#I think of Sophia everytime

[titanbabyeams]

Roy Mustang never fully connected with the concept of ‘giving your daughter away’ until he released her after walking her down the aisle.

Logically, he knows it’s been a long time in the making. He’s seen less and less of his daughter as she’s grown-up but it’s strange to sit at her wedding reception, knowing she’s officially a part of a family he will only have limited contact with. That she will have an entire life separate from him, regardless of how close they are.

He’s okay with that. It doesn’t feel wonderful, no, but he trusts the man his daughter has chosen to marry. A half-Ishvalan, open-minded and extroverted fellow. They dated for five years before even approaching the topic of marriage. Now, at 23, his daughter is married.

“It’s a dry wedding, I can’t even drown my emotions,” Jean bemoans as he worms his way between Roy and an empty chair.

“Sophia isn’t a fan of alcohol,” Roy explains as if Jean doesn’t already know this, “And we do have at least one sober alcoholic in attendance.” Edward Elric’s oldest child, who is currently pretending to cry in a picture with his newly-wed daughter. He’s quite the character but has always been gentle with Sophia.

“Yeah, yeah. How ya feelin’, Chief? Like you’re losin’ her forever?”

“Please.” Roy tears his eyes away from her—clad in traces of Ishvalan culture, blending with a classic white wedding dress—and to his friend. “She still crawls into bed with me if Simeon leaves early enough. I will not be rid of her, even in death.” Roy’s eyes find his daughter again. She’s beautiful, he’s so proud of her.

Jean barks a laugh, good-natured even after everything. “Don’t sound so disappointed.”

Sophia laughs at something Winry says to her, and Simeon is at her side grinning along. Roy isn’t sure either of them have stopped smiling this entire time. The reception is exclusive only to close friends and families, and neither of them have slipped from their ‘slightly higher than normal’ cheerful demeanor.

“Have you taken a picture with her?” Roy asks Jean. “A serious one, don’t think I didn’t notice that photo you took with her earlier.”

“Hey, it was Fuery’s idea!” Jean defends, “And Sophie loved it so much, she was the first to pose. We did take a serious photo, thank you very much.”

“Good.” Roy smiles, “Good. As eccentric as they may be, I am sure even they will be glad for some more sentimental photos.”

“I’m not sure the Elrics are physically capable of a serious photo,” Jean reaches onto the table to snag a chocolate mint, popping it in his mouth. “Ya should’ve seen Ed earlier, he’s having more fun with this wedding than his own, I swear.”

“Less stressful that way, I’m sure,” He remarks quietly.

“What was that?” Comes the ever-familiar voice of his dearly beloved.

Roy laughs, somewhat nervously. “Nothing, Dear,” He looks over at Riza, “You look lovely. Did you do your hair today?”

She rolls her eyes—but he can see the smile. He’s won. “Come. Sophia would like pictures with her parents.”

“Wow, Chief,” Jean shakes his head, low and disappointed, “Getting on my case and ya haven’t even taken a photo with her yet.”

“Go fuck yourself, Havoc.” Roy stands and pats his friend’s shoulder as he breaks into laughter again.

He takes his wife’s arm in his own. “How did we get so lucky?” He asks her as they weave around the tables.

“Luck.” Riza pats his arm, “And maybe the tiniest bit of paranoia.”

“Funny.”

Sophia catches sight of them and she brightens, as if she wasn’t already the brightest and most gorgeous person in attendance.

He truly, truly regrets nothing that’s led him to this moment.

[deceased-lungs]

My ex's sister/my "best" friend really was just very two faced to me and has a cocaine addiction...

[feral4daryl]

masterlist || MDNI

sweet scent.

perv!daryl x fem!reader

summary: while looking for his crossbow around the house, daryl ends up finding a pile of your dirty clothes and... used panties of yours. and when no one's looking, he decides to have some fun with them.

warnings: EXTREME AGE GAP (daryl is in his late 30s/early 40s and reader is 18), not entirely proofread, smut, mean!daryl sort of, corruption kink, daryl being an absolute pervert, panties sniffing, daddy kink, masturbation, cussing, daryl imagining himself doing the dirtiest things to you (unprotected p-in-v, squirting, face fucking, praising, loss of virginity, cunnilingus and i think that's pretty much it)

word count: 2.8k

a/n: please proceed with caution, this piece of work portrays a few extreme or unusual fetishes, so if you're not comfortable with any of those i've listed above please do not ready this. the idea that inspired this work originally belongs to @dilfsandmartinis.

if there was something daryl absolutely hated, it was the feeling of uselessness.

since andrea had mistaken him for a walker and shot him from afar, grazing his head, useless was exactly how he felt, having to lay down on a bed the whole day and night, doing absolutely nothing but be left alone with his own thoughts. and oh, what a disgraceful fate.

everytime he wasn't focused on hunting, fighting or surviving in general, the farmer's sweet younger daughter flooded his mind. your hair, your face, your stupidly adorable sundresses, everything about you was so... distracting.

daryl wasn't ever the kind of guy to simp for a woman, but that one specific girl made him feel emotions and sensations that were hidden deep within his being for years, maybe even decades. feelings he thought had vanished from his heart a long time ago were now blooming all over again, like he was some stupid teenager looking at a playboy magazine for the first time.

there was something about your innocence, your adorable mannerisms, your sweet voice and your kindness that had awakened something in him, something he wasn't quite sure what it was.

no, he wasn't exactly a young man. and while being aware that you were very young, he couldn't help but feel so guilty for having those feelings. whenever you bended over to pick something up, he had to fight demons not to have a glimpse of your panties. he often wondered how could you be so careless by exposing yourself like that, even if you didn't do it on purpose.

and there was him again, thinking about you. it's like no matter how hard he tried to push those thoughts away, they were like water, always finding a way in.

he huffed, feeling defeated. he knew he was still recovering from the incident, and that he should rest, but why was he following orders around anyways? he wasn't a damn puppy. plus, everybody else had left him there to go looking for sophia. he wanted to be able to help too. he was alive after all, and if he was alive, he believed he should be on his feet.

so that's what he did. he slowly lifted his right foot, resting it on the floor, then he did the same with his left one. his body reluctantly lifted itself up, and he immediately could feel the consequences for laying down for so long, his back killing him and his vision a bit foggy. anyways, he ignored any discomfort and started walking slowly, his head still a little dizzy.

then, he remembered he needed his trustworthy crossbow, he couldn't just leave unprotected like that. he looked around the room he was settled in but it was nowhere to be seen. he knew it was still in the house, so he left the room. he started walking down the corridor, his eyes attentively looking for any signs of his crossbow. he was even starting to think that his mates might've hidden it to force him to stay in the house when he spotted a halfway open door.

his calloused hands pulled it open, revealing a small bedroom, all pink themed and stupidly decorated. no, his crossbow wasn't likely to be there, it just looked like it belonged to one of hershel's daughters, but it was like something was calling him in.

he stepped in the room and it almost looked messy. the dressing table on the corner had lipsticks, combs, all sorts of make-up and girly stuff all piled up and... a perfume.

it was happening again, images of you flooded his mind and it was like he could almost smell you. oh, your sweet scent had the power to make him hard like nothing else. just by looking at that small bottle, just by imagining your scent, he could feel little shock waves travelling all the way down to his cock, threatening to awaken it.

he knew it was wrong, so fucking wrong thinking about a much younger girl like that. and it was even worse considering that you were the daughter of the man that provided him shelter in such difficult times. it felt ungrateful.

when he saw you for the first time, he didn't think much of you. he was actually careful, treating you like the stranger you were. and even when time passed, he never really got close to you. now and then you tried to share a word, even if just a little bit, but it seemed useless since he would reject all your attempted approaches. he didn't hate you like he tried to after acknowledging his disgusting desires for you, but he just couldn't allow himself to interact with a girl that made him sick to his stomach for all the wrong reasons.

your sweetness was almost annoying. the entire world had gone to shit, for goodness sake! dead bodies walking around and eating all the people they could find. how could you act so clueless all the time? daryl even wondered if you had ever seen a walker before, if you knew what was really happening out there. after all, it was very obvious that you were a daddy's girl, always protected under your father's wing.

but strangely enough, acknowledging that only made him protective towards you. he was always somewhat watching, always around you making sure you were safe and he barely knew why, he just felt like he should.

so he didn't stop himself from reaching over to your small perfume bottle. the design was very simple, no labels to be seen, time had probably faded it away. the cap was baby pink and heart shaped, and when he removed it, he immediately brought the bottle to his nose, giving it a gentle sniff.

fuck.

now, he was 100% sure that was your room. the fragrance was the same one that filled his nose and made him drunk in you everytime you walked by. he wondered if that was the scent he would feel if he ever hugged you, burying his face into your chest.

in that moment, he couldn't think about anything else, not rick, not carol, not his chores, not surviving, not even sophia. you were everything that he had in his fucked up mind.

he wouldn't feel so fucking guilty if his thoughts were only about your innocence and sweetness, but they were also dirty as fuck. countless were the times when daryl imagined groping you, running his hands all over your delicate body, feeling every texture, squeezing every junk and listening close to your every little whimper. he would pull your hair, gently at first, just to get it off your face and neck so he could pamper them with little wet kisses, gently scratching his teeth along them. he imagined he'd have to keep you on your feet himself, since you'd struggle to because of how weak your knees would get at all the sensations he would provide you and...

wait, no.

what was he thinking? was he out his fucking mind? he needed to stop those absolutely disgusting thoughts right away. he couldn't keep having those thoughts about you, not when you're out taking care of such important business with the others. he put the perfume bottle back on the dressing table, determined to let all that go. he knew he couldn't just let himself get so distracted like that over something so mundane and unimportant as his own sexual desires but then...

