#character with a big head who's looking for a fight but cowers quickly and easily

[aroace-number-eight]

There's an analysis to be made about the LL series and how the writers design characters you're meant to hate, and how the way they're designed indicates the type of role they're meant to play and whether you're supposed to hate them but realize their nuance as interesting characters or smash their head down a pike

[ashesandhackles]

Harry And Personal Conflict: A Meta On Evolving Dynamic With Ron and Hermione

One of my last metas on Harry was how his abuse at the Dursleys informed who he is as a person and a lot of his main personality traits. This time, I want to explore Harry's relationship with conflict, mostly in regard to his best friends - Ron and Hermione.

First things first, because of his abusive upbringing where he is constantly in conflict with his caregivers, conflict is seen as Bad Thing when we first meet him as a 11 year old. And it informs how he reacts to both Ron and Hermione at first. He instantly relates to Ron because Ron is an underdog - a boy who feels neglected and passed over in his large and boisterous family. Harry shares his own experience of neglect with Ron and they both bond instantly.

His initial impression of Hermione is that she has a "bossy sort of voice" . The bossiness is an important characterstic to his impression of her - she reminds him of an authority figure and he does not particularly take to her as easily as he does Ron. Before the troll incident, he is frequently annoyed by her interventions because "he can't believe anyone would be so interfering". It's her vulnerability and the fact that she may be in danger that makes Harry, and by extension Ron, go after her. And she pays it back in full with a demonstration of loyalty to them in front of people she wants to impress: teachers. This sets the tone of his friendship with Ron and Hermione.

There is sense of easiness to his friendship with Ron, especially in earlier books that he doesn't quite share with Hermione. This is a bit gendered as well, of course. His relationship with Hermione evolves as Ron's own equation with two of them changes, more specifically Ron's cognisance of his romantic feelings for Hermione. So how does this inform his relationship with personal conflict?

Let's look at it Book wise.

Book 1-4: Since Harry tends to see All Conflict As Bad, when Hermione becomes his friend, he tends to ignore traits of her that he particularly doesn't take to. Specifically her argumentativeness - which he usually leaves Ron to deal with. For example, look at when Hermione drags him off to the kitchens in GOF. When he realises what this is about, he nudges Ron, and Ron does the protesting: "Hermione, you are trying to rope us into that spew stuff again!".

Often, you can say he is amused by Ron's more ..let's say colourful.. reactions to Hermione being overbearing. So when Ron and him are not speaking and Hermione gets a Quidditch term wrong, it causes him "a pang to imagine Ron's expression of he could have heard Hermione talking about Wonky Faints". It's that deeply ingrained into the dynamic.

While Ron acts buffer and protects Harry from stepping into a potential conflict ("skip the lecture", "don't nag" he tells her), Harry's world view remains quite the same. Part of Harry's growing up is integrating conflicting points of view and gaining nuance. For example, he can't understand why someone like Snape, who seems to hate him so much, can also save his life at the end of Philosopher's Stone. This is his first venture into trying to integrate two conflicting things about a person into nuance. Dumbledore gives him a very easily digestible story, one that appeals to his ideal of his father and Harry is sated.

Again, Harry's world view is tested when he finds out that he relates with Tom Riddle - for their "strange likenesses". He doth protest too much at Dumbledore's office: "I don't think I am like him! I am Gryffindor!". And Dumbledore offers him a wisdom nugget: "It's our choices which define who we are" (paraphrasing). Harry is uncomfortable that he empathises with Tom Riddle, his parents' murderer, at this point in the story.

In the first four books, his only proper personal conflict has been with Ron.

It is depressing to think about in these terms - but Ron is Harry's first experience of unconditional love (we can even put Hagrid here, but he is not the one who spends most time with Harry). And when Ron and him fight, Harry is so hurt by the prospect that he proceeds to abandon Ron before Ron abandons him. (the whole chucking a "Potter stinks" badge at him and making a jab about having a scar is what he wants, or the fight in DH where he yells "then leave! Pretend you have gotten over your spattergoit and have your mummy feed you up"). It's an interesting defense mechanism and he feels "corrosive hatred" towards Ron during these times because Ron and him aren't supposed to be like this. Ron is a certainty in his life. It's also why when Ron comes back, Harry either doesn't need him to apologise (as in GOF) or quickly forgives him in DH - although I do think Harry thinks the locket bit was punishment enough. But even without the whole locket, I think Harry has trouble holding Ron accountable in general beyond few slaps on the wrist - especially if Ron and he are on good terms.

5th Book: This is the transition point for Golden Trio friendship. Harry has come back from an immensely traumatising night at the graveyard and his PTSD isolates him from his best friends. This is also the point where Ron, especially after GOF, is aware of his romantic feelings for Hermione ("the perfume is unusual Ron", Hermione tells him in this book). So in this book, we often see Ron and Hermione on one side, with Harry on the other.

Ron is unwilling (quite like Harry in that respect) to engage him in a direct conflict, but he is also unwilling to shield him from Hermione's nagging in this book. This is why, OOTP is the book where you see Harry ignore or avoid Hermione and lie to her more than usual to avoid conflict. For example, he tells her that Snape thinks he can carry on Occlumency once he got the basics - that is categorically not what happened. Or the entire day he spends ignoring Hermione's warnings about breaking into Umbridge's office. (The description here is comical - about Hermione vehemently hissing so much that Seamus Finnigan is checking his cauldron for leaks. ) If he cannot lie to her or avoid her, at the end of the rope, he will treat her to display of his frightening temper.

Interestingly, OOTP is also the book that his world view goes through a tremendous upheaval: mainly, his ideal of his father and having empathy for Snape. It is unnerving for Harry to see Snape being the "boy who cried in the corner" when his father shouts at a cowering woman. Similarly unnerving is that his intense empathy for him - "he knew exactly what Snape felt when his father taunted him and judging by what he had seen, his father was every bit as arrogant as Snape always told him".

While he is placated that his father grew out of it, this memory of his father being a bully is something he cannot bear to watch again in DH. Few chapters later, he grins at Ron "sweeping his hair" back to make it look more windswept, just like his father - suggesting that Harry is beginning to integrate two conflicting things he knew about his father: from the people who loved him vs the people he was cruel to.

6th Book onwards: It's interesting to me that his better appreciation for Hermione comes after OOTP (one, because she is the one who challenged the whole Ministry plan and she followed him into a trap knowing it was one anyway) but also the timing of it is in line with Harry having a more nuanced understanding of his father. He struggled to hold conflicting information about him into one cohesive person - the boy who was a bully vs the man who joins Order of Phoenix to fight a war he could very well have sat out. The pedestal crashing helped Harry gain nuance (he thinks of his father and mother with pride in HBP - of them walking into an arena with head held high). HBP also sets up his deeper understanding with Snape in DH. There is lovely meta by about this by thedreamersmusing. Read it here. HBP is also the book he feels "sorry" for Voldemort and also feels "reluctant admiration" for him - both of things he is less defensive about.

And this nuance informs his relationship with conflicts - especially the kind he has with Hermione. He is more confrontational with her and does not lie or sneak around her as much as he did in OOTP in the Half Blood Prince. ("Finished? Or do you want to see if it does back flips?" He asks her when she takes the book from him to check if it's jinxed. Or the "I hope you enjoy yourself" he calls out irritably when she declares intention to find out who HBP is. And "do you want to rub it in Hermione? How do you think I feel now?" He tells her when she says she was right about HBP).

The fact that he is willing to be confrontational with her is a big step in his character - a step up from his unregulated outbursts in OOTP, which is a function of him not knowing how to put his anger across in normal ways. He is also more willing to stand up for her in front of Ron too - "You could say sorry" he tells Ron bluntly. This is in contrast to his more quiet standing up for her in POA: "Can't you give her a break?" Harry asked him quietly. In POA, he lets the subject drop after Ron flatly refuses. Here, he presses on more : "What did you have to imitate her for?" "She laughed at moustache!" "So did I, it's the stupidest thing I have ever seen".

His relationship with Ron is an interesting contrast to his relationship with Hermione, which functionally teaches a very important lesson for an abused child who thought all conflicts are bad: That his friendship with her is challenging, and frustrating, filled with conflicts but their love for each other isn't disputed. It's a very important thing for brain development in general - to hold conflicting information in one space. The defense mechanism abused children do to avoid this is called splitting.

So, Ron allows Harry to be the age he is: a teenager and it's foundation for his further development, and Hermione teaches him how to be an adult, and therefore, spurs his growth. (In esoteric terms, if you look at Ron and Hermione as proxy parents - Ron is the Mother archetype, the one who offers unconditional love. Hermione is the Father archetype - one who demands best of him, and guides him).

Additional reading: Harry, Prongs and Prince - Harry's Inner Struggles For Forging An Identity. By u/metametatron4

Harry Identifies, and Reluctantly Admires Snape Even Before The Prince's Tale by thedreamersmusing

[waitimcomingtoo]

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter seven rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Synopsis: you are Peters greatest love and Spider-Man’s greatest enemy

Series Masterlist

Peter walked to campus that day with an extra bounce in his step. He couldn’t keep himself from leaping over the school gate, not caring who could’ve seen. He was in love. He walked past Flash with confidence, easily brushing off his backhanded comments. He walked up to Ned and felt oddly compelled to click his heels. Ned noticed the ecstatic expression on his best friends face and smirked.

“What’s got you so happy? Did a certain wall crawling superhero finally beat Venom in a fight?” He asked. Peter shook his head.

“Not yet. Something even better happened.” Peter said proudly.

“And what might that be?” Ned wondered. Peter could barely keep himself from screaming.

“Y/n kissed me.” He exclaimed. He got a few strange looks from passing students on their way to class, but Peter didn’t care. Nothing could ruin his mood.

“What? When? ” Ned gasped.

“This morning. She slept over last night after she had a nightmare. And guess what else?” Peter asked. Ned bounced up and down.

“What? Tell me!” Ned demanded. Peter looked around for who could be listening and smirked.

“She slept in my bed.” He smirked.

“Oh.” Ned said looked disappointed in the anticlimactic finish.

“With me in it.” Peter added and Ned looked amazed. His jaw hung open and he began to bounce up and down again.

“Dude that’s like the greatest thing ever.” Ned cheered. “She’s so hot! We have to tell everyone.”

“We’re not telling anyone just yet.” He shook his head. “She’s only been my girlfriend for a few hours. She’s really special to me, Ned. I don’t want to treat her like shes some prize I won by telling everyone. Girls are worth more than that.”

“Amen to that. What are you losers talking about anyway?” MJ said as she approached them. She was eating trail mix and looked extremely bored already.

“Peter has a girlfriend.” Ned blurted. Peter shot him an angry look while MJ looked impressed.

“Oh really? Who is she, your right hand?” MJ smirked. Ned looked confused while Peters face went red.

“It’s not my right hand. She lives in my building and she’s an angel. That’s all you need to know.” Peter grumbled, still annoyed that Ned spilled his secret. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of you, the exact opposite actually. He would shout it from the rooftops that you were together if he could. He just didn’t want everyone to know. You had only kissed that morning and Peter still wanted to keep the magical details to himself.

“Does this angel have a name?” MJ questioned, actually interested in something for once.

“No.” Peter said at the same time Ned said “Y/n L/n.”

“Y/n L/n from The L/n Report?” MJ was suddenly invested. It was the first time Peter or Ned heard emotion in her voice.

“You know her?” Peter asked.

“Duh.” MJ scoffed. “She’s the only investigative reporter I’ve seen who actually cares about the people she reports on. I read her articles all the time. We have a lot of the same opinions. I used to think she was the coolest girl ever.”

“Used to think?” Ned asked.

“Well clearly something’s wrong with her if she’s dating Peter.” MJ said flatly. Ned laughed and Peter looked at her angrily.

“There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s amazing.” Peter defended.

