’t so!

Okay, this read through gave me (and Jarvis) some time to collect ourselves.

Jarvis’ employer (and secretly?) Iron Man, Tony Stark comes to visit. All the way from California!

Because in a very Tony Stark way, Tony Stark is blaming this all on himself.

Tony Stark: “Jarvis... I came to say... I’m so sorry.”

Jarvis: “You have nothing to apologize for, sir.”

Tony Stark: “Jarvis, it was I who got you involved with the Avengers. I never realized how wrong i was. Avengers Mansion is no place for a normal man. The Avengers have too many deadly enemies. It’s only sheer luck you haven’t been hurt before and now... I’ve talked with the Avengers. You know your agreement with the Maria Stark Foundation stipulates that you can retire at any time with full salary and benefits. You needn’t worry for money. Think about it. You could take your mother to Florida. You could go and be safe. Please think about it and call me.”

Jarvis: “I will. Thank you sir.”

YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO TAKE MY SIDE, TONY STARK!

Jarvis considers the offer but he also remembers (in red tinted panel vision) Hyde beating the shit out of him and wonders if he’ll ever feel safe again.

Trying not to think about it, Jarvis instead thinks about when the Avengers just started out and trips right into an uncontrollable flashback.

OF WHEN HE FIRST MET THE AVENGERS!

This is the flashback content that I’m here for.

Fun fact: Stark Mansion used to actually have a staff. Like a full staff, as a nebulously big mansion would need.

Except when Tony Stark scheduled a dinner with all his new Avengers buds, the staff all quit in protest aside from Jarvis.

The cook that the mansion used to have: “The Hulk?! Mr. Jarvis, are you crazy or somethin’? We don’t want nuthin’ to do with those super hero types. We got respectable families!”

Jarvis: “But Mr. Stark has offered the hospitality of his home to these ‘super heroes’ as you call them! As his employees, it is our duty.”

The cook that the mansion used to have: “I say pooh pooh to duty. No, sir, Mr. Jarvis, we quit!”

And THAT is why Jarvis runs the entire mansion on his own.

Because when the entire rest of the staff quit, Jarvis just rolled up his sleeves and started cooking the dinner himself.

And I guess... I guess Tony never got around to hiring more staff. Or couldn’t find anyone that wanted the job or could be trusted with it. Considering how the Avengers would soon have a bunch of access to classified government databases.

Either way, that answers the question that I never thought to question but am amused by the answer to.

When the Avengers start showing up for dinner, its also pretty amusing. Because Jarvis isn’t yet the unflappable seen it all butler.

He hasn’t seen it all. He especially hasn’t seen the Hulk.

This is just good stuff.

We’re so far from those early days now but its so nice seeing the original roster all just come together for dinner and to hammer out the charter that they keep referring to in later stuff.

(What’s funny is that Wasp, who will become one of the top chairpersons in Avengers’ history, just wanders off during this part of the dinner and has no say in what everyone agrees to. While Hulk does. Hulk helped write the Avengers’ charter.)

Anyway, Wasp gets bored when the conversation moves away from how hunky Thor is and has Jarvis take her on a tour around Notyetavengers Mansion.

On the tour, she compliments some artwork in glowing terms by comparing it to Ant-Man and Jarvis wonders what the business with Thor was then.

Wasp: “That? I was only teasing! Wanted to make Ant-Man jealous!”

Jarvis: “Forgive me, but is that kind?”

Wasp: “Oh, Jarvis, you just don’t understand lovebirds like Ant-Man and me!”

I get the feeling Jarvis saw the cracks in this relationship long before anyone else.

Or maybe not because he reflects on how in love they were and how he never would have believed it would end so tragically.

Y’know, with Hank (then Yellowjacket) building a robot to kill his friends to prove how good an Avenger he was and Wasp divorcing him?

Which just makes Jarvis reflect on how much Wasp has grown as a person and a leader through her time with the Avengers.

Jarvis: When the Wasp came to visit me here a few days ago, I could not help but notice how little like the giddy young girl I met so long ago she had become. She was a woman... the leader of the Avengers. But she could not forgive herself for their defeat by the Masters of Evil. She told me she was leaving the Avengers... how sad she was. But she had the courage of her convictions... to know when her time was done. Can I do any less?

Stop talking yourself into leaving!

But now he’s thinking about whether it was being Avengers that destroyed the Pyms’ marriage and starts thinking about when the first and a half roster (the one that traded Hulk for Captain America) all quit.

To be replaced by three former supervillains, to Jarvis’ shock. Especially since Hawkeye had recently tied him up.

(And yes, he’s slipping into another series of flashbacks)

But Jarvis stayed on when Hulk came to dinner, so its not like he was going to leave just because Hawkeye was moving in.

Jarvis: “Interesting”? Goodness, what an understatement that turned out to be! The new Avengers were a new world for me... younger than their predecessors, so much more volatile. But that comes with youth, I suppose. The media doubted that these three reformed criminals would survive. They even dubbed them as “Cap’s Kooky Quartet”, a rather embarrassing term, I must say. But Captain America rose to the challenge and forged them into a team... one that fought as nobly as those who just deaprted. But it was not an easy transition. Change often is not. And I felt as if I was needed more than ever...

Because, I don’t know if you remember, but there was a lot of testosterone in Cap’s Kooky Quartet. Hawkeye and Quicksilver shouting at each other or shouting at Cap that they would run the zoo better.