...he spotted a basket filled with clothes when he turned around to leave. his mind immediately started to rush all over again, and for the 100th time that day, he turned careless. he slowly approached it. shorts, tops, pants and so on could be seen at the top of the pile.

in that moment, he had totally forgot why he had entered that bedroom or even left his bed in the first place. he couldn't even remember the existence of his crossbow or his duties.

and then... he gets an idea. he starts going through the pile of dirty clothes and in no time, he finds your panties. they were white with a pink ribbon on the front, a clear reminder of your innocence. for a moment, he just looks at it, contemplating the possibilities. then, he remembers seeing you in it when you bended over to pick some off the floor the day before. he remembers catching a glimpse of it under your yellow sundress when you went to change his bandage.

that meant that those panties had been freshly worn.

if just your perfume ignited such vile desires in him, he couldn't even imagine what your natural scent could do to him. and he was oh so curious to find out. he still felt guilty, but that man had been sex deprived for so fucking long, he didn't even masturbate very often. he knew damn well he was about to commit a big mistake, maybe even starting something he was sure he couldn't finish, but he finally made up his mind.

he flips the small piece of cloth over, eyeing the soft-looking lining of the panties. he gulps, feeling his mouth water right away. god, what was he doing? what was right, what was wrong wasn't even important to him anymore. he just wanted to embrace his sickness.

there was a small stain on the lining, probably from you wearing it. just that sight alone was enough to get him off, and once again, he found himself having to face that tingling sensation inside his pants. he knew damn well what that meant and what was about to happen. but honestly, he couldn't give a single fuck anymore.

in one quick motion, he brought the fabric to his face, giving a long sniff while he rolled his eyes to the back of his head. that fucking scent of yours got him drunk the moment it filled his nostrils. so intense, so feminine and raw, daryl couldn't remember the last time he felt that type of pleasure, or if he had even felt anything like it before.

it made him needy like a horny teenager. he felt himself going back to puberty when all he could think about was jacking off day and night. and it was all your fucking fault.

daryl palmed himself through his denim pants, never taking your panties off his face not even for one second. the natural scent of your cunt was more than successful to make him hard as a rock, the sensation of being in his pants started to get uncomfortable as his dick grew bigger and bigger.

just palming himself wasn't enough.

he slowly unbuttoned his pants and unzipped them, inserting one of his hand in his briefs to catch his hard cock in it, freeing it for the first time in a while. his angry-red tip was literally pulsating while a clear and sticky liquid dropped down his length.

he wasn't able to hold a small grunt as he wrapped his calloused hand around his cock, the rough sensation of his fingers causing him to feel a jolt of pleasure so fucking delicious and guilty at the same time. the archer brought his hand to his mouth, catching some of his saliva to use as lube.

oh, how he wished you were there. he'd make sure you'd get his cock nice and wet with your spit so you could rub it up and down. and then, without warnings, he'd just shove it down your throat, forcing you to prove how much of a good girl you could be just for him.

and just for him. he wanted you all for his own. daryl never really liked to share, specially when it came to a girl like you, so princess like, so adorable looking. your plump lips looked so fucking perfect, and they would look even more wrapped around his big cock.

knowing how fragile you were, he knew you would definitely choke and gag on him, struggling to fit all of him in your mouth. he would whisper sweet encouragement words to you like “tha's it, tha's ma good girl”. he imagined how he would hold your head in place and keep a hand on your throat so he could feel his cock while he aggressively pumped it in and out, making you drool all over him. “just like tha', yeah, show daddy how fuckin' good ya are fer him”.

in his imagination, you would look up at him with those big doe eyes of yours, with a mix of uncertainty and desire to make him proud. “am i doing this right, daddy?” he could almost hear your voice saying it whenever you would take him off his mouth to catch your breath for a moment, never disconnecting your small hand from his thick length.

he started pumping faster, squelching sounds were all that could be heard in that silent room, a proof of his degeneracy. the grunts and stifled moans were only getting harder and harder to hold back. he was sticking those panties to his face and sniffing on them like his life depended on it, like he was a desperate virgin.

a virgin. he wondered if you were one. you sure looked like it, your dad never let you out of sight for long enough for you to try something like that, he supposed from what he knew about your relationship. he imagined how would it feel like to be the one to pop your cherry for the first time.

oh, he would teach you so many things, everything he knows. he would guide you through it all along, teaching you where to touch, where to kiss, where to lick. he would make your virgin little cunny cum so many times it would get all puffy and red. he even wondered if he could make you squirt, stuffing you with his fingers, brushing against your sweet spot over and over again until you were a quivering mess, squirting all over his skull tattoo. and yes, he would make you lick his fingers clean, your sweet little tongue dragging across them, and then, he would kneel down in front of you, not wanting to waste a single drop of your sweet release, attacking your sensitive clit and slit with his lips and tongue.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

he was so fucking eager to taste your slick, to revel in your salty taste. he imagined how fucking good the smell he was getting from your panties was from the actual source. he would lick it all, your lips, your slit, even your ass, but he would give special attention to your little clit, flicking his tongue on it, making it cum again just for him. he would never grow tired of it.

and when he felt you were finally ready for him, he would bend you over just like you used to do so absentmindedly. he would be gentle at first, but knowing himself, he knew he wouldn't be able to hold himself back for too long before absolutely railing the shit out of you, making you cry out and scream his name in pleasure and pain.

and when he flipped you over on your back, he would be able to see the bulge on your lower belly caused by his big cock inside you. just by imagining that he felt himself getting close to the edge. he would press his hand on it, making the little room inside your pussy even tighter. fuck, he imagined the sweet sounds you would make just for him.

all those dirty thoughts and your sweet scent from your panties were more than enough to make shivers run down his spine and his whole body tremble. he kept his eyes shut tight as he licked a stripe on the lining of your panties, trying to get some of your delicious taste. meanwhile, he hadn't stopped his hands not even for a second, harshly rubbing his cock up and down until it was too much.

in a strangled moan, his cock started shooting spurt after spurt of thick cum onto the floor, the dressing table and pretty much anything that was around. he couldn't remember the last time he had such an intense orgasm, the sensation making his mind completely empty except for your image.

his movements got slower until they stopped and he let go of his now sensitive cock. he sighed after catching his breath. he was left with that afterglow and the feeling that he made a huge mistake. suddenly, he felt dirty like before. he opened his eyes slowly, removing your panties from his face and putting them in his pockets. yeah, he knew it was wrong, but he was still planning to keep them for later.

then, when he averted his gaze to the mirror on his side, he saw...

you. standing on the doorframe with a shocked look on your face.

“u-uncle daryl?”

[PART TWO]

a/n: i know, i'm disgusting. i'm sorry. (just a quick reminder, english isn't my first language, so please excuse any grammar mistakes or awkward phrasing lmao, and tysm if you read it this far)

[yeahxsurexokay13]

wagnifesting, lando norris

summary: y/n is lando's best friend but everyone keeps manifesting for her to be something more.

warning: like 2 swear words.

fc: sophia weber

hope you like it!! x

y/n.y/l 📍monaco

Liked by pierregasly and 327.085 others

y/n.y/l 72h in monaco 🍝🍾🏁🖤

view all 1.040 comments

username Lando's biggest supporter 🧡

username the pic with kika is so cute aww!! ❤️ by author

username last slide is giving date

username she went to dinner with kika and alex! kika posted about it 😊

username Pretty 😍

username MY BOI LANDO!!!! LETS GOOOO ❤️ by author

francisca.cgomes Missed youuuuu ❤️❤️

y/n.y/l missed u more lindaaaa ♥️

username if you ever need someone to carry your bags on these trips, I volunteer as tribute (please)

alexandrasaintmleux Sooo good to see you ❤️

y/n.y/l you too lovelyyy ♥️

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username tired of pretending i don't pray it's a confirmation post everytime i get the notification that you've posted

landonorris See you again in 10 years when you decide to come to another race

y/n.y/l let me know when you plan on winning so i can go to that one x

username shE DID NOT

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username she's my favourite wag and she's not even one! @/landonorris put an end to that 🫣🫣

username PAPAYAAAAA 🧡 you ate with that outfit

29 May 2023

landonorris

Liked by maxfewtrell and 830.891 others

landonorris Nothing better then a day with friends. First time trying wakeboarding 🤙🏼 Edited

view all 3.001 comments

username so ummmm i think this is him doing something @/username 👁️👄👁️

username i cheered

username bro really said let me fix the mess i made and posted that last pic

username Lando I wasn't prepared

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y/n .y/l than*** you edited it and it's still wrong you muppet

landonorris I'm blocking you ❤️

username aw young love

username love to see it

username a day off with friends, but y/n is the only one who gets a special mention 😌😌😌

11 June 2023

y/n.y/l

📍 silverstone circuit

Liked by charles_leclerc and 498.934 others

y/n.y/l silverstoneeeeeeeeeeee 🏎️ podium for my boy at his home race!!! (((:

view all 1.808 comments

username Another amazing race for him, congrats!

username "mY bOY" !!!!!!!!!!!!! ok i'm totally chill about this

username You looked incredible yesterday!!!💖

username no one provides us with lando content quite like you we need you to attend every single race weekend !!!

username THE SECOND TO LAST PIC HAHAHA

maxfewtrell Sorry, but were you there by yourself or?

y/n.y/l it did feel like i was with how much p and you were ignoring me to be all lovey dovey with each other (🤢)

maxfewtrell is that jealousy speaking?

username EXPOSED 🫢

username please just date already

username so happy for him grabbing that podium spot at silverstone 🧡

landonorris P2 AND A TROPHY BABYYYYY ❤️ thank you y/n/n

y/n.y/l ♥️

username see this is why punctuation is so important 🫢🫢

username @/username i don't get it?

username @/username there's no comma so we could say baby is being used to address y/n!!!!!

username @/username delusion 2 - 0 common sense !!!!

09 July 2023

y/n.y/l posted a story!

[1427]

When the Levee Breaks (pt. 5)

Daryl Dixon x OFC

Story Summary: The one in which a stripper that used to know Merle and Daryl shows up at the Atlanta camp. Daryl’s feelings are complicated but mostly he hates her, right?

Chapt Setting: The Farm/Woods

Chapt Warnings: pretty explicit drug use (meth), season 2 Daryl, degrading/sexist language (he’s starting to get better lol), SOPHIA CHAPTER (I think that deserves a warning)

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Daryl’s POV story. Daryl’s starting to be less of a dick, trying really hard to make it feel organic/make it make sense in the story. Idk. This chapter was really rough to write because… it made me sad. Also have no idea if it even makes sense (the hallucination bit, really hope it does) lol ALSO; I looked up some timeline stuff and i just?? Really thought Daryl was out there for days on his own? But apparently he wasn’t? We’re just gonna say that he is in this story. 🤷🏼‍♀️ I can only do so much when the timeline of TWD is fucking stupid sometimes. (I mean it. Come for me. Idc. Rick was in a coma for 59 days without food or water???!?!!!? Bye)

masterlist

17+ mdni (no smut in this one tho sorry)

Like fiberglass in my veins, it tears through me. Mellow, at first, almost think I should rail more before I can feel myself sweatin’. Different kinda sweat, comin’ from my fuckin’ soul. 

Haven’t felt like I was doin’ something ‘wrong’ since I was little. That feeling that ch’ya get when you’re doin’ somethin’ ya know you’re not s’possed to. This ain’t the first time I done spazz, but maybe it’ll be the last. The anxiety about doin’ it goes away the second I feel the devil kick me through my nose to the back of my brain. Even though I know it’s comin’, it always feels like gettin’ skullfucked by satan. 

