#(cough cough Abraham)

[cry-ptidd]

(with rizz) Have you seen the play "Lady Windermere's fan"

Details

Flower meanings + my post

[festering-bacteria]

Redrew the clone high group photo,,,,,,

I have two versions there is one with copious amounts of filters and one without

[her0tales]

[olympianbutch]

Hey I saw your post that you block helpols who dedicate their whole account to disparage Christianity or abrahamic religions. Do you have any other Helpol "red flags" /gen q

This is a really good question, and one that I've been asked before, so here is a (*cough* non-exhaustive *cough*) list of my Helpol red flags:

1.) Helpols who are racist, ableist, sexist, queerphobic, transphobic, or otherwise intolerant (i.e., evil).

2.) Helpols who exalt the ancient past and either ignore, downplay, or praise ancient imperialism, slavery, sexism, etc. to feel comfortable in their polytheism

3.) Helpols who either completely disregard the Greek mytho-poetic tradition as man-made fiction OR treat it as gospel handed down from the gods themselves

4.) Helpols who insist on getting all their information about the gods and ancient Greek religion from mythological sources

5.) Helpols who insist they know more about ancient Greek religion than legitimate scholars

[hidtired]

A Single Punch

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

The smallest action in a single moment can change everything.

Description: The line up ends with 3 supposed dead members of the group. Sometimes you have to know when to play dead. Even when all else goes to hell.

1.6k words

Warnings (much angst, injury, character death(s), very depressing, typical walking dead shenanigans)[happy ending… eventually]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Your POV

You would have gone after Daryl when he rushed out of Alexandria on a revenge mission. If not for the terrible rattle in your lungs. Every breath you took was heard. Sharp and painful. Denise the poor soul told you it sounded like walking pneumonia. Not necessarily deadly but hard to fix with limited resources.

So here you are sitting in your bathroom on the floor with the shower as hot as it could get to open your lungs. Trying desperately not to think about Daryl being reckless and doing only god knew what. A light knocking on the door shaking you from your thoughts.

“Come in.”

The door opened hastily releasing most of the steam out the door. Rick walking in past you to turn the shower off. Rick looked down at you offering a hand up. “We are heading off to hilltop. Something is wrong with Maggie and the baby. I would like for you to get checked out by the doctor there to.” Slowly getting up nodding your head. No use arguing with him when he was probably right.

While walking to the RV you looked to Rick calmly, “Thank you Rick, for being my family.” Rick looked to you with a raised brow and smirk. ‘Your loopy from sickness and meds he thought.’ He helped you in the RV to the back with a struggling Maggie. Maggie took notice on your tired state with pale skin as you did her. Rick putting a hand to Maggie’s shoulder,

“We are leaving in a minute, everything is going to be ok.”

The ride was going smoothly until the RV stopped. You exchanged a glance with Maggie, “Let’s hope we aren’t dead in the water like with Dales RV, really don’t feel like walking.” This made Maggie smile a little thinking about Dale all that time ago. Successfully distracting her for a moment.

This smooth ride turned to a nightmare with saviors popping up over and over again. Leading to you having to walk in the beginning of dusk. Maggie being carried. The whistling stirred your already hard breathing. The headlights causing your head to spin and struggle with balance. You felt like death. You felt warm and cold- a fever you thought. You were dazed but still had the right wits about you to know you were in danger. You felt a tapping on your leg, looking to see Carl on his knees. Catching the hint you followed suit. You couldn’t be bothered and sat on the back of your legs.

“Y/n…”

That what caught you out of your stupor. His voice. Daryl’s voice. You look up to see him. Pale and cover in his own blood. Tears now rimmed at your eyes. The RV door opened to reveal a man with a bat. “Pissing are pants yet?” You looked back to Daryl staring at him from across the line of your family. The slight sound of the whistle of your breathe could be heard. You were hazy struggling to comprehend the conversation going on. The man Negan you think, was walking and had stop in front of you yapping on and on about something like “was I dying of the plague” and “look like shit my dear.” He waved his hand in front of me.

“She doesn’t have a clue what’s going on does she.” Negan huffed.

Negan was walking between everyone reciting Eenie, Meenie Miny, Moe. ‘He was choosing which one of you to kill.’ You thought. He stopped in front of Abraham. Your breathing was turning faster from fear, there for making it harder for you to breath. “If any body moves-“ your ears are ringing. The first crunch of the bat to his head made you gasp then cough.

“Suck my nuts.”

Your ears ring in your brain watching blow after blow to Abraham. Negan flinging his blood in every direction. Your breathing hard, tears burning in your eyes. You reach a hand to curl to the back of your head. The other hand curling into a ball at your chest. Your clucking the hair so hard in your grip you might pull a chunk. You simply couldn’t inhale.

Negan turns to Rick then brought his eyes to you. “Well shit, looks like are little plague here bout dead.” Daryl watch’s as you try and take a breathe in, tears streaming down his face. You look worse than you did this morning. “I’m a merciful man!” Negan proclaimed, sauntering over to you. “Let me help sweetheart…” You just begin to look up at him catching a glimpse of the bat swing down to you. A crushing pain radiates through you head as you come crashing to the floor. But not just your head but hand as well.

“NOOO!” Daryl speeding toward Negan rocking him with a punch. Daryl getting easily pinned. He sobbed looking at your still body.

You were in pain and frozen like a deer in head lights. Your vision blur and the feeling of blood flowing from somewhere. The hit knocked some air into you and you tried you best to calm it. It was sallow but there. Your vision started to tunnel, blackness taking you into unconsciousness hearing sounds of the sobs of your family.

Daryl POV

In a single moment you were gone. They drag me back to my spot in line but I could only look to her still body. What was the last thing she had even said to me. This asshole killed you and he was blabbing on. He stepped out of line and was going to be joining you, he accepted that. The burning hate looking into Negans eyes. Negan only smiled, “That little plague was yours huh.” He chuckled to himself. “You should be thanking me, poor thing was dying, it was a mercy kill.” He back up a little.

“I don’t know what kind of lying asshole you’ve been dealing with but, I did say you only get one! No expectations.”

Daryl clenched his teeth, he expected his fate and accepted at least your body’s were to be buried together. “Welp, back to it!” But Negan pivoted and hit… Glenn. Sinking he felt like he was sinking. His mouth wide with shock. Glenn started stammering, Negan taunting him. “M-Maggie I’ll f-find you.” Negan winding up to hit him again. Daryl listened to Maggie’s pleas just like how his were he assumed. Hit after hit felt deeper like they should have been the one to be on him. Silents for a moment with Negan catching his breathe from exertion. This didn’t feel real. He had to be dreaming.

“Load him up.” He was being dragged away. He had little fight left in him but he fought against it. Hearing the people around him plea. He looked on to where you lay. His world, was gone and yet he still walked among it. His action then got someone’s else’s world killed. Guilt ate at him. Doors slammed in front of his face back to the darkness he once came, but now pieces missing inside him.

Rick POV

It was silent after the saviors left. Sun rising. Everyone trying to comprehend everything. Rick thought when he was being dragged to the RV with Negan that he was next. His anger at the time was now just fear. It was Maggie first to move toward her dead husband. They all scrambled to help her. She sobbed and still despite it all was still in need of a doctor.

Rick kneel next to her above Glenn. “Let us help please, he was are family to.” She agreed and stumbled into a hug with Carl. Rick looking down toward Glenn, his savior, this man was the reason he was alive and found his family. Rick gasped at the thought, ‘Thank you Rick, for being my family.’ He looked back to you, your body less maimed than the rest. You were here because Rick made you go. Hilltop, Maggie. He turned back to Maggie, “We still need to get you to Hilltop.” he looked to her with a little resolve.

Maggie clearly distraught, “I’ll get there myself, you were out here for me. I can’t let anything else happen. I just can’t.” Before he could even begin to disagree, Sasha spoke up. “I’ll take her. You need to get back to Alexandria.” Maggie agreed adding, “Y-you need to figure out to take them out.” Rick looked at her slowly shaking his head. “They have Daryl.” Rick said, and at mention of Daryl’s name the turned to your body.

Rick bit his lips trying to not break. Everyone started to move to put the bodys in the back of the truck that Sasha and Maggie were taking to Hilltop. Your body being the last, Aaron picking you up in one swoop as everyone help to lay you down into the bed of the truck between Glenn and Abraham. More tears were shed.

Before splitting into different cars, Rick goes to Maggie hugging her before she gets in the passenger seat. The rest follow to say there goodbyes for now and hope for the baby to be well.

Looking into the side mirror he look back to seeing puddles of blood and a walker kneeling down to it. Looking forward to not break from the sight and think about those he lost he make eye contact with Michonne. Then he started to drive.