“I know she is.” MJ shrugged. “I’ve idealized that girl for year. Did you guy see what she did to Carlton Drake?” Peter nodded and smiled proudly at the thought of his girl kicking names and taking ass.

“She’s like my hero. She’s done so much for the homeless back in San Francisco. I was so excited when she said she was moving to New York to work for The Daily Bugle.” MJ gushed. Peter and Ned looked at each other, visibly confused.

“Have you always done that?” Ned asked her.

“Done what?” MJ asked.

“Felt things?” Ned said and MJ rolled her eyes.

“I feel very passionate about a lot of things. Those things just don’t happen to include you two or anyone else in this school. However, I am very passionate about your girlfriend.” MJ stated. She suddenly looked a little uncomfortable and unsure of herself, two things MJ never did. She awkwardly turned to Peter.

“Do you think I could meet her? I’d really love to talk to her about her article on fracking.” MJ asked slowly. She wasn’t used to asking people for things. Peters eyes softened at this new side of MJ.

“She’s picking me up after class today on her motorcycle. You can meet her then.” Peter offered. Then MJ did something very out of character.

She smiled.

“K thanks.” She blurted and then swiftly left. Ned and Peter laughed as she walked away.

“That was new.” Ned commented.

“Yes It was.” Peter agreed.

“She’s so odd.” Ned added.

“Yes, she is.”

“Did you do the hanky panky with Y/n?” Ned asked. Peter snapped his head towards Ned.

“What?” Peter flushed red. “No. And never say ‘hanky panky’ again.”

“It was worth asking. See you in orgo.” Ned said before walking towards his class. Peter shook his head in amusement before heading to his first class of the day.

At 3:30, you pulled up to Peters college on your motorcycle. You took off your helmet, shook your hair out, and scanned the crowd for Peter. You soon saw him, Ned following shortly behind him, and a girl you had never seen before. She wasn’t wearing makeup, which you gave her props for, and had her curly hair tied back in a pony tail. She was undeniably pretty and had a very cool vibe to her.

“Hi beautiful.” Peter said when he reached you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and hugged you tightly. “It’s torture not being with you all day.”

“I know. But the school year is almost over right? Then we can spend every second together.” You promised. Peter smiled happily. He leaned in slightly, as if asking for your permission, and you did the same. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He smiled into the kiss and held you closer. This time, there were no interruptions.

“Y/n, I’d like you to meet MJ. MJ, this is Y/n.” Peter said, gesturing to the girl. MJ smiled shyly at you and held out her hand.

“It’s really cool to meet you, Y/n. Your article on greenhouse gases is hanging on my wall. I’m uh, I’m a big fan.” She said timidly.

“You’re a fan? That’s amazing.” You smiled brightly at her. “I’ve never met a fan before. It’s really cool to meet you too, MJ. And if you’re interested in the environment, I have a bunch of scientists numbers I can give you. I had to interview a bunch back in San Francisco to write that article. They gave me some great tips on how to reduce my carbon footprint.” MJ’s eyes widened just a little. She looked baffled and gave you a thankful smile. You noticed one of her front teeth was slightly askew and decided you liked her already.

“Really? That’d be so cool. Thanks.” She said. You squeezed her arm and nodded.

“I think you and I are going to get along just fine. Can I get your number? I’d love to hear more about what you’re interested in.” You handed MJ your phone and she took it. She typed her number it and handed it back.

“This has been really amazing. Thanks for being so cool. I have to run though. I’m running a protest outside of Oscorp.” She explained. “One of their employees got seriously electrocuted and they’re to cover it up.”

“Really?” You gasped. “Is it okay if I tag along? I’m kinda busy with my Cletus Kasady story but I would love to cover your protest too.”

“You’d do that for me?” She asked as if she wasn’t used to people doing things for her.

“Gladly. Can I join? I can give you a ride there.” You offered. She smiled at you and toyed with the strings on her backpack.

“That’d be great. See you losers later.” MJ gave Peter and Ned a peace sign and climbed onto your bike. You gave Peter a quick peck on the lips and got on the bike as well. Peter watched as MJ wrapped her arms around your waist and smirked at him. You two sped off towards Oscorp, leaving Peter and Ned in your wake.

“Dude.” Ned laughed. “MJ just stole your girlfriend.”

“Shut up. No she didn’t.” Peter said. Did she though? You seemed to hit it off with her pretty quickly. Peter didn’t know MJ too well but he knew she was guarded and didn’t let people in easily. In fact, she didn’t let anyone in. And yet, you and her had become best friends in a matter of minutes.

Heading back from Oscorp a few hours later, you saw a familiar hat bobbing up and down in the street. You were about to call out Neds name when two guys came from around the corner. They looked mean and you could hear Ned’s heartbeat rising. You quickly ran over to him.

“Hey.” You panted. Ned looked relived to see you.

“Oh hey Y/n. How’d your date with MJ go?” He teased. You shoved him slightly.

“It wasn’t a date. She’s really cool though. I think we’re going to be good friends.” You said as you passed the two guys. You soon heard a whistle.

“Damn baby. Where you going with him? Don’t you wanna stay here and have some fun?” one of the guys called. You looked at Ned and picked up your pace.

“I know you heard me beautiful. Stop running before I give you a reason to run.” The man said again, louder this time.

“Keep walking.” You whispered to Ned.

“I said stop running.” The man shouted, this time, his threat was accompanied by the sound of a gun cocking. You and Ned froze in your steps. The two men slowly approached you, all while pointing the gun level with your head.

“That’s better.” One man said when he reached you. “Now, how about this. You come with me, or I shoot your friend. Does that sound fair?”

“I better call Peter. He’ll know what to do.” Ned panicked.

“No need.” You growled as your transformed into Venom. You marched up to the guy and grabbed him by the shoulders in a death grip. You spit at a nearby newspaper in the ground. The newspaper quickly disintegrated and left nothing but smoke behind. You smiled devilishly at the man, grateful for a chance to show off your acidic saliva.

“What was that?” The man cowered in your grasp. Meanwhile, his friend ran away terrified.

“Acid spit. Still want me to come with you?” Venom purred. The man whimpered and shook his head furiously.

“Didn’t think so. Now, if you don’t tell us the names of ten historical feminists who would be very disappointed in your sorry ass by the time I count to ten, we’re going to eat you. Does that sound fair?” Venom growled as the man shut his eyes in fear.

“One.” You began to count.

“Uh…” He whimpered.

“Two.”

“Um.” He raked his minuscule brain for answered but came up empty handed.

“Ten.” You said and bit his head off. You quickly ate the rest of his body before turning back into yourself. You wiped your hands and patted your stomach before turning around and making eye contact with Ned, completely forgetting he was there.”

“You’re Venom?!” He gasped as he pointed at you in horror. You ran up to him and covered his mouth.

“What? No.” You lied. “How do you know about Venom anyway?”

“It’s you. I can’t believe it’s you.” Ned exclaimed when you took your hand off his mouth. You were getting more and more confused.

“You’re Venom. You, Y/n, are Venom.” He repeated as if it all made sense now.

“Play dumb.” Venom whispered.

“What? I’m not Venom. What makes you say that?” You stammered.

“Not that dumb!” She yelled. Ned looked at you and laughed, still in shock.

“You and Peter are perfect for each other, you know that? You’re both dumb as shit.” He laughed. You had to laugh a little as well.

“You’re Venom and Peter is…do you know about Peter?” Ned suddenly asked.

“What about Peter?” You didn’t understand what he meant. Neds eyes went wide, and then filled with sadness.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” He shook his head. “Are you gonna tell him about this? Because I’m going to be very honest with you, I’m terrible at keeping secrets. I don’t know if I can keep this from him.”

“I’m gonna tell him eventually. So please, don’t say anything.” You pleaded. “He has to hear it from me. I’m sorry that I’m making you lie to your best friend but this is a very unique situation.”

“It’s a lot more unique than you think.” He muttered. “I won’t tell him.”

“Thank you.” You hugged him tightly, thankful that he was safe and keeping your secret. You walked Ned home and began to make your way back to the apartment building. You wanted nothing more than to cuddle with Peter and forget the day. After all, you missed him all day at school. It was bearable when you guys were just friends, but now that he was your boyfriend you never wanted to be apart.

When you were just a few blocks from your apartment, you felt a strong arm wrap around your neck and hold you in place. Suddenly, there was a knife to your throat.

“I saw what you did to my buddy, you little freak. Now, how about you get down on those pretty little knees before I kill you?” The man threatened. You turned your neck as much as you could and recognized your attacker as the mans friend who ran away from earlier. You sighed deeply. You were full and trying to keep your body count to a minimum, but he was just asking for it. You shut your eyes and were about to turn into Venom when you heard a voice from behind you.

“Now that’s no way to treat a lady.” The voice rang. You recognized it as Peters voice. The guy was quickly pulled away from you as if by some kind of rope. You heard some sort of webbing going on behind you and small cries of struggling from the man.

“Are you alright Miss?” Peter asked.

“I’m fine, Peter.” You said, finally turning around. Instead of seeing your boyfriend, you saw the friendly neighborhood pain in the ass. He had webbed your attacker to the wall and was now looking right at you. You had seen him so many times before, and he’d seen you, but never like this. You felt almost naked, standing before Spider-Man as Y/n instead of Venom.

“Oh.” You said, startled. “I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

“Yea. This is a pretty popular outfit.” Spider-Man joked, gesturing to his skin tight suit. You bit your tongue. He was funny, but you couldn’t let him know that. You were enemies after all. He just didn’t realize it was you.

“Thanks for saving me.” You blurted. “But I had the situation handled.”

“You’re right. You especially looked like you had it handled when he was about to stab and murder you.” Spider-Man said sarcastically. You found him oddly charming, despite your history.

“What are you gonna do with him?” You asked, pointing to the man webbed to the wall.

“I heard what he said to you. I’m going to register him as a sex offender and ruin his life. Unless, you had other plans. You know, since you had the situation handled.” Spiderman remarked. You playfully rolled your eyes. You did have other plans. Plans that involved eating him and digesting him while you cuddled with Peter. But Spider-Mans plan was okay too.

“Alright. I’ll see you around Spider-Man.” You said, giving the superhero one last look. There was something familiar about him. Spider-Man nodded.

“See you around. And please, be careful. Don’t walk alone. I don’t want to see you get hurt.” He said and turned back to the man.

You went home, showered, and got into some comfy clothes. You missed your boyfriend dearly and went to his apartment to see him.

After being let in by May, you went into Peters room and flopped on his bed. He was sat at his desk doing homework.

“Did you mean what you said about me sleeping over whenever I wanted?” You asked, voice muffled by his pillow.

“Of course I did.” He swiveled around to look at you and noticed your body language. “What’s wrong, love?”

“I’ve had a long day and I want to cuddle my boyfriend.” You pouted. Peter smiled at you calling him your boyfriend. He closed his textbook and climbed into bed with you. You rested your head on his chest, right over his heart. The sound of his heartbeat calmed you down and you felt sleepy.

“Did you make any progress on your story?” He asked. You shook your head as he began to run his fingers through your hair. You hummed in content and pressed a small kiss to his neck. He blushed at the affection and held you closer.

“No.” You groaned. “I’ve had the worst writers block all day. I was actually thinking of writing an article on Spider-Man until my writers block went away.”

After your encounter with the masked hero, you wanted to know more about him. You were originally against your boss’s idea to write about him, but now you liked it. Sure, there were plenty of articles on Spider-Man out there, but you knew him intimately.

“Spider-Man?” You felt Peters heart stop momentarily. “Why?”

“I think I have a pretty good shot at figuring out who he is.” You shrugged. “Like, think about it, he only operates from the hours of 4 to midnight ish right? Except, on weekends, when he’s seen all throughout the day. What’s he doing all day on weekdays? He can’t be at work because jobs don’t end that early. I think he’s in school. Either high school or college. Probably college though, right? I can’t imagine a high schooler doing what he does. Unless he’s been doing this since high school. That’s also possible.”