Been out here for a day. I brought Merle’s shit with me because I decided to finally get rid of it somewhere. But I got somethin’ that needs doin’. And anyway, I got years of experience with ice. Not doin’ it. Sometimes doin’ it. Never let Merle know, he’d’ve made some big whoop ‘bout it. And everytime he’d gone and done more than he remembered, he woulda blamed me. Shit though, sometimes it was. 

M’not like Merle and Beatle. Ain’t an addict. Can do shit and put it down. Always been able to put it down. Figured other people could too, that they just didn’t wanna. ‘m not sure, but still kinda think that. 

Never felt fuckin’ guilty about it before, though. Fuckin’ Beatle. I’unno if it’s cuz I’d be done with her if she did the same shit, or if it’s cuz I know if she knew that I was - she’d be mad at me. Mad I didn’t invite ‘er. 

But this shit ain’t for fuckin’ playtime. Only reason ‘m even doin’ it i’so I can find Sophia. So I can stay awake, focus, and get ‘er back. They use ta use this shit in war. War’s the reason methamphetamines even exist. Nazi’s? Hell, every single one of ‘em in WWII. Kamikazi’s loaded up, totally fuckin’ wasted outta their minds on crystal while they bolted ‘em in. Kept ‘em awake, kept ‘em happy, kept ‘em focused on the mission. Tha’s what I gotta do. 

I can’t stop lookin’ til I find ‘er. Sophia. ‘m the only one that can, only one that knows how. And anymore, ‘m the only one that seems to give a shit. ‘Sides Carol. And Beatle. She wanted ta come. Told her she’d only slow me down. Distract me. Drawn more geeks. She woulda. Told her I didn’t need food either but she packed me some anyway. Knew I wasn’t gonna be hungry. Knew I was gonna use this dumb shit to help. But whatever. 

Doesn’t matter what happens to me, right? My life’s not worth nothin’, not compared to that little girl. Now that her old man’s outta the picture she actually got a chance. Maybe not mucha one, not the way shit is these days. But she got ‘er mom. And ‘er mom can actually be ‘er mom now. Not scared of some piece’a shit prick that finally got what was comin’ to ‘im. 

Man fuck that guy.

The trail I’m followin’ disappears so I backtrack to the mangroves where I found her doll and try to find another one. 

I start to wonder what kinda old man Beatle had. What kinda mom? Startin’ ta realize I don’t know a damn thing about Beatle. I know she likes drinkin’, she likes laughin’, she likes fuckin’ with me. But… 

Beatle keeps surprisin’ me. Not just because she let me hump her face a few days ago, the fact that she liked it, shit I haven’t even had a second to process that. Nah, more cuz she hasn’t brought it up. Hasn’t tried to hold my hand again. Hasn’t been annoyin’ me nearly as much. Not even at all, if ‘m honest. 

My brain’s goin’ a million miles a fuckin’ second over Beatle and what happened between us. Not just the other night, but back then. Got questions that need answerin’ but she ain’t here. Try to keep myself occupied with trackin’ but it ain’t like trackin’ takes much thinkin’. Follow every trail I pick up, but none of ‘em lead me to Sophia. 

I’d prob’ly start gettin’ really frustrated about this, but that’s what crystals good for. All the dopamine I need, and nothin’s annoyin’. Focus.

✨🏹 

Bent branches, wilted leaves, mud impressions, walker guts. Trees and rocks and blood and mud and dirt and greens and browns and reds and blacks. And it’s dark and it’s light and it’s dark. And it smells fuckin’ rotten. Bent branches, wilted leaves, another trail, another dead end, another undead shithead. Bent branches, wilted leaves, mud impressions, Beatle. 

How many times did I go into Merle’s bag and take the devils dick up my nose? Cuz Beatle’s standin’ here right in front of me. ‘Cept she’s all done up in makeup and glitter and her pupils are the size of dimes. Little pink crop top, tiniest pair’a daisy dukes I ever seen. ‘n she’s in my face sayin’ the shit I been thinkin’ about her sayin’ since that day she said it. 

“I like you, Dar.” 

“You like bein’ fucked up more.” I say it like I said it the last time. 

“That’s not true! I mean - I like you, Daryl.” She steps closer, tries to put her hand on my cheek before I brush her off. She slumps back a little, turning away. “You like me, too. You said it.” 

My hearts in my fuckin’ throat and I’m standin’ there, this can’t be fuckin’ happening. I know is’not but doesn’t make it feel any less real. “Tha’ was before I really knew ya, Beatle.” 

Hate that I said that to ‘er. Did I really say that? Cuz maybe that’s how I felt. Hell, maybe that’s how I felt last week. But it ain’t fair. I don’t know her. Still. Now. Don’t know ‘er at all. Thought I did. Thought I understood what kinda girl did those kindsa things. Is that really what I said? Fuck.

She’s still turned away from me, but I walk the half circle around to look at her face. And she’s sobbing. Silently, trying to stay as still as possible. I… I don’t remember this part. Maybe I didn’t see it? Nah, I saw it. Just didn’t care. Didn’t wanna look at ‘er. Didn’t want to hear her lame ass confession. Especially after she’d brought up that I told ‘er I liked ‘er. She sniffles and wipes her face before she pulls a bubble pipe out of the waistband of her shorts and lights the bottom, starts smokin’ it. She asks if I want a hit, like last time. 

I go to say no, but the words don’t come out. Instead my hand reaches for it. I look back up and Beatle’s dressed all different. Baggy jeans and a bikini top. That night. Fuck. Shit. I don’t want to relive that night. 

“I promise, I won’t tell Merle.” She says, handing me her lighter. And I smoke it. Inhaling the vapor slowly like she had. “You gotta sip at it, like it’s a coffee and you’re drinking the air to see if it’s still too hot. Roll the bowl or it will burn.” I do it the way she says. She’s like ten years younger than me, but she looks at me - talks to me like it don’t matter. Like she don’t see it that way. Guess I don’t either, never really did. 

I’d never wanted to smoke it before. But that night I wanted to. With her. Woulda done anything she’d asked that night ‘fore she ruined it. I ruined it. Til it got all fucked up an’ it was never the same again. Not the way I saw her, not the way she looked at me. 

I’m goin’ through memories like they’re happening all over again. Feelin’ fuckin’ sick. I don’t wanna remember this. 

I hand the pipe back to her and she asks, “How do you feel?” 

“Fine.” 

“Just fine?” She smiles. 

“Good.” I clarify. 

“Good.” 

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. “I think I like you, Beatle.” 

She laughs too hard, “you think?” I feel myself getting sicker and angry again all at once. 

I split in half. One half feelin’ those same feelings I felt. That this conceited fuckin’ bitch really acts like everyone likes her. I hear her words and it sounds like she’s sayin’ ‘well obviously’ - but the other halfa me hears it like a real question. Like she wanted ta know what I meant. I don’t remember how I responded then, but I can hear myself say it, “Self-obsessed cunt.” 

Beatle laughs, “Is that what you like about me?” 

My misunderstanding continues; Thought she was pickin’ on me. Makin’ funna me. All these years. All this time. Thought she was fuckin’ laughin’ at me. Never told a girl I liked her. Not that I never did like one, just never told ‘em. Not like some teenage fuckin’ confessional. And I do and what?  she just laughs.  

Shit. 

Cuz inside ‘m screaming. Screamin’ at myself ta say somethin’ different. To jus’ tell her. She’s special, she’s exciting, and when she smiles at the shit I say it makes me feel like I’m the only one in the fuckin’ world to her. Tha’s what she wants ta here. Tha’s why she’s askin’. 

“Nah. Forget it.” She nods, and I thought she did forget it.  She forgot until she brings it up again in the memory I already re-lived. 

Tha’s how I was so damn sure she didn’t give a single shit about if I liked her or not. Didn’t bring it up again for months. Didn’t give a single shit about me at all. Felt stupid for ever thinkin’ she might. Just a dumb crush on a dumb girl, and I forgot everything about it. An’ every little thing she did that made me like ‘er ended up as somethin’ else I hated.  And every time I saw her after that she was fucked up on somethin’. Meth or booze or weed. Usually all three. 

It comes at me like a fuckin’ freight train, her lips crashing into mine, but this time I want it. Don’t wanna stop kissin’ ‘er. Instead my arms move and I push her down to the ground. She’s wearing the crop top again, can tell she’d been cryin’. She’s layin’ there in the rocks lookin’ up at me and I flash back to the living room where this happened, where she’d told me she liked me back. I wanna beat the shit outta myself for makin’ her look like that. 

How didn’t I see it? 

I did see it. I just didn’t care. Thought I knew what kinda girl did those kinds’a things. 

Wonderin’ what kind of old man she had. What kinda boyfriends before she met me. How maybe she’s just as fuckin’ scared’a feelin’ stuff as I am. How maybe it took her months to even get up the courage to tell me after I’d told ‘er never mind and slowly started to hate her. How many’a those drinks were for courage? How many’a those hits were cuz she was nervous?

Shit. 

And she’s runnin’ away like she did then. Away from me an’ outta my life until a few weeks ago. I know it ain’t real but I run after her anyway. Screamin’ her name into the open air like maybe somehow I can change it if I can get her to come back. But she’s gone and ‘m still running tryin’ to find her. Screaming for her ‘til my throats hoarse. 

‘Til the walkers hear me. 

✨🏹

Andrea fuckin’ shot me. What is wrong with this fuckin’ group?

✨🏹

Beatle’s in the bedroom with me but I can’t look at ‘er. Don’t wanna. Feels like she knows what I was doin’ out in them woods without ‘er. Like she can see the dirty shit in my soul and for some reason it makes me ill. Can’t look at ‘er. Knowin’ I hurt ‘er like that all that time ago. Knowin’ it now like I ain’t ever known anything else. 

It’s just me ‘n her and she doesn’t try to talk to me. Just lets me lay there hatin’ myself for all of it. Didn’t even find Sophia. 

Spent a lot of my days in my life hatin’ myself. Thinkin’ I was good for nothin’. Now ‘m sure of it. 

I feel the bed move under the weight of her. She hugs herself around me, and like some pathetic kid I fuckin’ cry. Don’t know if she can tell or not but she tries comforting me anyway. “It’s okay, Dar. You did your best.” Her voice… how could I have ever thought it was annoying? Her bein’ so nice just makes me hate myself more. 

“Lea‘me alone, Beatle.” Shakin’ her arm out from around me. She gets off the bed and sits back in the chair she’d been in. God, I fuckin’ hate myself. Wanna scream No, come back. I didn’t mean it. 

Still got question’s that need answerin’. This time Beatles right here, and I ain’t got nothin’ to lose. “Why were you naked in Merle’s room?” Grateful that she’s sittin’ behind me. Don’t think I could talk to ‘er ‘bout this stuff if she was lookin’ at me. Right now? If I saw her face? Don’t think I could talk at all. 