??? POV

Sasha was driving to Hilltop periodically looking towards Maggie. Her mission. Maggie had tears from pain a lost going down her face. The silence was cut with a slap to the back window of the truck. A bloody hand smearing down the glass. The girls turn to each other. You must have turned, head not completely crushed like the others. Maggie sniffled, “Pull over, I don’t want her eating them.”

They both circled the back to put you down. Hearing the grumbling noise coming from you. The tailgate fell with a loud bang. Sasha climbing up knife in hand. When they heard it.

“I can’t, please it hurts.” Slurred and rough. You were alive.

Part 2

Feedback welcomed and requests open! Also little disclaimer I’m really dyslexic so any help with grammar or spelling would be great!

[infizero]

list of things dark beginnings did in only ~15 minutes:

showed us more of what maria was actually like (and gave her a real personality cough)

actually showed maria suffering from her illness for the first time

showed the events previously only described in gerald's journal in sonic battle

gave us emerl content in 2024

showed the literal firing squad that executed gerald

confirmed shadow frequently suffers from ptsd nightmares

ACTUALLY SHOWED THE MOON BEING BLOWN UP FROM SA2

canonized the commander's name as abraham tower from the archie comics (and also just SHOWED HIM AT ALL)

canonized shadow (and apparently other people such as maria) knowing he was part black arms while on the ark

"you have a big heart. it may be difficult for you to express it, but i know that deep down, you really do care" (autistic shadow is basically just canon at this point)

gave us more parallels between maria and amy

also more parallels between maria and sonic

explicitly stated that shadow trusts rouge and omega

further confirmed rouge still occasionally(?) works for G.U.N.

showed us rouge being a badass in a fight for the first time in a whileeee

confirmed tower has a postive relationship with shadow as shown in shadow the hedgehog's true ending

showed shadow actually getting emotional for the first time in like 8000 years

i literally cant get over just how much this series has given us in such a short amount of time. this is literally insane

[whumpsoda]

Seeing Me in You - A Real Name

Masterlist

cw: pet whump, box boy universe/bbu adjacent, Institutionalized slavery, conditioned whumpee, whumpee turned caretaker,

——————

“You been thinking about names?” Isaac asked, flopping down on the couch. Smiling, her hands folded over each other casually in her lap as she gazed expectantly to her pet.

“Yes, ma’am.” He replied with the softest of a nod. She had ordered him days before to come up with names for himself, a strange request. A master would want to be the one to name their pet, would they not? Weren’t those the rules?

“Got any in mind? Any you like?”

“No, ma’am.” 

Her face dropped a smidge in disappointment, churning a quease in his belly, before she jumped back to her feet. “Give me just one second.” Stepping to the short shelf pushed against the opposite wall, she studied the titles intently, before pulling one out with excitement.

“Here’s some names. A whole book of ‘em.” Isaac announced, flipping to the first page of the thick book, filled to the brim with them, “Edith uses this one all the time, and pretty much all’ve our rescues pick one from in here. I’ll read some out to you, and maybe you’ll hear one you like.”

She recited each and every one in the order they were listed in, looking to him after each name. It was almost as if she wanted his approval, such a foreign concept that 253719 didn’t understand. Though, it was usual for him not to understand her, the other masters, or any of the out of line pets around him.

“Abraham? Arthur? Atticus?” She listed, turning to him with her tender, kind smile that meant even though things were weird, he wasn’t being bad. 

“Whatever pleases you, Master.” He had merely replied after every look, the safe answer he held close to his heart. Nearly was he not even listening, mind wandering to emptiness as he kneeled on the rug beside her. But she continued still, not satisfied with it. With him. 

Until one name.

“August?” She inquired, and he perked up, the lightest of a glimmer in his eye. He recognized August. Isaac chuckled, giving him a sweet pet to the head that he leaned eagerly into. “You like that one?”

He didn’t like it necessarily, a pet didn’t like, but his master did.

Fall was his master’s favorite season, where all of the magically vibrant colored leaves would fly through the chill turning air. The month of August fell during fall, right? He could have sworn it did. 

252719 remembered his master repeating his statement of likeness every year as they sat together on the porch, 252719 kneeling beside him as he smoked. I just love fall, such a pleasant time, he would say, a rare smile strung over his lips. The foul smelling smoke would fill his pet’s nostrils, filling his lungs and tempting him to cough, but he wouldn’t. He was good enough to know not to.

And if his master so decided he wanted to utilize him for another purpose, one he wasn’t designed for but his master enjoyed, he would welcome the stinging burn of the cigarette digging a sizzling hole into his exposed flesh. He would whimper and whine pathetically with affliction, just as his master liked it.

252719 missed his master. He missed him so much it hurt, terribly so, tying suffocating knots all throughout his grief stricken body. Even the pain he inflicted the pet missed.

But they wouldn’t let him leave. Especially the one that was his new master who said she wasn’t but he knew she was. She said no running away, and so he couldn’t. 

But he wanted to.

And wanting was weird and bad. He was not supposed to want, but he did and it kept him up at night, tossing and turning over memories of his master, over anxieties of this new place where everything is confusing and strange. How it was changing him and making him so very bad.

“Yes ma’am.” 252719 - no, August - mumbled, to her glee. 

August. He had a name now. A real name. Not like the numbers his master called him by. He had a person name.

And August liked it.

…

The clothes were terribly uncomfortable. Not being used to having fabric layered over his skin he cringed, scrunching the soft lines of his plush face. 374629 was not ungrateful, never would he dare to be, he simply did not understand why his master had made him dress. He never had clothing beside a dingy pair of boxers in the facility, and was convinced he would not outside of it either. But there he was, anyway, adorned in his master’s clothing.

He was his master, right?

Me too.

374629 couldn’t help but wonder what he meant. Because of course his master couldn’t be a guard dog, let alone a boxie himself. Masters were people, not pets, and such things were not interchangeable, he knew that. 

His master didn’t even act like a pet. No crawling, no mantras - except for, well, when he repeated his pet’s, but that was different, was it not? -  no collar, no master, no pet.

His master was not a pet. He was sure that was not what he had meant, and a real pet like him should not have even been worrying about it. All he needed to worry about was keeping his master completely and absolutely safe. 

So he forced his brain back into blank and utter emptiness once again, saving himself for the danger of any possible threat. He would keep himself vigilant like he was trained to be. 

His master hummed as he cooked, with a sing-song voice creamy like butter that licked his ears with the hint of gravel. He twirled the spoon around the pot, sticky with hot mac and cheese that took over the air of the apartment. 

374629 had never had macaroni before, only the gray slop his handler had plopped into his dog bowl at least once a day. He held no hope for the chance of receiving any, knowing his place well. 

So when his master, still humming loud and clear, placed a large, human sized bowl of macaroni before him, 374629 didn’t know what to do. He knew he wasn’t supposed to eat it, that was for sure. So he waited.

His master plopped down at the table beside him with his own bowl, steaming the same as his. “That’s for you, okay? I want you to eat as much as you feel you can, if, um, that’s okay.”

Oh. 

Maybe… maybe it was for him. 

And so he ate. Warily at first, waiting for a kick to the face as he descended his mouth to the height of the food, ass up and hands on the wood. Position five. It never came.

But was his meal delicious. 

He’d never tasted anything so good in his life, so wonderful he could never believe he was deserving of it. It spread a cozy warmth of magic through his mouth, not enough to burn but enough to have him melting in a puddle on the floor. Tastebuds sparkling with excitement he plunged back in for more, scooping up pieces vigorously with his tongue and allowing them to dance through his mouth as he chewed.

“So” his master started, pulling him away from the heaven that was his dinner,  “Got any name ideas? It can be anything.”

Oh, he was so bad. Had he missed an order? Was he supposed to have been doing so?

“N- no, sir.” He didn’t even want to dare think about a name for himself. His name was for his master to decide, it was the rules. He couldn’t disobey, but was he really, when his master wanted it? 374629 swallowed another mouthful of cheese dripping noodles, mouth dribbling with sticky remains that pooled at his chin.

“That’s okay.” His master told him, although he knew he didn’t mean it. Nothing was okay when your pet was too stupid for you. “I wish… I had Edith’s book with me… I guess we’ll just have to think about it for a bit. Just let me know if anything comes to mind, um, that you like.”

He could… do that. Did he know any names? He didn’t even have one himself.

He knew… he knew His handler’s name. His first, not just his last, even if he wasn’t really supposed to. Of course he had never called him by it, only Handler Parker, but he’d heard it before.

Hey, Simon, I guess you’ve finally gotten this one under your control.

He missed his handler, he supposed. Missed the strict order and absence of confusion. With his handler he knew exactly what to do and what not, and now it felt like he was all alone with his training. Really, he was.

Handler Simon Parker.

“Simon?” He shifted up to his master, eyes falling wide, “Is that what you said?”