“Oh wow.” Peter said, dumbfounded. He was usually blown away by your intelligence, but now it was working against him. There were a million college students in New York, though. Surely you wouldn’t figure it out.

“And think about this, he’s only ever in New York, so he must live here right?” You continued. “But what about that one time he saved those kids in the Washington Monument? What was New York’s superhero doing in Washington? I looked into it and the kids he saved were on a field trip. What if Spider-Man was on the field trip too? If I look up all the schools that were there, I could create a list of suspects and go from there. Then, I could-“ you were cut off with a kiss.

“Let’s not talk about Spider-Man.” Peter said quickly, followed by a smile. “I want to hear about you day. How was Oscorp?”

“We had a really good time.” You smiled. “I interviewed her after I helped her with the protest and then we grabbed lunch. Oh, and I saw Ned on my way home.”

“You saw Ned?” Peter asked. Ned hadn’t mentioned seeing you.

“Yea.” You blew out a breath. “These two guys attacked us. One ran away and I took care of the other. But then the one that ran away came back and you’ll never guess who saved me.”

“Who?” Peter smiled. He knew who.

“Spider-Man. I don’t know. I was wrong about him. I used to think he was just some guy in spandex with a God complex but now I think he just genuinely wants to help people. And…” you trailed off.

“And?” Peter raised an eyebrow.

“He’s got a nice ass.” You admitted. Peter laughed loudly. You smiled into his chest. You loved that damn laugh.

“I’m serious.” You insisted. “I saw it as he walked away and it knocked me out. Spider-Man is dummy thick.”

“Please never say the words “Spider-Man is dummy thick” in my house again.” Peter pleaded. He secretly loved it though.

“I was actually thinking of making that the title of my article.” You joked. Peter laughed again. He chucked a pillow at you and you giggled.

“Let’s go to bed.” You yawned. “In a romantic, but still non sexual way this time.”

“Good night, my Nancy Drew.” Peter said with a kiss to your forehead.

“Goodnight, my whoever Nancy Drew was boning.” You yawed again.

“Ned Nickerson.” Peter laughed.

“Then goodnight Ned Nickelodeon.” You said, half asleep.

“Close enough.” Peter smiled.

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Prey for You

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: You have a thing for prey hybrids. You admit. The way they tremble under you while simultaneously baring their neck for you gets you off. It's not your fault Chan's friend group has so many pretty little boys that you're constantly running south of him. You see, the wolf hybrid doesn’t very much appreciate you preying on his friends.  Warnings: switch!reader, switch!chan, wolf!hybrid chan, fox!hybrid reader, chan has a big dick, size kink, too much dirty talk, power dynamics, degradation, messy dirty sex so don’t @me 

Edit: I’m so dumb I forgot to mention that Chan’s character in this is inspired by @skzctnightnight​‘s Prowl so go read it because the smut is even hotter in it and there is a complex, intriguing storyline to boot uwu

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 Part 5, Part 6

Credit to the gif that started my chan obsession 

“You’re really pretty.” You drawl, brushing your hand over the flushed face of the squirrel hybrid you have pinned against the door, the party in full swing just outside. “You know that?”

He opens his mouth to say something but all that comes out is a whimper as you press your knee between his legs, rubbing your thigh against his hard length. Poor boy doesn’t know what to do with himself. He is simultaneously terrified and turned on. The predatory way you were looking at him triggering his flight response, but the seductive purr to your voice and his precarious position make it hard to think of anything other than you.  

And that’s exactly how you like them--scared, pretty boys who are so horny they ignore their instincts. They like it too, if the fact that they always come back for more is anything to go by. Danger just tastes so sweet.

You’re so high off the delicious smell of Jisung that you don’t realize he is there until he’s banging on the bedroom door. “Open the fuck up, fox.”

You pounce on Jisung, ignoring the banging on the door and kissing him. You’ll be damned if you let that meddling wolf ruin yet another hookup for you. But the low growl rumbling deep in your throat tips the scales too much, and the squirrel hybrid cowers back, his fear overtaking his hunger now, and you know you’ve lost him.

“If you don’t open up, I’ll break this fucking door.”

Huffing through your nose, you step away and yank the door open to face the infuriating newcomer. “What do you want?”

He quickly pulls Jisung to his side. “I thought I told you to stay away from my friends.”

“And I thought I told you to lighten up and stop cockblocking me.” You spit, turning to smirk at Jisung. “I just wanted a little taste.”

Chan pushes him further behind him, and growls at you, the sound much deeper and more menacing than your own and you have to stop yourself from taking a step back. “You will not come near my friends again or I’ll make you regret it.”

You roll your eyes at that. “What will you do to me, give me a stern talking to? You’re all bark and no bite.”

The glare he pins you with makes goosebumps erupt all over your body, his lips drawn back to bare his sharp canines threateningly, and for a second, you think he might actually attack you. But then he closes his eyes and lets the anger blow out of him in a forceful sigh. He turns his back to you and shuffles Jisung out of the room.

“Typical.” You mutter sourly. Of course he’d back down, that’s what he always does, and it pisses you off more than it had any right to. “You’re a disgrace to predator hybrids everywhere.”

That gets a reaction out of him.

Chan slams the door behind Jisung and whips around towards you, eyes glowing red. “I’ve had just about enough of your shit, little fox.”

You pause for a second, frozen with fear as his figure looms above you, all his anger returning with full force. But as you’ve been told before, your curiosity will be the death of you, and you can’t help but want to see if you push him a little more, will he let you or will he finally retaliate?

So you go against every survival instinct you hold in your body and wrap your arms around the neck of the wolf who was regarding you with fury, and the action is so unexpected that it makes him falter.

“You should make it up to me, you know?” You purr, pulling him closer to you, even though your heart is beating like crazy in your chest. It takes him by surprise too, and his eyes widen from their glare. "What are you doing?"

"You keep taking away all my boy toys so I think it’s only fair that you be a good pup and fill up the void you’ve created." You lean up, kissing his lips. He goes rigid against you, and you wonder if the moment has finally come when someone puts you in your place. Well, it was worth a shot.

But just as you’re about to let your panic overwhelm you, Chan returns the kiss, his hand wrapping around your waist and pulling you to his body as he deeps the kiss. The hard muscles you feel against you steal your breath. He could snap you in half if he wanted to, but that only makes you want to test him more.

You pull at his shirt pointedly and he steps back and lifts his arms up, letting you slip the shirt off him. He was as ripped as he felt, and the knowledge fills you up to the brim with the urge to subjugate him, to make this powerful wolf kneel for you.

You push him to the bed and climb over him, sitting down over his growing erection and rocking your hips over it, making him groan lowly. “Are you going to be a good puppy for me, Channie?”

He frowns at your words, but gets easily distracted when you take your top off, his gaze getting glued to your chest.

“You like this, baby?” You smirk, cupping your bra-covered breasts. “Want to see more?”

He nods eagerly, his hands coming up towards your chest, but you slap them down. “No, bad dog!”

He reels back like a kicked puppy, confused on what he did wrong, so you elaborate. “That’s not how we ask for something, baby.”

Annoyance covers his face again and in a split second he flips the both of you over so he’s now on top. "I'm not a fucking pet."

You cup his cheek gently, "No? From the way you act, one would think that you’re practically��begging for someone to collar you up and make you their obedient little puppy."

He starts growling again, baring his teeth at you, but you don’t back down, wrapping both your hands around his thick neck, mimicking a collar. “I can be your master, Channie. You just need to be good for me.”

You can feel the raw power coiled in the muscles under your fingertips, just ready to spring and tear you apart. He could overpower you if he wanted, but this isn’t a battle of physical strength. You know it. He knows it. And he stays.

"Good boy."

He shudders at the praise, liking it a bit too much for someone who just threw a fuss about being treated like a pet. "Of course you like that. You're just an oversized lap dog, aren’t you?"

“You’re pushing it.” He snarls, pulling back to yank your bra off, not even bothering to unhook it first. He doesn’t stop for a second as your pants go next, followed by your panties. You can feel his strength as he tears your clothes off your body but you just find his frustration amusing. He hates this but he can’t stop. It’s different from your normal dynamic with boys, he’s motivated by anger rather than fear, but the end result is the same. 

When he goes to bury his face in your pussy, you grab him by the hair and pull him back. "No."

He stops resisting at once, looking absolutely dejected at the denial. You fake a sympathetic look. "What's wrong, pup? You want it?” You spread your legs and move a hand over your pussy, playing with it a little, teasing him. You’re so turned on that you don’t have to fake the gasp that slips out of you when your fingers touch your clit, and he responds with a low whine coming from the back of his throat. "Use your words, puppy."

"I want it."

"Then strip for me, baby."

He obeys, quickly kicking his pants and boxers down and confidently displaying himself to you, making you scoff. "Of course you're big."

That takes him aback. "That's bad?" He unconsciously pouts, obviously not anticipating the disdain in your voice. He was probably always praised for being so well-endowed.

"It's like everything else on you, just for show. I bet you don't know how to use it and you'll just impale me with it. No thanks." You try to push him away, but pushes you back down.

"Scared of my cock, little fox?" He mocks, hands nudging your knees apart. "I thought you were gonna own me."

"I'm not fucking scared." You seethe, “I just don’t want you to waste my time more than you already have.”

"You play too much, foxy.” He drawls, and you watch warily as he brings two of his fingers to his mouth to wet them before he slips them between your legs. “You wanted me. Now you're going to get me." He says before unceremoniously pushing his fingers inside you.

"Shit, so tight." He pumps his fingers in and out of you, moaning at the feeling of your walls hugging his fingers tightly.  "Gonna fuck this sweet little pussy wide open, baby."

You couldn’t bear hearing him talking so condescendingly to you. You were supposed to be the one in control here, not the spineless wolf who seemed to grow enough balls to fight back all of a sudden.

"If you're going to be so vulgar, I know a better use for your dirty tongue." You sneer, pushing his head down your body. He goes along easily, his plush lips caressing your skin on the way down, his kisses getting wetter along the way until his mouth meets your pussy in a messy, open-mouthed kiss.

You can't even fight back the moans he elicits from you. He is really good with his mouth and his fingers fill you up just right that you feel yourself slipping. You need to turn this in your favor.

“Good boy.” You breathe, attempting to make it seem like you were still in control of yourself and not falling apart on his fingers and mouth. "Finally something you can do right."

Seeing through your weak attempt--and perhaps in retaliation-- he bites down on the inside of your thigh, his sharp canines almost breaking the skin. But an even sharper sensation quickly diverts your attention as he pushes a third finger inside you. You cry out, nails digging into his scalp as you pull on his hair in pain, but it doesn't phase him. He's determined to work you open with his fingers, his mouth going back on you to take some of the edge away, having the time of his life if his wet, muffled moans against your pussy are anything to go by.

And when the slide of his fingers gets a little dry, he pulls his fingers out and puts them in his mouth, getting them wet again, his eyes meeting your half-lidded ones as he makes a show of lathering his fingers with his saliva, moaning hungrily at the taste of you, before he plunges his fingers back inside you. He does this a few times, each time making you feel both relief and frustration--relief that his fingers are giving your poor pussy a break and frustration that he’s taking his sinful mouth away from you. But with every time, it gets easier and easier to take his fingers again. Until, the fourth time he does it, your hand clasps around his wrist, keeping it in place as you whine and fuck yourself on his fingers.

"Fuck." He breathes out, climbing back up your body to latch his mouth on your neck, and growling lowly. "Getting needy, little fox?"

You groan, yanking on his hair harshly and ripping his mouth away from your neck. "I wouldn't be like this if you weren't sabotaging every chance I get at a fuck."