She laughs. Fuck her stupid fuckin’ laugh. “I still can’t believe you think I fucked around with Merle.” 

“Why not? Y’all hung out every other day.” My voice is sharp, feels like she’s laughin’ at me again. Always feels like everyone’s laughin’ at me. 

“We all hung out every other day, Dar.” 

“Stop callin’ me tha’.” 

“I was carpet surfing. Your dumbass brother spilled all the schkag all over the damn place.” 

Oh…. But, “Ya didn’t have any clothes on.” 

“I never had any clothes on, Daryl. You sure I wasn’t just wearing something ‘slutty’? You know, like you always said I was? Cuz I don’t remember, but I’ve never been naked with Merle. Ever. Sounds fuckin’ gross.”

Oh. 

It made sense. Makes so much sense, ‘specially now. She keeps talkin’ an’ ‘m grateful cuz if I tried to say anything else I’d start fuckin’ cryin’ again. “I liked you, man. I…” she stops herself. Wanna beg her to keep goin’ but I can’t. 

Instead I ask ‘er the only question I got left, “Why’d ya leave, then? Ya left ‘n ya never came back.” 

She’s silent for a long time. “When you and Merle moved, where’d you go?” 

She did come back. 

“Why’d ya leave, Beatle?” Doesn’t matter where Merle and I went. She’s avoidin’ the question. 

“Got sober. After that night… with you. Wanted to get sober. Wanted to…” she don’t say the rest but she don’t need to. I got it. Fuck, my heart can’t take it. 

“Cuz I said ya liked gettin’ fucked up more than ya liked me.” It ain’t a question. I know. 

“Think it was more the other thing you said.” 

Tha’ was before I really knew ya, Beatle. I can still taste the words. “Shouldn’t’a said that to ya.” My voice is barely a whisper. 

She gets back up on the bed and puts her arm around me again, this time I don’t shake her away. Her voice, so close to my ear, “I didn’t want to tell you that I came back. I didn’t want you to know that I got sober for you.” 

What? “Why not?” 

“Wasn’t sure you’d care. And if you did… I didn’t want you to have all the what-ifs in your head that I have in mine.” 

She hugs herself into me so tight it’s hard to breathe, and she tells me, “It doesn’t matter anymore.” 

I feel guilty, can’t take any of that back. Can’t make any of it better. I don’t deserve this. Her. After all the nasty shit I ever thought about her. After what I did to her the other night. I can’t bring myself to tell her to leave cuz I know she wants to be here. Don’t wanna make her cry again. 

So I let her hold me. Even though I don’t fuckin’ deserve it. 

[faithinthekindness9194]

Mine. (Dadrry/Harry x Y/N)

A/N: this is based of Taylor’s Mine. I’ve not really wrote one shots so sorry if it’s not great. However, if anyone wants a request I’m open to do them. Any member of One Direction I don’t mind. Fluff, angst, smut let me know :)

Warnings: fluff, angst, slight bad language (I think that’s it)

Summary: Y/N didn’t have a great upbringing or a great love life till she met Harry. With ups and downs but she can’t help but think of everything that’s happened for her to be able to see Harry play with their children.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n sat on the sofa watching her husband play with their 2 children. Sophia and Aria. She couldn’t believe after everything she’s been through in her life that this is where she’s ended up. She lent back against the sofa thinking of all the memories, good and bad she’s had throughout this relationship.

Harry Styles was one of the most popular guys in college. Nothing bothered him and he had no interest in finding love. He had bills to pay and work to finish yet he still ended up hanging round with the popular kids. Y/n was a straight A student with parents who couldn’t care less about her and someone neither of them thought would look at each other.

One afternoon y/n parents decided to take a trip to the diner not far from the college campus. To y/n’s surprise the one and only Harry Styles was working waiting tables. They locked eyes with each other before shying away. This was the day y/n made a vow to dive into Harry’s past and help him in anyway she could.

Y/n made regular trips back to the diner. Usually on a Saturday afternoon when she knew Harry was working. He often looked at her but never knew how to approach her until one day he did.

“Hi” Harry muttered quietly. Y/n looked up at the curly haired boy, speechless at the fact that he’d spoken to her.

“Hi.” Y/n signalled for Harry to sit and to her surprise he did. Both of them sat nervously, unsure on what to say. After about 10 minutes, y/n finally got the courage to ask Harry why he was there. She found out that his parents had abandoned him when they discovered he was going to college rather than following in the family business. Leaving him to work out things for himself. That was the day that they both decided to pack up and leave the small town after college.

Y/n sat back and smiled at the memory. Remembering that at the time she was a big flight risk with fear of falling but Harry would be there to catch her everytime. They made things work though, falling further in love than they ever imagined they could. Harry promised that they would never make y/n’s parent mistakes and they didn’t.

She looked down to see Harry pretending to be dead, their daughters having just won some sort of game. The girls jumped up and down in victory. As she looked away, smiling she caught Harry tilt his head, winking directly at her.

Y/n remembered that it wasn’t all plain sailing for the couple. One big fight could have broken them both.

It was 2:30am and Harry had been out partying. He told y/n he’d be back by midnight. He still hadn’t come home causing y/n to worry. Harry wasn’t answering his calls or messages which worried y/n further. She didn’t want Harry to go having seen the Implications that come with drink and partying from her father. She was a natural worrier after constantly waiting for her father and sometimes mother to come home and when he or they did the beatings were worse. She didn’t want that again, she couldn’t. Around 10 minutes later Harry staggered through the door being extremely loud.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Y/n questioned, arms folded across her chest. Harry looked up with a beaming smile on his face, smelling strongly of vodka.

“I’ve been partyinggggg!” Harry shouted. Y/n wanted to scream, Harry didn’t seem to care about the fact y/n had been sat up waiting for him to come home, 2 hours and a half trying to phone him just to make sure he’s ok.

“Do you even know what time it is?” Y/n questioned further. She wasn’t going to let this drop. Harry held his arm up in front of his face, squinting at his watch to try and see the time.

“2:40am. Why?” Harry looked at y/n confused as to why anger was plastered all over her face. Harry stepped forward, reaching his hand out to touch her cheek. “Bunny?”

Y/n stepped back, swatting his hand away from him. “Have you any idea how long I’ve sat up trying to ring you? Just to make sure you were okay? You told me you would be back at midnight. I expected you to be half an hour late, god, even 45 minutes but two and a half hours Harry. Are you for real?” Y/n paused before she seriously blew her lid. She breathed harshly, sighing before continuing. “Then you come in here loud enough to wake the whole neighbourhood, not giving a single shit about whether I’d be asleep or what. You said to me that we’d never become like our parents and look at you. You couldn’t care less.”

Harry was shocked, not once since they met had y/n flipped out about anything. She was the most kind hearted and wonderful person Harry had ever met.

“I went to a party y/n. You’re being totally irrational and unreasonable. Are you fucking serious?” Harry ran his hand through his now tangled curls, hurt and guilt crushing his heart.

“Yes. I’m being fucking serious.” Was all y/n said before storming past Harry and out the door.

The memory caused y/n to well up. Tears formed in her eyes threatening to fall. Then she simply remembered the words Harry said once he followed her out the door.

“Y/n!” Harry shouted after his girlfriend, his walk becoming a jog to catch up with her. Harry’s hand reached her shoulder, spinning her around to face him. Her face was red, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Bunny, I’m sorry. I told you that I would never leave you and I vow to stick to that. I promise more than anything in the world to keep you safe.” Harry paused, thinking back to their first date after they moved away from their awful hometown. “I still remember our first date. The one we had when we first moved. Sitting down on the river bank, the trees blowing in the summer breeze. Everytime I look at you it’s like going back to the first time I really fell in love with you and that was it. You sitting by the river, the sunlight going down yet somehow still making your face glow. I told you then that I fell in love with a careless man’s careful daughter and that you were mine. I meant that bunny. Forever.” Harry breath was harsh, his lungs begging for air. His heart clenched at the thought of loosing her.

And he didn’t. The tears streamed down y/n’s face as she continued to look at the scene in front of her. Harry caught sight of y/n crying out the corner of his eye. Without second thought he pulled himself up off the floor and sat beside y/n.

“Hey, what’s this? Why are we crying bunny?” Harry pulled y/n onto his lap, her head falling into the crook of his neck.

“I was just thinking about us, how it all began, how we could have lost each other over that stupid fight we had.” Y/n kissed Harry’s neck before lifting her head. She smiled at him before turning to see their children laughing at each other.

“Do you believe it y/n? We’ve made it baby!”

And y/n could. She could see it now.

[zehstern]

Have you thought about making a Terror crack video solely with Crazy Ex Girlfriend's songs?

I absolutely love your Getting Bi video, I watch it everytime I want to feel happier, and I remember that there was Let's Generalize About Men in one of the Terror crack videos.

I thought about this idea and I created a full Spotify playlist with songs from CXGF that I think would be funny to associate to The Terror.

Think about it. Horny Angry Tango is Fitzier (the slap part 👌), Settle for Me for Francis and Sophia, I'm the Villain In My Own Story for colonialism, Face Your Fears, Time to Seize the Day and Maybe This Dream for Silna, Our Twisted Fate and Greg's Drinking Song for the alcohol + Crozier, and so many fit Hickey too, like After Everything I've Done For You. I have more but I don't want you to block me.

I hope you're having a good day. Happy new year!

Happy new year :) No no by all means keep the suggestions coming. I'll get around to it when I get around to it but in the meantime have a little sneak peek!

[igzsatelier]

Imagine...

Instead of Katarina having a harem, it was you being the main love interest.

Prince Geordo, Prince Alan, Keith and the rest of the noble men and ladies were romantically interested in you. They love you very much the longer they spend time with you.

Except you were in denial about it and you refused to believe that these handsome men and beautiful ladies were in love with you.

There was no way Prince Geordo was interested in you, right? He's too perfect! An absolute fairytale prince that you can't help but feel like you were dragging him down with you!... Huh? Why is he confessing to you? No no no, you're being delusional--

Nicol was so quiet and mysterious. And these awkward silence sessions is seriously killing you. Woah, Nicol has an intense gaze... Wait-- is he angry with you? Did you do something wrong?! Y-You must apologize to him!

You wonder why Mary was always so nice and touchy with you, it's pretty embarrassing and you couldn't return her passionate gaze... Maybe because you were so easy to fool and please... Um-- Uhh?!-- She sounded kinda aggressive towards Alan and Keith. Uwah, scary!

Romance novels weren't something you were into in the first place. It made you feel desperate and pathetic, but reading it with Sophia made you feel safe...

Eep! S-Sophia!-- Why is she pressing her forehead against yours? Maybe because you were sitting too close to her?... Yeah, that must be it! You have to move away before she gets disgusted by you!