Had he-

He’d said that out loud-

“That’s a nice one. It fits you. I like it.” His master said, lips upturning to a grin. He looked excited, almost, and terribly pleased. “Do you like it?”

He hadn’t really-

But he did, and his master liked it. 374629 was going to be sick, stomach curling in knots as burning bile bubbled in his belly.

His lips carefully parted, quivering as his fists clenched, uncut nails burrowing into the flesh of his palm. “What- whatever pleases you, Master.” He choked out, words tinged with the rasp of shock as he turned his gaze back to the floor.

“I really like that. I think it’s settled then.” His master giggled, sweet and bubbly that failed to calm his pet’s horrified heart. “Welcome to the family, um, Simon.”

——————

Isaac is from a different connected bbu story I just posted earlier today if you want to check that out here :)

———

Masterlist

Taglist- @softvampirewhump @3-2-whump @taterswhump @fefe658 @whumped-by-glitter

@pigeonwhumps @whumpinthepot @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @tippytappytyping @ivymyers

@octopus-reactivated @loserwithsyle @snakebites-and-ink @itsawhumpsideblog @otterfrost

@parasiticwhumpee @starrysky888 @isntthisblank

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

[stinkfacestories]

The day you found out you had won Jason Kelces Beard Challenge was the best day of your life. The challenge was simple: put together a snap or tiktok video of how to get a beard as good as Jason and the top winner would win a day with Jason. Your video was a long shot: you made a tiktok showing how if you mixed essence of dwarf, with a bit of neanderthal, and just a splash of viking inside Abraham Lincoln's hat and applied it to your face, you'd look as good as Jason. It did t get very many views but Jason loved it. The next thing you knew you were in Philadelphia meeting the man himself at the airport.

The tour of Philadelphia through Jason Kelces eyes was a lot of stops at places he loved to eat. Steak sandwich, sausage, pizza, ice cream. The man just loved to eat. As the day dragged on just as Afternoon turned to evening he took you to Lincoln Field, his home turf. There was no game and the place was locked down, but that was nothing a few signed balls couldn't handle.

He took you to the locker room, the place where he told you he feels most free to be himself. You both sat down on the bench in front of his locker. He took out a case of bud light and cracked one open. The man drank so much bud lite you swore he was sponsored by them.

He told you to be quiet. To just listen to the sound of the room. To drink it in and become one with the soul of real American football.

The only thing you heard was the bench breaking as Kelce leaned forward and let out a fart with a satisfied grunt.

"Oh, sorry," he said, not sounding very sorry.

"Really? " you said. You looked at him, almost appalled that he would do that with you right next to him.

Jason turned and gave you a wink. "Dont tell me you don't find farts funny. Your a guy. All guys love farts." 

You rolled your eyes. "Not really."

"What about this one," he said and let loose a loud bassy fart.

"God stop it, it's so gross," you said as you slid away, but suddenly found yourself pressed against the wall of the locker room. "Seriously dude. What the fuck?"

"C'mon," Jason said as he moved over towards you. “I warned you. Remember when I ate that large sausage with pickled garlic ave said ‘were in trouble later’? What do you think I meant.” and placed a hand on your chest, giving you a bit of a push. "Don't be a prude."

You were caught between a wall, and a wall of beef holding you in place. "Seriously, stop it".

"Can't stop. Won't stop," he said still pressing you in the wall. His eyes were the kind of dull that only cheap low quality beer can make the."You know I bet you never had an older brother. Between me, my dad and Travis we learned to appreciate farts. My dad told me that the best cure is exposure. So to get you up to speed I think I need to gas you more"

He  pressed into you and lifted up his keg and let loose with a fart so powerful it echied through the empty locker room.. You struggled to get away from the horrible stench, but couldn't escape.

"No, don't do this," you said as it overwhelmed you.

He turned around and pressed his huge soft center lineman ass in your face, the soft fabric of his shorts spreading across your face like warm dough. It was too much, and you were powerless to stop it. His asshole flexed and relaxed as it sent out a long drawn out series of wet sounding farts. You gagged as the air around you filled with the horrid odor.

"Fuck that was a good one," he said, not budging an inch. “Three point stance just rips these farts out of me.”

"I think I'm going to puke," you said, trying not to vomit.

"If your gonna puke, aim that way, I like these shorts." he said pointing. "Do you think it's funny yet?"

"No!" You coughed.

"Alright you asked for it" he presses his ass harder, wedging your nose on his cheeks. He let loose with a rapid fire volley of farts that left you breathless and coughing. He backed away, chuckling at you.

"God, fuck, that's rank!" You coughed. You tried to breathe fresh air but the locker room had been total polluted by Kelces ass.

"Come on. You don't have to love them, but you gotta at least admit they are funny and manly now. How can you like football and not think farts are funny." he let you stew and come up with an answer.

"Fuck...no," you say.

He shrugged. "Ok. Your loss," he said and pressed his ass in your face again.

"No! Please. God. No. Fuck!"

"What's it going to take? Do I need to pull my shorts down and give you a bare ass stinkface?" He said, pressing even harder.

"No! No more. Fine. They're fucking funny," you cried.

"What?" He said. "I couldn't hear you"

"They're funny!"

"Now are you just saying that to make me stop?"

"No, I mean it. They are funny and they are manly."

"Well, if it's funny you won't have a problem asking me to do it a few more times so you can properly laugh. Right?"

"Uh...fine. Sure. Just, please, no more, I can't take it."

He turned and farted once. "Laugh. Laugh hard and long and deep." He was getting frustrated that you weren't laughing. "Seriously come on guy. This is just as bad for me as it is for you. It's hard to hold this position and if I keep farting I'm going to have to take a dump soon"

"Oh god no!"

"Laugh dammit!" He yelled.

"No, no, I can't."

"Fine then," he said. He pulled you down and set you face up on the bench. He loomed over you. "Ok big fucking guns time" he pulled down his shorts and hovered his raw hairy bear ass over your face.

"Oh shit, dude please don't!" His as was a beast. This close you could make out the rough skin. His ass had taken a pounding over the years and looked like a hefty bag overfilled with cottage cheese. The hair on his crack was dense and black. 

"Do you think this is funny?"

"Yes, yes, fuck, yes!" You were sobbing, your body convulsing.

“Good. Then you'll find this hilarious.” he sat down. He sat down hard. He rocked back and forth, the wiry hair of his ass crack scouring your face. He dug deep like he has an itch he was trying to scratch.

"Laugh. C'mon. Laugh, laugh like a big boy." He said, simultaneously belching and farting.

"Ahahaha!" You started crying and laughing.

"Oh fuck. What a fucking cry baby. Laughing at farts is supposed to be funny. Not sad."

"I'm sorry," you sobbed.

"Just...fucking stop," he said, standing and pulling up his shorts as he got off you. "Baby can't handle a grown man's ass. Jesus fuck"

He sat down next to you. You were still shaking a little, tears coming from your eyes. "I'm sorry," you said.

"It's fine, it's not the first time I've gassed someone like that," he said. "your not the only one who cried either "

You sniffed, still wiping tears away. "It was just so...overwhelming. The smell, and the sound, and the pressure..."

"It was a lot. It was," he said.

He drained his bud light and crushed the can. "Ok second chance to get it right." He leaves forward and farted, then looked to you to see your reaction.

You laughed. A genuine laugh. "Fuck, dude."

He smiled and farted again. You kept laughing. "It's funny, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It is," you said, laughing some more.

"Now you" he said 

You panicked. You didn't have to fart. You were to nervous.

"What the hell. Do it"

"I don't know if I can," you said.

"Come on. Do it. Do it" he chanted.

"I can't."

"You trying to make me mad? You're a guy. You should always be ready to let rip"

"But I'm not drunk like you are. And I'm not a fucking monster with an ass like yours."

"Fine, then, let's fix that." He reached down and ripped a huge one. He reached for his phone and placed a call "Trav. Yeah we got an emergency. Yeah get that chili defrosted and get some real cheap beer. Ooooh and some gas station food. Yeah he's a wimp. Didn't laugh. No he did. Fuck no she can't come to.  Alright. Love you. No homo" he hung up the phone.

"Your brother's coming over?"

"Yup. And he's gonna be pissed if you don't laugh when he cuts one. He loves farts. And he's got an ass that could kill a guy."

"Wait..."

"We're going to our man cave. It's a cabin in the woods. Just guys. Strict no pants policy. You better hope Trav remembered his boxers. You are gonna learn to love being a man like us and become the third Kelce brother, or you ain't leaving that shack."

"What's it going to be like," you said, afraid, but also excited.

"Oh, you're gonna hate every minute, and you're gonna love every minute."

"Fuck. I'm going to get wrecked, aren't I?"

"Oh definitely. We will probably fuck up your head so much. You're going to end up with a fetish for this."