"Oh, it's gonna get much worse for you, baby. I'm going to stretch this pretty pussy out with my big, fat cock, until I ruin you for all your pretty boys." The audacity of this guy.

“You’re so fucking full of yourself. If you think that you can dom me with your dumb cock then you’re--” You cut yourself off, face paling as he pulls his fingers out and presses the blunt head of his cock against your opening. He looks at you expectantly, eye-brow raised as he waits for you to continue your rant, but you bite down on your tongue, refusing to give him what he wants.

“What’s wrong, foxy? Got nothing more to say about me and my dumb cock?” He grins, easing his dick inside you, stretching you even more than his fingers did. “Don’t you wanna tell me more about how unaffected you are by all of this?”

You glare at him, your fingers digging into his shoulder blades, drawing blood, yet the grin on his face never falters. When he’s halfway inside you, you can’t keep quiet anymore. “Fuck… you’re going to split me open.” You grit out and his hips jerk a little, pushing more of him inside you suddenly. A scream escapes you before you bite down on your lips. “Fucking mutt! Can’t you control yourself?”

“How can I when you’re so sweet to me?” He bites at you, voice getting rougher and breath getting heavier. He’s starting to lose control too. You realize that this is your chance to reclaim the upper hand. So you wrap your legs around his hips and, through gritted teeth, you steel your breath and pull him closer, pushing him the rest of the way inside you.

“Ah fuck!” Chan groans, face falling in the crook of your neck as you hold him up to the hilt inside of you, your walls clamping down on his dick, trying to push him outside. He tries to rock his hips into you but you hold him in place with your legs, making him quickly grow impatient. "Baby, let me move." He whines, mouthing at your breasts, sucking stinging kisses all over them as he lets out his frustration on your poor tits.

"No. You don't deserve it." You grit out, "You've been a bad dog."

To your surprise, he moans out at your words, bucking against you once again, the force of it allowing him to move inside you just a bit and you yelp, scratching at his back and biting onto his shoulders in response, but that only seems to make his hips rut against you more.

"You like that, don't you?” You hiss mockingly, “Are you getting off on me being mean to you, Channie?"

“You're such a fucking bitch." He barks, grabbing your thighs and splitting your legs open harshly, pinning them down on the bed so he could finally start fucking you.

“Shit---shit!” You squeak, the drag of his cock against your walls burning, and you find yourself clinging to him as tears prickle at your eyes. You try to hide your face in his chest, but he hears your little sniffles anyway, and his reaction isn’t what you expected--not the concerned tone of his voice as he cups your face and asks you if you’re okay, and not the hunger in his eyes that only seems to get darker at the sight of your tears.

It’s with a start that you finally realize the situation, and you can’t help but laugh despite your tears. "You dirty fucking dog. You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

It's your turn to grab his face and make him face you as he tries to look away. "Does hurting me turn you on, Channie? And here you were trying to act like a fucking savior."

"It's n-not like that." He shakes his head, yet his hips never stop moving.

"No? Dumb mutt can't even still his hips long enough to lie. Is this what secretly gets saint Chan's rocks off? Are you like this with your bitches or is this just for me, baby?"

He sucks in a sharp breath, eyes squeezed shut as he mumbles something that you don’t quite catch.

"Speak up dog." You slap him lightly, and his eyes gain back a little of their sharpness as he looks down at you.

"No. They can handle it. It's only you that is breaking on my cock." He grits, hips driving into you faster as he fucks you with his eyes as much as he fucks you with his dick that you weren't made to be on the receiving end of.

"So that's it then, you like knowing you're the biggest I've ever had?” You ask breathlessly, trying to hold onto your sanity as he takes you roughly. “You enjoy watching me struggle to even take you in?"

He stays quiet, but the sharp snap of his hips against yours gives you all the answer you need.

"Dirty mutt." You croon, tugging at his sweaty bangs so you can keep them away from his face so you can see his reaction to your words. "I bet you cum a lot too, would be absolutely dripping from my tight cunt."

"Oh, god, have mercy." He cries out, pace getting erratic as the combination of your filthy words and your tight pussy start getting to him.

"Who knew I didn't even have to fight you? All I had to do was let your filthy brain and your dirty cock work you up to this state. You really are just an animal after all." You bring his lips to yours, swallowing down his pathetic protests, the frantic grind of his member in and out of you suddenly feeling erotic now that the big wolf was a whimpering mess in your arms. Pulling back, your wet mouths still stringed together with saliva, you prompt, "Aren't you, baby?"

The breath hitches in his throat as you clench down on him, your sore pussy finally feeling the pleasure he's forcing on you, and it manifests with a vengeance, intense and dizzying. "Y-yeah."

"Tell me." You demand, kissing along his clenched jaw.

"I'm just an animal." He pants as you suck a bruise under his ear. "I love fucking your little pussy with my big cock. I love making you cry. I love you being mean to me. I love you treating me like a dog. I love it all."

"That's a good boy." You praise, kissing him again and he can barely breathe from the heat of it all. "Cum for me, puppy. Stuff me full with your seed like I know you wanna."

Almost as if on command, he cums, chanting a mantra of "thank you, thank you, thank you" in your ear.

"Yeah, let it all out, pup." You massage his ass as his hips stutter against you. "Want you dripping out of me for days."

"Fuck...you're gonna kill me." He heaves as his cock spurts out the last of his cum, and you smile in victory. You did it. You've subjugated him.

He sits up as he pulls out of you, watching darkly as his cums trickles out of you. Cursing, he quickly scoops it up and pushes it back in, the slide of his fingers so much easier now that you've taken his cock, and the copious amount of his cum making it way too easy.

His fingers are a blur as he pumps them in and out of you and it hardly takes any time before you're grabbing his wrist to stop him as you cum. But he doesn't. He fucks you through your orgasm, not even slowing down as he pins your thighs to the bed and continues railing his fingers into you, tearing a second orgasm out of you before the first one even has a chance to fade.

"Chan, stop." You cry out, body convulsing on the mattress, and he looks up from your cunt to see your pained face, and he finally stops, quickly taking his fingers out and wiping them on the bed before climbing up your body and catching your mouth in a kiss.

He murmurs little praises against your mouth like “you took me so well, baby” and “you did so good”, and it makes you grimace even more. You attempt to push him off of you, but you have no strength left to fight him off. Not that you ever did in the first place.

"Stop that!" You snap at him, and he stops.

"What’s wrong, baby? Was I too rough?"

You snort, "What do you think?" You gesture to your body that was now sore all over and probably developing bruises.

"Shit, I'm sorry. You just got in my head." He breathes out a flustered laugh.

“I know.” You apparently still have enough energy in you to gloat. 

He frowns but ignores your comment, just watching as you wince whenever you try to move. "I can take you back to my place if you're too tired to go back to yours."

"Yeah, no shit you will." You confirm, having already decided that in your head. He did this to you. It's only right that he should take care of you after.

"Oh, okay ummm�� let's get you dressed then." He quickly stands up to get you your clothes, only to realize that he tore most of it apart. "Ah, shit."

You roll your eyes, "Give me that." You say, pointing to his oversized shirt. He rushes to bring it to you and helps you put it on, the process a little tricky as the events of the night catch up with your body.

He smoothes your hair down once you're done and carasses your cheek, giving you a look that you don't like one bit so you smack his hand away and point a finger at him, "Hey! There will be none of that. You hear me?"

His face quickly straightens out and he snorts, "Excuse me for trying to treat you like a lady."

"Oh, fuck off." You stand up on shaky legs, and you can already tell that this will take a few days to wear off. "Let's go." ____________________________________ A/N: so came out as the victor after all? it’s really up for debate lol

[jetsam-kisa]

Michiko vs Jetsam

Whew! This is done! I got carried away so I am very sorry for the length :’D

Michiko’s mod and I had some fun talking about our characters and especially the gear Michi is developing!

Unfortunately they were very busy this week, but I was more than happy to write the fight results :D 

CW: emetophobia // there is a brief scene describing vomit semi-graphically

The roar of the crowd echoed through the stadium as Jetsam Kisa and Michiko Watanabe entered the battle arena. Both of the students walked to their side of the arena with a sense of purpose, even if they were nervous wrecks on the inside. Once they took their proper starting positions, the two contestants smiled weakly at each other as the announcer called out their names and the people in the crowd cheered for the next fight. 

‘I’m pretty sure I’m going to pass out,’ Jetsam thought as he gnawed on his lips in anticipation, ‘That or throw up. Oh god I hope I don’t throw up in the middle of the match. Everyone here is watching. God, my parents are watching,’ Thick, heavy plums of smoke rolled out of his mouth the more frantic his thoughts became, until they nearly completely cloaked his figure, ‘I think I saw Best Jeanist in the stands too! He’s not going to want to associate with the kid who threw up during his first match. What am I doing here? What am I even going to do-?” 

Jetsam was snapped out of his rapidly spiraling thoughts by movement in his periphery; Michiko gently waved her hands at him and gave him a broader smile, despite clearly being nervous herself (if the crease in her brow was any clue to her emotional state).

“Let’s both do our best during this fight, Kisa-kun!” Michiko called out from her side of the arena, before her gaze hardened with a resolve she often reserved for studying the most complex of quirks, “Although, I hope you know that I will not be taking it easy on you. I need to see how far I can go, and to learn about the extent of my current abilities.”

Seeing Michiko’s determination and hearing her will to succeed was like a salve to Jetsam’s shot nerves. He took a deep breath, then released the pent up smog. The smoke surrounding his body partially dissipated too. It was almost a shame how well Michiko’s words calmed him down; he would be better off easily producing the pollutants that came with high stress. Jetsam briefly wondered if her kindness was double-edged in a way; was it a strategic way to prevent him from building up his quirk before the match? He shook the thought out of his head before yelling back to her:

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Miss Michi!”

He could only hope that his grin masked the nerves that were still rolling in his stomach. He knew Michiko; knew her quirk. It could only be activated by physical contact, so as long as he kept his distance he should be okay. 

‘Although,’ Jetsam thought as he gazed at the chain-like device at Michiko’s hip, ‘that capture chain she’s been developing could be difficult to beat. I’ve never seen what it actually does before.’

All too quickly, the announcer began their countdown: “3...2...1...BEGIN!”

---------

As soon as the bell rang, Michiko shot forward, arm extended, with a single-minded determination to do one thing and one thing only: get to Jetsam before he could gain control of the battlefield with his quirk. If she could grab a hold onto him before his smogs and tars and other (frankly, gross) expellents became too overwhelming, then she could nullify his quirk with her own, and use her capture device to prevent him from continuing the fight.

Jetsam must have realized her plans, and had just enough time to dodge out of her range, smog spewing out of his mouth now that his adrenaline was no doubt pumping again. Not to be deterred, Michiko quickly shifted her balance and dove after him again, careful not to let him hide behind the pillars of smoke he was creating. 

‘He’s not going to make this easy for me, but I have been preparing for this occasion for too long to let this game of tag keep me from winning!’ She thought to herself, resolve growing with every inch closer she got to Jetsam, ‘He can’t avoid me forever, and I have a secret weapon I’ve been dying to beta test!’

After a few more moments of chasing after Jetsam, Michiko took a gamble and let him escape to the sanctuary of smog he created across the arena. She knew she had to be quick, but some risks had to be taken to assure victory! She knew that she had the power within her to win.

He wouldn’t be able to outrun her prototype, after all!

--------

‘Phew, I think I finally managed to shake her,’ Jetsam sighed with relief, dark smog still escaping his mouth and obscuring his figure to the crowd (and hopefully Michiko as well). ‘Now I have a moment to breathe. Hah, figuratively, at least.’

He made sure to keep his eye on the clear silhouette of Michiko he could make out through his smog, never before more grateful for his mom’s sight-related quirk partially making its way to him. She seemed to be standing still, perhaps strategizing her own plan to catch him and throw him out of the arena? He hoped the smoke wasn’t making her feel too sick. He had to be quick.  