Prince Alan looks so cool and amazing!... Unlike you, you feel like your talents weren't good enough no matter how hard you try... Wh-What...? He looks a bit red. Alan thinks you're already amazing in the beginning? That... Th-That!-- M-Make's me really happy...

Keith was so helpful so to you that you couldn't help but feel useless. You feel like you have failed on being a good big sibling to him. I must apologize for being a bad sibling!... Hmm? He's not mad? Then wh-why is he sighing tiredly like that!?-- He probably thinks that you were being pathetic again. Ahh! Need to apologize again!

Maria... Why was she so nice to you? And so kind! A-And beautiful!... It makes your heart flutter to think that she cares about you... Even though you think that you don't deserve it. Oh my god, sh-she's being so radiant! But you can't help but feel guilty that she's putting up with your pathetic self. You should apologize everytime she's with you-- she's far too good for this cruel world!

[likeadevils]

what songs from TTPD and TA are now yours? Which ones have spoken to you the most?

songs that are genuinely MINE

chloe or sam or sophia or marcus: i cried myself to sleep listening to this song on repeat on release night and for the life of me i cant tell you why. i think it’s a great example of her being older really deepening her writing— just that old scarred over longing of a possible life, a possible love, too far away to reach but close enough to brush past. also, the double edged sword of “if you want to break my cold, cold heart, just say’ i loved you the way that you were’”— you loved me before i’d twisted myself into the shape i am now in order to keep my current partner, but also, you loved me the way i was, not the way i am now

i look in peoples windows: i wrote a poem with the line “im afflicted by the not knowing” in it!! inspired by the outside!! and by spending so much of my childhood reading by moonlight and spying on my neighbors through their windows!!! it was called where midnight lives!!! what the fuck!!!

robin: another song i sobbed hysterically to. i was a strange little violent child obsessed with dinosaurs it feels like a lullaby someone made specifically about 3 year old me.

songs that i’m obsessed with:

but daddy i love him: the bridge is just so fun to scream along to. everytime ive been in a car since the album came out ive played this at least two times just cause

fresh out the slammer: it’s just. the first verse??? the way the song stutters apart for the last verse??? this song takes the blurry muse conceit of the album and uses it to its fullest. also just the diminishing returns from “but its gonna be alright, i did my time”

i can do it with a broken heart: my first listen favorite

the smallest man who ever lived: the bridge????? the bridge???? the bridge???? a few of the negative reviews specifically mentioned this song as boring and for a millisecond i was so angry i could’ve exploded

the black dog: this is like, the platonic ideal of a taylor swift song to me. just that old quiet tragedy she can build out of little moments of hoping your ex will remember you when they hear your favorite song or not having known your last kiss was your last kiss or your ex still sharing their location with you. like, it’s just her at her best, but with the maturity to sing “and you jump up, but she’s too young to know this song”

i hate it here: people have talked about seeing reputation in the anthology but i think you can also see so much debut and it makes me feel so tender. also i genuinely don’t understand why people don’t like “if chose the 1830s but without all the racists” like?? it’s supposed to be a bit clunky?? the songs about the limits of escapism?? the line enhances both of those themes?? also “i’m there most of the year” is such a funny devastating relatable lyric to say about a daydream

thank you aimee: it’s not every day a song inspires you to send this message about something a child did to you (fuck you madeline!!! fuck you jessie!!!)

the bolter: avoidant attachment representation!!! i love that it takes the stuff she hated about herself in the archer and just accepts and loves them and appreciates what they’ve given her. i especially love it because bolt can mean like, crossbow bolts, so it’s a flip on the archer. also “bolt” is one of my favorite words i love all the different meanings

“the only thing that’s left is the manuscript, one less souvenir from my trip to your shores, now and then i re-read the manuscript, but the story isnt mine anymore” also just had me sobbing. there’s just. wtf!!!!!!

[sinsandsweetness]

Hiii! In your opinion, how would early seasons!Daryl deal with someone who cannot handle confrontation? They know how to fight against walkers/humans and how to survive, but they tear up everytime someone snaps at them or is mean to them?

I think he would deal with it in a similar way that he dealt with comforting Carol about Sophia. When he brought her the Cherokee rose, and said his little piece? I think it would go something like that.

Like at first it would be almost annoying to him. The first thought that crosses his mind is that you’re a bit of a crybaby. Maybe he rolls his eyes at the sight of you getting worked up over some small comment that was made at your expense. But as time goes on and he gets to know you, he softens up. The same way he did with everyone. Carol, Rick, you. It’s all the same. And as soon as he’s got a soft spot for you, he’s very protective.

I think he’d definitely be more apt to defend you or comfort you because of how competent you are with life skills and survival. I mean, he’s seen you stay calm in some extremely high pressure situations. He ’s been right by your side when you and the others have gone through borderline hell just to make it home safely. So to witness you break down because someone was being an asshole… well that’s just not gonna slide for him. And I don’t think he’d be shy about it either. The second he sees you holding back those tears weighing down your lash line, and biting your wobbly lip, he’d tell whoever is making you cry, exactly where to shove it. And even though you really fucking hate the confrontation and the fact that it’s bringing more attention to the situation, you appreciate that there’s at least someone in your group that will stick up for you. That’ll speak his mind and maybe swing a few fists, but ultimately that he’s willing to be a shoulder you can cry into when he gets you alone.

That’s just what I think though:)

(ps I rlly love these kind of asks <3)

[ooohasitmeined]

Always, Everytime Pt. 2

I woke up to a blaring headache. My hangovers are getting increasingly more and more aggressive with each birthday. 

Like a good Zillenial, my first instinct upon cracking open my eyes is to grab my phone. As I suspected, it’s inappropriately late for me to still be sleeping. I don’t focus on the time for long, as I’m more focused on the text message notification on the screen. To my surprise, Louis responded to my text last night.

Louis: “It was lovely to meet you. Don’t worry about getting me back for the ride, it’s my treat.”

I want to respond. I don’t remember much about last night, but I remember how refreshing Louis was. Something about him was just so genuine. He was so easy to talk to, and was just so enjoyable to be around. I was worried last night would be the first and last time I’d see him, and with that text warranting no real response, I think that may be the case. I stare at the screen and decide that likely nothing will come from last night’s interaction. 

I’m disappointed when I open my fridge. I was planning on making a nice breakfast at home, but my fridge and cupboards are completely empty. It’s not hard for me to find an excuse to walk down to the coffee shop on the corner and pick up breakfast, but this morning I have no other option. I slip a t-shirt on over my head, tie up my hair in a claw clip, and pull on some sweatpants before heading out the door. I look like proper shit, to be completely honest. Given my luck, this is the morning I will run into someone I absolutely do not want to. 

“Good morning, Georgia!” I hear as I step into the coffee shop. 

I look up and notice Olivia, the bubbly high school aged barista that works in the shop on the weekends. She’s a short blonde girl with bright blue eyes and the most welcoming personality. I adore her, truly. 

“Good morning, Olivia. How are you?”

 “I’m great! How are you? You look horrible.” 

“Gee, thanks, Olivia!” I say, with a shocked expression and a laugh. “I’m good, I went out with some friends last night and got carried away.” 

“So fun! Where’d you go?” 

“We went to a few places, but we ended the night in SoHo” 

Olivia goes on about how she can’t wait to start clubbing and going to bars. I place my order with her, and take a seat to wait for my breakfast sandwich and latte.

As I wait, my phone vibrates. It’s embarrassing to admit, but a part of me was really hoping it’d be a text from Louis. I pull my phone from my pocket and see a text from Sophia. 

Sophia: Hi love, had so much fun last night. How’d you end up getting home?

Me: Me too! Thanks for taking me out. I ended up getting a ride home with this random guy. It’s a long story. 

Sophia: Well, I hope it had a happy ending lol. Can’t wait to hear all about it next girls night.

Sophia knows I’m not one to sleep with a guy on the first date. And my time with Louis certainly wasn’t a date, but given his charm I definitely wouldn’t have been opposed to bringing him up to my flat. 

Olivia brings me my order and I make the walk back to my flat. I spend most of the walk contemplating how to initiate a conversation with Louis. Lots of ideas cross my mind but none feel good enough. I’m completely lost on how to approach this, and given how nervous I am to annoy him or be rejected, I decide my best course of action is to hope for our paths to cross again somehow. When I get back to my flat I eat my breakfast, shower, and get myself into a proper outfit. I turn on my bluetooth speaker and grab my phone to play some music while I do my makeup. To my surprise, a text message banner is on my lock screen. It’s from Louis, received 46 minutes ago. It must have come in while I was showering and I missed the notification. 

Louis: Will I need to frequent the SoHo club scene to see you again?

A smile creeps on my face as I reread the text. 

Me: Absolutely not. Going to the clubs was my friend’s decision. Why do you ask?

I hit send and then press my phone to my chest. Though I hardly know him, I would like to get to know him. I haven’t felt compelled to spend much time with any man I’ve met in London, or anywhere for that matter, but something about Louis was so captivating. His instinct to save me from the persistent bachelor in SoHo was indicitive of his character, and his playful and joking demeanor in the car made me feel so relaxed. I didn’t feel like I had to perform for him. 

Louis: ‘Cause I want to see you again, Georgia. Bit obvious, innit? 

Me: Yeah, I suppose. What do you have in mind?

Louis: Not telling. But make yourself free tomorrow night at 8:00. I’ll pick you up. 

Me: Could I get a hint on what to wear?

Louis: I’m sure you could, but where’s the fun in that?

I debate whether or not to tell the girls. I know how excited Sophia, Ava and Poppy would be for me, but part of me feels like I’ll jeapordize this if I tell them. I know my jumping at the opportunity to go out with the first guy who is geniunely kind to me would be some kind of sign to them that I’m getting better, finally finding my feet in London, but given how out of practice I am with men and dating, I’m so scared to ruin all of this. 

Louis said he’d be here at 8:00, but my nerves have gotten the best of me and i’m ready an hour early. I kill time by staring at myself in the mirror and hoping my outfit is appropriate for whatever Louis has planned for the night. I decided to wear my best jeans, casual open toed heels and a brown high neck tank-top. It’s subtly hot, I think. The jeans make my ass look great, and the top does something for my chest, despite it being high neck. I’m absolutely trying to show off my features, but in like a casual way. 

Louis: Here, love. 

My heart starts to pound as I head down the stairs of my building and open the front door. Louis is on the sidewalk, leaned up against a black Mercedez-Benz sedan. He’s wearing a black tank top tucked into black slacks. His eyes meet mine as he lifts a cigarette to his mouth and takes a drag. 

“Hi, Georgia”

My mouth opens to speak, but nothing comes out. I’m overwhelmed by how unbelievably good Louis looks in such a simple outfit. 

