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hellsresidentfallenangel · 9 months ago

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Clashing Angelic’s

Summary: How would Lute react to crushing/falling in love with someone in Hell?

Bingo: @eclipsingbingo Square: First Meeting

A/N: It’s been so long since I posted something properly and I know I said it would be Alastor but don’t worry I have two Alastor fic/headcannon stories in the works so I’ll hopefully be able to post those soon. I also have a longer overlord Huskerdust au fic in the works so a lot of my writing attention is going to that. I wrote this in the middle of class so if there are any mistakes I'll be able to fix them later.

The way the two of you meet would be during an Extermination.

Lute would be searching for any Sinners that hadn’t taken the opportunity to hide while they still could or were new to Hell and hadn’t been informed what an Extermination was.

Then her eyes would land on you.

At first, she would think you were one of her own Angels who for some reason wasn’t in uniform before coming to her senses as she took in the telltale signs of a Sinner.

For a few seconds, she would hesitate, spotting you throwing her off kilter. In those few seconds, you would become aware of her presence, stopping whatever you were doing to stare her down for a few seconds.

What caught Lute’s attention the most and what hooked her in was how not a spec of fear could be seen on your face; your eyes instead blazing as you waited, almost daring her to try and kill you.

Of course Lute immediately took you up on that challenge.

Her wings spread out as far as they could reach, showing off their span before launching forward, her spear aimed and pointed at you as she got impossibly closer.

Though her Angelic blade never met your skin—much to Lute’s surprise—as you threw up what seemed to be an Angelic weapon of your own.

Lute couldn’t recognise it for the life of her. Looking back on it, she would blame it on the heat of the moment, never being met with a Sinner who had somehow gotten their hands on an Angelic weapon or who was that pretty. It didn’t help though that when buying it off an Overlord they had done their own tinkering to it.

The shock didn’t last long though. As soon as you started pushing on your weapon, trying to dig it closer to Lute, her senses came back to her and the current situation the two of you were in caught up to her.

No matter how pretty you were, she pushed all thoughts aside and focused on trying to dig her spear as far into your chest as she could, hoping to rid of you as quickly as possible so she could move on to the next sinner that needed retribution.

You didn’t make it that easy though.

With every thrust of Lute’s Angelic spear, you would block it with the blade of your own, never allowing her more than a few small cuts, deep red blood trickling out of them. But for every cut that littered your body, you made sure to return the favour with a sharper, more drawn-out one, golden blood making an appearance and beginning to stain the uniform she was made to wear.

The dance of Angelic weapons that the two of you seemed to walk was never-ending, a continuous walts of red slashes and gilded strikes.

Neither of you would back down; Lute because she was an Angel and it was her duty to slay the Sinners that crossed her path on Extermination Day; You because it was your life she was after and to turn away could lead to a fate out of your control. Also, your street cred would be reduced to nothing if you ran away from an Angel, the lieutenant at that.

By the end of it, you were both covered in a mix of your own and each other’s blood. Red staining clothes while gold brightened the dim night as the day came to an end.

It was only when a loud, almost roar-like screech filled the air, alerting everyone of what had just happened.

Extermination Day had come to an end, and you had survived even while fighting an Angel.

No matter that the countdown had finished and a full year awaited until the Angel in front of you was technically allowed to kill you, you still kept your guard up. After spending years in Hell, nothing surprised you anymore, so if the Angel was to breach the agreement made by Heaven, you wouldn’t be surprised.

Lute only spared you with a look however, her spear still held up as she too knew not to turn her back on a Sinner, not when it was on their turf.

Spreading her wings wide once again, with a powerful flutter she took off from the ground, racing up to the sky where hoards of other Angels were gathering. Lute made sure not to look back, not wanting to waste another second on you when you had effectively wasted a few hours of her Extermination, bringing her number of killed Sinners down.

You didn’t bother to hide your staring, keeping your eyes glued to her until she grew too far away that she was nothing but a spec in the sky.

Like any other Extermination, after all the Angels had vanished, you carried on with your day, having things to do and places to be.

Lute however couldn’t get you out of her head for many days–months–to come. Like a plague, you consumed her entire being, never leaving her alone for more than a few seconds.

Not once did she bring you up to anyone, not wanting anyone to try and piece together the information that was keeping her so distracted. Only once was it almost weaselled out of her, Adam being too nosy as to why she wasn’t able to beat her prior year's record of Sinners killed. She was able to get herself out of that pickle. So to make sure it didn’t happen again, she kept her lips sealed as to anything including fighting a Sinner on Extermination Day.

She couldn’t help but look forward to the next one though, training just as hard to make sure she was up to par when the time came. Lute kept telling herself that if she reached a certain amount of kills in the first few hours of it, she would be able to create a small pocket of time saved just for you.

Maybe this time Lute would even learn your name.

#eclipsingbingo #eclipsing bingo #fanfic #fanfiction #hazbin hotel #hazbinhotel #hazbin lute x reader #hazbin lute #lute hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lute #lute x reader #lute #x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #headcanons #hazbin hotel fandom #reader insert

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misguidedasgardian · 5 months ago

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Wild Cats (Part II)

II. On the road

MASTERLIST

Summary: You face your first challenges with your new “team”

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (slowburn)

Warnings: Zombie apocalypse AU, living dead, zombies, guts, blood, guns, injures, cannibalism, this chapter is particularly hard, if you had seen the series you know what’s coming, THREATS of SA to a minor and to an adult, shooting people, murder, throwing axes, blood, RIck munchin on someone’s throat

+18, MINORS DNI

Notes: As always, I will not describe the reader, the only description about her is that she is not from the US, I don't specify where she is from either. My Walt Disney complex is attacking me again because -again- my reader won’t have any family or parents with her (or that were with her and she saw die), I believe this will give her some sort of “freedom” and the sense that even if she saw “Death” up close and personal, and horrible things she still doesn’t have that cruelty and trauma of witnessing family get killed in front of her.

You started walking, walking, walking. You still had a few hours of light to find another place to camp out, far away from the group that stormed the house. Just across that group of houses, you encountered tracks, train tracks, and you started walking along them.

You spend the night on an old train station, those small ones in the middle of nowhere, you took shifts to keep an eye on things.

Rick wouldn’t let you out of his sight

And you tried to stay calm, he didn't know you, so you did what was expected of you, kept watch like you had done for the last months, helped to make food and snacks. You didn’t dare to ask much, so the silences between you were a bit uncomfortable.

You were super curious about them, but again, they didn’t trust you, and why should they? so you’d think

It was the third night with them, you were on the roof when Rick joined you

“Don’t take this the wrong way”, he started in whispers, “but you don’t strike me as the kind of person who would last this long, out here, alone”, he said in a friendly tone, you look back at him, amused

“Well, looks can be deceiving”, you muttered

“Have you received military training or something?”, this was a nice change

“No, not really, I lived on a farm, we hunted and that sort of stuff”, you said lightly, he looked at you and nodded, “Maybe I watched too many action movies, those were my favorites”, you said, with fond memories in your mind, “you were a policeman, right?”

“How did you know?”, he asked, surprised

“When I looked at you for the very first time I had this immediate feeling of shame, like I was doing something wrong, so…”, he laughed a bit, “I knew”

“Yeah, we evoked that on people”, he said lightly, ��I’m sorry you got stranded here, on foreign lands”, you nodded

“Thank you”, you said after a long breath, “I probably won’t ever see my family again and… it's hard to face that reality”

“Where are they?”, he asked

“My family lives in a really small town, and an hour away, they have a farm”, you said lowly, “a farm on a freaking island”, your felt his surprised gaze on you, “I’m sure my brother got them out, my parents, he has big trucks, and he knows how to hunt, he has guns, he knows how to fish, they have cattle…he began farming a bit ago”, you said with a breath of relief, “they are in the best possible place, and I…”

“In one of the worst”, he whispered

“I just really hope they can mourn me”, you whispered, “that they can be at peace with me gone, not knowing what happened to me, and I really… because you are right, everyday I wonder how I got so lucky so survive this long, so I feel like I’m living on borrowed time”

“You can’t think like that if you want to survive”, muttered Rick, “you need to fight for it, every single day”, you nodded. You heard moans and grumbles. There was a full moon today, and clear sky so you saw the fucker coming out of the woods, limping towards the structure you were in, reaching towards you with with its putrid hands. You grabbed your gun with your silencer and shot him straight in the head, quieting him once and for all, and dropping him

You both sighed, as you kept listening to the quiet night.

You let out a strangled whimper. Your family had wanted you to stay home, but you wanted to do this fancy masters degree.