‘I can probably end the battle if I cover her in tar and stop her movement. It might be unpleasant but it’d be safer than trying to beat her in hand-to-hand or some other physical contest. I haven’t been training with Tsumi for too long, after all. Yeah okay, that’s the plan!’

Just as he was about to produce the sticky tars necessary to carry out his plan, a thin silhouette darted out from Michi’s figure, slithering across the arena at a speed too quick for Jetsam to react to.

As a cold, thin figure coiled itself tightly around him, the only thought sparking across Jetsam’s brain was:

“Michiko brought a snake?”

-----

‘Bingo!’ Michiko exclaimed to herself as Jetsam’s no-doubt unconscious shout revealed not only his location, but the fact that her capture device had worked perfectly as intended.

While it still had quite a few bugs to sort out, one of the most recently added features was a heat-seeking tracker that would allow the machine to chase after targets even under adverse visible conditions. 

She cocked her head towards the direction of Jetsam’s quick yell of distress; she couldn’t get complacent. The capture device was only half the battle! She had to guarantee that Jetsam couldn’t continue the fight in order to assure her victory! 

She couldn’t just blindly run through the smokescreen either; who knows what kinds of traps he could have placed while she set up her capture device. No. She had to be methodical, and safely make her way to Jetsam’s location while he was encumbered. 

The smog was thick, but now she had her goal within sight: grapple Jetsam and nullify his quirk, thus ending the match.

-----

Okay, so it wasn’t a snake, but it was still bad news! Jetsam’s arms were completely pinned by the robotic device wrapped around his torso. So this was the work of the capture device that Michiko had worked so hard on? Jetsam had to admit that it was effective. He couldn’t fight with his limbs restrained like this, and that shout he gave out completely alerted Michiko to his location.

‘So this is it. The fight’s over, and I spent the whole time running away and cowering in the corner. Everyone is watching. Everyone saw. Everyone will know I’m just a big failure who doesn’t deserve to be here. Oh god what if Sato-sensei kicks me out of the hero course? What if they kick me out of the school?? What if everyone laughs and ignores me and hates me OH GOD-’ 

As the panicked thoughts swirled in Jetsam’s mind a pit formed in his stomach. A pit that rapidly expanded into a big, black ball of anxiety and nerves. He could almost picture it in his mind’s eye: an ugly, bloated orb dripping with heat and stress and bile. The more he envisioned it the more it grew until he could almost feel it spilling out of his mouth like a slick oil spill across his lips and---oh wait.

It wasn’t in his mind’s eye.

Jetsam groaned to himself as gushing rivets of slippery, rubbery oil spewed from his mouth all down the front of his body. 

“Well this is perfect!” Jetsam exclaimed to himself, although it was muffled by the sheer volume of oil that expelled out of him as he spoke. He really did throw up. God, could this fight be any more of a disaster?

First he gets captured by Michi’s device, then he literally vomits gross oil from the stress. Fantastic. He shifted uncomfortably, as the oils soaked into his jersey under the capture device and--wait a moment. Oil. Disgusting, smelly, beautifully SLIPPERY oil! That was slicking up his torso and arms even now!

Jetsam pulled his arms upwards experimentally and YES! They were sliding out, he wasn’t restrained anymore! Maybe he could hide again and strategize-

The victorious thought was cut off by a hand shooting out from the pillars of smog, reaching for his newly freed arms.

-----

“I finally found you, Kisa-kun!” Michiko called out, jumping from out of the smokescreen with a triumphant smile. 

Her eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of Jetsam freed from his restraints, but she simply chalked it up to a prototyping failure; she could ask him about the specifics of how he escaped once the match was over, anyways.

This time Jetsam couldn’t dodge her oncoming attack, and Michiko grappled him to the ground, pinning his arms above his head. Now was her chance to nullify his quirk! She had been practicing in hand-to-hand combat, she could still push herself to her limits and come out on top!

Michiko began to focus her energy on her quirk, as Jetsam struggled underneath her. As soon as her quirk began its nullification, she saw the startled look in his dark eyes, and winced slightly in sympathy. She had been told that her quirk was a bit unpleasant to the target; with the process feeling not unlike having your blood drawn through your whole body.

As her quirk took effect, the copious amount of smoke around them began to disappear, once again fully revealing them to the crowd of spectators around the stadium. As her own vision began to clear she was startled to find them lying at the edge of the arena; if they had tussled a bit further out they would have been out of bounds.

Jetsam followed her gaze to the boundary line, and his jaw tightened as his face flushed a dull purple. Was it anger at his predicament? 

“I’m very sorry about this, Miss Michi,” he gurgled apologetically, as the last of his quirk bubbled from his mouth into a viscous oil that was spat out onto Michiko’s face.

With a shout of surprise, Michiko’s grip loosened enough for the slick oils still coating Jetsam’s arms to allow him to escape her grasp. Vision impared by the pollution covering her forehead and dripping into her eyes and nose, Michiko was unable to dodge the hefty push against her chest as Jetsam scrambled away from her touch, getting onto his feet. It was only for a moment, but it was enough for his quirk to return in full force.

“Again, words cannot express how sorry I am for doing that.” Jetsam called out to her, although his speech was hard to make out with the thick pollutants leaking from his mouth.

Michiko shot up from the floor, furiously wiping at her face to clear it of the oil. Once her vision returned, she turned to face Jetsam. The two ran at each other, trading blows and each trying to grapple the other into submission. The build-up of tar and oils worked as a double edged sword; Jetsam easily slipped from Michi’s grasp, but she also used that to her advantage to slide out of the way of his attacks. 

Then, there it was: that single, gleaming moment where Michiko could see the exhaustion, see Jetsam’s attention waning as the fight dragged on for just a bit too long. Right there! He was right by the boundary line, and had miscalculated a move that left him off-balance and vulnerable.

‘Sorry Jetsam,’ Michiko thought as she built momentum for her final blow, ‘but I am grateful for this amazing fight!’

Just as her victorious punch was about to make contact with Jetsam’s awaiting back, she felt herself freeze, involuntarily. Her arm was stuck in position, unable to move. She tried shifting her feet, but to no avail. Her whole body was frozen in place, like some sort of statue!

After a brief moment of panic, Michiko quickly realized what was happening. The tar. The tar Jetsam had been producing. He had mixed it with all the other pollutants as they fought, and as she was coated throughout the battle, the tar was turning thicker and thicker, until it encased her whole body into a stiff, immovable statue. 

She struggled, trying to thrash her way out of the viscous black coffin, but to no avail. She could no longer continue fighting. She had lost. 

The crowd burst into cheers and jeers as they realized that the match had been settled, the announcer calling out “AND THE WINNER IS, JETSAM KISA!”

As soon as the decision was announced, Michiko felt the tar slide off her body, like showering off a thick coating of muck, until only black stains remained on her body and clothing.

Jetsam sheepishly looked over at her, hand anxiously scratching at the back of his neck.

“So… that was really, really gross. I’m so sorry. But you were incredible! You almost had me so many times!!” Jetsam babbled out, getting more and more flustered as he continued. “I understand if you’re upset, but we promised we wouldn’t hold back and-”

“That was a great match! I had such a good time, and you really tested out my limits!” Michiko interrupted, smiled brightly at him as she held out her hand for him to shake. “But I’m warning you, next time I’ll be the one to come out on top!”

Jetsam smiled softly as he took her hand and reciprocated the shake.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[somedayonbroadway]

Lilo and Stitch AU

Okay, so here’s my Lilo and Stitch AU for both @disneygirl626​ and @dragonflysobright-seethemfly​. I absolutely adore this one. It does involve baby Race and that’s always fun to write. And yes, Race and Jack are going to be from Hawaii.

Characters

Jack Kelly — Nani

Racetrack Higgins — Lilo

Crutchie Morris — Stitch

Katherine Plumber — David

Warden Snyder — Captain Gantu

Todd Kloppman — Cobra Bubbles

Henry — Pleakley

Weisel — Jumba

Okay so…

Somewhere up in space, far far away, there is a mad scientist who creates genetic experiments out of aliens that he captures from other planets, most of the time just after they’re born. This alien, Weisel (that's his whole name. He’s an alien) experiments for years before he is finally arrested after his latest experiment, experiment number 626. He is charged with the experimentation of a young child, stolen away from a family that was killed moments afterward.

During the experimentation, this young alien loses one of his legs. He adapts quickly, growing two more legs that he can retract into his body. This child is of a shape shifting species, his skin naturally blue and gold. After the experimentation, where he grew up as this species learns and adapts very quickly, he became erratic and dangerous, a means of destruction.

Having no alternative option, 626 (who was never given another name) is sentenced to be executed. He doesn’t fully understand this. All 626 knows is that he’s placed in a small capsule and needs to survive. So he does, fighting his way out and escaping in a pod as his kidnapper is placed in prison having witnessed the whole thing. Weisel is pleased with his creation, noting that 626 is randomly heading in the direction of Earth.

After 626 escapes, a bounty hunter, Snyder, loyal to the Galactic Federation, offers to hunt the experiment down and dispose of him, seeing 626 as a creature unworthy of saving. The head of the federation asks him to wait, asking another member of the federation, a federal agent who is an “Earth Expert”, to take Weisel and find the experiment without causing harm to Earth, with whom they were supposed to protect according to documents they’d signed a decade ago.

Simply living off of instinct (and maybe a bit of sadistic adrenaline) 626 crash lands on Earth, getting hurt by a truck, but surviving the crash easily with his modified strength and healing power. As the driver figures out he has to check and see what he’d hit, the alien catches sight of a puppy, cowering away from him in some nearby grass and transforms himself down to look like that animal, though his still has a streak of blue running down his back as the rest of him remains a golden shade. (He does look more like Stitch than an actual puppy, obviously. But he’s doing his best here.) The driver calls a local shelter and 626 lets himself be taken in, unsure of what’s really happening.

Meanwhile, Kaua’i, Hawaii, a young man, nineteen years old, is struggling to gain permanent custody of his six year old baby brother, as both of their parents had recently been killed in a car crash. Jack is having a hard time making ends meet with only a job as a waiter at a local luau to tie him and his brother over.

The baby brother, Tyler James, is an odd child. He’s socially awkward, having odd interests and thoughts about life. The kid has always had a rough time making friends, mostly scaring them off with weird facts about the island they live on and the ocean surrounding them. Though he tries to fit in, he often finds himself feeling alone, prompting him to make his own toy dolls and pretend that they’re his friends instead, worrying his big brother Jack who only wants him to be happy.

Every morning, Jack runs to work after dropping his brother, whom he affectionately calls Racer because of his speed and his love to run, off at the beach right across from his school. Race loves to explore the island, knowing the entire thing like the back of his hand. In the morning, Race likes to go swimming, feeding Pudge (a fish that he believes to control the weather) a PB&J sandwich, the same one Jack makes for him everyday for lunch. He knows he’s not gonna eat it, so he hopes it’ll keep the sun in the sky.

Dripping wet and all, Race goes to school, leaving puddles around him, making his classmates slip, only adding onto the hatred they held for him for being different. On this particular morning, Oscar Delancey, Race’s biggest bully, slips and blames Race for it. After a teacher finds them arguing, Oscar wrestling Race to the ground, being a year older and slightly bigger than him, they ask what happened and Race goes off on a rant about how he had to feed Pudge and how Pudge controls the weather. Oscar calls him crazy.

So Race bites him.

His teacher tells him he’d call Jack and Tyler cries, begging him not to as he’s often sent away from the other kids and he’s subconsciously getting tired of the isolation. Still the teacher insists, asking Race to wait outside.

Race runs away the second his teacher leaves him.

When Jack goes to pick him up, he finds Race gone and he immediately starts running home, knowing they had a meeting with their social worker that day and knowing what happened when Race gets into one of his “moods”. He nearly gets hit by a car. He kicks the bumper and screams at the driver, calling him a not so nice name and running off.