“H-Hi, Louis”

He steps toward me as he opens the door to the back seat of the car. I walk forward, hoping my heels don’t fail me on this uneven pavement, and duck into the backseat. Louis walks to the other side of the car and steps inside. 

“So” he slaps his hands and rubs them together “are you ready for tonight?”

“I think so. Though I have no fucking clue what we’re doing. I hope I’m dressed appropriately, no thanks to you”

“You look great, love.”

“Can I get a hint as to where we’re going now?”

“You’ll see” he says with a smirk. 

Louis runs his hands now his thighs and I can’t help but notice how large they are. The thought of them in my hair flashes in my mind quickly, before I literally shake it out. 

The car comes to a stop outside of resturant in Chelsea. The lights are on, but no one’s inside. 

“I-I think it’s closed?” I say, concerned. 

“Well, yeah, to everyone else” Louis says as he takes my hand and guides me to the front door. 

Louis opens the large front door and I walk through. We’re greated by a young hostess. Shortly after a tall man in a black suit comes from behind her. I can only assume he’s the manager.

“Good evening, Mr. Tomlinson” says the man as he extends his hand for Louis to shake. 

“Evenin’, Theo. Thanks for this. This is Georgia, who I told you about.”

Louis gestures to me and I raise my hand to give a shy wave. Told him about? Why is Louis discussing me with random resturant managers? 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you” says Theo as he returns my awkard wave. “Right over here, you two” he says as he turns around and leads us to our table. Louis reaches out to me, his hand meeting the small of my back as we walk through the resturant. 

As I thought, the resturant is completely empty. Theo leads us to a table in the center of the dining area with two taper candles flickering in the dimmed room. 

“Thanks, mate” says Louis as he pushes in my chair. 

Louis takes a seat across from me. He folds his hands under his chin and wets his lips. This move forces me to clear my throat. 

“So, uhhh, why is no one else here?” I ask as I look around the dining room. 

“Just better this way. No distractions, you know?” he responds, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest.

“Did you do this? Rent the resturant out?” 

“Who else would’ve? Yeah, I did. But I know the owner, so it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Well, that’s a first.” I say with a breathy laugh. I’ve never had anyone challenge me the way he does, and admittedly I find it incredibly hot. 

“It’s just easier this way” responds Louis as the waiter pours us both a glass of wine. 

His response confuses me. What would be so challenging about getting dinner at a fully functioning resturant? A pang of embarssement hits me as the thought of him not wanting to be seen with me whips through my mind. I didn’t tell Louis what I do for a living, or my last name, but it wouldn’t be hard to find my various novels with a simple Google search. I don’t feel embarrassed of my work ever, but I’m so desperate to impress him, I’ve found myself analyzing everything about myself hoping it’s enough. 

“So, tell me about yourself, Georgia” Louis says as he brings his wine glass to his lips. This question forces a laugh out of me. I lean my forehead on my hand before drawing in a deep breath. 

“You’ve got to be more specific than that. I mean, I think we all know that’s a horrible question.”

“Well excuse me, fuck. What’s your middle name?”

“Rose, yours?”

“William”

“Louis William Tomlinson. Classic.”

“My mum thought so. So what exactly brought you to London”

“Ooof, well, I uhh didn’t really feel inspired by Florida. I spent my whole life there, and I was ready for something new. Someplace that would, I don’t know, bring me new experiences.”

“I hope this is a new experience” he says looking up at me through his eyelashes, a look of almost desire for approval on his face. 

“It absolutely is” I let out a sigh “this is absolutely the fanciest evening I’ve ever had out”

“Well, I’m absolutely trying to impress you” his voice is low and slightly raspy. It makes me adjust in my chair.

“That’s incredibly hard to believe”

“Ellaborate on that”

“On what?”

“On how it’s so hard to believe that a man would want to impress a smart, whitty, beautiful woman?”

“I don’t know, I don’t have much experience with men trying to impress me” 

“Now that” Louis says, using his wine glass to point at me “that is incredibly fucking hard to believe”

I’m completely lost on how to respond to him. I don’t want to admit to this nearly perfect man that I am completely inexpereinced with romantic encounters. Sure, I’ve slept with plenty of guys, but I never stay the night. We don’t go on dates, certianly not dates like this. 

Our waiter returns and takes our orders. Given the lack of other patrons, our food comes to the table quickly. Louis and I continue to talk while we eat, and the longer I look at him the more I realize how stunning he is. He’s both rugged and clean cut at the same time. He has a foul mouth, but he exudes confidence as he spits back playful comebacks to my obvious remarks. 

Louis finishes his dinner, places his fork down and leans back in his chair. He runs his finger along the gold chain around his neck and presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek. I nearly gulp at this. He looks so good, so masculine, so confident. I finally accept that I want nothing more than to crawl across the table and make out with him. I want to blame the wine, and the fact that I haven’t had any physical connection with a man since I moved to London, but I think the most notable part of my desire for Louis is the geniune interest he’s taken in me. He asks questions because he actually wants to hear the answer, it’s not just a formality or prerequisite to getting me into his bed. 

The resturant staff has come and cleared our table. I look at my watch and realize we’ve been sat in the resturant, exchanging laughs and stories, for three hours. I wish we could stay for three more. 

“Can I take you home, Georgia?” Louis asks as he stands up, extending his hand out to me. 

I smile and take his hand. Louis leads me out of the resturant and I trail behind him, my hand still in his. In this moment, I feel beautiful. I feel beautiful feeling like Louis girl. 

We’re halfway to my flat when I realize our hands our still intertwind. I look at them and then up, meeting Louis gaze. 

“I’ve been trying to be on my best behavior, Georgia. But you’re driving me crazy.”

“Wh-what? What did I do?” fear washes over me. Oh no, I’ve annoyed him. I’ve said something wrong.

“You’re just, so fucking beautiful” he says as his hand pushes my hair behind me ear, then his thumb holds my chin. 

“Oh” I awkwardly laugh “thank you, I suppose. You’re quite beautiful yourself”

“Beautiful? No one’s ever called me that before”

“Really? That’s sad. You really are.” I place my hand on his bicep and the thickness of it makes me cross my legs, a physical attempt at pushing my desires out of my mind. 

“What are you thinking, Georgia?”

“Uhhh. Do you want the truth?”

“Yes, absolutely”

“I’m thinking about how badly I want to kiss you”

“Well that’s a shame” he says as he slides his hand up the back of my head, grabbing a fistful of my hair. My head involuntarily drops back. “Because I’m thinking about how badly I want to fuck you.”

[ihaveforgortoomany]

Rambling about future chapters (CN 2.0 story spoilers)

If we are going to Antarctica your not telling me no one is getting an outfit change.

Like Vertin ok you crossed Australia under the sun in a full suit fine but your not telling me shes gonna be walking on the polar caps without a new outfit??? (Unless its not that close to the polars caps then fine), hopefully shes not being put through the wringer like in 2.2 (nearly drowned, gets sick with a fever, nearly strangled and clawed to death wow).

Nevermind Sophia no amount of arcane skill can tell me walking in that outfit (shes slaying in) would be suitable for the cold (Arcana is the exception because Arcana is Arcana plus wdym her ass is partially out that dress is so weird to figure out its dimensions)

Im guessing the patches will go like this :

2.0 - Matilda time -> 2.1 - Vertin side adventure -> 2.2 - main story chapter with Vertin + huge lore drops.

Also penguins. I want to see more penguins.

(It would be so cool if any event patch characters do finally show up in the main story, I feel like its perfect time for Windsong to show up once we get back to Vertin)

I stand by the wet and pathetic cat vibes Anjo Nala has and always has, the seductive facade in 2.0 is just a facade she quickly drops because it really wasn't working (I mean she literally spent like a few hours attempting to talk with a Manus Drummer, literally didn't clock at all they were as clueless as her).

I never saw the 180 degree shift in character as sudden, the moment she is alone with the Drummer Manus I feel like that was a hint shes baby. (I think once theyre in the suitcase Argus is really just terrorising Nala for fun, also the fact that you can interact with her mic stand and she reacts either by asking if Vertin can sing or pulling it back, does that mean with Lucy Vertin is poking her face everytime?)

(Also I don't think 2.2 story wise was as bad as Notes on Shori, I think the fact that this is part one of a story arc and that so much lore was given and didnt feel unatural kinda helps it, still Lopera's story felt weak to me here other than that ending part)

[gamingtrashbasin]

Current Stardew Valley ships

I'm including characters from Ridgeside Village and Expanded mods bc they are canon in my heart 💕

Maru x Sam

Girl boss and her himbo, need I say more? They have to have interacted since Sam is Seb's friend! Classic crush on older brother's friend. Also I think Sam would be super creative and everytime he was like "what if-" Maru would try to invent the thing. Complete chaos. Demetrius tries to threaten Sam like he does the farmer but it completely goes over Sam's head. This pairing lives in my head rent free.

Hailey x Leah

I can definitely see the two of them having multiple forest meet cutes and bonding over their passion for art! Just picture Hailey teaching Leah how to photograph and Leah teaching Hailey to paint and scuplt, both leaning new crafts together. They totally end up running a joint etsy and presenting their works at the fair! They make such a cute cottagecore couple fr if you think about it. I think they'd adopt a bunny don't ask me why. 🐰

Jeric (RSV) x Alex

Yessss himbo rivals to lovers! Ever since I saw there was a mod for them to get together I've been sold. It's canon to me.

Philip (RSV) x Sophia (SDVE)

Sophia enjoys anime, manga, and cosplay. Phillip has a secret geeky side and loves comics. I can totally see these two making awkward small talk at the Stardrop Saloon that turns into Gus politely asking them to leave because they got so enthralled discussing their favorites that they lost track of time and everything else going on around them and now the Saloon is empty and about to close lol. They end up having a slow burn geeky friends to lovers featuring them sharing copies of manga/comics and discussing the latest episodes of their favorite shows. Gus definitely ships it and gives them a nudge here and there.

Flor (RSV) x Gunther

The slowest slow burn. They are both autism creatures. I can completely see them bonding over their special interests bc if you think about it, archeologists and psychologists both study people. Just imagine them infordumping to each other on coffee dates in the Log Cabin Café or discussing the implications of newly discovered artifacts in the museum after hours. They are basically married before either one works up the nerve to ask the other on a date. The whole valley quietly ships it.

Shiro (RSV) x Harvey

Hear me out: Former paratrooper in recovery being treated by a doctor who wanted to be a pilot? There is no way they didn't talk about planes and Shiro's experiences. Shiro probably enjoyed that someone was talking to him about his interests instead of his injuries, it likely made him feel *normal again for awhile. I can just picture the moment when Harvey shows Shiro his radio equipment when he's well enough to go up the stairs, it's a big moment for them both for many reasons 🥺 Also, the added drama of having a crush on your doctor/patient...