After a shouting match caused by Hawkeye making a mistake in training that he and Steve severely disagreed on the severity of, Cap(tain America) confides in Jarvis, asking if Hawkeye is right about him being a shitty old man not fit to lead. And roping in his continued guilt over Bucky’s death for good measure. Steve did, I mean. Hawkeye didn’t.

Steve wondered if Bucky had been a pain in the ass like Hawkeye and didn’t jump to every order, whether Bucky would still be alive.

Jarvis: “Sir... I know Master Barnes’ death still haunts you. But tragedy comes to all eventually. We all lose loved ones. It is up to us to either accept the loss and go on... or to dwell on the might-have-beens. The latter choice is by far, the most seductive route... and the most destructive.”

Captain America: “And I’ve been following that path, Jarvis? Dwelling on what might have been?”

Jarvis: “I’m sorry if I offended, sir!”

Captain America: “You don’t ever have to apologize to me, Jarvis. I value your opinion and... you’re right. I know grief can turn to self-pity and I think you for reminding me.”

Love this before now unseen on what a cool, emotional support Jarvis has been to the Avengers.

There was a time when him appearing was a rare treat because the writers often forget that he exists.

But doing a focus issue on Jarvis deciding whether or not to retire from being Butler of the Superheroes requires making a case for what Jarvis has meant to the Avengers all along and vice versa.

Anyway, he’s also having maybe brain damage flashbacking so he’s jumping around like a stream of consciousness.

Thinking about the Kooky Quartet has made him think how far the non-Cap people from that team have come.

Hothead Hawkeye who always wanted to lead the team has mellowed out and is leading a team of his own with the West Coast Avengers.

Scarlet Witch found love with Vision and made some magic babies who are entirely real (preemptively shakes fist at Byrne).

And Quicksilver.... oof, well, he’s gone far too in his own way. His own flirting with being a supervillain way. Remember how he framed the Avengers for treason? And then tried to kill them with lasers? He’s apparently still just wandering around wastelands hating the world because his wife cheated on him and his sister married a robot.

But thinking about how Quicksilver is a traitor reminds Jarvis of when Jarvis did a treason.

Woo! Getting into some extra context on some big Jarvis content!

Remember the Masters of Evil story from issues #54 and #55?

It looked like Jarvis was the Crimson Cowl but then it turned out that it was Ultron and Jarvis only sold the Avengers out to help his sick mother get expensive medical treatments? And for reasons he didn’t ask rich employer Tony Stark when Tony’s whole thing is throwing money at people?

Well, that’s getting a retcon.

In this retroactively canon version of events, when Dr. Bernstein tells Jarvis that his mom will need expensive chemotherapy, Jarvis is like pssh money is no object I work for Tony Stark!

Jarvis: “My employer Anthony Stark, is a most generous man. He has already informed me that he will help my mother and me financially during this crisis!”

In fact, because Tony is such a swell guy, he was willing to just give Jarvis the money but pride and whatever so Jarvis insisted it be a loan instead.

In fairness, it fits with Tony’s response to Hank Pym building a murder robot and then disappearing off in a fugue state. He decided ‘I’m going to get him the best therapists and dangit if he won’t take the charity, I’ll have him work it off!’

But now that its been established that Tony Stark, swell guy, wouldn’t let loyal butler Jarvis be crushed in the uncaring American health care system, Jarvis goes for a walk and gets attacked by Ultron.

And Ultron, fiend that he is, hypnotizes Jarvis with the encephalo-beam to think that Tony Stark, unfeeling employer, would never help with Ma Jarvis’ treatment!

Ultron: “You are hopeless and desperate! No one can help you. The Avengers care nothing for you! You are merely their houseboy. They detest you for the weakling you are, only I can help you!”

Jarvis: “My mother...”

Ultron: “Yes... your poor mother who will die without me. Let that thought sink into your mind. Let it become reality. You will not remember any of this until I call again. And when I do, underling, you shall help me bring down the Avengers.”

Ultron: What a dick.

Given he can mind control people apparently, I wonder why he went the more subtle route of convincing Jarvis to think he had to sell the Avengers out, rather than just controlling him.

I mean, end of day the Doylistic answer is because we already saw a version of events where Jarvis did betray the Avengers.

Anyway, Ultron’s post-hypnotic suggestion took effect and Jarvis stole the Mansion defense plans and gave them to Ultron.

Ultron took great joy in rubbing it in the Avengers’ faces that someone they trusted betrayed them, because he’s a dick.

Despite the mental control, Jarvis is a good enough dude that he regretted his actions and got the Black Knight to help save the Avengers.

In this version of things, I wonder if Tony was confused why Jarvis betrayed the Avengers for money when he had already agreed to give money but Iron Man wasn’t on the team at this point so who knows how information eventually filtered to Tony anyway.

Anyway, the Avengers took Jarvis back but were confused why he didn’t go to Tony for the money which would have been the obvious thing to do. Jarvis didn’t really understand it himself.

Even though the Avengers forgave, they didn’t forget. And they kept Jarvis at a distance because they couldn’t wholly trust. Wasp especially has a panel where she’s shunning Jarvis with her cold indifference.

That’s premium cold shoulder.

The added flashbacks of Jarvis being a confidant to the team really does add to the betrayal they would have felt. And the difficult in getting over it even when learning the whys.