You laughed.

All you could do was laugh.

[hiro--aoki]

TWD Incorrect Quotes from my classmates

Tw: contains swear words, mention of sex, use of slut and maybe some other offense things, idk

Michonne: Because your minds are still developing you want to….

Y/N: Do drugs!

Michonne: Take more risks…

Y/N: Nah…

Michonne: A risk is any unsafe action or stupid, thoughtless and careless behaviour.

Carl to Y/N: Literally me.

*Coughs that sound like an erupting volcano*

Abraham: My tummy hurts.

Michonne: Can you name three risks?

Merle: Sex with no protection!

Carl: A gun with no safety on!

Y/N: Having a forehead as big as Merle’s!

Deanna: So, we have codes A, C and D.

Rick: Why not code B? Where’s the B????

Aaron: B-cause.

Glenn: You should b- ashamed of yourself…. I’m not funny

Maggie: You’re not funny

Deanna: So, code A stands for….?

Daryl: Ass!

Eugene: Acceptable!

Aaron: Yeah *fistbump*

Y/N: Nerd!

Deanna: What about code C?

Maggie: Coffee.

Eugene: Calculated!

Deanna: Yes! How about code D?

Abraham: Deez nuts!

Sasha: Dangerous!

Carol: Destructive!

Deanna: Yeah! You guys concern me!

Y/N: Ron, shut up you acoustic monk.

Glenn: Guys I accidentally wrote relationhips instead of relationships.

Carl: Y/N, has relationhips.

Y/N: What’s that supposed to mean?!?!

Y/N: Carl, has a shirt that says ‘ Roblox is life’ shirt, and he said it suits me.

Negan: Feel how soft my water bottle is.

Simon: Stop stroking your water bottle like that!

Michonne: What’s something that was legal, but was a destructive decision?

Merle: Weed!

Enid: I wanna jump off a cliff.

Y/N: I wanna kiss a 12 gauge.

Enid: My dad jumped out of a plane without a parachute…

Carl: My dad is a plane.

Andrea: My butt hurts.

Dale: *Gives strange look*

Andrea: You’re looking at me like you wanna fuck me.

Dale: What?

Shane: Ha!

Dale: No, I actually didn’t hear.

Amy: Real.

Negan: Did you wash your ass today?

Michonne: So, tell me an example of a safety risk?

Merle: Your mom

Michonne: …and some conatin cannabis

Judith: These gummies tastes funny.

*Watching a budget direct ad and Captain Risky comes on*

Jesus: Smash

Ron: Bro’s him

Daryl: I mean he has all the skills

Carl: Bluds the main character

Y/N: You look like a potato

Dwight: You look like a trash can

Y/N: Nuh uh

Dwight: Yeah uh

Negan: Dwight, keep working *Lightly caresses the shovel Dwight’s hand*

Y/N: Stop!

Dwight: Stop it I don’t like it!

Y/N: Yes, we are Sluts

Rosita: Sexy Ladies Under Tonnes of Stress

Y/N: I can’t make a decision that big, I can’t even tie my own shoes!

Enid: Please tell me you’re joking.

Y/N: I’m not, I tie them like a three-year old! Let me show you!

Enid: No, no thanks…

Y/N: Watch my feet! Watch my shoes. *Ties laces with two loops*

Enid: Ew *visibly cringes*

Carl: …I just asked if you wanted pancakes or waffles….

Glenn: Look how much funny shit we said today.

Daryl: I can’t it’s too black

Glenn: Ayo?

Daryl: I meant too dark!

Y/N: Nah!

*Glenn adjusts lighting*

Daryl: Now it’s too white!

Y/N: !!!

Daryl: Too bright! Too bright!

Negan: BALLS

Y/N: Gotta rizz ��em with the ‘tism

Negan: I’m a Savior….save ya mom!

*Carl and Ron carrying a log*

Enid: For a second I thought that was in their ass’s

Y/N: I want them up my ass

Enid: What?

Y/N: What?

*Truck passes*

Daryl: Awww yeah, listen to tha’

Y/N: I can smell the air…

Daryl: No shit, sherlock!

Glenn: Don’t judge a book by it’s-

Eugene: Erm actually, it’s in the human instincts system, for us to make a quick judgement on a person appearance to determine whether they are friend or foe.

Y/N: Oooh, did I appear friend or foe when you first saw me?

Eugene: Well, when I first encountered you, you looked like you couldn’t hurt a fly, but since then, I have realised my mistake and have grown scared of you.

Rosita: He’s scared of everything…

Eugene: Not pickles!

Beth: What song do you wear?

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Like Real People Do

Pairing: Abraham (Grantchester) x f!reader Warnings: Allusions to smut, mild angst, mentions of pregnancy. Word count: ~2.5k

Summary: Her and Abraham have been seeing each other on the sly for the last six months. Some unexpected news makes her worry she's ruined everything between them. Based on this request.

Author's note: No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She gasps as she feels Cora’s hands gently squeeze her breasts through her blouse.

“Sorry, love,” the dark haired, older woman smiles at her apologetically, “it’s one of the only ways I can know for certain. Might be worth you seeing a doctor though, just to be sure.”

“No!” She shakes her head vehemently. “No doctors. If mum finds out she’ll kill me.”

“Seems to me you’re not far along, but give it another month or two and you’re gonna start to show. You can’t hide it forever,” Cora tells her softly. “Does Abraham know?”

Feeling tears prickle at her eyes, she lowers her head, inhaling shakily. “N-no,” she replies, her voice wobbling. “God, Cora, what am I gonna do? Please don’t say anything.”

Cora sighs, stepping forward and pulling her into a tight hug. “I’ll pop some water on to boil and we’ll have a nice cup of tea. That always makes everything better.”

The Romani people had arrived into Grantchester six months ago, setting up camp on Mr. Ruskin’s land. They’d kept to themselves and caused no trouble, so there had been no rush from the farmer to move them on, especially when they were paying him good money to make use of his stables for their horses.

She had been enamoured with Abraham from the moment she’d laid eyes upon him. His intense blue stare and the way it had dragged slowly down her form from top to bottom then back up again had made her skin feel hot.

He felt impossibly tell as he’d approached her and introduced himself, a lopsided smirk upon his sharp, handsome features. From the way her heart raced as she’d told him her name she’d known instantly she was in trouble. She was going to fall hard for this man, and she had.

It was a warm summer’s evening, the sun hanging low and vibrantly orange on the horizon as they’d walked to the top of the grassy hill that overlooked the village, settling down onto its grassy bank.

“I like it up here,” she’d told him, “I come here when I’m feeling sad or worried. Nice to pull my head out of the clouds by being close to ‘em, y’know?”

He’d raised an eyebrow at her, that trademark smirk reappearing and she’d felt for certain he was going to make fun of her, until she’d felt the weight of his arm around her shoulder. It had made excitement flutter in her stomach.

“Pretty girl like you shouldn’t ever feel sad or worried,” he’d told her, pulling a brown glass bottle from his inner jacket pocket and holding it up to her, “Pal’s ginger wine, fancy a swig?”

She’d giggled, accepting the bottle from him and uncorking it before taking a drink. It had burned the back of her throat as she’d swallowed, making her eyes go wide as she’d covered her mouth with the back of her hand, coughing and spluttering.

Abraham had laughed, taking the bottle back off of her and rubbing her back. “Yeah, it’s a bit on the strong side. Go easy with it.”

They had shared their first kiss that evening, and the ginger wine tasted so much sweeter upon his lips than it had from the bottle. His lips pressed against hers firmly, yet felt soft against her own as he’d threaded his fingers into her hair, their breaths heavy as his tongue had slipped against her own.

Every night after that had been filled with his presence, his large hands wandering over her curves as their mouths had moved together.

When he’d pressed inside of her for the first time, as they’d laid against a blanket on the hay, she’d winced slightly, tensing up at the uncomfortable sting. He moved with such self assuredness that she couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy, acrid and bitter in her chest. How many girls had there been before her?

Her worries were immediately pacified the moment he’d sensed her discomfort and pulled back slightly to look her in the eye, his palm cupping her cheek. “Is this your first time?” He’d asked quietly.

She nodded, embarrassment heating her skin, and averted her gaze with shame.

Abraham had grasped her chin between thumb and forefinger, brushing the tip of her nose with his. “Good,” he’d whispered, “that means you’re mine.”

He had kissed her passionately, his movements inside of her slow and gentle.

God, I love you, she’d thought, and every day since then the feeling had intensified.

It had been half a year of bliss, and she had been too wrapped up in her whirlwind romance with her handsome traveller to take any notice when she’d missed her monthly bleed the first time. However, when a second month had passed without any sign of it she had noticed and grown worried. Her breasts felt tender and she was more tired than usual.