“Have you… lost people too?”, you asked him

“My wife, my best friend, my…”, he choked so you only nodded

“I’m very sorry”, you mumbled, he nodded

“We were a big group, I’m hoping I can still find some of them”

“I’m sure they are out there somewhere”, you said with a hint of hope, if the rest of them were like Rick, Michonne and Carl, you really believed that the more the merrier, this could really be something. But still, you didn’t want to get too attached in case things went south

The next day also found you walking together, Michonne and Carl played at “who could walk longer on the tracks”, and it was quite entertaining to watch, even though Rick wanted to speed things along. They still haven’t told you the next steps. But you were following the tracks hoping they’ll lead you to somewhere.

You have seen posters and maps of some sort of sanctuary, called terminus, if they ask you? it didn’t sound quite right, the maps seemed old and maybe they were, maybe it got overrun, but Rick and Michonne still wanted to check it out

This time, when the sun fell and the night came over you, they just wanted to sleep on the open road. You found a car that was in a pretty good state, so Carl took preference, and locked himself in to sleep for a bit.

You were super scared to be alone in the woods at night, but you didn’t want to say that outloud, so you just grabbed the smallest and softest of flashlights and dived into the woods, it was the call of nature, nothing you could do.

The good part about “walkers” is that they groaned and moaned, so they were easy to spot, especially at night, so you weren’t concerned. Although, you did know that sometimes they entered this “sleep” state, only awakened when a human was near, so you had to be careful about that as well.

After you had done your business, you decided to make a round, all around where Michonne and Rick were talking and Carl was sleeping, maybe it was customary for you at this point, being awake at night. An instinct pulling you into the night, connecting with nature.

When you thought you had done a full lap, you realized that you got a bit lost, you cursed yourself thinking you had counted your steps, clearly you were wrong

You found the street, and by then, you could hear voices.

You first saw a big man by the car, you could only see his silhouette, as the only source of light was the moon and the fire Rick and Michonne had lit up

“We are gonna kill you Rick, not before Dan has his way with your son, and Tony with the lady here…”, you heard someone say, as you came closer, quietly, you realized a man was holding Rick at gunpoint, and another had Michonne.

How the fuck they sneaked past you? you had no clue. You stood there, watching the situation unfold, you didn’t know what to do.

“TEN!”, You grabbed the gun, and unlocked it, you had to help them. You don’t care who those men were, Rick, Michonne and Carl were your group now, you had to defend them. “NINE… EIGHT”

“WAIT!”, Another man, from the other side of the car, appeared

“You stopped me at eight Daryl!”, the man said. This strange man walked up towards RIck and Michonne, and only then you realized two more men were right behind him, your vision impaired by the vehicle between you, you tried to stay in the shadows, you couldn’t go in guns blazing if that would mean one of your group could end up hurt.

“Just hold up!”, he said softly, trying to calm things down

“This is the guy who killed Lou!”, muttered the fifth man, “we got nothing to talk about”, there were five hostile men, one of them, right in front of you, eyeing Carl who was inside the car

“The thing ‘bout now-a-days is we got nothin’ but time”, the ringleader held Rick at gunpoint, they were tightly squeezed together, no space for movement, “say your piece Daryl”

“These people”, the man said, “you’re gonna let ‘em go”, that surprised you, but still you raised your gun to the creep, “these are good people”, he muttered

“I think Lou would disagree with you on that”, RIck had told you he had to take a guy out in the house, this might be the reckoning, “I have to speak for him because your friend here strangled him in a bathroom, let him turn, and come after us”,

“You want blood, I get it, take it from me, man”, this strange man, just threw his weapon, a badass crossbow, into the floor and offered himself up to the maniac. There was a dramatic silence

“This man killed our friend”, you did not have good visibility, but you could hear every breath, “but you say he’s good people, you see? that right there… that is a lie”, his voice dropped an octave and you knew that meant trouble, “IT’S A LIE”, the two men behind him grabbed him and started beating him up, “teach him fellas! teach him all the way!”, the car moved when they pushed and beat him against it. Distracting you, so you couldn’t help when the fat man in front of you opened the door to the car, and dragged Carl out of it.

“YOU LET HIM BE!”, you heard the scream of Rick

You couldn’t move, if you shot “Dan”, then the others could shoot RIck and Michonne, and besides…

DId you had it in you? to kill?

You had done it once, it kept you awake with guilt

They kept beating the man they called Daryl, making your skin crawl, to hear fist against flesh, moans and groans from the man that clearly knew RIck, -in the good sense-, he was probably part of the group RIck was seeking so desperately

“... First we’re gonna beat Daryl to death, then we are gonna have the girl, then the boy, and then we’re gonna kill you, and then we’ll be squared”, you heard him proclaim. You looked in front of you, the fat man, with a knife in his hand, and…

Oh fuck no.

Without even thinking about it, you had your gun up and…

You took the shot and in less than a second you drew a whole in the back of the man’s head.

Before he even dropped to the floor you helped Carl push him off of him. The boy was a whimpering, scared mess, and now that you uncovered yourself, by pure instincts alone, you grabbed him and placed him behind you, away from the guns that were now pointing at you.

In all happened in seconds

When Rick’s eyes anchored themselves at you, he seemed to nod, and then he moved at the speed of lightning, pushing all of his body backwards, a shot made your ears ring, but he had managed to free himself from the other group’s leader, that served as a good distraction as you shot against the man that had Michonne, who was also distracted, your bullet got lodged on his arm, making him scream, that gave Michone the time and space to kick the bastard, making him drop his gun

“Daryl!”, screamed Carl behind you, you looked now with more visibility, and saw the beating was getting worse. He had managed to punch one of the men out of his way, but still was fighting with the other. You grabbed your ax with your other hand, right as he was being pushed against the hood of the car again, then grabbed and pulled backwards towards the other man.

You were even better at throwing axes, -something you discovered in the damn apocalypse-

“DUCK!”, you screamed at the bowman, and he did, just at the same time you threw your ax, slaying the man that was right behind him

But you knew that wasn’t going to finish the job, you jumped and climbed over the hood of the car between you and you threw yourself at the man screaming with your ax nailed in the middle of his chest. You shot him in the head, not even thinking. You fell haphazardly on the floor, twisted your uncle a bit.

Fuck this people

When you turned around Daryl was beating the crap out of this other guy, Michone had shot the man that was holding her and Rick…

Oh Rick

In the midst of screams, he dropped the man, who was bleeding profusely from his neck. When you raised your eyes back again you saw that…

Rick’s mouth was dripping blood, as he spitted out a chunk of meat and more blood

From a second to the next everything went quiet, the archer turned to you after he left that man a moaning mess on the ground, you shared looks, and you offered him your gun. He took it, and put the man out of his misery with one shot on the head.

The adrenaline quickly left you, and you started shaking.

Your kill count just went up to three with one assistance.

You must have whimpered because they all turned to you

Rick went to hug Carl tightly, as did Michonne, the man, Daryl turned back to you, his face was made a bleeding mess, but he nodded when he gave you your gun back. You received it, putting it back in your holster

You told him your name, offering your hand for you to shake, he nodded

“Daryl”, he said, shaking your hand back, although it was more like a growl. You could tell he was this gruff man, his shaggy hair a bit long, covering his eyes, naked arms on display, he was a badass

“You take it you were a part of RIck’s group?”, you asked, and he barely nodded, “we just met three days ago”, you offered as an explanation.

Carl went around the car and hugged you tightly, that took you by surprise, but you gladly hugged him back

“Are you alright?”, you asked, he only nodded against you

You were sleeping in the back of the jeep, pleasantly, as Carl slept on the back seat, cuddled with Michonne.

Rick and Daryl were sharing a moment

“Who was tha’?”, he asked

“Carl found her sleeping on a roof three days ago”, said Rick, they shared looks, “before this, she had only killed one man”

“Now she is up to three”, said Dayl nodding

“We had our doubts at first, but… after tonight…”

“She is one of the good ones”, muttered Daryl

“She is looking up to be a good addition”, he completed, nodding

Post chapter notes: reader was like, “ah hell no, that’s my future husband you fucks” haha

#misguidedtwd #misguidedcats #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl dixon #twd #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon #rick grimes #michonne #carl grimes

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fairytale-poll · 11 months ago

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ROUND 4A, MATCH 1 OUT OF 2!

*Includes the original 1950 animated film, the 2002 sequel Cinderella II: Dreams Come True, and the 2007 sequel Cinderella III: A Twist in Time.