Anyway, the effects of the encephalo-beam clear months later and Jarvis remembers being attacked by Ultron and a little mind controlled. Which cleared up the tension now that the Avengers knew that Jarvis didn’t betray them in sound mind.

But since he’s free associating these flashbacks, this period of being isolated from the team maybe helped him understand a little when another pawn of Ultron joined the Avengers.

THAT’S RIGHT, VISION TIME!

Like previous Jarvis flashback sequences, we get a never-seen-before interaction building his connections to the team.

In this case, Vision does Jarvis a startle and then they bond over poetry.

Vision: “I find poetry... most relaxing, Jarvis. Often as I fly over the sleeping city, sonnets come unbidded to my mind. I do not recall reading these works... as I recall little of my existence... but they soothe me in the night.”

Jarvis: “Yes, I know exactly what you mean. Often, I read poetry well into the wee hours, it gives one perspective.”

Just the first of many conversations Vision and Jarvis would have about literature. Vision would come to Jarvis to share a book he enjoyed, “a kind and gentle human gesture that may have surprised some of his teammates...”

So there we go. Jarvis knew a side of Vision that the other Avengers may not have.

IN MORE WAYS THAN THAT

When Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver rejoined the Avengers after an absence, Jarvis was the first to notice the chemistry between Wanda and Vision. Maybe even before the two of them.

Jarvis ships it.

Jarvis also didn’t say anything to anyone because it wasn’t his place.

How very butler of you.

But given the book club connection between the two, Vision eventually approached Jarvis with his doubts on his own humanity.

Upon which Jarvis, in a great fit of self-restraint, didn’t shake Vision by the shoulders and sing LA LA LA LA KISS THE GIRL. But instead told him the feelings he felt were real and should not be denied.

Good guy, Jarvis.

Because possible brain damage stream of consciousness, Jarvis then starts thinking about how after Vision and Scarlet Witch did manage to be open about their feelings, of course something happened to shake things up.

Aka the arrival of Swordsman but more importantly Mantis.

Hi, Mantis!

Missed you!

Jarvis was less of a fan.

Maybe because she almost immediately ambushed him with a lot of pushy questions about Vision who she was entirely thirsty for.

Mantis’ thirst, in Jarvis’ eyes, really messed up the team harmony. Caused fighting between Vision and Scarlet Witch, because Wanda blamed Vision for being so sexy that women threw themselves at him. And caused Swordsman’s self-esteem to drop off a cliff, because the woman that dragged him out of the abyss had found a new bad boy to moon over.

Annnd then, Swordsman died. First and a half Avengers casualty, depending on how you count Wonder Man.

Since Jarvis was the man who does everything at the Mansion, he had to clear out Swordsman’s room when he died.

He found a picture of who he assumed were Swordsman’ parents. Jarvis thought he should write a letter of condolence letting them know their son was dead. But he couldn’t find an address and had no way of locating people based off a photo.

Jarvis: “That always bothered me... that we could never contact his family. Such a sad end.”

Jarvis is a good dude.

Anyway, there’s only so many pages and some Avengers didn’t stick around as long or as happily as others.

So Jarvis muses on how there have been so many Avengers over the years that its difficult to remember them all.

Jarvis: “Hercules, the Beast, the Falcon, Hellcat, poor Ms. Marvel... I tried to serve them all well, to make their stays as pleasant as possible. After all, the life of an Avenger is not easy. That’s why I’m here... to take care of little things, such as supervising the clean-up crews that were called in whenever a battle in the mansion had gotten out of hand. More often than not I dealt with Henry Peter Gyrich, the Avengers’ acerbic liaison with the National Security Council. I decided the Avengers should be spared his bellicose rantings. And of course, it was I who attended the Quinjets. I felt useful when the mansion ran like a well-oiled machine.”

Good god, Jarvis really does it all!

I don’t know what they’re paying him but he deserves a raise. He is way outside job expectations!

He is literally refueling the super science jet!

I mean, hell, if ALL he did was deal with Henry Peter Gyrich so the Avengers didn’t have to, he’d deserve all the money.

But Jarvis wonders about how often he hasn’t been useful.

As the One Civilian in the Mansion, he’s had his share of being taken hostage. He’s been captured by Hawkeye, by the Circus of Crime, by Yellowjacket, and even by fuckin’ Henry Peter Gyrich.

Geez, ignominious.

Despite this, Jarvis had always avoided serious injury... until Mr Hyde beat up his everything.

Jarvis: “Mr. Stark may be right... Avengers Mansion is no place for a gentleman’s gentleman.”

Even so... he can’t commit to resigning.

He’s resigned before, from Tony Stark’s employ when Tony was having his demon in a bottle problems.

But Tony fixed his shit, pulled his life back together even though his alcoholism cost him everything he owned. Even though so many people had given up hope.

Jarvis: “But isn’t that what the Avengers truly symbolize? That despite all the odds to the contrary... there is hope for all of us. Hope that the very best of humanity will surmount all obstacles. Didn’t Captain America beat the odds in building a new life for himself? Haven’t the Wasp and Master Pym at long last put aside their differences to become friends? They rebuilt their lives... Can I?”

“I know what I’ve been doing. Trying to concentrate on the negative side of the Avengers... to make my decision easier. But I cannot do that for long, can I? I can’t... because the Avengers have been my life. I’ve been with them since the first day and I have stayed with them since then. No single Avenger can claim that.”