He finds that the doors to their house are bolted and nailed shut and one of their parents' old Elvis records is blaring throughout the living place. As Jack demands Race open the door, he peaks in through the mail slot to find his brother ignoring him. Frustrated, Jack starts threatening Race, like any brother would, telling him that when he got through with him he wouldn’t dare do this ever again, though both of them knew Jack would never lay a hand on the kid.

As he’s running around his home, trying every possible entrance only to run into one Todd Kloppman, introducing himself as a not so nice name, making Jack realize that he’d been in the car that had nearly hit him. Already horrified at this, Jack manages to play off the fact that he’ll have to let him in in a moment and he runs around the house, climbing in through an open window and prying the nails from the front door as quickly as he can to let the man in.

Upon walking into the house, Kloppman asks if Jack had left Race home alone and before Jack can explain, Todd finds Race practicing voodoo on the floor of the living room as Jack tries desperately to turn off the stove and the oven that Race had turned on, probably for no reason at all. Even after all of this, Race manages to tell Kloppman how well adjusted he was and how Jack fed him well. Trying to give him a silent encouragement, the kid accidentally tells Kloppman that he gets disciplined, implying that Jack had, at least at some point, hit him.

Todd then speaks to Jack alone, telling him that he only ever got called when things went wrong and then he gives Race a card, telling him to call if he was ever left alone again.

Race thinks nothing of it, hardly even paying attention to the man.

As he leaves, Kloppman informs Jack that this had not gone well and that Jack had three days to change his mind.

The second Kloppman leaves, Jack turns on Race and Race screams and runs, knowing he was about to be chased.

Eventually, Jack manages to set up a trap to catch Race and he holds him to him, not letting him run away, trying so hard to explain to Race why it was important for him to take these visits seriously. Race still doesn’t seem to get it, leading to another fight. Race locks himself in his room (well, not locks because he’s a child and his door doesn’t have a lock) and Jack throws himself down at the bottom of the stairs, trying desperately not to cry.

It only takes an hour for Jack to gather himself, heating up a plate of pizza for his baby brother and taking it to him, apologizing and holding Race in his lap while he eats, laughing with him a little as Race admits he likes Jack better as a brother than a dad. All Jack can do is kiss his head and hold him, unsure of what to say. Race calls them a broken family.

Before they know it, Race spots something in the sky, something he calls a falling star, but one that looks odd to Jack. Race calls the star and kicks Jack out of his room so he can make his wish. Jack sits just outside his door, listening to every heartbreaking word as Race wishes for an angel to be sent to him, one that wouldn’t leave him or make fun of him or treat him differently.

Little do they know, that shooting star is a fallen spaceship.

The next day, trying to make his brother feel better, Jack tales Race down to the animal shelter, telling him that he could pick out a pet and they would take care of it. Jack is only a little stressed out about funds but convinced himself that they could make it work.

Race goes back to pick out a puppy and finds a golden pup that’s laying all alone in the corner. He sees a lot of himself in this puppy that has a blue stripe running down his back and chooses him, telling the dog to follow him out. It does.

When they come out, Jack and the woman at the front counter are horrified at the sight of this deformed dog with a missing leg, but Tyler insists and Jack caves, unable to pass up the opportunity of seeing Race happy. So they take the thing home, unknowingly being watched and followed by two aliens who were after 626, now known as Crutchie by the odd little boy who named him.

Henry is the only thing that stops Weisel from harming Tyler to get to Crutchie.

Jack often lets Race wander around. After all, they live in a small town and he knows most of the people around. He gives Race a couple of dollars and tells Race to meet him at two. So Race shows Crutchie around the island.

Crutchie, who has been programmed to destroy, is looking for something to wreck, but finds nothing, as he’s looking for big cities who are already prone to bad things happening.

In the middle of town, Race runs into Oscar who immediately starts to belittle him only to get nearly bitten by Crutchie who ends up stealing his bike and trashing it, before they head to the luau to meet Jack.

The entire time they’d been exploring the island, Weisel and Henry had been keeping close and Crutchie knew it. For some reason he can’t explain, he feels the need to protect Race as well as himself. He likes Race and doesn’t want to hurt him.

The same cannot be said for Jack.

At the restaurant, Jack is able to feed Race for free twice a week so he often has lunch or dinner there.

At the luau, Katherine is up on stage, a fire dancer, entertainment for the luau. Jack is hopelessly in love with her but refrains from asking her out for the sake of fully adopting Race as his own. Race knows this and feels guilty for it. He tells Crutchie all about it, somehow knowing that Crutchie understands him. (How Crutchie knows English at this point is unknown, but like I said, he adapts fast).

While he’s working, Jack steps away from the table after begging Race to eat his food, trying to bribe him with dessert but only succeeding in getting Crutchie to hiss at him.

When Jack leaves, Weisel, against Henry’s warnings, tries to capture Crutchie, only resulting in chaos which Jack is blamed and fired for. Katherine tries to convince their manager to let Jack stay, but, unwilling to be humiliated in front of Race, Jack accepts it and scoops Race up, going home, Crutchie following closely behind them. When Race asks Jack if this was his fault, Jack brushes it off, telling Race that the manager was a vampire and that he wanted Jack to join an army of the undead. Race just shrugs and says he knew it.

When they get home, Jack loses it tries to remain calm but, after seeing Crutchie try and rip around the sofa, his anger catches up with him all at once as he tries to grab Crutchie and take him back to the shelter, getting a fight from both Crutchie and Race who’s never seen Jack like this before. Just as Jack gets Crutchie to the door, shouting that the dog hadn’t been there that long, Race counters that he hadn’t either and then he asks what happened to O’hana.

Jack breaks at that, missing his parents so badly as Crutchie calms down and Race rushes to hug Jack who brushes away his tears and promises that he’s okay, even though he couldn’t be farther from it. But he lets Race take Crutchie into his room to sleep where Race finds that Crutchie likes to build with his blocks and then destroy his own creations.

Watching from outside, Weisel is stunned by this, finding that Crutchie is still creating things, even though he may destroy them after. It goes against his programming.

The next morning, Jack wakes up to find Kloppman at his door, concerned about the job he lost and this new puppy that is untrained and seems to be causing nothing but trouble. Jack swears that he’ll find a job and takes Race out with him while looking, terrified the boy might get into more trouble without him.

Every potential job Jack might have is ruined by Crutchie who is still on the run from Weisel and Henry who are around every corner.

Even at the beach, where Jack finds there’s an opening for a lifeguard position, Crutchie manages to ruin it for him, chasing the people at the beach away. Jack is extremely dejected by this, but perks up when Katherine sits down next to him with two surfboards, offering him one as she challenges him to beat her to the water.

Jack scoops Race up on his way out and Race just giggles, loving it when Jack takes him surfing.

Reluctantly, needing to stay close to Tyler in order to ensure his own safety, he goes with them, despite his intense fear of water. To his surprise he ends up liking it and to Jack’s surprise, he ends up not minding that Crutchie’s there.

Jack loves being out on the water with Race. He used to take Race surfing with their parents all the time, always catching him in his arms when they wiped out. Race loves the ocean.

Seeing that Crutchie is out on the water and is in a vulnerable position, as he can’t swim and will sink instead of float, Weisel says that they’re going swimming, confusing Henry as they go to get Crutchie, managing to knock Jack and Race off of their board and get Jack hit in the head as they do, forcing Katherine to jump in and help them. When Jack recovers after a moment, Race panics and asks about Crutchie who did not resurface. But when Jack looks around for him, Crutchie breaks from the water and claws at Tyler who he ends up dragging down with him.

Jack dives down, kicking Crutchie off of Race and swimming him back to shore, coddling him as he cradled him to his chest and kissed him over and over again. (Jack does call Race baby. He’s always been really affectionate, even more so after they’re parents died). Katherine dives back down for Crutchie who she manages to save, though Crutchie awakes destructive and lashes out at Race, scratching into his shoulder.

When Jack looks up, he finds Kloppman watching them from afar and he asks Katherine to hold Race while he talks to him, trying to explain only for Todd to tell him that it’s over and that Race needs to be relocated to another family, asking for Jack to think about what’s best for the boy.

Unable to argue, Jack goes back to Race and holds him tight, carrying him back home as Katherine mutters that she thought they had a chance until Crutchie came along.

Crutchie follows them home. Race and Jack don’t even notice.

That night, Jack sits Race down in the hammock in their backyard and sings to him, giving him a flower that matches one that he holds in his own hand. The song he sings is one of a goodbye and Race doesn’t understand it as the wind carries their flowers away. But he leans into Jack and lets his brother hold him until he falls asleep.

That night, Race is frustrated when he wakes up in his own bed and hears the window open. Crutchie is standing there, ready to run and Race doesn’t seem at all surprised by this. He just tells Crutchie that he can leave if he wants. But if he stays, they’ll take care of him. He tells Crutchie that Jack’s really good at taking care of people.

But Crutchie does leave, regretting it only when he can’t find his way back to Race and Jack. What he doesn’t know is that Weisel and Henry have gotten fired by the federation and Weisel is excited to do things his way.

Still living on instinct, Crutchie flees unknowingly back towards the Kelly house.

In the morning, Jack is crying over his cereal when Race sulks into the room, upset that Crutchie left. Jack hugs him and tries to explain to him what’s about to happen, that they may never see each other again and that it was all gonna be okay. But Jack can’t get the words out.

He’s saved by a knock at the door which is revealed to be Katherine, telling him that she found him a job. So Jack runs into town, making Race promise not to open the door for anybody, hope filling his chest as he thinks maybe if he gets a job, they won’t take his brother away.

The moment Jack leaves, Crutchie comes crashing back, Weisel hot in his tail as Henry grabs the boy, trying to keep him out of harm's way. Unsure of what to do, Race calls Kloppman because he’s scared but Crutchie is protecting him.

Weisel ends up setting the house on fire.

When Jack hears the sirens after getting the job, he knows. He doesn’t wanna believe it, but he just knows. So he literally runs back home, Katherine right behind him.

He finds Kloppman carrying Race to the back of his car, shutting him in. And Jack loses it. He starts sobbing, begging Kloppman not to do this. He tries to explain that he’s the only one who understands Race and that Race needs him and won’t stand a chance without him. Kloppman asks him angrily if this is really what Tyler needs, pointing to a burned down house. He then tells Jack that it seems like Jack needs Tyler a lot more than Tyler needs him.

That’s what breaks Jack.

(Which, honestly… how horrible? This kid just lost both of his parents too and is now losing the only thing he has left and, I know they’re trying to do right by the underage child, but I mean… that’s so sad. No one took into account how Nani was feeling having to lose her entire family even though she was trying her best to keep what was left of her broken family. Anyway…)

He falls to his knees, letting Katherine wrap him up in her arms, trying to calm him as Jack begs Kloppman to just let him say goodbye even though Kloppman is insisting that he’s making this harder than it needs to be.

Unbeknownst to them, Race, a very smart little six year old, is listening to the whole thing, sobbing as he finally understands what’s actually happening. He unlocks the door that leads out into the woods beside their house and runs away.

He stumbles upon Crutchie who’s still running and Crutchie sees how broken he is. Reluctantly, he reveals himself to the boy, letting his true form show and scaring Race for only a moment before Race gets angry, realizing that if they hadn’t gotten Crutchie, he’d be able to stay with Jack.

While trying to run again, Crutchie and Race both manage to get captured by Snyder who was sent to hunt down 626. Snyder doesn’t seem at all bothered by the capture of an innocent little boy and states that he caught a snack for the road, though he locks him up with Crutchie who escapes easily and tries to pull Race with him before Snyder takes off, taking Race with him.