*I'm not saying Shiro isn't normal, he has in game dialogue expressing he doesn't feel normal bc of his injuries. As a person with mobility issues myself I understand that mindset and how hard it is not to feel that way.

[lilithdahobbit]

Fuck it, The Magnus Archives fancast

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Riz Ahmed as Jonathan Simms

Look at him. You're gonna tell me that's NOT Jon? Yes he's a lil older than Jon but it's fine he doesn't look much older.

Harvey Guillen as Martin Blackwood

Everytime you fuckers cast a skinny guy as Martin a puppy dies. He is quite literally described as "comfortable" and "not the smallest". Plus Guillermo is pretty similar to Martin already. Anyway I better not see another skinny Martin on here.

Justin Min as Tim Stoker

Listen Tim is supposed to hot and broody. Justin is hot and his sparrow version of Ben is broody.

Bryce Dallas Howard as Sasha James

Listen, she'd need heels and glasses but I have faith.

Jessica Chastain as Not-Sasha

I think in a visual medium Not-Sasha needs to look enough like Sasha so the writers can gaslight the audience. They can't be identical, the audience still needs a moment of "are we supposed to think that's Sasha?" It's Sasha but...not. and Bryce has been compared to Jessica for years. Plus Jessica can play a really good antagonist/villain. She plays the character that makes you go "something ain't right" well.

Sophia Nomvete as Basira Hussain

I just have a good feeling about her ngl

Mackenzie Davis as Daisy Tonner

Tall lady with muscles 😩

Susan Wokoma as Georgie Barker

Honestly I just scrolled thru other people's Georgie fancasts and she just....stood out to me as Georgie

Hannah Marks as Melanie King

Look I just think her acting in Dirk Gently proves she's the gal to play Melanie.

Con O'Neill as Elias Bouchard

I'm putting this at the bottom because this feels the most controversial. Listen I have a vision ok? Mads definitely could be Elias but I just...I think Con has such a unique voice and I think it'd be really neat. Plus he's like "too young for the job he has" without looking the same age as Jon. He's only in his 50s, it could work.

[sparklingmusicofstars]

Hamefura theory : Why Catarina has so many dreams about her previous life recently ?

I think that's maybe partly because Catarina has seen a lot of things that remind her of her previous life, the fact that she turned 18 for example was quite important for her since she was able to live longer than in her previous life and the things she has missed in her previous life (like getting a car license) . There is also the fact that Sora acts very much like her second older brother : he is curt but kind. And they both often act in a roundabout way. But there is also something strange, everytime Catarina has a dream about the game, she falls asleep almost suddenly or by accident and when it's about Acchan playing the game Sophia is always here. We know that she is the reincarnation of Acchan so it may be the reason but we never know when did Acchan play the game. Did the sequel was out some time after Monkey girl's death and what Catarina sees in her dreams are Sophia's memories before her reincarnation ? But Sophia is the same age as Catarina so they reincarnated at the same time ? But it's impossible since Acchan decided to live "in the new world" Monkey girl gave her. And she lived enough time to play the sequel. What's more Acchan said something like "It's the sequel of the last game she played so I have to report it to her when I will finished it" Does it mean that Acchan has found a way to talk to her as "Catarina" ? Moreover she was able to talk with Catarina in her "dream" when she was under the dark magic spell and was able to help her break the spell. There are a lot of mysterious things . If Acchan has found a way to way to talk to Catarina that would explain why she has heard Catarina congratulating her when Geordo and Keith confessed to her.

If I was right about the reincarnated being Catarina's second brother it may be Catarina's gut feeling who seems to sense his presence. I mean, they were very close, alike, and she thinks of him as special so it's possible. Moreover it would be like some kind of dramatic twist if Catarina found out about her brother being reincarnated in this world (and maybe involved with the dark magic organization)

[turnupswritessometimes]

Geppetto's Boy - Lies of P- Ch 3

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54517777/chapters/138571591

Summary: A collection of oneshots set throughout the game, mostly exploring P and Gepetto’s relationship. (But exploring P’s relationships with most of Hotel Krat too.)

First | Previous | Next

Chapter Three

“How are you feeling about killing humans now?”

P's father asked him, as he cleaned the intricacies of his legion arm. He had just returned from the cathedral; from fighting that priest. He'd spoken with Sophia; had put his recovered Ergo to good use; and then had followed the routine of seeing his fahter, sitting in that chair, and submitting himself to be cleaned up. P forced himself to watch. It felt only fair to watch. Because it wasn’t oil, or simply blood, that he was covered in now. Now there were little bits of gristle, too. The kind that Lady Antonia would spit discreetly into a napkin, P was sure. These were little bits of meat that had come from his fights. Some of it got stuck in his machinery. There was plenty stuck in his shoes, but he doubted his father would care so much about that.

He needed to watch his legion arm be cleaned, to honour the memory of the things he’d killed. Not for what they were when he killed them, but for what they used to be. Those beings they had encountered on the way to the church had been humans, once. The same humans who lived at the hotel.

His father still called them humans.

“They were monsters,” he replied.

Geppetto did not look up from his work.“Some would call you a monster, you know.”

P knew that. He knew, because he’d been attacked just as determinedly as he’d attacked those monsters. That was what seemed to join everything: they attacked the unfamiliar. The ones they thought were scary. He hadn't been scared - he didn't think - he didn't he could feel scared. He had fought back, because he knew how. Because fighting was what he understood, even if he didn't understand what was happening. Gemini didn't either, and that was more concerning.

Something was very wrong in Krat. Even more than he'd been first thought.

“What happened?” It was what Gemini had asked P, over and over, and hedidn’t have any answers – all he knew was their orders – so, he hoped this man could provide them. His father. His father knew everything.

“I am endeavouring to discover that myself.” Another piece of gristle was dislodged. It fell into the silver bowl on the floor with a quiet thud. “We will get to the bottom of this mystery.”

They still hadn't solved the mystery of the frenzy, or the petrification disease, and here was another one. P thought that was one of the things it was better not to say. At least, not to Geppetto.

“They were monsters,” he repeated. “They acted like animals. Rabid.”

“Whatever disease afflicted them might be similar to rabies.”

It wasn't what he meant. He meant that they had lost their humanity, and therefore, it wasn't like when he'd killed that crazy donkey, or the scared mouse. P had realised it whilst fighting, and it had only been more obvious everytime his sword had clashed against those monsters. Those - carcasses. He'd known it when he faced what the archbishop had become and seen the empty shell of the man he'd been. But he needed to say it out loud: “The kindest thing to do was kill them.”

That did make his father look him, then. His eyes wrinkled at the corners, and he half-smiled. Was it pride or amusement?

“Is that so?” he asked. “Do you always do the kindest thing, when faced with death?”

So, he was amused. P didn’t answer that; there seemed little point in explaining any more. He’d thought kind was good. When Sophia called him kind, it had felt good. He'd liked that feeling - liked being good - even if he didn't understand how he could feel at all. It didn't seem as though his father was aware that he could.

“Will there be more of them, in the city?” he asked, instead.

“I’m sure there will be.” His father wiped a cloth over his mechanical forearm a final time. It was clean; and shone silver in the gas lamps. “But not to worry. You are strong, and you're growing stronger. You will be able to save Krat.”

First, he had needed to save his father, then it had been to save Venigni – when had it become saving all of Krat? Or had it always been? Had that been what Sophia had awoken him for? He hadn’t had a choice in her waking him - not even a choice in sleeping - and he didn’t have a choice what to do now he had.

Because, he had to save Krat. That was the right thing to do. The good thing to do. He couldn’t say that he wouldn't do it. Especially if it was what his father asked him to do; what his father had built him to do. So, he would. He owed it to him.

But would he be able to?

He had taken too long to reply. His father placed his legion arm back onto the armrest. Examined him, and caught hold of his chin. Carefully, as though he would shatter him.

“You need to know that I worry about you. Every time you leave this hotel, I worry about what will happen.” He looked over P with a searching expression, but he didn't know what he wanted to see; didn't know what he wanted him to say. He stared back. “But I know you can handle yoursel.f I know you’ll always come home to me. Won’t you?”

P nodded. But where else, he thought, would he go? There was nowhere else he could call home.

“That’s good.” Geppetto smoothed his hair. It fell, so that it was half-covering his eye again. "Good boy."

It felt right, to hear his father say that; to praise him. It made him feel like he really was doing something right, even if his thoughts were still muddled. Even if he couldn't forget the spider-like monster of the priest; the mysterious nun; the record that he'd found in the office.

They were finished. He was cleaned, and his father had work to do. Had work to do, and wanted to get some rest. P was free to prepare himself for the next task. He found himself wandering the halls. There were so many rooms, and so many of them were empty. What would this place have been like, before the frenzy? Would it – could it – truly all be full of people, once upon a time? How many people would that be? How many people had lived in Krat, before?

How many of them were dead now?

"It's kind of spooky at night, huh, pal?" Gemini asked, at his side.

P found himself smiling. It was funny, he thought, that a cricket, safe in his lantern, would be scared of ghosts. The emptiness of the hotel wasn't spooky; it was melancholy.

“Are you laughing at me?” Gemini asked.

P shook his head, but it only made his smile widen. The more he tried, the harder it seemed to smother. But he liked it. Liked the feeling of holding back a laugh, even as Gemini kept chirping. It dulled the feelings of horror that he’d felt when he saw the monsters.

When he saw Lady Antonia’s wheelchair from the doorway of the room, the smile disappeared.

Sophia said that the petrification disease would not turn people into those monsters. But, how could she be entirely sure? What if the same thing happened to Lady Antonia? What if she became a carcass of herself, and he had to hurt her?

He didn’t want to. It was worse knowing that he could, if it came to it. His fists clenched, as though he would be able to fight against the possibility alone.

“It’s impolite to lurk in doorways, young man.” Came Lady Antonia’s sharp, plummy voice.

Gemini dulled at his side. P stepped forward, ducking his head to show that he was apologetic.

Her fingers tapped on the handle of her wheelchair. She didn’t look at him – he knew she didn’t see very well, now. Perhaps it just wasn’t worth the effort. “So, I hear you have been fighting monsters.”

“Something bad is happening outside of the city,” he said.

It surprised him that she laughed, at that. Such a laugh that she tipped her head back. “Something bad is happening all over the place, dear, I assure you.”

P didn’t know whether to nod to that, or not. He waited for her to speak again. She always found something to say, especially when he was silent.

“Did Geppetto teach you how to play the piano?”

He glanced to the piano in the room. A great, hulking thing that seemed like its own animal. The keys looked like teeth to P, and he wasn’t sure how to even approach it.

“I do not think so.”