The thought of telling her parents she might be pregnant had terrified her, she was sure they’d disown her. Cora was a kind, motherly figure of the Romani people’s camp and had always been welcoming to her, she had felt like the safest option.

Now as she sits opposite her, her hands cradling the comforting warmth of a cup of tea, she knows she’s made the right choice.

“I can’t tell Abe,” says quietly, figures stroking against the delicate china of her tea cup. “We’ve never even said I love you. He won’t want a baby with me, I was just a bit of fun until you all move on again.”

Cora tuts, pushing a plate of biscuits towards her. “You do both of you a disservice. That boy loves the bones of you, anyone can see that. Tell him.”

“What if he finishes with me?” She asks worriedly, her eyes big as she stares across the table at her.

“Then I’ll give him a bloody good clip round the ear,” Cora quips, snatching up a custard cream from the plate.

She feels lighter as she steps out of the caravan, more prepared to deal with the burden she has to bear. Filled with courage from Cora’s words, she makes her way towards the stables, knowing that’s where she’s most likely to find Abraham at this time of day.

Hearing voices as she gets closer, she pauses, listening intently to the conversation, keeping herself out of sight.

“So you’ll be ready for us to make a move once this thoroughbred’s sold then?” She hears Pal ask.

“Yeah,” comes Abraham’s response, “she’s fast, so she’ll sell quick.”

“And what about your missus, is she alright with all of this?”

“She’s a good girl,” Abraham says, “easy going, she’ll give us no trouble.”

Her heart lurches in her chest, her throat feeling tight and she turns and walks quickly away in the direction of home.

She’s a good girl, easy going, she’ll give us no trouble.

The words play on a loop in her mind. Abraham’s easy summer fling, one that will give him no hassle when it comes time for him to abandon her and move on to the next town, the next girl. Is that really all she is to him?

Hot, fat tears roll down her cheeks as she bows her head, wrapping her arms around herself, willing her feet to move faster, so she can fall apart in private. The thought that she is carrying the child of the man who plans to leave her is more than she can handle.

She shuts herself away in her bedroom for the next couple of days, feigning illness to her parents. It’s not a complete lie, the morning sickness has begun in earnest, though she is displeased to find it doesn’t have the courtesy to restrict itself simply to that time of day, and waves of nausea have her crouching over the porcelain at all hours.

This is the longest she has gone without seeing Abraham since they met, and in spite of the fact she knows their relationship is doomed to fail, she can’t help but miss him. When she’s not vomiting up the tea and toast she’s fought to keep down, she’s curled beneath her duvet, fear and sadness gnawing at her. What will she do without him? What will she do with a baby?

It’s early afternoon, and her dad is at work, her mum out running errands, when she sees the small pebble sail towards her bedroom window, dinging loudly off of the glass as it makes contact before falling away again.

She feels a rush of excitement as she looks out to see Abraham standing on the path below, looking up at her. Despite everything she cannot help what she feels for him, can’t deny the effect he has on her. He gestures for her to come down, brow furrowed slightly in concern.

Dread forms a hollow pit in her belly. Has he come to tell her he’s moving on, to end things? She is not sure her heart can take hearing him say the words to her, yet she slips on her shoes and goes outside anyway.

Abraham moves to embrace her, but pauses, stepping back as she hovers by the front door. “Your mum and dad in?”

She shakes her head and he visibly relaxes, posture becoming less rigid as he reaches out and takes her hand.

“Not seen you for a few days,” he tells her, “everything alright?”

She stares at where their hands join together, then up at his face and suddenly it feels as though she can’t breathe. She doesn’t want this to be her final memory of his touch, the clasp of his hand in hers as he breaks her heart. 

Snatching her arm back, she swallows thickly, ignoring the way his eyes widen and his lips part slightly in apparent shock. “No. No, I’m not alright,” she says, voice wobbling.

Tell him.

She can’t. She doesn’t want the reason he stays to be because she has trapped him by falling pregnant. She wants to be enough for him, but the fact that he has her and wants to leave anyway tells all she needs to know; she isn’t.

She presses on, not giving him the chance to interrupt her. “I heard you and Pal in the stables the other day. I know you’re leaving, I just wish you’d had the decency to tell me sooner. So, if you’ve come here to finish with me, I don’t wanna hear it. I know. Spare me.”

Her breathing is laboured by the time she finishes speaking and she’s crying once more.

Abraham steps forward, his own eyes watery as he reaches for her. “Please, I–”

“Don’t,” she chokes out, before spotting her mum coming from the end of the lane.

Abraham follows her line of sight and stuffs his hands into his pockets, walking quickly away in the opposite direction, as she steps back into the house. She slams the front door and runs up the stairs to muffle her tears into her pillow. She doesn’t emerge for the rest of the day, falling into an uneasy sleep.

It has been four days since she overheard Abraham and Pal’s conversation, three days since she left the house, and the walls are beginning to feel as though they’re closing in on her. She is desperate to get outside, to breathe in fresh air and clear her mind and body of the heartache that plagues her.

She heads for her favourite hill. The climb feeling more tiring than it usually does, a side effect of her being pregnant she supposes. She wonders if she will have to stop coming here altogether as she gets bigger. The thought makes her sad. She is losing everything she loves.

The tickle of the grass against the backs of her legs as she sits down, coupled with the gentle breeze on her skin, has her closing her eyes, turning her face up towards the sun, enjoying its gentle warmth.

Staying like that for a few moments, she smiles to herself, savouring the first time her mind has been quiet since Cora confirmed her suspicions about her current condition.

She senses the sunlight darken through her eyelids and slowly opens them to see Abraham standing over her.

Her mouth turns downwards, her heart sinking.

He’s come to finish what he started.

“Alright?” He says, long limbs folding as he settles beside her on the grass.

She sighs. “Why’d you follow me here? I’ve said all I’ve gotta say.”

“Good for you,” he says, narrowing his eyes, “but I haven’t, so you’ll listen for once. I’m not leaving you. What you overheard the other day was Pal asking about me planning to bring you with us, you misunderstood.”

Tell him.

“I’m pregnant,” she blurts, acting on Cora’s advice before she has the chance to talk herself out of it.

Abraham’s eyebrows raise, his baby blues widening as he stares at her wordlessly for a moment. Time feels as though it stretches for an eternity, and she worries he’ll simply get up and walk away, but then he smiles, a wide grin that crinkles the corners of his eyes and makes them twinkle.

“Just as well I’m taking you with me when we go then,” he says, placing a hand on her knee and squeezing gently.

She sighs, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms around her middle. “You aren’t obligated to me just because you got me up the duff.”

���I know that,” he says, his hand never leaving her thigh, “but I meant what I said, I won’t leave you, baby or no baby. Look–”

He reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out a delicate gold wedding band, and she gasps.

“This was me nanna’s. Mam held onto it, wanted to give it to her daughter. Unlucky for her, she had all boys, so she said whichever of us got married first could have it. Been carrying it round since we first kissed, I’ve always known I wanted to ask you.”

“You were gonna ask me to marry you?” She asks in disbelief.

Abraham nods. “I still am. Figured you wouldn’t wanna come with me if I didn’t make an honest woman outta you, and well…I love you.”

She sniffles, resting her head against his shoulder and he wraps his arm around her, pulling her close. “You’re not angry that I’m pregnant?” She wonders aloud.

“Not at all. It’s not happened in the order I thought it would, but that’s life, I s’pose. Just means you might look a bit fat in your wedding dress.”

She huffs a laugh, swatting at him playfully and he grins.

“So, we’re doing this then?” He asks.

“Yeah, looks like we are,” she smiles up at him.

“Good, ‘cause I wouldn’t leave without you.”

Read on AO3

More Abraham fics

[wordrummager]

curvature blood moon in my sleep a barking carnival cough “step… right… up” a line from Frost or Tolkien to make us think we’re almost through there is valet service for those without guile sons of Abraham counting stars measuring enough fabric to cover whatever is embarrassing carvings in eggs, guns, and bone tell of perseverance but not perversions hidden deep, like pennies in a well wishing, unspoken, a little lost looking through a narrow glass a curved world, a cure within reach open invitation to the forest before getting ice cream at twilight a day almost lived

[hermthejewishwyrm]

I never understood the goyim ((cough cough other abrahamic religions)) that claim that they now have the real pact with hashem and that hashem abandoned the jews and broke our pact because we annoyed him too much

Buddy I don't know how to tell you this but hashem chose us BECAUSE we are a "stiff necked people" he knew what he was getting into when he made it. He knew we were whiny, semantic focusing, stubborn, complainers. But guess what that also makes us...survivors. we are too fucking stubborn to die or be assimilated.