Propaganda Under the Cut:

Disney's Cinderella:

she is very iconic, she is super kind and has a beautiful dress

Submitting specifically because Cinderella III: A Twist in Time has lived rent-free in my head ever since I was a small child.

This Cinderella is most young (western) peoples introduction to this very story. Cinderella is so hopeful and by getting one small magical adventure, her whole life changes for the better. She is skilled and inspires such loyalty with her kindness that it’s hard to dislike her for any reason she gives. I’ve always been jealous of her ball hairdo too.

Walt Disney put all he had into this movie. And his favorite animation was the dress transformation scene. There’s a reason she is often front and center on the Princess group promotions.

she is the original. to me. probably the first exposure to cinderella for a solid chunk of people alive & on tumblr today. she is just a perfect encapsulation of everything that cinderella is, even if she's become warped in the public consciousness. also i'm pretty sure she's the reason why the glass slippers are so predominant in more recent retellings bc she is simply so iconic. 100/10 no notes 💜

She's maybe not the OG OG but she was one of the first animated Disney princesses and strangely enough it doesn't stop her from having an amazing personality. She's literally a slave but keeps being a nice person, forgiving and always doing her best. And the sequels absolutely didn't ruin her character. She's a sweet girl who tries to fit in but who's loyal to the person she is and who tries to change things always in a cute and sweet way to show people it's not that hard. She literally forgave Anastasia and tried to help her after all she did to her (the scene where the step-sisters destroy her dress still is terrifying to me)... she's awesome and deserves more recognition honestly...

(Mod's note: the following submitted specifically for Cinderella III: A Twist in Time, but I condensed the animated movies into one entry.) No she is not the same as the original Cinderella of 1950. This girl’s biggest chance was unfairly snatched away from her. When the Prince was brainwashed she was enough to get him to double take. She was so Right that their connection over powered magic. And she had to be rescued from a ship. And was almost crushed within a pumpkin! And finally had to expose another imposter, who turned out to be just another victim of Lady Trameine. This Cinderella fought harder for her love because she knew what True Love was like and she still was able to forgive those who asked for it.

(Mod's note: the following submitted specifically for Cinderella III: A Twist in Time, but I condensed the animated movies into one entry.) Listen yes it's the same Cinderella from 1950 but she has an arc in this one! It's Disney's greatest film!!

Listen I love them both but the animated Cinderella definitly shine in every single movie she has. And she has 3.

Vote for Cinderella because she deserves it and is still underrated in the Disney Princesses Franchise when she survived so much (ab*se... Lady Tremaine still terrifies me and she doesn't even have magical powers except when she steals the magic wand in Cinderella 3) Also one vote for Cinderella is one jump outside the window Henri is ready to do. Yes it's real.

Disney animated the original fairytale but definitely made it more magical and less creepy (like the birds making the step sisters blind? It gave me nightmares for ages). If I think: which one will I want to rediscover multiple times? Disney's Cinderella. Plus Cinderella 3 is a masterpiece.

Mofurun as "Mofurella"

listen. they do an episode where they're all sucked into Cinderella and they make the trans teddy bear Cinderella. Incredible story writing, 10/10, no notes.

Mofurdella is even plot relevant, that episode is how they get the Rainbow Carriage for their group attack anyway MOFURDELLA FIRST CINDERELLA PRECURE EPISODE TO GET ONE MOFURILLION VOTES

#cinderpoll #round 4 #round 4a #disney cinderella #disney cinderella animated #cinderella 1950 #disney's cinderella #cinderella #mofurun #mofurella #mahou tsukai precure #mahou tsukai prettty cure #precure #pretty cure #fairytale #poll tournament #poll bracket #character polls #polls

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seraphtrevs · 3 months ago

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Hi! I've been poking around looking for good BCS fics and I've read some of yours (Sweet Tooth and The Open Sea are my favorites, they're great!) and I wonder if you have any recommendations?

Hi! Sorry this took so long for me to get to - I wanted to do a little blurb for every fic, but it was holding me back from actually getting this done lol. Hope you're still around! (And thank you!)

Walt/Jesse: (these are all by the same author lol - really incredible work, and I've heard they're thinking about writing Lalo/Jesse which would explode my mind, so here's hoping!) I love you but I need another year all that remains take the money and run take only what you need

Lacho: Burmese Boxing In the Picture/The Learning Curve (same series) Bedtime Stories/Tuco's Friend pyrophile Manitoba/Learning to Blink for love, i will handle your sins What Comes Next oh, most holy death Unholy Communion Laloward: there interposed a fly Shoot Your Shot Goodmantraut: A Way Down Discretion/Discipline/Destruction

mcwexler: A Controlled Burn/Slip and Fall Season/Surviving in a Moving Landscape Eighty-Six Years

#i owe comments on so many of these #so if you see yourself here and i didn't comment - i'm sorry and i think about it every day and feel bad #better call saul #lacho #waltjesse #laloward #goodmantraut #mcwexler #asks #fic recs

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lemonzibus · 2 months ago

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I just realized what made Walter White become Heisenberg. In season 1 episode 5 during the weird family meeting/intervention for Walt, Walt takes custody of the talking pillow to stop his family members from bickering about whether or not his decision to not get treatment for his lung cancer is justifiable. Walter, after this moment, is never seen relinquishing control over the talking pillow. In the next scene, we see him agree to get treatment and, as a direct result, begins cooking meth again. This is the birth of Heisenberg. Throughout the show, Walter White is an extremely lucky character. He survives unbelievable odds time and time again. As Jesse says, Walter is smarter and luckier than anyone else. This isn't because he's breaking his bad. It's because the power of the talking pillow is controlling him and leading him down these paths. Dark, twisted deeds spurred on by the unrelenting urges given to this mere mortal man who has defied all reason and sought to bend such supernal forces to his will. Walt is the unluckiest motherfucker on the planet. This all changes immediately the second he takes up the talking pillow. Before this, he is a high school chemistry teacher who got fucked over by his friends from college. Immediately after, he's surviving explosions in meth dens. And it only ramps up from there. The last scene, Walter is shot. This isn't a coincidence. Clearly, Walt lost possession of the talking pillow. In his haste to get out of Albuquerque, he left it behind and it did not end up going with him to New Hampshire. The Heisenberg we knew could've easily avoided the random bullet that struck him and eventually led to him bleeding out. Without the talking pillow, however, Walter was once again mortal. His head cleared while he was in New Hampshire and thus he was able to do the right thing, but he no longer had the protection once afforded to him. I worry about where the talking pillow ended up after Walt loses it. We can only hope that it was lost when the feds RICO'd the White family home. That it is perpetually lost in some federal storage facility, never to be seen again. If the Whites kept possession of it, though… I weep to think what may happen to Skylar or Flynn. What horrors either of them may unleash upon the world in the footsteps of Heisenberg and his Godlike Talking Pillow. I suppose we can only hope--nay, pray--that, if the White family still does have it, it requires a certain personality to fall victim to its seductive whispers. That neither Skylar nor Flynn are the sorts of people who will become puppets to this evil artifact's machinations. Its whims. We can only pray…

#breaking bad #brba #bcs #better call saul #im right and you know it let's be honest #talking pillow

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butterfly-lies-chase-them-away · 1 year ago

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Hey!! Thanks so much for writing my previous request! I'm so glad you liked it. I was quite nervous requesting it because I didn't know if you'd like the concept or if it would make sense or not but I'm really happy that you did. And I absolutely loved it!! Made me incredibly giddy to see that the prompt struck you! I'm wondering if you'd be open to me requesting another piece for Alfie using the general concept below? (Again, no pressure what so ever):

Alfie is a man that has had near death experiences several times throughout his life, but this time he thinks will be the last. That is until he feels himself being dragged across the cold cobblestone steps to the last place he'd ever think would be a safe haven for him.

Could this kind of be like where him and reader aren't exactly on amicable terms. It's a love/hate relationship (emphasis on the hate, lol). And when he asks why they saved him, they're just like: "didn't save you. Just prolonged your death. I told you before, no one has claim to kill you except for me."

Sorry if that didn't make too much sense. Basically a GN!Reader X Alfie Solomons enemies to (kinda) lovers but you sure as shit can't mess with the other, because that right is only reserved for them. "No one can kill you but me" are the vibes of their relationship.

(And if you don't mind, I'll use this as my identifier: 🥀.) Thanks again and I love, love, love your work ♥��!