“Yes, I’ve been hurt... but I knew the risks when I took the job. The fear will always be with me... but I expect that fear is always with the Avengers as well. It’s part of being an Avenger...”

So Edwin Jarvis makes up his mind and calls Tony Stark.

Jarvis: “Mr. Stark. Good evening. It’s Jarvis. Yes, I’ve made up my mind. As soon as my rehabilitation is finished, I should like to report back to work. You should know better than most, sir. Things really can’t go on without me, now can they?”

Heck no they can’t, Jarvis!

I’m feeling this emotional journey!

With the Mansion trashed, Jarvis is, as mentioned, the most stable fixture for the Avengers.

And sorry, Alfred, I think Jarvis is my favorite superhero-adjacent butler. Sure, you’re Bruce’s real dad but Jarvis is Everyone’s Friend.

As I said, its nice to get this single issue laser focused on Jarvis and his retroactively explored bonds to the Avengers.

It almost feels like a modern comic in that sense (although so much more dense, modern comics are so breezy...), spending an issue to focus on one character and what makes them tick. You see it a lot with event tie-ins because there’s often not enough plot for an event to have twenty different tie-ins so they zoom in on character instead.

I’m glad Jarvis isn’t leaving.

I suspected he wouldn’t or that if he did, it wouldn’t stick. I’ve seen him in the future.

But after something like Avengers Under Siege, its nice to take some time to decompress and let Jarvis make the decision that the Avengers couldn’t function without him.

Do they even know how to refuel the Quinjets??

Because Jarvis does!

Follow @essential-avengers​ for more good posts as soon as I start updating it again. Like and reblog because maybe it’ll make the Avengers hire some more staff to help Jarvis out.

[thorntonkrell-blog-blog]

Cash Stafford: A Man of Stash

Cash Stafford got his nickname early in life. As a kid, he always carried a formidable stash of cash with him, a habit that earned him his moniker. From a young age, Cash had an innate knack for managing money with a kind of flair that intrigued those around him. He mastered the art of the “Philly Bankroll,” a clever trick he used to impress friends and acquaintances alike.

It all started with a simple ten-dollar bill. Cash would fold it with a five on the outside, concealing five singles wrapped beneath it. This method, while seemingly modest, was his way of keeping a little extra on hand without drawing too much attention. As he grew older, Cash expanded his bankroll strategy. He began to carry a ten-dollar bill with ten singles wrapped underneath, followed by a twenty-dollar bill with twenty singles.

For a while, forty bucks was plenty of beer money. It was enough to cover a few rounds at the local bar, or to splurge on an unexpected treat. Cash’s system was efficient and practical, but he wasn’t one to rest on his laurels. His curiosity and desire for improvement led him to experiment with larger sums.

He tried carrying a fifty-dollar bill with fifty singles, but soon discovered that this approach made his wallet uncomfortably bulky. The thickness of the wallet became more cumbersome than it was worth. Undeterred, Cash adjusted his method. He decided that the optimal setup was a fifty-dollar bill, a twenty-dollar bill, and ten tens. This configuration struck the perfect balance—ample cash without the bulging inconvenience.

Cash Stafford’s method became something of a legend among his friends. It was a testament to his resourcefulness and unique approach to life. His nickname was more than just a moniker; it was a symbol of his ingenuity and his ability to turn even the most mundane aspects of life into something noteworthy.

Cash never carried a credit card. If it required a credit card, his wife could take care of that shit. Cash didn’t want anything to do with plastic money. For him, cash was king, and he cherished the tangible, untraceable nature of his beloved greenbacks.

One lovely spring afternoon, a banker pal of Cash invited Stafford for lunch at the banker’s country club. Stash accepted. While they were waiting for the lunch, Cash made his way to the bar to order some beers. The bartender, a smooth operator named Clayton, brought the ice-cold beers to Cash. Cash pulled out his wallet. Clayton stopped him cold. "We're credit card only here, sir."

Cash's face reddened as he gripped the edge of the bar, his knuckles whitening. “What the hell do you mean, credit card only?” he barked, his voice echoing with a mix of incredulity, thirst and irritation. “This here’s America, goddamn it. Cash is king. Cash means something.”

Clayton raised an eyebrow, unflinching. “Sorry, sir. It’s our policy.”

Cash leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a fervent growl. “Let me educate you on the value of cash. Ever heard of Adam Smith? The guy knew what he was talking about. Cash is tangible. It’s real. It’s the bedrock of our economy, not some plastic piece of garbage.” He pounded the bar with his fist, rattling the glasses on the shelves. “Cash is a symbol of hard work, of independence. It’s tied to the gold standard—the real, honest money that built this country!”

He glanced around, noticing a few heads turning in their direction. “You know what? This ain’t just about beers. It’s about respect. It’s about the principle that cash has always meant something in this land. You’re telling me my money isn’t good enough? This ain’t some boutique shop or a damn coffeehouse. This is a country club and this here ain't nuthin but a fancy ass bar."

Clayton remained calm, but Cash’s intensity was infectious. The bartender’s eyes flickered briefly with uncertainty. “I understand, sir. I’m just following the rules.”

“Rules?” Cash’s voice was like a crack of thunder. “Rules are meant to be challenged when they’re out of touch with what’s real. In my world, cash isn’t just paper. It’s the sweat of honest labor, the symbol of hard-earned freedom. And in my world, it’s worth something.”