(Also we literally did the eigel hazahav and he still kept the pact with us so I don't think anything else we did could've made him break it)

[knight-a3]

Heavenbound AU Lore

This Google Doc will have more details while this post is more simplified

Preface:

I'm going to be ignoring canon quite a bit for this. I'm not particularly fond of the overall worldbuilding in canon so far. I don't like the portrayal of religious figures(*cough cough* Adam *cough*). And the morality is very inconsistent. So this AU is for me to bend things to my preferences.

To be clear, my intention is not total theological accuracy(that would be hard anyway, since it's pulling from various doctrines and traditions of primarily Abrahamic belief systems), but I do want to be purposeful about what I change. I know Hellaverse is not claiming to be accurate either, but blatant disregard to the borrowed theology can be bothersome, because it can misrepresent and disrespect religious people, particularly Jewish and Christian in this case.

Although I still depart from the original Bible story, I wanted to do it in a respectful way. I will inevitably incorporate elements of my own beliefs, but it’s not going to be a fully accurate representation of them. It's still fictional worldbuilding.

To me, this show is about the possibility of redemption for anyone. That nobody is beyond hope.

Nothing is set in stone, and I’ll update this as needed. More under the cut. It's a basic rundown of what I have so far, so I recommend looking at the Google Doc linked at the top for more details.

Jesus will not be in this, plot holes regarding the existence of Christianity will be blatantly ignored. Adam is not a misogynist jerk. Lilith has a slightly different origin. Heaven is not awful, and Hell is complicated. Sexual innuendos will be toned down because I'm too ace for it.

--Simplified hierarchy--

Heaven:

The Creators

Seraphim (elder seraphim aka the 7 virtues, Radiant)

Saints (Archangels, Citizens)

Cherubim (Mature Cherub, High Cherub, Low Cherub, Premature, Immature)

Hell:

Goetia (nobel class= Lucifer, Charlie, Sins, Calamities)

Sinners (Lilith, Overlords, Fallen Saints, Denizens)

Imps (7 breeds)

Cryptids (Monsters, beasts)

Cursed

Abyssians/eldritch horrors

Creation and The Fall:

Adam and Eve were the first humans. Abyss created Lilith to tempt them to sin. Lilith was just as innocent as Adam and Eve, but did as Abyss instructed. She became friends with them. Helel was an angel of light and befriended all three of them(other angels did as well). But Helel especially liked Lilith. She convinced him to help her find the forbidden fruit.

Lilith offered the fruit to Adam and Eve, which they both took. The fruit gifts knowledge of good and evil, but also introduced death and the ability to sin. Lilith's attempts to tempt them to sin afterwards broke their friendship. Lilith felt abandoned and didn't know what went wrong. She ate the fruit as well, at Helel's suggestion.

When the elder seraphim came to cast Adam and Eve out of Eden, they discovered Lilith and wanted to cast her into The Abyss. But Helel came to her defense, along with several other angels. They were accused of rebellion and cast into The Abyss with Lilith. The elder seraphim renamed Helel to Samael, so they could pretend they were different people. The Abyss corrupts the forms of those who were cast into it, so Helel, Lilith, and the other fallen angels were mutated into their demonic forms.

Helel created a realm within The Abyss and tamed some of the creatures there. This place became a sort of safety net that caught those who fell from Heaven or Earth, saving them from the Abyss. He's not actually aware he did that, so he just thinks everything is terrible. He called it Azazel(which means "to remove or separate from god" and refers to a desolate place. He was feeling a little depressed about being cast down.)

Because Helel brought light to the darkness of the Abyss, he was called the Lightbringer, and took the name Lucifer Morningstar.

Lilith wanted kids. But struggled to conceive because sinners can't reproduce. She eventually made a deal with Abyss, and was able to have Charlie.

[paragonrobits]

concept to directly address the idea among some people who came to Hunteer the Parented and World of Darkness overall directly from If The Emperor Had A Text to Speech Device with the assumption ntthe whole thing is a delusional fantasy or dying wish of the Emperor, or that its somehow the distant backstory of TTS and Big D will become the Emperor (which usually fails to explain things like vampires and werewolves, the spirit world/Umbra being the almost polar opposite of the Warp, the nature of reality as a consensus-based paradigm dictated by the collective assumptions of people overall and other stuff)

so you have Big D going through some kind of an event and he sees EVERYTHING

he sees past the Lie, past the various magical occlusions disguising the secret affairs of the world, how Time is itself only an idea measured in experiences

he sees the inevitable. The Apocalypse is coming. Whether it is Caine arising to slay his wretched kin as God Himself arrives to judge the world (and oh yeah, Abrahamic God canonically exists in at least Masquerade, try fitting that into 40k canon!), as forces of decay arise to cheer as all life comes screaming down, as terrifying forces of death arise to shatter the world itself

(that will, if they win, send the universe into the maw of absolute Oblivion, and kill everything, everywhere, forever.

He does not know why, but his brain think 'NEVERBORN' and his thoughts come screaming back out, weeping and black and bloody, at the thought of those things that should not be. His brain sings, "the Great Maker coughs his last, and the Engine of Extinction powers on" and he doesn't know what it means)

he sees the past. He sees all of human endeavor, and how it is ultimately, at least to his eyes, the result of manipulations by vampires and other creatures pulling the strings; the only truly exceptional aspects of humanity are on the one hand, the awakening of true wonder when humanity sent men to the moon and brought them back. And on the other hand, the evil and wretched, hopeless evil of humanity in its atrocities.

Everything else is manipulation.

He sees the Impergium; werewolves and other creatures killing humans before history began, cruelly and fiercely, and in time relenting, and going to war with each other whether or not to keep up the killing, but the world wonders: did their culling keep humanity in check?

Would the apocalypse still happen, if not for humanity itself?

He has no answers.

And now, he sees the whole. He sees the truth.

His gaze turns wider, wider... beyond anything any human could see, the beginning and end. He sees not gods, but three entities, bigger than universes.

tthey're still not gods. They are bigger than that; they are force and doom and birth and definition all at once, the primordial sea of powers which wrought all that could be, into Being

he beholds them. His mind all but breaks.

a vast sea of chaotic impossibility; shifting, swirling, of all things that could be. It is the closest thing to genuine, true Good in this universe. It is also insane, and mindless, a pure chaotic storm given shape. The rats who walk as men serve it, and in his heart he knows the rat-men hate humanity for all they have done, and he knows, they deserve it

(his mind cries out. 'WYLD')

A... spider, perhaps. Or a machine? Some vast calcified personification of order? It is a thing of purpose and definition. It is the origin of purpose and order. For all things to be, they must be defined, and this is the entity, vast beyond measure, that gives them shape. It takes the the chaos and constrains it, making stable form.

(His mind whispers,, 'WEAVER')

And between them is destruction. It was a serpent, or perhaps a dragon. Maybe once it had been good in its way, or at least necessary. But the webs of the definer have chained it, and now it bleeds black, its whole body torn inside out in its desperate struggles to escape. Once, it was a destroyer; burning away the old to make room for the new. Now, he sees the hate festering from it, echoed and magnified in humanity; all over the world, corporations in thrall to it serve their petty lusts and atrocities, feeding what had once been destruction and was now corruption incarnate; a defiler, a horrific and bleak tragedy ruined by its own desperation to be free.

(His mind sobs, 'WYRM')

They do not look at him, and he understands. It is not that they ignore him, as he would an ant. They would not see him as an ant, if they are even capable of comprehending his presence.

They would regard him as, if he could see one, he would regard an individual atom. Not beneath presence, but so irrelevant and tiny that it would be uttterly beneath them.

There is, he knows, a cosmic balance and conflict. But it is not between gods, at least not in the sense others might suspect.

Highest of all is the Triat, the trio of creation, definition and destruction. Destruction was chained, and become corruption, and in its thrashing, drove the definer mad with the need to control all things.

It's not evil. Not even what the destroyer has become. There is no perverse pleasure, or brutal satisfaction, or even innocent joy in it. There is no moral dimension in these entities, if they can even think at all; perhaps they are too big, too cosmic for a thought.

The Wyrm does not destroy the world, encourage men to batter their wives and murder their children. Its presence makes those things worse, and the things born of it corrupt and hatch schemes to further such horrors, to cut down forests and create ecological disaster for its own sake. But the destroyer makes no choices. This is just what it IS. It can make no more choice than gravity can choose to stop pulling things.

A scarlet empress and an ebon dragon watch. They seem resigned. Big D cannot place them, and he wonders if they are remnants of some other era, some other time that can no longer be. If they are from another world, it is a world that has moved on.

But he is no god-emperor, holding the line against extinction or dooming humanity through his hubris and belief in supremacy. The end is not something that can be fought; hordes of ravenous predators from beyond the stars would be preferable to this... indifference.

But then again, this is a whole different sort of game from the world where you might have a God-Emperor of any sort. This is not a world of endless warfare, tactical considerations, eternal stalemate, and conflict.