- 🥀

Mine to Kill - Alfie Solomons x GN!Reader ONESHOT

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3120

Warnings: blood, stitching someone up

Summary: (The request)

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I'm so happy you liked the last story. This was such a cute request, I love me some good ol' playful enemies to lovers. I'm so happy I'm able to identify you now! I look forward to more requests from you and everyone else. Hope you all enjoy 🥀💚

Alfie Solomons had waltzed with death on so many occasions that it felt as though he were an unwilling partner in a ceaseless, macabre dance. Every encounter with an enemy had etched its mark upon him, leaving deep scars not only on his body but on the recesses of his soul. The specter of death had become a relentless companion, its chilling fingers tracing the contours of his existence, staining it with a darkness that refused to fade. He had grown increasingly intimate with the concept of mortality, his dance with the reaper a relentless walts of agony and survival.

Yet, on this bitter, moonless night in Camden town,It was as if the universe itself had conspired to stage the conclusion of his life. The air was filled with an eerie stillness, the kind that precedes a storm. His blood flowed like a river unleashed from a dam, an unrelenting torrent from a vicious wound in his side. The bloodstains on the cobblestone steps formed a haunting picture, each drop a reminder of his unyielding struggle against a relentless destiny.

As he lay there, trapped in death's clutches, Alfie's reality shifted into a murky haze, where the lines between truth and illusion were as hazy as the fading memories of a man on the brink of the unknown. It was in this fragile moment, suspended between life and death, that his once-unshakable resolve, the very foundation upon which he had built his existence, flickered like a candle in the midst of a relentless storm.The boundary between his will to survive and the tempting embrace of surrender blurred, and doubt infiltrated his once unshakable self-assurance.

The looming darkness was unlike anything he'd ever known, its presence echoing with the ominous promise of an ending too final, too absolute to contemplate. Here, at this very moment, there was no escaping the inevitable, and Alfie could feel the cold breath of death, its embrace closing in, a meeting he could no longer avoid. It was the eternal silence that called to him, an abyss that left no room for defiance.

Struggling for each labored breath, Alfie's thoughts raced through the haze of pain, a singular name repeating in his mind like a mantra. Y/n. Their connection was a puzzle, a relentless source of frustration that had left them perpetually at odds. But amidst the chaos of the moment, as life teetered on the precipice, he couldn't deny the conviction that she would be the one to aid him, as contradictory as their relationship had always been.

Alfie was aware of the aggressive dynamic that had plagued their relationship for years. Their history was marked not by tender moments, but by the bitter taste of blood and the sting of betrayal. They were no strangers to confrontation; it seemed like every encounter ended with the exchange of harsh words or even harsher blows. Yet, beneath the layers of animosity and hostility, there was an inexplicable connection that both frustrated and mystified him. It was a connection he couldn't quite put into words, a magnetic pull that drew them together in their most volatile moments.

As he lay there, fading in and out of consciousness, Alfie found himself yearning to see the reader one last time. It was an inexplicable desire, considering the countless times they had been at each other's throats, and the disdain that had characterized their interactions. But in this desperate moment, he couldn't help but wish for a final encounter, a chance to unravel the enigma that was their relationship. Perhaps in that ultimate confrontation, he would finally understand the complex web of emotions that had kept them bound together, a love-hate bond that transcended reason and defied explanation.

The cobblestone under him seemed to vibrate with the approaching footsteps, but Alfie couldn't be sure if it was the real world or a fevered dream playing tricks on his battered senses. Everything appeared in blurred fragments, a distorted reality that left him questioning the very existence of the shadowed figure that loomed over him.

His groggy consciousness barely registered the arrival, and a voice, cool and unfeeling, echoed above him. It conveyed disappointment, a palpable sense of something having gone awry, but there was no hint of surprise. The voice seemed to hang in the air, an ominous punctuation to his dire situation.

"Uh, shit..." The voice spoke.

Alfie could barely hear them, the words slurred and fragmented. It was as if the world had tilted on its axis, and he had been thrust into a surreal nightmare where nothing was certain, not even the identity of the enigmatic presence that had dragged him from the brink of oblivion.

Alfie's senses were jolted as he felt his body being lifted off the unforgiving floor. It was a moment of profound disorientation, where the boundary between life and death blurred into obscurity. He couldn't discern whether it was the cold grip of death or the desperate strength of another person that held him aloft.

As he dangled in the hazy threshold of consciousness, Alfie's ears caught the sound of a struggle, the grunts and shuffles of someone grappling with the weight of his imposing frame. The voice that accompanied the struggle, tinged with irritation and a touch of begrudging admiration, cut through the disorienting fog that enveloped him.

"You big bastard," the words were growled out, spoken by someone who seemed simultaneously exasperated by the burden they were shouldering and oddly proud of their own audacity. It was a phrase that seemed to encapsulate the entirety of their complex relationship, where contempt and grudging respect danced on the knife's edge, much like the precarious balance between life and death that Alfie now found himself in.

Agony pulsed through every fiber of Alfie's being as his body protested the movement, and his head throbbed mercilessly as he was gingerly lifted from the harsh floor and placed onto a plush couch. The world around him remained a blur, but gradually, the mist lifted, revealing his surroundings. It was unmistakably Y/n's workshop, a place of mystery and ingenuity, and an unexpected haven for someone like him.

As his vision cleared, a spark of comfort surged through his heart. He could see the enigmatic figure approaching once more, their presence a reassuring beacon in the midst of his disorienting ordeal.

"Well, hello, darling," Alfie's voice emerged as a slurred drawl, his signature cockiness managing to persist even in his vulnerable state.

His gaze fixed upon them, a mixture of appreciation and something deeper, an emotion he couldn't quite put into words. The connection between them, the push and pull of their tumultuous history, was something that defied logic, but in that moment, it was a lifeline he clung to with a strange sense of gratitude.

Even in the haze that clouded his vision, Alfie could discern the unmistakable signs of irritation etched across Y/n's face. The furrowed brow, the narrowing of their eyes – it was a silent but vivid testament to their exasperation.

"Who did you fucking piss off this time, Solomons?" they demanded, their voice tinged with a mix of exasperation and a hint of genuine concern. The history between them had been fraught with clashes, but there was an undeniable thread of connection that bound them together, and it was in moments like these that it became evident, lurking beneath the layers of frustration.

A faint, wry smile tugged at the corners of Alfie's lips as he admitted, his words a mumbled confession, "Uh... who bloody knows, yeah." He genuinely couldn't recall the specifics of the latest debacle that had brought him to the brink of death. It was as if his life had been a never-ending cycle of chaos and conflict, a whirlwind that left him perpetually disoriented.

Y/n's frustration softened for a moment, replaced by a peculiar mixture of amusement and exasperation. It was a dance they had performed many times before, a tango of clashing personalities and insurmountable history. And yet, in that moment, there was an unspoken understanding that transcended words, a connection that defied the chaos that surrounded them.

Y/n's sigh was heavy with the weight of their shared history, an exasperated breath that spoke of the countless times they had found themselves in these predicaments. With a careful grace that contrasted sharply with the frustration they felt, they crouched down beside Alfie.

Alfie observed their every move, his vision clearing as they worked. In their capable hands, they held a pair of scissors, glinting menacingly in the dim light of the workshop. With deliberate precision, Y/n cut through the fabric of Alfie's shirt, baring his battered body to the cool air of the workshop. It was a vulnerable moment, one that was laden with an odd mix of intimacy and tension, as Y/n's actions conveyed a silent promise to save him once more from the brink of death.

"Fucking hell, Solomons, you're a proper mess," Y/n muttered, their tone a mixture of concern and exasperation as they assessed the extent of the massive wound on Alfie's side. It was a gruesome sight, and even they couldn't help but wince at the severity of it.

Alfie, never one to miss a beat, managed a raspy laugh despite the searing pain that coursed through his body. "No different from what you've done to me," he quipped, a crooked smile playing on his lips before it dissolved into a fit of coughing and wheezing, each painful breath serving as a testament to the brutal existence they shared.

Y/n carefully poured a bowl of water, their movements deliberate and steady. They selected a clean cloth and dipped it into the cool liquid before gingerly placing it against the wound. The cloth's touch brought a searing sensation, and Alfie clenched his teeth to stifle any signs of weakness. The area around the injury was inflamed, and each cleansing stroke sent an intense sting shooting through him.

Alfie's jaw tightened, his eyes squinting against the pain. He refused to show any sign of vulnerability. It was an unspoken rule between them - an understanding that they could hurt each other in countless ways, but showing weakness was not an option.

Y/n's unwavering focus was palpable in the air. With a calm and methodical demeanor, they retrieved a gleaming needle and carefully sterilized it by passing it through the flickering flame of a lit candle. The sharp, metallic needle glowed briefly before it was ready for use, a testament to their meticulous care.