Realizing that Race isn’t in the car when he tries to drive off, Kloppman gets out and starts calling for him. So Jack runs into the woods to find him, knowing that Race loves to play hide and seek in those woods and knows it’s a place where he’s hard to find. So he rushes out alone, screaming for his brother to come back to him.

He sees Race get picked up by a monster and locked in the back of a spaceship. Terrified and confused, Jack screams out for Race, catching the attention of Crutchie who is immediately apprehended by Weisel and Henry. Henry sees Jack and apologizes, going to knock him out to try and get him to believe it was all just a dream, but Jack’s quicker than that. And he cries out about Race, demanding to know where he is. When they admit they know who Jack’s talking about he tells them to bring him back. Henry tells him that they can’t.

So Jack falls to his knees in pure agony, unable to handle another loss.

Crutchie kneels down beside him, saying o’hana. Weisel tries to pull him away but Jack stops him, asking Crutchie to say it again. So Crutchie does, promising Jack that no ones gonna get left behind and then telling Weisel that he’d go with him quietly if they went to rescue Race.

So they do.

Jack is not a good flyer, in case anyone’s wondering.

They catch up to Snyder, showing him that he in fact did not have Crutchie in his possession. When Jack sees Race who is struggling to breathe as they get high and high up, he starts panicking, trying to get to the top of the ship to encourage Race to jump down to him, but Crutchie doesn’t let him. Instead, he jumps from one ship to the next, putting Tyler on his back and getting Snyder to crash his ship while trying to fight him, only caught by Weisel at the last minute, avoiding death.

They crash land in the ocean and Jack is holding Race the whole time, even as they’re submerged in water. And then he swims them both back to shore.

Crutchie hugs Race and then goes to turn himself in, but Race then tells Weisel that it would be stealing if he did that because they bought Crutchie from an animal shelter which made him part of their family and he couldn’t do that.

Kloppman steps in to tell Weisel that this is true. Jack tightens his grip on Race, fearing that Todd might rip him away again. Kloppman explains that he used to work for the CIA, specializing in extraterrestrial activity. Then he offers Jack a second chance, explaining to him that he knew Race would be safe with Jack from now on.

Jack takes Race and Crutchie home, making their own little family with Katherine who he finally asks out on a date and things are just perfect for a while.

What do you guys think? Wanna see any scenes? Feel free to send me an ask!

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[thefatedthoughtofyou]

Bright Smiles And Tired Eyes ~ Part 4

( okay so this took ages, and i’m exhausted, but i fucking DID IT!!! i tried to cushion the angst in this with some lead in fluff and i don’t know if it helps or just makes it worse! hahah! either way i’m sorry! love you guys! thanks for reading!!!! )

Ao3 - Whole Fic

Summary: Modern Au, Punk!Jaskier, Creature!Jaskier. Geralt needs a new roommate to help him pay rent. Jaskier answers his ad. Through a handful of circumstances and series of events… there’s bed sharing. And some angst. …And so much more.

Word Count: 4741

Warnings: I’m putting this this time cuz some not so chill shit happens in this chapter. Torture, mentions of torture, blood, death (no main characters!!)

They keep the rabbit.

It’s Geralt’s fault.

Inadvertently.

They’d been sitting on the floor, Jaskier pressed against the window with her pressed up between his legs, her favorite spot to be. She was always on their legs, no matter where they were. Sitting on the couch? She was on their thighs. Sitting at the table? She’d press herself between their feet. Lying in bed? She’d taken it upon herself to curl up between them. Or, on most nights now, she’d curl up in Jaskier’s bed with him. On those nights. Jaskier stayed in his room. Geralt shoved his jealously deeper each night the opposite side of his bed remained cold. She kept Jaskier from screaming himself awake. Most nights. And for that Geralt managed to shove the jealousy away. She did what he did, and together, he supposed they’d keep him safe. And sane, if the gods willed it.

Her face had been pressed against his thigh, nose snuffling against the dark wooden floor, Jaskier’s fingers buried deep behind her ears as he smiled lovingly down at her. Geralt looked up over his book, his legs stretched out on the couch as he looked down at them.

“Little cockroach isn’t spoiled at all is she?”

Jaskier’s head shot up, his mouth dropped open in shock.

“Geralt!” he pressed the rabbit’s ears gently back onto her head, trying to keep her from hearing.

“You cannot call our child a cockroach! What is wrong with you?” his voice was full of drama, but Geralt could see it, the way his lips where curving, twitching at the sides, waiting to jump into a smile.

“That… creature.”, Jaskier gasped and pressed her ears down a bit more.

“Chewed through my favorite pair of slippers last week. I can call her what I like.” Jaskier’s mouth dropped open again. Geralt quirked his eyebrow at him and he closed it again, finally releasing her ears and petting her head, Geralt looked back to his book and then heard Jaskier snort. His eyes moved slowly back up.

“Your favorite pair of slippers.” Jaskier wasn’t really talking to him. He was muttering to himself. He did this a lot, Geralt found it endlessly entertaining, and probably more endearing than he should.

“Yes. So I’ll call her a cockroach and she’ll accept passively. The way she accepts most things.” Geralt gave Jaskier a knowing look and then a smile when he laughed and shook his head. His attentions back on the rabbit.

“How bout it? You wanna be a cockroach? A little roachy roach.” Jaskier said, his voice in pet mode, and then he gasped again and looked up at Geralt, who resolutely had not been staring.

“Oh my god! That’s what we should call her!” his hands flailed near his head, the rabbit against his leg gave no sign that she had even heard the shout.

“Hmm?” Geralt questioned.

“Roach! Cuz you called her cockroach! And! Oh ho ho aaaannnd! She has a little white spot on her back foot that I swear looks just like a little bug! Oh my god Geralt! It’s perfect!” the amusement and contentment rolling off him in waves was intoxicating. Geralt took a deep breath and clenched his fist behind his thigh, keeping it from Jaskier’s view. Jaskier dug his fingers deep into the rabbit’s fur and pulled her close. She let herself be moved by him like a ragdoll, her paws curling gently onto his shoulder.

“Geralt you’ve named our child! The heavens will finally be appeased!” Geralt couldn’t help but smile at his dramatics. His stomach fluttering at the second mention of her being their child.

“Do you know what this means Geralt!?! Have you any. Feasible. Idea?” he let her down and punctuated his words with slaps to the floor as he crawled awkwardly toward Geralt, his eyes shining. Geralt grumbled and rolled his eyes, trying to hide behind his book. The book was quickly pulled away, Jaskier’s finger fluidly marking his place as he tugged the book out of his hands.

“What?” Geralt sighed, he needed this to be over. Jaskier was so close to him, and he smelled so… happy. Geralt thought he might pass out. Jaskier leaned closer, Geralt repressed a groan.  Jaskier leaned down so that his chin was resting on Geralt’s arm and smiled, wild eyed, up at him.

“Whaaat?” Geralt said again, his voice drawing out the word the way he’d heard Jaskier do a thousand times before.

“We have to keep her now. You named her.” He whispered, his slender fingers walking up Geralt’s shoulder and then poking him in the nose. Geralt looked at him. The smile on Jaskier’s face faltered and he pulled back a bit, his hand resting on Geralt’s shoulder.

“I mean. Or not. I was… just kidding. Kind of. Can we keep her please?” his voice dancing upwards as he began to beg. Geralt moved his eyes from Jaskier to the rabbit, Roach, who was now stretched out in a sunspot on the floor, and then slowly moved them back to find even Jaskier’s eyes pleading. Geralt moved his eyes between them once more and then nodded. Jaskier looked at him, his head tilting like he wasn’t sure what he’d seen.

“She can stay.” He sighed, moving to grab his book back from Jaskier. He moved it quickly out of reach again and then threw himself bodily across Geralt’s chest, an awkward attempt at a hug in their off-kilter positions.

“Oh thank you! Thank you thank you thank you!” he gushed, giving Geralt a squeeze before pulling away and setting the book pages down on Geralt’s chest, his place easily saved. And then he was back across the room, laying flat on his stomach as he pressed his face into Roach’s fur, her feet twitching as he jostled her. Geralt lifted his book and pretended to read.

“Did you hear that lovely? Not only do you have a name, but you have a home now too!” Jaskier whispered into her side, his fingers gently playing with her big ears.

“You get to stay here with us. You’re a rescue now dearest… Just like me.” His voice had dropped lower, the softest it had been since the night he’d come home to them both sleeping on the couch. Geralt watched him sigh and snuggle closer to her, his face pressing deeper into her as they lay in the sun. Geralt felt a pressure in his chest, a deep aching beneath his ribs, and wondered if maybe, just maybe, this was what true happiness felt like.

~*~

Three months.

That’s how long it takes for Geralt’s happy life to be shattered and ripped from beneath him.

Three. Months.

He opens the door to their building and has his senses assaulted by the stench of fear. Jaskier’s fear. He runs up the stairs three at a time, his chest burning as he reaches the top and sees their door knocked off its hinges. He pulls his dagger from his boot, twirling it easily into position and walks slowly inside. The smell of fear is overwhelming. He pushes it aside, forcing himself to concentrate. He listens closely, the silence pressing against his eardrums as he stalks through his own home.

His eyes land on the wall. And the message left there for him. And his heart nearly stops in his chest.

IF YOU WANT YOUR LITTLE MONSTER BACK

COME AND FIND HIM

The dark red letters dripping sinisterly in the dark. Geralt’s heart jumps into his throat when he realizes that the letters look like blood. His hands start shaking as he turns around in the dark.

“Roach.” His voice is hoarse, barely clawing its way out of his mouth as he breathes heavily into the silence of the room. He takes a few steps, his feet carrying him forward on their own volition.

“Roach!” he’s walking faster now, his boots loud on the floor of their hallway.

“Jaskier! Roach! Where are you?” he calls, he knows Jaskier won’t answer, knows Roach can’t. But he calls for them anyway, it’s all that he has.

He steps into Jaskier’s room and can hear her heart beating, fast, faster than normal. She’s not in her pin, it’s been tossed aside, clearly having been thrown into the wall, it lies shattered on the ground, along with Jaskier’s guitar. There’s a different smell in the air here, if Geralt hadn’t known Jaskier so well he didn’t think he’d be able to place it. It’s a difficult scent to pin down, but he does know Jaskier, and he knows this scent.

Defiance.

Jaskier had fought. And fought hard. His guitar shattered on the floor. Geralt scans the room quickly and sees his keyboard laying in the corner, bent at a strange angle. He’d used the things he loved more than anything to fight for himself, and no doubt, Roach.

Geralt drops to his hands and knees slowly. Lowering himself down to look under Jaskier’s bed. She was there, cowering against the wall, eyes shinning at him. He could see her sides moving rapidly, she was terrified. Geralt couldn’t tell if she was hurt though, he needed to get her out.

“Hey sweetie. Roach. It’s me darling. It’s Geralt. Can you-“ she was scurrying toward him before the request was out of his mouth, her claws scratching on the wood floor as she moved franticly to him. He reached out for her, scooping her up and pulling her close. She clung to him, her paws pressing into his shoulder as she trembled in his arms. He shushed her, moving his hand slowly over her back until her breathing calmed, subtly pressing harder here and there to asses any possible damage, resolutely ignoring the patch of stickiness in her fur. She didn’t flinch or whine and he was easily swayed that she, at least, was alright.

He carried her to his room and shut the door, turning the light on and dropping onto his bed. He let her crawl out of his arms and lie on the bed, she pressed against his leg, not wanting to leave him. There was a dark spot on her back, her fur sticking up in stuck together tufts, Geralt moved his hand over it, pressing the fur flat. His heart dropped when he saw the clear handprint that had been left on her. A hand print of blood. Geralt closed his eyes, breathed deep, and tried to shove away the fact that the blood smelled like Jaskier.