This is a place of gothic horror.

This is a world of darkness.

[the-name-is-z]

SKELETONS | ch. 59

daryl dixon x f!oc

masterlist

a03 link

Summary: Aaron reunites with Eric. Rick and Glenn reunite with the others. They decide to take a new route to Alexandria. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; there's not really any chapter-specific warnings? idk domestic bliss is kind of a warning it itself

Chapter 59 - Go The Distance

It was about a half hour before soft whistling carried through the alleyway, a system they had come up with while wandering the woods. Two notes. Daryl whistled back, pounding on the industrial supply room door from the outside, a signal that it was safe for them to come out. Iris opened the door from their side, allowing Maggie and Carl to burst through to hug Rick and Glenn. They ran in on foot, disheveled and a little bloody.

“Dad!” Carl cried in relief. 

“Your sister okay?” Rick whispered.

“Yeah, yeah. We’re fine.” Carl assured. Rick looked up at Iris and she nodded. He visibly relaxed, nodding to her in thanks. Rick extended his hand to Daryl, giving him a small handshake. 

“Eric? Eric?” Aaron called in a panic.

“In here.” Eric called from the supply room. Maggie had fashioned him a splint for his ankle and ordered some rest, leaving him alone when everyone had flooded out. 

“Eric!” Aaron called in response, practically diving headfirst into the room. Iris supposed she would feel a similar panic if she was separated from her spouse. Well, if she had one. Rick narrowed his eyes after Aaron and followed him to eavesdrop. 

Daryl directed everyone inside anyway, to dampen the sound in case they attracted any more walkers. They kept out of the office, so Aaron and Eric could reunite in semi-privacy (Rick) and they could speak semi-freely (Rick). After a few minutes Aaron came out of the office, clearing his throat.

“Excuse me, everyone? Everyone?” He coughed, then projected louder as they turned to look at him. “Thank you. You saved Eric. I owe you. All of you. And I will make sure that debt is paid in full when we get to our community. When we get to Alexandria. Now, I’m not sure about you, but I’d rather not do any more driving tonight. Maybe we can hit the road tomorrow morning.”

“That sounds fine.” Rick agreed from the dark hallway behind him. Aaron nodded, turning to acknowledge him. “But if we’re staying here for the night, you’re sleeping over there.” He pointed a grimy finger to a random corner of the room and Iris rolled her eyes. 

“You really think we gotta do that?” Maggie asked, her tone conveying the same annoyance Iris felt.

“It’s the safe play. We don’t know you.” Rick explained.

“The only way you’re gonna stop me from being with him right now is by shooting me.” Aaron said, his voice low. It was the most confident he’d sounded since they met, and Iris was almost proud. She smirked. 

“Rick, he told us where the camp is.” Glenn whispered in Rick’s ear. Yet, the room was small and they were all silent, so Iris wasn’t sure what that was accomplishing. “And he really was only travelling with one other person. They’re both unarmed, one of them’s got a broken ankle. I want us to be safe too, but I can’t give up everything else. I know what I said, but… it does matter.” Rick paused, considering before agreeing.

“Alright.” He nodded. Aaron brushed past them back into the office.

-

The next morning, with the help of Iris hot-wiring another car, all of them were able to get back on the road. Route Sixteen this time. Iris was happy to drive the RV with Abraham silently sitting at her side, staring out at the road while they listened to Eugene explain to Tara and Carl how to play his ridiculous fourteen-wild-card poker game. 

“Abraham, look.” Rosita murmured, coming up behind him and putting her hands on his shoulders. He put his palm over one of them, smiling softly at the sight of the Washington Monument. They could see the whole city ahead, before the view disappeared behind a crop of trees as the road curved. Iris glanced down at the dash, trying not to let the Low Voltage light flashing at her affect the relief and joy that everyone seemed to be ruminating in. 

Eventually, however, it did. The RV died out and Rick pulled the other car around behind them when he noticed they stopped. Glenn was more than helpful when he dove headfirst under the hood of the RV. Iris felt a pang of nostalgia, almost expecting to see Dale leaning over his shoulder, directing Glenn’s movements as he tinkered with the engine. 

“Can’t win.” Abraham grunted, slamming a hand on the outside of the RV. “Might as well paint it red, put a ladder on it.” Iris raised an eyebrow. That man just loved living in the past. 

“All we need is another battery.” Glenn assured, straightening.

“Where the hell are we going to find another battery?” Abraham scoffed.

“Right over here.” Glenn replied, walking around to the side door and flipping up on of the covers on the stairs. Underneath was another battery, plugged in and primed to go. Iris’ lips twitched as she silently muttered a thank-you to Dale. Abraham climbed into the RV to start it up once Glenn had everything fixed up. 

“You okay?” Daryl asked quietly, coming up behind Iris as she stood on top of the RV, watching their backs. She glanced at him, looking down as he gestured at her hands. They were trembling. 

“Huh.” Iris muttered, clenching her fists as a shiver ran through her. She looked up at him again, watching her with concern in his eyes. “Too good to be true, right?”

“Maybe not.” He countered. He reached down, lacing his fingers through hers to stop the tremors. Underneath their feet, the RV roared to life, small cheers and clapping echoing from the group below. “C’mon.” 

They got moving again, and after another hour or so, Abraham stopped the RV behind the car as they reached a large set of gates. The corrugated steel walls looked strong, reinforced. Efficient. A feat of engineering, especially during times like these. Rick waited, observing the gates and listening. They cut the engines, everyone climbing out of the vehicles to stand patiently at the gates. 

It was serene. Children’s laughter carried over the walls, and Iris was shocked that she had forgotten what that sounded like. No headaches, no feelings of impending doom. No fear. 

Someone on the other side of the gate wheeled the chain link open, leaving just the iron bars of the main gate. Then that opened too. Aaron and Eric were the first through, and Eric made his way to the infirmary. 

A crash startled all of them, Daryl immediately turning and firing a crossbow bolt into the opossum that had accidentally knocked over a trash bin. He leaned over and picked it up as the gate fully opened, revealing another man staring with furrowed brows.

“We brought dinner.” Daryl called nonchalantly. 

“It’s okay.” Aaron assured the nervous-looking man. “Come on in, guys.” The gate clanged as it locked shut behind them, and Iris was hit with a sense of finality. She took slow, deep breaths as she looked around, seeing houses in the distance, neatly planted trees and mowed lawns. Goddamned landscaping. 

“Before we take this any further, I need you all to turn over your weapons.” The guard at the gate stated. “Stay, you hand ‘em over.”

“We don’t know if we want to stay.” Rick said, still guarded. 

“It’s fine, Nicholas.” Aaron assured again.

“If we were gonna use them, we would have started already.” Rick explained. Iris found herself clenching her jaw and she let go of the tension, wishing she had a piece of gum, not for the first time. 

“Let them talk to Deanna first.”

“Who’s Deanna?” Abraham demanded.

“She knows everything you’d wanna know about this place.” Aaron explained. “Rick, why don’t you start?” Rick blinked, turning to look back over the group. As he surveyed them, he spotted a lone walker approaching the gates from outside.

“Sasha.” He said quietly. With her being closest to the gate, she turned to look, and with one swift movement, the silent bullet blew apart the walker’s skull. Nicholas blanched, the chain link closing across the gate behind them. “It’s a good thing we’re here.” Rick grunted. 

Aaron led them all through the street to a house near the corner. It was neat, nicely decorated, curtains open to let the light in. Low brick walls to line a neatly paved brick patio. They waited outside as Aaron took Rick in to speak to the elusive Deanna. When he returned, she brought out another person, a large plastic cart, introduced herself, and asked for their weapons.

“They’re still your guns.” She assured. “You can check them out whenever you go beyond the wall, but inside here, we store them for safety.” The cart was overflowing by quite a bit by the time Iris got to it, and her small armoury was the icing on the cake. Though she didn’t give it all up. She never would. Most of her knives were under her jacket anyways.

“Should have brought another bin.” Olivia, the woman who manages the armoury joked. Iris took note of the very false smile Carol had plastered on her face. She also noticed the fake fumbling Carol did when she surrendered her large rifle. 

Deanna explained that she would be interviewing each of them to get a sense of who they were, what they could contribute to the community. As she went through a few of them, Aaron led Rick and Carl to the houses their group would be assigned to start with. 

Iris sat down in Deanna’s living room, eyeing her large collection of books and the camcorder pointed at her. The furniture was lovely, and it was almost as if this place went entirely untouched. And then Deanna explained that it had.

“I’m Deanna Monroe.” She introduced, smiling softly.

“Iris Bowen.” Iris replied.

“Do you mind if I film our conversation?” Deanna asked. Iris chuckled inwardly, reminded of interrogations and interviews she’d done from police precincts and cells as a wayward youth. “What?”