Next, they selected a spool of sturdy thread, their nimble fingers expertly looping and securing the ends. With practiced precision, they began to stitch Alfie up. The needle pierced his skin with surprising ease, each stitch closing the gaping wound. It was a delicate dance between the needle and thread, an act of healing that defied the brutality of their history.

Alfie couldn't help but admire their skill, even as the pain pulsed through him. Their hands were steady, and their concentration unbroken, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to fade, leaving only the bond between them and the gentle cadence of the needle as it wove its way through his skin.

With a careful hand, Y/n applied a soothing ointment to the freshly stitched wound. The cool, medicinal balm brought a sense of relief, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Alfie's tense expression relaxed just slightly. It was a brief respite in the midst of their tumultuous existence.

As they leaned back and examined Alfie's form, it was impossible to deny the stark reality. He did look half-dead, his pallor ashen, and his features etched with exhaustion. The wounds on his body told the tales of countless battles, both won and lost. It was a poignant reminder of the price they paid for the life they led, where danger lurked around every corner, and survival was often a matter of sheer luck and resilience.

Alfie's gaze shifted toward Y/n, his one good eye studying them intently. Despite his battered state and limited vision, he found himself unable to look away, an unspoken admiration for them welling up within him.

In that moment, he saw them in a new light. Their determination, their skill, and their unwavering commitment to his survival were nothing short of extraordinary. Alfie was no stranger to the rough and unforgiving world they both navigated, and it was often a place where trust was scarce. Yet, here was Y/n, the one person who could claim the right to his life, saving him once more.

He couldn't help but feel a surge of respect, a sense of gratitude that transcended the complexities of their relationship. It was an unspoken acknowledgment that, despite their many battles, they shared a bond that defied the odds and kept them bound together.

Summoning every ounce of strength he had left, Alfie managed to find his voice, his words punctuated by a mixture of agony and exasperation. "Why in God's name did you save me?" he demanded, his voice a barely audible whisper, but his frustration was palpable.

In the dimly lit workshop, their eyes met, an unspoken challenge passing between them. The question hung in the air, laden with the weight of their complicated history. It was a question that cut to the core of their relationship, a puzzle neither of them had ever quite managed to solve.

The reader's eyes, devoid of any warmth, locked onto his, their icy gaze holding him captive. Their voice, as cold as the steel of a blade, sliced through the tense silence. "I didn't save you," they declared, their words sharp and unforgiving, as they leaned in closer. "I simply postponed your inevitable death. I’ve told you countless times, Alfie," they continued with a cruel smile, "no one, absolutely no one, has the right to end your life except for me."

The words hung in the air like an unbreakable decree, the chilling declaration of their twisted connection. It was a bond neither of them could fully comprehend, a love-hate relationship that defied all logic and left them entangled in a web of obsession and power.

Despite the bitterness that flavored their words, Alfie couldn't help but detect the undertones of twisted comfort and possessiveness woven into the tapestry of their relationship. With a cocky grin that seemed at odds with his battered state, he locked eyes with them.

"Jealous that someone else almost had the pleasure of taking me out?" he taunted, his words carrying a note of mischief amidst the pain. It was a twisted form of banter that they had perfected over the years, one that spoke to the strange bond between them. In that moment, as the workshop's shadows deepened around them, their connection was as undeniable as it was enigmatic.

Y/n shot back with a sardonic grin, their tone dripping with sarcasm as they began tidying up the makeshift operating area. "You bloody well know it," they retorted, their movements efficient and deft.

Alfie couldn't resist the opportunity for a playful jab. "Don't worry, love... I'm saving myself for you," he quipped, a devilish glint in his eye.

Their banter took an unexpected turn when Y/n, wearing an incredulous expression, couldn't resist poking at the newly stitched wound, causing Alfie to grimace in pain. "You are so bloody obsessed with me," they accused, a mixture of exasperation and amusement coloring their words.

Alfie met their accusation with a half-offended look. "And why the fuck would you think that?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.

Y/n chuckled, their eyes locking onto his. "Come on, Solomons, you practically passed out on my doorstep. Your ass dragged yourself here," they pointed out with a shake of their head. "You're completely and utterly obsessed with me." It was a statement that held a strange kind of truth, one that neither of them could deny.

Amid the playful tension, Alfie's mind was flooded with flashback. The clashes, the power struggles, and those rare moments of begrudging understanding flickered like fragmented images in his mind. In those recollections, he couldn't help but acknowledge that, despite their vehement denials and ceaseless battles, they were undeniably linked by something enigmatic.

They were like two fierce elements in nature, forces of destruction and creation, forever locked in a volatile dance that defied easy categorization. Their connection was a riddle with no solution, a puzzle they could never fully solve, and yet it was the essence of what defined their relationship - a captivating enigma that kept them eternally entwined, two halves of the same turbulent whole.

A glimmer of levity broke through the intensity of their exchange. "You're mine, sunshine," Y/n quipped, their words laced with an odd affection.

Alfie's chuckle was a rare, genuine sound amidst the tension that usually enveloped them. "Fucking looks that way," he said with a half-smile, their shared history and complex connection making the playful banter all the more intriguing. The words, though lighthearted, held a deeper truth about the inexplicable bond that tied them together, a connection that refused to be severed.

An unspoken pact seemed to settle between them, a silent truce forged in the crucible of their shared experiences. Their eyes locked, each acknowledging the enigmatic connection that had both united and torn them apart over the years. It was as if their tumultuous past had culminated in this one moment, where they stood on the precipice of something undefined.

With a deliberate tenderness that was as rare as it was unpredictable, the reader's hand reached out, their fingers grazing Alfie's cheek. The touch was cool to the touch, as cold and unpredictable as the relationship they shared. It was a gesture that defied easy interpretation, a hint of a deeper connection that refused to be denied, no matter how much they clashed or how much they tried to push each other away.

"If I find you still here in the morning," Y/n warned, their fingers still caressing Alfie's cheek, "you're dead." The threat hung in the air, laden with both menace and a strange kind of intimacy.

Alfie responded with a sly grin that was half defiant and half affectionate. "And I wouldn't have it any other way," he retorted, a declaration that underscored the complex nature of their relationship.

With a smile that held a hint of something deeper than just the banter they usually engaged in, Y/n turned and walked away, leaving Alfie on the couch. Their footsteps echoed through the cavernous space, a reminder that, despite the tumultuous dance they shared, there was a bond that neither of them could easily sever.

A/N: thank you for reading and I hope you all enjoyed, again, thank you for the request 🥀. I look forward to more :)

#fanfic #alfie solomons #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons imagine #tom hardy x reader #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy #peaky blinders alfie solomons #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic

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joshsindigostreak · 5 months ago

Text

O, Pioneers

Chapter One

“We, a curious trio, picking, wandering on our way.” - Walt Whitman

Sam Kiszka x F!OC

What started out as a series of emails snowballed into Sam Kiszka having the one person in his field he could not stand to staying in his house for a few days. It’s only for a few days. Can he survive having her around him 24/7 or will Natasha Delaney end up being the one to foil all of his plans?

Authors Note: Hey y’all!! Sorry for leaving you hanging so long with this story I wanted to get the other three stories established before I got back to this just for consistency sake. But I do hope you like Sam’s story. I have so much planned for it ❤️ if you need to catch up on the Prologue you can read it here!

Disclaimer: *Set in the months prior to ISHIYE, so in the same universe but can be read independently. It’ll crossover the most with Running Through the Garden and there will be references to the other fics but not to the point of confusion. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2,793

Warnings: Some swearing but that’s it for now.

The Kiszka Estate as it was often referred to was truly a sight to behold. The grounds weren’t massive, but the Manor itself was a four-story English Tudor that danced the line of being over the top while reeking of Olde Money. The family had been living on this property for generations, and depending on what you thought of them it was either referred to as the Manor or the Compound.

Natasha stood in the circular driveway, her luggage sitting idly beside her as the Uber drove off, leaving her alone outside. She could tell whoever designed the house intended it to be visually intimidating, but it wasn’t working on her.

Of course the mother fucker couldn’t actually pick me up from the airport, she growsed in her head. He did however, set up her Uber for her, so she didn’t have to pay for it, but it was the principle of it all. She squared her shoulders and picked up her bags, listening to the gravel crunch under her shoes as she approached the front door.