Lady Antonia sniffed, as though that personally offended her. He stared at the wheels of her chair, instead, wondering if he was being scolded too.

“We’ll have to remedy that. Take a seat on the stool.” She was already turning her chair, preparing to wheel it over to the beast.

P obeyed. It felt different to when his father told him to take a seat, even though she was still ordering him. It still felt like a question; like he had a choice. He stared down at the white and black keys. He pressed one. It made a discordant sound, and he pulled his hand away.

Lady Antonia taught him. Taught him keys and chords in her snappy tone of voice, and yet - she repeated herself patiently. She let him go at his own pace. By the end of an hour, he could string together a simple melody. It was easy, when he understood how. He supposed it was easier, because he was a puppet; he could remember and retain information more easily; his fingers were adept at doing what he needed them to.

“Good,” came Lady Antonia’s verdict. “It will do you good to have a hobby that isn’t killing things.”

Was that not what he was created for? He looked at his hands, cleaned of gore. They destroyed things. They destroyed everything in their path. Now, he was using them to create something. To create soft, sweet sounds.

Creating, he thought, seemed a much better thing than destroying.

*

P recognised the figures, as he was making his way back through the Malum District. The two figures lurked, just beyond the doorway of the Red Lobster Inn. The cat, and the fox. He hadn't seen them since going ahead and leaving them to rest. They'd tricked him, again, he supposed. But they had fought alongside him, for some of the way. They had helped. And perhaps the Cat really had been struggling. He'd seemed to have been really struggling. P wasn't sure how he could tell if he was genuine or not.

He stepped out of the inn, and let the door swing shut behind him.

"Wow," said the Cat. He leaned against the wall, twisting his knife between his fingers. "You're like a bad penny, huh?"

"That's hardly complimentary," the Fox told her companion; she stood on the steps, her arms folded. The starlight glinted off her mask, as she looked at him. He wondered what expression she wore; what expressions both of them wore. "He means that nothing stop you, huh?"

P paused. He didn't like the masks. The masks made it hard to tell what expression someone was making; if their words and tone matched what they meant. Whenever the Cat or Fox spoke to him, he had the feeling they were not being genuine; that they were tricking him again. He couldn't say for certain, he only had his suspisions. But they didn't want to kill him, and they weren't attacking him now. That was a rare thing. So, he would take them at their word.

"It's like you said." He took another step forward. It seemed very loud, in the sudden silence of the Malum District. "I am tougher than I look."

It made the Fox laugh; a merry, careless sound that seemed at odds with the gloomy city around them.

"You sure are, bello."

The nickname made him feel flustered; made him think of Venigni. He supposed he felt short-circuited because he was still recovering from the fight. From seeing that painting; the one of the boy who looked like him. Just like him, but a few years younger. It wasn't possible, surely, and he didn't understand it. He carried it, under his arm.

He focused on the Cat, instead. "Are you feeling better?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah." The Cat flicked his knife in the air. It glinted silver, like a coin, before he caught it again. "A lot better, now we had a chance to rest."

"Sorry that we couldn't go all the way with you," the Fox added. P didn't think she sounded very sorry. She sounded like she was smiling, but perhaps that was a trick of the mask. "My brother's illness has been getting worse and worse, you see."

P nodded. He did understand. He'd seen Lady Antonia growing gradually more sick, and it made his chest hurt. She was clearly suffering. If the cat was ill too, it must be hard to continue his work. It would explain why he hadn't been able to go far.

The Cat started coughing, putting a hand to his mask's mouth. The Fox turned to him, her snout lifting upwards. She didn't seem overly concerned. There was something more here, but he didn't understand everything. He supposed he didn't need to. It would be unlikely they'd meet again.

P nodded, again, and started forward again. The rain pattered against his skin and hair, streaking the blood covering him. He wanted to go home. He wanted to see Sophia, and her smile. He wanted to feel safe, again.

He also wanted to know what his father would say about the portrait. That was a selfish reason to go home. He didn't like having it.

"Heard you killed the eldest of the black rabbits," the Cat said. He was behind him, now, watching P head down the steps to the street.

He looked over his shoulder. "I didn't plan to."

The Cat gave a low whistle. "Well then, you've made yourself a whole load of trouble."

"That's true." The fox looked down too. "You'd better watch your back. They won't take that lightly."

P knew that, but that would be a fight for another day. He would worry about the rest of the black rabbits another time. He nodded, to show he understood, then continued. That was their way of saying farewell, he supposed.

He carried the portrait back to the hotel, and when Sophia asked what he had, he only shrugged. He didn't know why, but he didn't want Venigni or Eugenie to see it, either. It made him feel awkward. He didn't want anyone to know about it, until Geppetto had seen it first.

Sophia didn't press the matter. She sat on the edge of the stargazer next to him, and helped channel the Ergo he'd found back into him. He felt himself grow stronger, and yet, felt his springs whirring with that same change he'd felt before.

"It looks like it was a difficult battle," she said.

P nodded. He tried flexing the fingers of his legion arm, but they didn't all move. "I was a fool."

"I'm sure you weren't, clever one."

But he wasn't clever. He stared down at the fingers that wouldn't move when he wanted them to. "My father told me to stop the Black Rabbit Brotherhood. I should have understood what he meant."

Sophia stayed quiet for a moment. Then she put her hand over his. He looked up, into her soft, blue eyes. "What he intended is not necessarily what you had to do. Their choice to fight you was just as much theirs as yours."

He thought that might be a kind lie. When it came to it, he had killed the eldest of the Black Rabbit Brotherhood. He didn't see how it could have gone differently. But then, he thought he'd always have gone there. He had been asked to. It was the right thing to do - wasn't it?

Still, he didn't think he could explain it all accurately. He nodded, and tried to smile, though that didn't seem to be working, either. Sophia patted his hand, and let him go.

He took the portrait to his father, who was delighted by it. He hung it immediately, and said he was so glad it had been P who'd been the one to find it. P stared at the painted boy, and wondered why he looked so unhappy. He didn't ask who it was, in the portrait. He had a terrible feeling he wouldn't like the answer.

He had a terrible feeling he might know the answer already.

"Do you need repairs?" His father asked. He turned to him, as though he'd forgotten P was stood there. There was a different glint in his eye than usual, but the monocle obscured it. Then he saw the blood splattered up P's legion arm. "And we should clean your gears."

So P nodded. He sat, and let his father wipe his skin with a cloth, taking care around his eyes. Watched his father open the plates of his legion arm, and clean between the grooves once more. It wasn't oil, or the stained blue blood of the monsters. This blood was crimson. This blood was human. Again. It was becoming normal.

"You asked me to kill a person," P asked. He hadn't planned to, but it was harder and harder to stop himself doing that. It was better, he thought, to think about that, than the portrait.

His father looked at him, for a moment, before he concentrated on his work again. "They are a group of criminals. You killed a very bad person. Do you understand that, son?"

"He was a bad person," P repeated. "So it was alright to kill him?"

"It's—" Geppetto took a breath. "Yes. It was."

P clenched the fingers of his legion arm. His father put a hand on his wrist, to steady him.

"If I killed him, am I bad too?"

"No, son." Geppetto almost chuckled. "No. What you're doing is good."

Good, according to his father, his creator, who was telling him what to do. P did do it, would keep doing it, because he trusted him. Because he thought Geppetto was a good man. He had to be a good man, if he wanted to save the city of Krat. Good men did good things, like that.

P nodded. He kept his head down, letting his hair hang in front of his face. The Black Rabbit Brotherhood had bullied the neighbourhood. They had hurt people and they had only cared about their own income.

Still, was there really no other way than to kill them?

"You don't need to think any more on it," Geppetto said, soothingly, as though P was a child. "You trust me, don't you?"

P looked through his hair to Geppetto's grey eyes. They were soft, but his lips were pressed together in a firm line. He knew the right answer. But he could only half-nod.

Geppetto caught his chin, brushing his hair back into place. His touch lingered. "That's my boy."

He wanted to be Geppetto's boy. He wanted to say the right thing. Wanted to still be called son. But he wasn't entirely certain of what that really meant, anymore. This wasn't destroying puppets. It wasn't even fighting monsters. It was fighting humans. His father may say it was alright, and P thought it would be easy to believe him.

Easy, but perhaps not right.

*

He played the piano again. Stiltingly, and awkwardly, without Lady Antonia there. Everyone else was asleep; it was the night. But he managed. It kept his hands occupied; let his hands do something other than kill; and his mind wander back and forth over whether his father was good, or not.

The cat came by. She stared at him, with her jade green eyes. He stared back, his fingers still fumbling over the keys to play Clair de Lune. The cat's tail flicked, as if she was annoyed, but she didn't hiss at him this time.

He hit the wrong key. It was noticeable. The melody was sruined, and he let his hands slow to a stop. It seemed like a miracle to be able to play it right; creating took miracles.

He sat, staring at the piano, when he felt the brush against his leg. It was the cat. She gave him the barest of touches, before weaving through the legs of the stool, and heading off again. They were hardly friends, but he supposed that was better than hissing.Perhaps it would take just as much of a miracle to stroke the cat, one day.

"You're good," a soft voice said. It was Eugenie. She wore a nightgown, and was half hidden by the doorframe. When she saw him turn, she smiled, sligthly.

"That's a lie," he replied, and felt proud of himself for being able to tell. Really, it was obvious that he was not good at all.

"But it was a kind lie," she replied. She came forward properly,  though she still leant against the frame. "Spring likes it too."

P nodded. The cat spotted Eugenie, and ran to her with a chirrup. She laughed, and knelt down to stroke the cat; it arched into her fingers, seeming to smile. P wanted that. He wanted to know what it felt like for an animal to want to touch him.

He watched them. The hotel was quiet. Polendina was cleaning a faraway room, and Pulcinella tidying Venigni's workspace. There was only the great ticking of the grandfather clock to break the silence. He couldn't see Sophia. In fact, he wasn't even sure where Sophia's room was. She was simply there, when he needed her.

"Do you think it's alright to kill a bad person?" P asked.

Eugenie looked up at him. Her hair slid from her shoulder. "Usually, I would say that killing is killing. But a lot of things have changed since then. Now the city is like this, I don't know how else we'd stop someone from doing something bad. Not if they didn't want to change."

It was certainly a longer answer than the one his father had given him. P thought about it, pressing the pedal of the piano over and over. He thought about the Black Rabbit Brotherhood. He had seen their ledger. He knew they enjoyed weilding their power over the district; had heard them trying to turn desperate people against each other for the hope of their safety. Had seen them fighting ruthlessly. They were not good.

And yet, he had also seen their written sibling squabbles. They were, under the masks, still human.

Had they wanted to change? Maybe not.

But then, he thought, he'd never know for certain.

Not now.