“I’m not used to people asking.” Iris replied, offering a small grin. Deanna smirked, nodding in understanding. 

“How long have you been out there?” She asked.

“Since the beginning.” Iris replied.

“How did you all find each other? Rick told me you didn’t know one another before… everything.” Iris nodded, clearing her throat.

“It was Atlanta. Rick left a bag of guns in the road, and I, alongside many others, tried to steal them. We came to an agreement when other survivors took Glenn for ransom, and I guess… I just never left.” She smiled awkwardly, remembering their meeting. Glenn seemed so young. She did too, she supposed. Deanna smiled warmly.

“I was a congressperson in Ohio, fifteenth district.” She explained. “What did you do before?”

“Does it matter?” Iris asked, a little defensive.

“Oh, yes. My husband was a professor of architecture. Who we were mattered a great deal to this community.” She explained. Iris nodded in understanding.

“I was a member of a biker gang and a mechanic.” She admitted. Deanna nodded without much reaction.

“And your attachment to knives?” Deanna asked, nodding to the break in Iris’ jacket where her harness was visible. Iris moved her jacket closed and Deanna chuckled. “It’s alright. I figured some of you would be rather attached to your weapons. Your knives, Michonne’s sword, Daryl’s crossbow.” Iris hummed. “In your gang, did you—“

“The knives came after.” Iris replied shortly. Deanna closed her mouth, nodding again. 

“Look, Iris, who you were before is important, yes, but who you are now is more important. We want to know how you can contribute so our community can prosper. Now, whatever you learned as a gang member is not useful to me. But we have had need for a mechanic for quite some time. If you’re willing and able, we want you and the rest of your family to have a home here, whatever that means for you.” Deanna explained. Iris nodded slowly. 

The woman spoke like a politician or a therapist. But it was clear from her demeanour and her explanation that the people here had no idea what life was like on the outside. Except maybe Aaron and Eric. And that kind of ignorance is very dangerous. 

Deanna asked her to send Daryl in next. Iris was then led to the pair of quaint little houses they were assigned, and more importantly, the bathroom equipped with a hot shower. And new clothing. Iris tried her best to be quick so as not to use up all the hot water, but each of them confessed there was nothing like it. 

A woman who worked in the “pantry” even offered haircuts to each of them. A little self-care, a little pampering… it did little to wash away the grime from outside. The pain and suffering, the starving, the wandering. It wouldn’t be erased, but some numbing once in a while was… nice.

-

“You’re welcome to sit, Daryl, I won’t bite.” Deanna stated as Daryl fiddled with some of the random decor on her coffee table.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” Daryl replied, looking her up and down as he paced in her living room.

“Daryl, do you want to be here?” She asked honestly. He turned back to her and dropped his shoulders in a half-assed shrug.

“The boy and the baby, they deserve a roof… I guess.” He replied, deflecting the question. It was a secret to no one that domestic life didn’t exactly fit with Daryl, even before everything. A part of him wondered what it would be like, the same part of him that wanted… other things. A larger part of him felt anxious at the very idea of allowing himself any luxuries. 

-

Iris walked out of the house Rick and the others had been using, freshly showered and wearing clean clothes. Rick and Daryl walked up from between the two houses, meeting Carol by the front porch where Iris stood. 

Daryl nodded to Iris and she smiled softly at him. He found his face heating as his eyes trailed over her skin, clean and soft for the first time in weeks. Rick cleared his throat as he looked around, Carol hiding her small smile behind a light cough. 

“They’re right next to each other, but…“ Carol began.

“They took our weapons and now they’re splitting us up.” Rick murmured, shaking his head. “We’ll all be staying in the same house tonight.”

“I’ll send someone to grab some of the extra linens from the other house. Blankets and whatever to sleep on the floor.” Iris agreed.

Once everyone had been interviewed and had a chance to shower and clean up, they gathered in the living room of the first house, doling out blankets and pillows to stick together. Abraham and Sasha were insistent on keeping watch by the windows. The woman from the pantry, who introduced herself as Jessie, even came by with a small playpen that Judith could safely sleep in. Michonne spent twenty entire minutes brushing her teeth. Iris had to admit, she did the same. 

Everyone jolted as a knock sounded on the door. Daryl immediately positioned himself over Judith’s crib. Iris, Glenn and Maggie already had their hidden weapons half out, and Rick slowly went to answer the door. He opened it, finding Deanna standing on the porch in the dark.

“Rick, I—“ She stopped, looking over his clean-shaven face. “Wow. I didn’t know what was under there.” She joked. He grunted. “Listen, I don’t mean to interrupt. I just wanted to stop by and see how you were all settling. Oh, my. Staying together. Smart.”

“No one said we couldn’t.” Rick replied. Iris almost snorted. A bit of a childish riposte on his part.

“You said you’re a family. That’s what you said.” Deanna said with a wide smile. “Absolutely amazing to me how people with completely different backgrounds and nothing in common can become that.”

“Everybody said you gave them jobs.” Rick stated. It was true, in each of their interviews, Deanna had assigned them a position where she and Aaron agreed they could help out in the community. Iris was told she would be taken to check out the garage when she was ready. Apparently they even had a few cars lined up for her to fix. 

“Mm-hmm. Yeah.” Deanna nodded. “Part of this place. Looks like the communists won after all.” She laughed. Rick surrendered a small smile at the joke.

“Well, you didn’t give me one.” He stated by way of question.

“I have.” She replied. “I just haven’t told you yet. Same with Michonne. I’m closing in on something for Sasha, and I’m just trying to figure Mr. Dixon out, but I will.” She smiled at each member of the group before nodding at Rick and looking at him again. “You look good.” She waved and stepped outside, Rick closing the door behind her.

That night, Iris didn’t sleep. She felt a sense of responsibility, to watch over her family as they huddled in the living room. Rick didn’t sleep much either, but he didn’t notice her. He got up in the middle of the night, breathing rather quickly, and Iris followed him into the kitchen. He opened one of the drawers beside the refrigerator, pulling out a large kitchen knife.

“Subtle.” Iris murmured softly. He turned, almost whipping the knife at her. She put her hands up, offering a lopsided grin. “Can’t sleep either.” She confessed.

“I’m worried.” He admitted, looking up at her, and for the first time since they arrived, she noticed the hope glimmering in his eyes.

“I know.” She replied sympathetically. “We all want this to be right, Rick. For everyone. Deanna… she seems alright.” 

“She said she was almost a professional poker player.” Rick stated, rubbing a hand over his face. Iris chuckled softly, nodding.

“Sounds right. I’ll have to play her sometime.” She replied. Rick smiled again, nodding. “Rick… if and that’s a big ‘if’, everything goes south, we’ll all stand with you. Always.” His smile faltered and he inhaled a large shuddering breath.

“Thank you.” He whispered. Iris nodded, spying the water lining his eyes. She reached forward and he stepped into her arms, releasing a long sigh as they hugged each other tight.

-

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[ananke-xiii]

The more I think about Jack's story, the more I'm convinced he was an incredible character with an uncommitted storyline and I get a bit mad.

I've already talked about how I think his story gets reframed mid-season 13 from "most powerful being in all existence" to "he's Lucifer's son therefore he's Evil", a shift that I personally don't find compelling.

However, after thinking about it, I think I could have liked this shift if I didn't detect such a hypocritical moral stance. I mean if you have to bring back Lucifer back into the narrative (and I'm not against it) do it with style.

At the end of the day S14 main theme was Moriah, right? Like, the whole thing with Abraham and Isaac etc? The human sacrifice aspect of it all etc? God being a dick asking for impossible things because he wants to be adored etc? And you've got characters like literal God and literal Lucifer and the literal son of Lucifer via human being, the same Lucifer who defied God because he didn't want to love humans and now he's a father of a half-human son? The same son who has to pay for the sin of his father because now everyone but his mother thinks he's evil? The same son who has rejected his father and chose another one who's also an angel and who also rebelled against God?

Hello? Hello???? Am I the only one with a vision here?

I'm not saying that they had to have Lucifer side with TFW as a pseudo-Crowley 'cause frankly thank god that didn't happen, I'm just saying that Lucifer/Nick could have been written differently, we know he's evil blah blah blah we don't really need a reminder ( also: EYE don't care).

We had two seasons of Jack being told every other day that he would break bad, he would go dark-side, that things only end "one way" that it was so anti-climatic when that (sort of) happened. Then of course he dies, this tends to happen in stories about double fathers and half-Other sons (*cough* hi Minotaur *cough* hello Jesus) but his death, if death had to happen, should have some meaning. But no, God is mad at Dean so he kills Jack, the same Jack that Dean had caged in the box 2 episodes prior. Okay. Yeah. Very well done God, you sure know your characters.

Rant over, lol.