He turned back to Clayton with a defiant nod, “I’ll be damned if I’ll let a credit card dictate my value.” He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm in his chest. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s see if you can talk to your manager about making an exception. If not, I’m outta here. And next time, maybe remember that cash still means something in this country.”

Clayton’s composure was unshaken. “It’s our policy, sir. I’m just following orders.”

“Orders?” Cash’s voice cracked like a whip. “Since when did our country become a place where paper money—real, tangible cash—gets tossed aside for plastic? Do you have any idea what cash represents? It’s not just a way to buy a beer. It’s a representation of everything that made this country great! It’s about hard work, sacrifice, and real value. Not some goddamn piece of plastic that can be swiped and tossed aside!”

Cash slammed his fist down on the bar, making the bottles rattle. “Adam Smith! He wrote about the invisible hand, the value of hard work and honest trade. And where does that leave us now? With credit cards that charge fees, with banks that fleece us, with a whole system that’s turned cash into a dirty word. And now, here you are, telling me my money—my actual, hard-earned cash—isn’t good enough?”

He spun around to face the other patrons, his fury palpable. “You hear that, folks? Apparently, my money isn’t worth a damn because it’s not plastic. How did we get here? When did we start letting a little piece of plastic—backed by nothing but a credit score and some bank’s idea of value—dictate what’s real and what’s not?”

His eyes blazed with indignation as he turned back to Clayton. “And don’t give me that look. I’m not some Luddite stuck in the past. I’m a guy who believes in the principles this country was built on. Cash is the real deal! It’s what our ancestors fought for, worked for, and sweated over. And now, it’s being pushed aside for some corporate garbage? Hell no!”

Cash’s voice dropped to a fierce whisper. “I’ll tell you what. You take my money and make it work or you can forget it. I’m not going to be part of this bullshit where cash is worthless and plastic reigns supreme. This is about more than just buying beers. It’s about holding on to what’s real, what’s valuable. And if that’s not good enough for you, then I’m outta here.”

Cash stormed back to the table where his banker friend Chuck was waiting, the fury still smoldering in his eyes. Chuck's smile faltered as he saw the fire in Cash's eyes.

"Jesus, Cash," the banker said nervously, "what happened?"

Cash threw himself into his seat, glaring across the table. "What happened? Oh, nothing much. Just a little revelation about how far we've fallen. You see, my hard-earned cash—my stack of real, tangible money—is now nothing but a wad of pretty paper. All because of your precious banking policies and credit card madness!"

The banker shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t know—”

“Of course you didn’t!” Cash cut him off, voice rising again. “Why would you? You’re too busy riding the high of the banking industry’s latest gimmicks. You’re out here making deals, growing your portfolio, and getting fat on the very system that’s made cash useless. Meanwhile, people like me, who believe in the real value of money, get left with our dicks hanging out in the cold!”

He jabbed a finger at the banker. “Do you know what it means to hold cash? It means working hard, saving, and having something that represents your effort. But now? Now it’s just a pathetic pile of paper. It’s worthless in a world that worships plastic and digital fluff. And who do we have to thank for that? People like you, who’ve sold out to the credit card companies and financial institutions that only care about profit, not principle.”

Cash’s voice grew more intense, every word dripping with disdain. “You’re part of the problem! This—” he waved his hand dismissively at his empty chair where the wallet had been, “this is a symbol of everything that’s gone wrong in America. The downfall of a nation that used to value hard work and real money. It’s not just about my beer or this lunch. It’s about the erosion of everything we stood for. The cash in my wallet,a symbol of value and hard-earned success, is now nothing but a relic in a world that’s moved on to the next shiny thing!”

He leaned in, his eyes locking onto the banker’s. “And you know what? The next time you sit down in one of your plush bank offices, surrounded by all your shiny new gadgets and plastic cards, remember this: You helped create a world where real value is dismissed and my hard-earned money is worth less than a coffee stirrer. You’re responsible for this mess, and it’s people like you who’ve pushed us all into this absurd charade.”

Cash took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm that still raged within him. “So, if you’re wondering why I’m so upset, it’s because I’m watching the very principles that made this country great get trampled by a system that’s lost touch with reality. And I’m not going to sit quietly while it happens.”

Chuck stared at Cash, taken aback by the raw intensity of his outburst. For a moment, the air between them crackled with unspoken tension. Cash’s face softened slightly as he realized the weight of his words and the impact they might have had.

With a heavy sigh, he sat back, trying to regain his composure. “Anyway, that’s enough for now. Let’s just eat. But remember this: When you see a cashless society, it’s not just an accounting convenience. It’s the downfall of something much deeper, something that we’re losing every day.”

Cash sat back in his chair, feeling the weight of his words settle over him. The lunch proceeded in strained silence, the echoes of his rant hanging in the air like a storm that had just passed.

When the bill came, the banker took out his plastic and paid for everything including the two beers that Clayton had billed him. He didn't give two shits, it was all coming of his expense account anyway which would be used as a tax write off.

Cash accepted the "generosity" as after all he wouldn't have been in this situation if Chuck hadn't offered to pay for the lunch way when he first invited Cash

“I’ve got this,” Cash announced, his voice carrying a note of triumph. He pulled out a crisp $20 bill and slapped it onto the table for a tip, giving it a little flick to make sure it landed just so. The bill, freshly minted and crisply folded, seemed to glint under the restaurant’s ambient lighting.