As she ascended the steps to the Manor, the massive front door swung open to reveal Sam Kiszka. Natasha stopped in her tracks as she took him in. The Sam before her was significantly different than the last time she saw him on graduation day. His hair was still long, but looked like a professional had finally started cutting it, his forehead was frustratingly blemish free, and those Sanpaku eyes stared right through her as they always did. But the biggest difference was the surprising amount of facial hair on him. He couldn’t grow a thing on his face back in college, and any attempts were so patchy and thin that it was never worth it to even try. But now? Now there was a thick mustache sitting on his top lip, accompanied by an equally thick tuft of hair sprouting from his chin. The way his chin hair was creeping up his jawline, it was clear he was letting it do its own thing and not actively trimming it to stay in one spot. He wasn’t as willowy as he was either, having finally started to fill out. He looked so different yet so…Sam at the same time. He looked goo-

“I thought you said your flight was coming in at two, Nat?”

Mood ruined. That smart ass tone was still ever present in his voice.

“It did,” she replied flatly.

“It's nearly 4:30 PM.”

“I’m glad you can tell time, Kiszka,” she rolled her eyes and continued towards the doorway. He scoffed under his breath as she walked past him and into the house.

“I’m just saying that keeping someone waiting like this is rude,” he remarked as he shut the door behind them.

“Well it’s not my fault that it takes well over an hour to get from the airport to these…hallowed grounds,” Natasha gave him an irritated look over her shoulder, the sarcasm dripping from her voice.

Sam rolled his eyes back at her, and the conversation he had had with his best friend Daniel a few days prior ran through his mind.

“Just wanted to let you know that I’m going to be having a guest at the house this weekend, she’ll be flying in around 2:00 PM,” Sam threw out before taking a bite out of his bagel.

Danny stared at him from across the little table they were sitting at. Every few days they’d have breakfast together before going their separate ways for the day, and on this particular Wednesday morning, Danny was taken aback by what Sam had just said.

He leaned forward towards Sam and rested his elbows on the table, “you’re having a guest…at your house?”

“Mmmhmm,” Sam replied, still chewing.

“...and this guest is a girl?” Danny tried to not smile but his eyes twinkled anyway, “is there someone I don’t know about?”

Sam finally swallowed and looked up at him, realizing how he made this sound, “Oh don’t get that look on your face this is strictly for professional reasons. She won’t be here for very long.”

“Professional reasons,” the skepticism clouded Danny’s voice.

“Yes. You know her anyway,” he added before drinking more of his coffee.

Now Danny was even more curious, “I do?”

“Yeah. It's Nat Delaney.”

The Wolf blinked several times at Sam before answering, “Delaney is staying…at your house?”

“Yeah it’s just for some of her own research. There’s an artifact she needs to get her hands on and I refused to risk it through the shitty mail system so she came to me instead,” at this Sam had finished his meal and sat back in his own seat.

Natasha was a frequent subject between the two of them in college. She was the only student at that university to get better grades than Sam, which pissed him off to no end. Danny had no issue with her, as she was always nice to him and her exceptional grades didn’t matter to him. Even though his best friend bitched about it constantly, they were both still the top of their class. He also thought that a little competition for Sam was good for him. It wouldn’t keep him humble by any means, but it would keep him on his toes.

“How did this happen?”

“We exchanged some professional emails and she explained her dire situation and I, just happened to be the solution to her problem,” Sam didn’t even try to hide the smug look on his face.

The two friends stared at each other for a few minutes, but with entirely different trains of thought.

“So is she just going to stay in one of the guest-”

“I’ve already got the corner room cleaned up for the most part, just have to get some of Jake’s shit out of it.”

Danny had been wandering the halls of Sam’s house since he was 14 years old, and he knew exactly what room Sam was referring to. The ‘corner room’ was what they called one of the many rooms that was intended to be for guests, but over the years each of the kids started using it as a storage room given its proximity to their bedrooms. The proper guest rooms were on the first floor, just off the kitchen. The corner room was also a literal description, as it was at the end of the hall on the second floor. The corner room was also directly across from Sam’s.

“Why that room?” Danny asked, his eyes twinkling again in curiosity.

“It was the closest room I’d need to clean out and the rooms downstairs and who wants to stay in the rooms downstairs that my parents' weird friends use?”

“Ok,” Danny said, elongating the letters and not believing a word that came out of Sam’s mouth but playing along anyway. “Are you going to put a chocolate on her pillow?”

Sam gave him a look, “totally and I have so much of it around the house since you can’t eat it.”

Danny frowned in offense, “I can eat chocolate, Sam and you know it.” It was a common stereotype that since Wolves were in fact, Wolves, that they couldn’t have chocolate like regular canines couldn’t. It also had been at the center of an incident where Sam’s mom had brownies left out on the counter and Danny dove in and shoved a corner piece into his mouth, and Sam panicked that he was going to get sick from it. But no, the young Wolf was fine. After that it became a running joke between the two friends.

“Anyway, she should only be here for a few days max and then she’ll be off to whatever it is she’s been doing,”

“I’m definitely swinging by. I’m not going to miss the two of you kill each other.”

“I can assure you, Daniel, that she won’t be there long enough for that to happen.”

“Sure. I believe that. You couldn’t even go five minutes in Professor Reid’s class without snapping and correcting each other. Or all the times you started arguing in the library and nearly got kicked out for being loud. Or when you’d fight over that one bench under the will-“

Danny. It’ll be fine.”

Sam was snapped out of his memory by Natasha’s voice. She had walked into the main corridor of the house, right next to the grand wooden stairs and the archway into the formal living room.

“So where in this palace am I going to be staying? How many bedrooms is there? Eleven? An even dozen?”

“Seven. And your room is upstairs.”

She looked up the stairs to her left, noting the carpet that ran down the middle of the steps, the solid wood rail and banisters. The whole manor was the definition of ‘they don’t make them like this anymore.’ The family clearly spared no expense preserving the integrity of the architecture over the decades.

“Lead the way, Kiszka.”

She stepped back to let Sam get in front of her and before she could reach for her bags, long slender fingers curled around the handles. Sam didn’t say a word and began up the stairs, taking her heaviest bag with him. She stared at him momentarily, surprised by the gesture, but quickly recovered with the rationale that it was the least he could do at this point.

At the top of the stairs Sam took a right down the open hallway that led down a corridor that split off in two opposite directions. He took a right and Natasha counted three doors on either side of the hall before Sam stopped at a final fourth door on the right. There was a door at the very end of the hallway, right between the final two doors on either side.

Sam used his free hand to twist the doorknob, revealing the room behind it.

The first thing Natasha noticed were two nearly floor to ceiling windows on the wall that was opposite the doorway, flanking a large four poster bed. She followed Sam into the room and spotted another door on the far wall on the right, which she guessed was for a closet. There were antique-looking amber lamps on both nightstands, and as she turned to view the wall next to the door, she saw one of the most beautiful rolltop desks she had ever seen, pushed up into the corner with a few bookshelves on the right of the desk leading back to the doorframe.

It was another antique, and the craftsmanship and details in the wood was so intricate that it had to have been done by hand. She wanted to run over and push the lid back to reveal the actual writing surface and the little drawers for writing supplies.

Sam's voice cut through your thoughts, “it’s not much but it’ll work while you’re here.”

Natasha turned around and gawked at him, it nearly irritated her how privileged he sounded, “Sam this is a beautiful room.”

He blinked at her, not used to hearing her verbalize positive sentiments. After a few moments of eye contact he looked around the room and asked, “so, where do you want me to put your stuff?”

She pointed to the foot of the bed, where a small bench sat just in front of the frame, “there is fine.”

As he situated the bags, she turned to walk over to the large windows. The view was almost better than the room itself. The lush lawn stretched out on the grounds below, a thick blanket of trees stood off in the distance, fencing in the grass. She looked to the right of the window and her eyes went wide at the sight of what appeared to be a small but ambitious garden. Several raised beds were lined up in neat little rows, along with a few ground-level beds off to the side.

She looked over her shoulder at Sam who was still standing there with his hands in his pockets, “is that your garden?” Maybe the light was playing tricks on her but she could’ve sworn that Sam’s cheeks reddened at the question.

“Yes.”

Her eyebrows raised in surprise, “you garden?”

“That’s typically what one does in a garden, Nat.”

Her brows fell at his tone, there was the Sam she knew.

“I was just surprised because you never took any of the horticulture classes at Lakewood, at least from what I remember.”

He shrugged, “I didn’t really get into it until after we graduated.”

The image of Sam Kiszka gardening was an image that would remain locked in her head. Nope, no one was going to know about the way she instantly envisioned Sam of all people gently watering a tomato plant.