Cash looked around the table with a smirk. “Consider this my final statement on the matter,” he said, the satisfaction in his voice almost palpable. “A little cash to end a big discussion. Now that’s something you can’t just swipe with a card or transfer with a click.”

He chuckled, imagining the bemused expressions of the restaurant staff when they saw his generous tip. To him, it was more than just a gratuity; it was a stand against the encroaching tide of plastic and digital transactions that he felt had undermined the very essence of tangible value.

Chuck raised an eyebrow, half amused, half awkward, as he watched Cash’s self-satisfied grin. “You Boomers really are a trip, Cash.”

“Damn right,” Cash replied with a wink. “Cash means something. And it’s high time we remember that.”

With that, Cash turned on his heel and strode out of the restaurant, the echo of his laughter trailing behind him. He felt a flicker of rebellion and resolve, a small victory in a world that seemed increasingly indifferent to the value he cherished. For a brief moment, the crisp $20 bill had been his weapon of choice, his final gesture of defiance against a system that had left him feeling like an anachronism.

As he stepped into the bright afternoon light, Cash felt a renewed sense of purpose. The plastic world might be moving on without him, but he had made his point—and he was determined to keep fighting for the value of real, hard-earned cash, one bill at a time.

[savagecowboy]

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐃

“ Thank god, please, please, you have to help me!”

She runs straight into the stranger’s arms, her fear of danger focused somewhere else entirely. She is haggard looking, sweaty, pallid, except for a bright bloom of red on her neck.

“H-he’s out there, please you have to help me ! ”

The stranger pulls her back away from him, looking down into her wild eyes.

“ Who is darlin’ ? ”

“I don’t know, I don’t know who is— what he is”, she loses coherence and begins babbling, tears pouring out of her eyes now that she feels safe enough to cry. He holds her face between his palms, “Calm down sweetheart”, his self assured tone does the trick and she settles into hiccups, “Come over here and sit, and tell me who’s out there."

She allows herself to be guided over to his little camp. It’s simple, two tents, a camp chair near the fire. She is seated in the chair and begins to wipe at her eyes with her sleeves, smudging what remaining makeup had not already been streaking her face.

“ Why you have two tents ? ” She asks cautiously.

The man looks at them as if only now catching that it might be strange. He cocks a half grin, “My buddy’s out over that ridge there”, he points into the darkness, she glances in the direction he has indicated, but she can’t see much more than three feet into the thick prairie dark.

“His turn to watch the herd tonight, but I figure when he gets back he’ll want to catch a few winks before we head back out”.

It seems reasonable. She sniffs loudly, forgetting all “lady-like” behavior.

“Just you two?”

“Yes ma’m”.

She turns from staring hard at him to staring hard into the fire. With the intensity of her gaze it looks like she’s willing it to burn away what she’s seen. Slowly, the man crouches down, keeping a good pace from her so she can keep him well in view.

“If I could ask you Miss, an’ don’t worry if you’re still rattled, but I didn’t quite catch what you said was after you”.

For a moment she stays silent, the only sound the crackle of the fire. He doesn’t ask again, lets the moment drag.

“I really don’t know mister.”

He waits.

She continues.

“It was, he, oh lord I don’t know”, she squints hard either to remember or forget, “I thought he was just lost like he said an’ I was out by the well, ain’t even that far from the house, an’ bein’ all pleasant I jus’…”

There’s a hitch in her throat, she screws her face up trying to prevent more tears, “…all of a sudden he was holdin’ me, but mean, and his hands, they were like death, an’ that’s what he wanted to do to me, I knew it. He had his mouth on me, I could feel it cause it was wet, but I couldn’t tell where it was all coming from, just the pain, and I could feel myself leavin’—faintin’ and I didn’t…” she trails off, her rapid recount slowing to a trickle, “I didn’t…want to die. So I…escaped…don’t know how really…and I…ran…ran into…ran to you”.

He stands up, it’s a smooth, controlled motion, she can’t tell if he’s always like that, or trying to put her at ease, either way she doesn’t stir. He closes the distance between them and places a hand atop her head.

“Well, you’re alright now sweetheart, nuthin’ to fear out there, not anymore”. It reminds her of her daddy and she falls back to not too distant childhood, relishing the relief of no longer having to protect her life herself. She was safe now, safe here. A gentle smile shakily appears on her face.

“You promise?”

“I do”.

She doesn’t even have time to register that he has slit her throat before what life remained inside her spills out onto her previously reddened dress. He puts a tin cup in her lap to catch the flow.

“Aw hell Jesse, I wanted to finish that!” He steps into the glow of the fire from the gloom, mouth smeared with the same blood Jesse is collecting.

“Maybe you shoulda thought of that before letting it run away then”. His voice is even, but there is a pointed anger in it, the other, his partner, either doesn’t notice or acts belligerent regardless, “I like it when they run a little, makes it excitin’”. He gives a giddy smile looping his fingers in his belt loops.

“This ain’t about ‘excitin’!”

The smile on the younger man’s face fades.

“This here is about survival”, he points with a bony finger to the ground, “out here we eat to eat, cause the eatin’ doesn’t come easy. You can play when there is sport to be had, but here” he breaks off, pressing his lips into a thin line. The fury in him is palpable, yet he doesn’t lash out. His daddy might’ve beaten him to teach him a lesson, but beating this fool would only make him tired, and he’s already tired.

“Listen Severen, I picked you for a reason, and that reason wasn’t because you was a fucking moron”. 

Severen gets rigid, defensive, “Don’t call me stupid Jesse”, he warns, body squaring up.

“I don’t want to!” He shouts back, “I was hoping I’d never have to!”

Exasperated, Jesse throws his hands up and then rests them on the back of his head, searching the night for answers.

“Look, we’re bound to be in this a good long while Severen”, he sighs, “I just need to know that there is trust—deeper than trust between us. I need you to want to keep yourself ‘n me safe, even if it means it ain’t fun”.

There was a long pause, Severen didn’t move, didn’t blink.

“We made that bond Jesse, you know I meant it”.

“I need you to mean it again”.

The other man sucked his teeth, vitriol swallowed though it clearly burned going down.

“I do”.

“Good. Then we’ll call this settled”. Jesse put his hand out to Severen, just over the dead girl’s head. Severen looked at the offered palm, then Jesse, and clasped his fingers around the other man’s hand. Jesse gave it a good, strong shake and then released, reaching down to grab his mostly filled cup. He took a long pull, blood darkening his lips and staining his hand. He gave a sigh and a single shake of his head, nodding to the girl.

“You did pick well” he complimented; Severen snorted.

“Course I did”.

“Can’t imagine why you didn’t just finish it all in one”.

Severen sighed, “It ain’t good when it’s easy”.

“I get it, you work hard all the time it’s hard to accept the simple things", he drummed his bone white nails against the metal cup, "Just do me a favor, don’t involve me in your little escapades”.

It was more nagging than admonishing, his smirk an indication that things were smooth between them. Jesse continued to drink, Severen wiped his hand over the wound and licked his palm.

“Not like you didn’t luck out” he smiled, sucking each fingertip.

“This time maybe”, Jesse emptied the cup and cleared his throat.

“May the trail be littered with farmer’s daughters”. They both laughed, eyes gleaming in the firelight, the predators of the night delighting in their spoils.

[banditoxkenshin]

Chapter One: Not the Best Driver

🚨 THIS IS FOR MATURE AUDIENCES. THERE WILL BE BLOOD, GORE, DEATH, AND OTHER STRONG TOPICS. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 🚨

I’m aware this is a Henry Danger fanfic, but I wanted a more adult spin on it.

Enjoy!

Akira perched on top of a building, resting her hand on the sheath of her katana.

"What do you see?" Captain Man's voice came over her radio.

"Nothing yet. Are you sure he's here?"

"YES!"

"Alright, alright."

Her eyes scanned the street before she saw a large truck barreling down the road.

"Ray-"

"I see it."

Akira leapt off the building, landing on top of the truck as it nearly collided into a building mid-turn. She pulled out her katana, shoving the blade through the roof of the truck as two henchmen climbed out onto the roof.

"You don't want to do this, boys." Akira warned.

"The Toddler has plans for you." The henchman on her right side snarled.

Akira pulled her katana out of the metal roof, holding the sword.

"Kira, be careful," Ray warned through the comms.

The woman felt a smirk growing on her face as the henchmen charged at her. She dodged one's punch and kicked their knee out from under them, throwing them off the truck. She turned to the other henchman, twirling her blade in her hand.

"Now, I'll ask you again-" Akira hummed.

"Now Yūrei," the henchman tried to defend himself.

"-where is the Toddler?"

"I don't know!"

Akira shook her head.

"Watch your head!"

The samurai dropped to her toes, watching as the henchman got slammed off the truck by an interstate sign. She stood up, waving her fingers at the henchman before she turned to drop onto the hood of the truck. The drivers inside screamed as Akira swung in through the window, kicking the driver out of the truck.

The truck swerved into the cement wall on the side of the highway, and Akira swung out before the truck made impact. She walked towards the truck as black smoke rose from the hood. Captain Man dropped down beside her.

"Did ya have to crash the truck?" He asked.

"I didn't see you stepping in to help."

The passenger crawled out of the car, and Akira stepped on the back of their neck. The henchman choked slightly, trying to claw at her leg.

"Now," Captain Man knelt down in front of the henchman, "I don't like doing this good-cop, bad-cop thing, but my partner here has no trouble killing you."

Akira raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly. Behind her oni mask, she grinned, showing her teeth. She put more pressure on the man's neck, causing him to yelp and squirm underneath her.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll talk." Akira warned.

"I ain't telling you nuthin'!"

Akira growled, pushing her foot further onto the man's neck. The man squirmed and yelled in pain. "ALRIGHT alright! I'll talk!"

The samurai got off of the henchman, moving to stand behind Captain Man. The man hesitated before Akira unsheathed her katana, pointing the blade at him.

"He's camped out at a warehouse on Station Boulevard. Now don't kill me!"

"Cuff him, Captain." Akira stated.

"With pleasure."

Captain Man pulled the man up, cuffing him as the police arrived. The police took the henchman from them, and Akira felt a sense of pride as she watched him get driven off to prison.

"Nice work, Yūrei."

"Thanks Captain Man."

The two made their way back to Junk-N-Stuff. Both of them showered, and Akira had set up her armor on the rack, and she was sitting on the circular couch in the middle of the room. She flipped through the comic book she was reading as Ray walked into the Man Cave, towel drying his hair.