“Well, hobbies are good,” she said lamely. What the fuck, Delaney? Hobbies are good? You simpleton. Desperately needing to change the subject, she turned on her heel and pointed over to the roll top desk in the corner, “that’s really pretty.”

Sam looked over at the antique, he wouldn’t tell her that he spent the better part of an hour the day before dusting and polishing the wood. He wouldn’t tell her that he was on the floor making sure to get all the nooks and crannies of the legs, clearing out any cobweb he saw. There was no way he was going to let any piece of furniture be the subject of her scrutiny. Natasha Delaney, knowing he had a dusty house? That would be humiliating. Right?

Right?

“Oh, yeah, that was my great-grandmother’s. It was a present from my great-grandfather to make up for him being stuck in France for a lot longer than he intended because of a hunting job.”

Natasha nodded in response and walked over to the desk. She turned back to Sam, “can I…”

“Go right ahead,” he replied while walking over towards his rival.

She smiled and turned around to lift the roll top, but it didn’t budge. She tentatively tried again, but it would not lift at all. Well shit.

Sam saw her struggle and reached around her to help, their arms brushing against each other.

“Sorry it gets stuck sometimes,” he mentally cursed himself by not double checking before she got there. His large hand nearly wrapped around hers to get a grip on the small handle. Her wine-colored nails stood out to him. The undertone of the polish complimented her skin perfectly. The same skin that felt so soft in comparison to his. The image of Natasha meticulously painting her nails flashed in his mind but he quickly shook it away by focusing back on the desk. In slight frustration he jerked at the handle one final time and it immediately slid up and into place, revealing the rest of the desk.

A small gasp left Natasha’s lips as she saw the gorgeous inlays on the writing surface.

Sam refused to acknowledge the physical reaction he had at the sound, or where on his body it happened. It didn’t happen. Nothing to see here.

“This is so pretty! It had to be done by hand given the time period and the attention to detail. A machine could never do this,” she explained while lightly dragging her index finger along the edge of the main inlay in the center of the desk. She didn’t even realize she was rambling because of the proximity to Sam. He was still bent at the waist next to her, leaning his one hand on the desk. If she just turned her head to her right, ever so slightly, their cheeks would touch.

The two rivals stood there, rooted in the spot, waiting to see who was going to blink first in this standoff. Sam did not want to acknowledge how the loose spiral of blonde hair in front of her ear was just barely touching his face. He didn’t want to acknowledge how his lips could brush that same ear if he turned to his left just so. The silence was deafening.

They were so distracted that they didn’t even hear one of the doors downstairs open and shut.

They didn’t hear the footsteps on the stairs.

They didn’t-

“Natasha-fucking-Delaney,” a familiar and deep voice called warmly from the doorway. The sudden noise started them both and caused them to jump and spin around. Sam couldn’t even focus on the second sharp gasp that his house guest made so close to him. She had already taken off to envelope Danny in a hug. Sam stood there in front of that roll top desk, suddenly by himself.

For the first time since he was fourteen, Sam was disappointed at the sight of his best friend.

Tag List: @roving-blade , @readyforthegarden , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @gvfcinema , @sacredthethreadgvf , @losfacedevil , @jakekiszkasbuttsweat , @shutupdevvie , @hearts-hunger , @gretavanfleetposts , @ascendingtostardust , @mackalah , @andromeda-raine-gvf , @jake-kiszkas-smirk , @gracev0609 , @sacredjake , @earthlysorrows , @gvfpal , @myownparadise96 , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmelbourne, @twistedmelodies , @that-witchy-pan , @gold-mines-melting , @texas-bbq-pringles , @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface , @sadiechar , @char289 , @stardustvanfleet , @sunfl0wer-power , @holdingup-fallingsky , @bladenotblaze , @gretavanlace , @lipstickitty ,

#sam kiszka #sam kiszka x oc #rivals to lovers #dark academia #forced proximity #greta van fleet #sam gvf #emotional support werewolf #o pioneers #my fics #my writing

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advocatingpeanut · 3 months ago

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My mom and I have been binge watching Lost this summer and we're rushing through the last season before I go back to school.

Is it just me or does EVERY main character have such tragic backstories?

Jack: Drunk dad he had no closure with until Sawyer finally said something. A mother who defended said father. And a wife who left him. Not to mention he has a step-sister he doesn't even know about until later in the show.

Kate: Kills her stepfather for being abusive, learns her dad isn't actually her biological father, gets harassed by police, has a series of toxic relationships.

Sawyer: Is traumatized as a child and orphaned. When he seeks revenge, he kills the wrong man, and as such, feels guilty for it. Has a series of toxic relationships.

Hurley: Is in a mental institution, learns he has hallucinations and thinks himself crazy, is self-conscious about his weight and binge eats, has an absent father who suddenly shows up when Hurley wins the lottery, has bad luck because of the numbers.

Sayid: Is forced to torture people at a young and impressionable age, loses his first love and searches for her to no avail and in doing so is blackmailed by the FBI into convincing his college roommate into becoming a suicide bomber, watches said friend kill himself

Locke: Was born premature and very sick as a baby, his teenage mother didn't want him and his grandmother didn't give it a second thought when giving him up for adoption, is told he isn't special, is told throughout his life what he can't do, Anthony Cooper blackmails him into giving up one of his kidneys and then tries to kill him, his one romantic relationship ends as a result of Anthony Cooper's involvement, is paralyzed for four years

Claire: Has a tense relationship with both her mother and her aunt, her baby's father gets her hopes up then leaves her, has a psychic give her all sorts of conflicting information, feels guilty for considering giving her baby up for adoption, survives a plane crash while heavily pregnant

Charlie: Tries to help his brother get clean, tries to keep himself on the straight and narrow and in doing so becomes an addict himself, watches his brother get better as he gets worse, his band fails to sustain its success

Jin: Grows up poor and is harassed for being part of a lower class, falls in love with a woman in a higher class and is forced to do her father's dirty work to marry her, becomes aggressive and withdrawn until well after the plane crashes

Sun: Forced to be under her father's rule and falls in love with a man in a lower class, is blackmailed for a large sum of money by Jin's mother - a prostitute, has an affair with a man who loves someone else and feels guilty for it

Ben: His mother dies shortly after childbirth and his father becomes a drunk and blames him for it, is groomed from a young age by the Hostiles and gives the go-ahead for them to kill the Dharma Initiative, becomes their leader and must be ruthless.

Juliet: Is a divorcee, her ex-husband is her boss and flaunts his sexual escapades in front of her, her sister has cancer and Juliet cannot watch her be cured nor see her nephew grow up save for a glimpse of a black and white recording that lasted a few seconds, Ben controls her and does not let her leave the island.

Michael: Him and his girlfriend have a son, whom Michael loves very much and is committed to taking care of. Said girlfriend takes a job in another country and only tells Michael after she has accepted the offer. In the same conversation, breaks up with him and informs she will be romantically involved with her new boss and they will raise Walt. When Michael tries to travel to see Walt, he is injured and cannot leave. His ex-girlfriend visits, says she is marrying her boss, wants Michael to give up parental rights. A long, drawn-out custody battle ensues, Michael is eventually convinced by ex to sign away rights so her new husband can adopt him. Says goodbye to son that doesn't even remember him. Writes letters and draws pictures over the course of several years that his mother keeps from him. When Walt is 9 or so, his adoptive father comes to see Michael, tells him ex died, he never wanted to be a dad in the first place and only adopted Walt to appease ex. Gives custody to Michael. He tries to raise his son that doesn't even know him and amazingly after all that, doesn't paint ex or adoptive dad to be bad guys and doesn't turn Walt against them.

Desmond: Tries to find his purpose, gets fired from being a monk. His girlfriend's dad constantly undermines him, tells it to his face, actively tries to keep his daughter away from him. Goes on an around the world trip her dad is hosting to prove to him his worth and gets stuck on the island for four years. His one companion he accidentally kills and his life becomes pushing the button every 108 minutes.

Rose: Has cancer, falls in love with Bernard and he takes her to healers. Nothing works. She believes she is dying.

Boone: Is in love with his step-sister and is constantly manipulated and played by her and her many romantic interests.

Shannon: Is smart but plays the dumb, helpless, pretty blonde role. Manipulated her step-brother for money but probably feels guilty for it, especially when she has a moment of clarity about what type of situation she's in and wants to get out. Is accepted into a prestigious program all of her own hard work and asks her step-mother for money to attend it. Her step-mother says she is the sole beneficiary of her father's money, disowns Shannon and keeps said money.

Ana-Lucia: Is constantly trying to impress her mother, is shot while pregnant and loses the baby. When she tries to return to work before she is ready, she gets an earful from her mother for it. Kills the man that shot her, taking revenge and justice in her own hands and not the law's. Gets reprimanded for it. Is hired as a bodyguard for Jack and Claire's dad and is constantly confused about what they're doing. Shares a drink with Jack and is flirtatious. It never goes past that.

#lost #lost tv series #jack shephard #kate austen #james sawyer ford #sayid jarrah #john locke #character story #abc lost

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mydaddywiki · 1 year ago

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M. Emmet Walsh

Physique: Husky Build Height: 5'10" (1.78 m)

Michael Emmet Walsh (March 22, 1935 – March 19, 2024; aged 88) was an American character actor who appeared in over 200 films and television series, including small but important supporting roles such as Earl Frank in Straight Time (1978), the Madman in The Jerk (1979), Captain Bryant in Blade Runner (1982), Harv in Critters (1986), and Walt Scheel in Christmas with the Kranks (2004). He starred as private detective Loren Visser in Blood Simple (1984), the Coen Brothers' first film for which he won the Independent Spirit Award for Best Male Lead.

With his paunchy physique, retreating hairline, ruddy hangdog face, and flat but chilling cadence, Mr. Walsh made a name for himself as one of America’s pre-eminent and hardest working character actors in the business. More importantly, He wasn't shy about taking his clothes off in front of the camera as there are many television shows and movies where he has done so. Like in Straight Time in which he's handcuffed to a fence in the middle of a busy freeway, then gets pantsed and left there with his ass out to see for passing traffic. Look closely and see some backsack!

While flesh fiends of the world will probably lament the lack of flesh shown from Walsh in the decades since the 2010s. Nonetheless, his acting career has continued to flourish both on the boob tube and silver screen. You can see him as a silver fox in recent flicks like Shifting Gears, Change in the Air, Faith, Hope and Love, Raising Buchanan, Knives Out, The Mimic and The Immaculate Room. TV series with Mr. Walsh include Sneaky Pete and The Righteous Gemstones. We wish this dude would shed those pants and underwear and show off his righteous gemstones sometime in the very near future!

Walsh died from a cardiac arrest on March 19, 2024, at the age of 88, three days before his 89th birthday. He is survived by his niece, nephew and two grandnephews. I have been in lust with this man for longer than I can remember, but realistically it wasn't until at least 1996. I know little about his private life, just that he never married and most likely straight. I will not speculate about his private life either. I am secure in the knowledge that he loved me and was going to marry me. He just didn't know any of that yet.

RECOMMENDATIONS: (1970) The Traveling Executioner - Rear nudity. (1978) Straight Time - Rear nudity. Starsky and Hutch (TV Series) - The Action (1978) - Shirtless. (1982) Fast Walking - Shirtless, full frontal, rear nudity, sex scene. ABC Afterschool Specials (TV Series) - The Woman Who Willed a Miracle (1983) - Shirtless pool scene. (1984) Missing In Action - Shirtless bed scene. (1984) Scandalous - Shirtless bed scene. (1992) Killer Image - Shirtless scene. The Outer Limits (TV Series) - The Refuge (1996) - Open shirt. (2001) Christmas in the Clouds - Shirtless shower scene. (2007) Big Stan - Shirtless scene. (2007) Man in the Chair - Shirtless scene. (2019) South of Bix - Shirtless scene.

And that’s not including some with him just in his underwear.

#m. emmet walsh #mydaddywiki actors

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altschmerzes · 4 months ago

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oh i'm FASCINATED to hear what your thoughts on lost are so far

FAIR WARNING this is probably not going to be very nice to the show so if you're a big lost enjoyer and don't wanna see that this would be the time to keep scrolling. sorry for the delay also. guy who has been typing his thoughts and then getting distracted on a loop for several days.

basically: i don't know why, but i have been deeply compelled to watch the show lost recently. like, i genuinely don't have an explanation. i know i'd seen like, half of season one about a million years ago and have no memory of any of it so this is functionally my first go through it.

in short: i think it has its strengths and its weaknesses. to me, more weaknesses than strengths. i know opinion degraded as time went on but even just where i am now, i do not know why this thing has the like 'one of the best shows of all time' reputation that it has. i really, truly don't. like, it's fine, sometimes it's even good, but like. why do people talk about this like it is the pinnacle of television. it is however like, almost hypnotically watchable, and i keep going through like, handfuls of episodes at once.

more under the cut.

in long: so i'm on the early early episodes of season 2 and i already know that most of this show is mystery boxes inside mystery boxes half of which never really have a payoff that's satisfying and so i'm pre-emptively frustrated by that. it's like.... i would love to be excited by the mysteries that come up, but instead of getting to excitedly wonder 'oh wow i wonder what the explanation for that will be!' i'm instead sitting here thinking 'gee i hope that's one of the ones we get an answer to.' it's not a great feeling, and mostly i'm like. man why do they keep giving jj abrams creative authority over things. he's a good director, why do they keep ruining that by letting him WRITE too.

also there is so much weird racism and misogyny in here lmao. gd.

anyways. moving on to specifics.

i will confess i am a sucker for disaster survival scenarios. it's half the appeal of any apocalyptic thing to me, and this delivers. i'm enjoying the mystery boxes when i can put aside the fact that i might not get to see inside them at all, depending. i think the flashbacks are well structured and sprinkled in with effective timing and degrees of revealed information. i think one of my fave parts is how much of like... the Weird Shit in the flashbacks is just. not clear about whether or not it's related to the island? were the numbers hurley used to win the lottery actually cursed? does disaster and death follow walt around or is his former stepdad just an asshole and it's all a coincidence? what was up with the fucking psychic claire talked to? etc. that's one of the ones where i'd be fully comfortable with that question never being answered. it's satisfying as hell just to wonder.

characters! the extent to which i do not give a single fuck about jack, kate, and sawyer is amazing. like. they're all so resoundingly uninteresting to me. i actively think everyone here would be better off if sawyer was dead, because even for me (noted asshole with a heart of gold enjoyer, I KNOW, I KNOW) he is A Bit Fucking Much. if he does not ease up soon it's gonna be Bad. i mean it's already bad but. lmao. his best moments so far were telling jack about what jack's dad said to him in the bar and saving michael after the raft is destroyed. kate is just... everything about her is so overwrought and i'm just bored and a little embarrassed every time we have something focusing on her. i do like that she's abjectly doing shady shit sometimes, they should lean into that more. gaslight gatekeep girlboss etc. jack is so nothing it's amazing. he is baymax to me. he is not even baymax, baymax had more of a personality. why is he the protagonist of this show, he is such a generic white dude audience insert character.

i really love sun, hurley, charlie, claire, michael, walt, and - when he is not YELLING AT HIS WIFE - jin is okay too. i also really enjoy sayid and i have to say that like. i think they have massively fucked it up with his writing in several points, it's like. stereotypical and almost comically racist at times but i also have to like... idk, i do have a significant degree of legitimate respect for the swing they took with him in the first place, to be honest. it's like. idk. this was a show that aired in 2004, written and filmed before that, and i know his character made a lot of people Big Fucking Mad to have in a show about a plane crash as an unambiguously sympathetic and positively depicted character, missteps in his writing and all. it doesn't excuse the mistakes made with him obviously but the context in which he was written makes me like. idk. appreciate the fact that he exists, and kinda tip my hat to like. you guys Tried saying something here. i gotta respect that.

jin and michael's odd-couple friendship is extremely charming to me. hurley is the sweetie of all time and i really love how he just... is willing to interact with people on a straightforward level no matter who they are or what's going on? locke cracks me the fuck up. like all his magic healing disability and general premonition shit aside, it's extremely funny to me to watch grandpa survivalist finally get to LARP his dreams of being a hardcore jungle man. he is fucking insane gd blass.

i will say um. the less said about shannon and boone the better. eugh. literally why would you do that. like... it throws me so much every time someone finds out about That Whole Mess and literally does not react at all. before somebody screams and whines and cries about how IT'S FINE TO EXPLORE TABOO SUBJECTS IN FICTION STOP BEING A PURITAN YOURE BEING A FAN COP WAAAAAAA i'm not saying you can never write this sort of thing just like. literally why is the entire narrative framing of it a tragic starcrossed lover thing. why is nobody reacting like this is as nasty and weird as it is. lmao.

anyways.

here's some clips from my watching it, mostly based in how fucking funny i think jack's whole Situation is.

#gav gab #gav answers #gav watches lost #all-seeing-ifer

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