"You alright? That was a hard fall you took." Ray asked.

"I'm alright. Nothing that won't heal."

"Kira."

"Ray. I'm okay."

The man nodded. He thought for a moment. "You hungry?"

"Kinda."

"What're you in the mood for?"

"Whatever. I eat anything."

"That's a lie because you hate that Chinese restaurant down the street."

"It's not real Chinese food."

Ray rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah."

"How 'bout this? I'll cook, and when you have that job interview tomorrow, you'll be able to have lunch."

Ray nodded eagerly, "You know I love your cooking."

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

Akira stood up, picking up her comic book and beginning to walk towards the sprocket where her guest bedroom was. She had practically moved in to the Man Cave once she found out about Ray's identity as Captain Man.

She put her comic book down and made her way to the small kitchen. She felt herself smiling softly. She had a lot of good memories of cooking with Ray. They had a flour fight one night while making cupcakes, and it ended up with them falling on top of each other.

That was the first night Akira felt butterflies for the man. His hands on her waist. The feeling of his breath on her skin. Their lips were inches apart. The nervous giggles.

Akira shuddered, shaking her head. You don't like him, she told herself, though she knew that wasn't true at all. She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath to collect herself before she began preparing the ingredients for cooking.

Her mind drifted off to the job interview tomorrow. The thought of Ray getting a sidekick felt... unnatural? No, that wasn't the right word. Hurtful? No. Akira couldn't put her finger on it, but she had been Ray's partner for so long. Why would he need a sidekick? Did he plan on replacing her?

A lot of questions swirled through her mind, but they all washed away when Ray walked into the kitchen. She turned to look at him.

"You better not throw flour at me." Akira told him.

"Just passing through, jeez," he joked.

She rolled her eyes, moving to start cooking. As Ray walked to his bedroom, she could feel his eyes on her, but she ignored it. She knew about Ray's crush on her. He made it rather obvious. That's what made this hard. They acted like a couple, yet had no title.

We're flirting, but feelings cloud my judgement, and we can't have that. She tried to talk herself out of it. She had to.

Get to know his sidekick first before you judge them. She told herself as she went back to cooking.

Akira had bigger things to worry about than her obvious crush on her best friend.

CHAPTER TWO

~~~

Tags:

[twst-vampire]

ARMA’S OPINIONS ON OTHER DORM LEADERS PT. 1

the besties say they like how i write, i sprinkle more on ur dash! *throws glitter* cartoon man be upon ya!

ARMA w/ RIDDLE

“ rosetwerp? i have nuthin’ against him but boy, he ain’t super fond of me. a real stickler, that guy. told me to stop smokin’ and i said to ‘i’m…”

“ sure, if ya can reach it, i’ll put it out no problem ”

“ i was holdin’ it above his head n’ shit. when i tell ya he was tomato red in the face…he offed my head or whatever i but don’t got to have magic to be fuckin’ great. “

“ everyone was tellin’ me to apologize but for what? for being hilarious? HE’S TINY! was wearin’ that collar for like a week, haha. ”

“ what i can admire about the guy. he knows how to throws a fuckin’ party! have u seem them unbirthdays? i’m kinda banned from those right now anyways, despite his stiffness, he’s always got his dorm on lock, even down to grades. riddle can be cool sometimes i dunno ~~~ i dunno ~~~ ”

ARMA w/ LEONA

“ what can’t i say? leona is fuckin’ cool. he way he saunters around doing as he pleases, incredibly talented genuis…but thing is, he ain’t gotta tell ya for you to know that! ”

“ he’s kinda like yours truly~ ehh, i guess we’re cool? i actually don’t see him much but when i do, he’s either dozin’ off or tellin’ me i talk way too much. i gots a lot to say these days it can’t be help. ”

“OH, and money is no object to that guy! he sends his lil errand guy ruggie to order from the ink and paint menu occasionally and the amount of madols? hell yeah, we’ll get ya as many sandwiches as ya want, guy. “

ARMA w/ AZUL

“ ah, azul….octodweeb mcgee. dude ain’t all that into me either. wonder if it’s because i’m a business rival that doing his idea waaaay fuckin’ better…..i dunno~~~ ”

“ he’s so…blegh. that haughty, taughty nice thing he does. i think if yer gonna be an asshole, don’t smile in peoples faces like yer not one. like me, i can be a bitch sometimes. see? honest as fuck. ”

“i make it a note to *never* ask that dude for anythin’. it’s a always a catch with him and i’m not taking ANY chances. i’m from scam city capital…and there’s only scammer who’s gonna take the cake and it’s gonna be me so suck it.”

ARMA w/ KALIM

“ he’s my buddy, my bestie, my compadre! i fuckin’ love kalim he’s so energetic and warm. like…the brother i never had. always lookin’ out for a rascal like me….*sob sob* what a genuine guy! ”

“and no, i’m not just friends with him because he has a closet full of treasure. it’s a bonus, sure, but i like bein’ around the guy!”

“he’s like to party, i like to party. he’s likes a good ol meal, so do i. and, we’re both musically talented. like C’MON!”

“he keeps askin’ me to join light music. i could, i could…i’m, uh, definitely more into management these days. not because i haven’t actually performed in front of people in a while or anythin’….”