“Yennefer.” He whispered it. Just her name. The way she’d told him to do if he ever needed her. He’d never done it before. Never had too. But he needed her. He couldn’t do this by himself. He was too close to the situation. And he needed to find Jaskier, now. He feels the air shift and opens his eyes, the portal opens seconds later, right before him, Yennefer and Renfri walk through, both holding the daggers he’d given them the Christmas before.

“What’s going on?” Yennefer asks, eyes bright, Renfri stands ready at her side, her eyes widen when they land on Roach, she clocks the blood quickly.

“They took him.” Geralt says. And he tries to keep his voice even. But it shakes, and it’s hollow, and he needs help. He looks up at Yennefer, doing his best to ask for help without asking for help.

“They took him.” He says again. He can’t seem to find any other words. Those three words are all that’s in his head. He watched Yennefer snarl and rip the door open, he hears her stomp down the hall as Renfri kneels in front of him, her hand on his knee. She says nothing. She knows she doesn’t have to. She sits there, comforting Geralt as best she can, and she waits for Yennefer to return to them. She soars back into the room on a wave of crackling energy, her eyes blazing.

“The message on the wall isn’t blood. It’s paint. But there is blood. Other places. In his room. In the living room. It’s not a lot. Probably just a bloody nose. And not all of it’s his.” Her voice is forcibly even, trying to console Geralt even as she fumes, a small smirk painting her lips knowing that he’d fought.

“Do you have any idea who it could be?” She’s pacing the room now, her outward appearance matching the feelings roiling inside him. He watches Renfri close her eyes and take a deep breath and knows she’s shoving emotions down, she’ll deal with them later, it’s how she works. Geralt shakes his head, and then blinks, his eyes locked on Yennefer.

“What?”

“His parents. They were killed.” He chokes out, his throat tight, he clears his throat. Yennefer’s eyes have gone soft, at the tone of his voice or the mention of Jaskier’s past horrors, he doesn’t know.

“Hunters. Monster hunters.” He says, taking a deep shaking breath.

“If you want your little monster back.” Yennefer growls, low in her throat as she quotes the message on the wall. She moves to kneel next Renfri in one fluid motion, her hand landing on Geralt’s cheek as she looks up at him.

“Listen to me. I know that you’re feeling lost right now. And I understand. We’re all feeling rattled. But I need you to focus.” She pats his cheek firmly. The soft smack to his cheek bringing him back to himself a bit. He blinks down at her, his head clearing slowly as the smell of Jaskier’s blood floods his senses again, he moves his fingers into Roach’s fur and looks back to his friends. The two strongest women he knows look back at him, eyes shining bright with fury.

“Let’s go get him back.” Renfri snarled, her teeth bared and eyes burning. Geralt looks at them, his two closest friends, ready to fight beside him for the most important thing he’s ever had, and he stands. They move back in unison, both standing and stepping back. Geralt looks at them a moment longer, his chest burning with pride and aching with worry as he walks to his weapons case and tosses the lid back.

~*~

It only takes two hours to find him.

Less, really. Yennefer takes some of his blood. Does some kind of spell. And has his location in minutes. It takes them two hours to get there. Yennefer tried to portal but something was blocking her. Renfri shrugged, grabbed a few more knives from Geralt’s case, and marched out the door. She drives them, features still calm. Geralt sits in the back seat, watching Renfri’s still face, and Yennefer’s twitchy fingers, and knows he’s looking at the literal embodiment of the calm before the storm.

The warehouse is dark when they pull up. Geralt can hear several heartbeats. One beating very very fast. His knuckles go white around the handle of his knife. Renfri shuts the lights off, kills the engine, and looks back at Geralt, beside her, Yennefer turns to him as well.

“Shall we?” they ask, in unison. Geralt grunts, nods, and shoves his door open.

He opts to walk straight through the front door. Figures that, as distractions go, that one’s pretty good, a classic even. He kicks the door in, easily, and lets his eyes adjust to the lights inside. It’s dim, and dark. One bright light shines in the middle of the warehouse, swinging in slow circles above a chair. Geralt’s skin crawls, like electricity crawling down his back. Jaskier is in the chair, his eyes wide and shining as he looks at Geralt. He’s covered in bruises, one eye starting to swell shut, his bottom lip looks split, and Geralt tightens his grasp again when he realizes that one of Jaskier’s lip rings is missing. There’s blood dripping down his chin and Geralt’s heart skips a beat when he realizes that there’s a gag shoved between his, sharper than usual, teeth. The tight straps cutting into his cheeks where they wrap around his head.  He feels his own lips part in a snarl and stalks forward.

“Ah ah ah,” a voice in the dark admonishes, Geralt pauses.

“Not so fast Witcher.” And there it is, that biting tone digging into the word that people throw at him like a weapon. His knuckles are white on his dagger handle, his lips curl dangerously when he sees Jaskier glare at the man for speaking to Geralt that way. Having been beaten and gagged and still defiant.

“Can I help you?” Geralt asks the four men who walk out of the shadows, two standing near Jaskier, two walking toward him. He can hear more heart beats in the dark, but that’s where they stay for the moment.

“Sure. All you have to do is kill the siren. Like you should have when you found him. And we’ll let you leave.” One of the men near Jaskier says, his hand coming down hard on Jaskier’s shoulder, making him flinch violently in the chair he’s bound to. Geralt can’t help but notice the rather large gash on the man’s face, and the accompanying bruise, his chest fills with pride at the thought of Jaskier slamming his keyboard into the man’s head. He watches the mans fingers dig into Jaskier’s shoulder and hears him whimper, a wet sound around the gag and the blood in his mouth.

“You’ll let me leave?” Geralt asks with a smirk, moving forward a few steps, slowly, lowering his dagger to his side, grip steady.

“Yes. We will. After you do your fucking job.” Another man shoots back, missing the mockery Geralt had tossed at them. And that was fine. Let them think they have the upper hand. They wouldn’t have any hands at all soon enough. He moves a step to the right and stands still, save for a head tilt, looking at the two men still walking slowly toward him.

“I do wonder how he swayed you.” The man on the right said, folding his arms over his chest and looking Geralt up and down.

“Though, we know what he is, not so hard to figure it out I suppose. I just didn’t think a big strong Witcher would be so affected by something like him.” The other man scoffed, nodding his head back at Jaskier. The man next to Jaskier shoved his hand against Jaskier’s head roughly, pushing his neck at a terrible angle, Jaskier flinched away and then glared up at the man, eyes full of fire.

“Something like him.” Geralt repeated, voice low. Dangerous. The men nodded, moving a step closer still. Geralt had to give them credit, they were brave. Or more likely they were stupid. Those two where often mistaken for each other, and Geralt found that whether it was bravery or stupidity that spurred men onwards, they died just as easily either way.  

“Yeah. Ya know. A siren. A monster.” He spat the word, and then literally spat, on the ground at Geralt’s feet. The men were ever so close now, Geralt would only need to take two or three steps to get to them. And he would get to them.

“But ya know now that I think about it. I guess it makes sense that you people would flock together.” The man chided, smiling. Smiling at Geralt like Geralt wasn’t holding his life at the end of a sharp blade.

“Not that we can really call you a person though, am I right?” He nudged the man next to him at that, a laugh actually daring to pass his lip. Jaskier snarled against his gag, blood bubbling through his pointed teeth as he glared at the man who stood so close to Geralt, insulting him.

“Aww, I think you’ve upset the little monster.” The man on Jaskier’s left said, amusement in his voice. Jaskier bared his teeth again and glared up at him, the man slammed his fist into Jaskier’s cheek, his head snapping to the side and hanging against his chest for a moment before he looked back up again, shaking his head. Geralt swears he sees Jaskier’s skin shimmer, like moonlight dancing on water.

“Seriously though, how did he get you? He tell you a little sob story about his parents?” The man who had spat asked, turning back to Geralt, looking him up and down again. Geralt’s eyes moved to Jaskier, briefly, his features softened, his eyes pleading as he looked at Geralt. Geralt knew what he was thinking, Jaskier was worried that he’d believe these men. Believe them over him. Geralt’s heart sank. He’d had enough. He moved his eyes back to the men in front of him, and moved his body in the same instant. His hand moving to shove his dagger deep into one of their necks, his leg moving to kick the other, his foot connecting with his knee swiftly.  

The warehouse filled with an ear-splitting scream as the mans knee collapsed backwards, he fell to the floor, hands reaching for his leg. Geralt moved his hand back, his dagger withdrawing with a sickening wet sound, the man, now just a body, fell to the floor in a crumple of limbs. The doors at the other end of the warehouse burst open, Yennefer and Renfri stalking through it, the air crackling around them. A few more men stalked out of the shadows. Renfri and Geralt rounded on them, spinning and swaying effortlessly through and around them, dropping them easily.

Yennefer waved her hand toward Jaskier, the bindings on his hands and feet sprang free as the two men near him launched themselves at Yennefer. She held her hand out in front of her, her face creased with concentration. She held one man in place, the other was suddenly shoved to the ground as Jaskier tackled him from behind, a grunt leaving him as he slammed bodily in the man. Yennefer flicked her fingers and the man she had hold of was dead in an instant, falling to the ground with a thud. Renfri and Geralt dispatched of the last few men and then turned to see what Yennefer was looking at.

She stood over Jaskier, and the man with a gash on his face. Jaskier was straddling him, his slender fingers wrapped around the man’s throat. Geralt stepped forward, intending to stop him, but Yennefer pressed her hand into his chest. She shook her head at him, and let her eyes fall back to Jaskier as her hand fell from his chest. Geralt watched as Jaskier struggled. The man under him clawing and pushing at Jaskier’s face, trying to shove him off. Jaskier released his neck for a moment, slamming his fist into the man’s face three times in quick succession, his skin shimmering again with ever blow, and then wrapping them tightly around his neck once more. There was blood dripping down his chin, staining his skin a sickly red. His teeth were bared again, sharp and still covered in blood as well. He was doing his best to yell at the man, gag not letting him speak, but sounds, sounds moved around the gag with now problem. Garbled shrieks clawed their way out around the gag and the blood in his mouth as he choked the remnants of life out of the man beneath him.

Geralt could see the tears falling down his face. The man twitched beneath Jaskier, his legs kicking and then stilling. The frustrated screams from Jaskier died away, fell into a stream of sobs, choked out of him as he choked the man under him. Geralt watched the man twitch a few more times and then still. Pushing down the feelings watching Jaskier choke the life out of someone had stirring inside him, a low pulse near his groin. He moved forward, kneeling next to Jaskier and wrapping his fingers gently around Jaskier’s wrists, pulling him away from the man. Jaskier startled, his entire body shaking and flinching away from Geralt. Geralt gave his wrists a squeeze and moved one hand to Jaskier’s cheek, guiding his head up to look at him.

“It’s okay. It’s me. I’m here.” He whispered, his own voice sounding shattered as he spoke. Jaskier’s eyes seemed to clear as he looked at Geralt. He blinked hard, twice, and then whined and lurched forward, his arms wrapping around Geralt’s neck and pulling him close. Geralt held him, arms wrapped tightly around him, as he trembled against him. Jaskier pulled back suddenly, almost jerking himself away from Geralt, he was tugging at the straps on the gag, his fingers clawing at his own face trying to free himself. Geralt looked to Yennefer, she snapped her fingers and the gag was gone. Jaskier whined again and sagged, his shoulder drooping, hands gently touching his face, avoiding his ruined lip. His eyes moved to Geralt, his fingers still pressed against the raw lines on his face.

“Thank you.” He breathed, his voice rough, the way it had been the night he met Yennefer.

“For what?” Geralt frowned, had Jaskier really thought he wouldn’t come for him. Jaskier moved his hand to Geralt’s cheek, the blood stains on his knuckles standing out on his pale skin.

“For not being tempted to believe them.” He whispered, that soft smile Geralt liked so much curling his blood smeared lips. His eyes where full of something that Geralt didn’t have time to analyze right now. His chest was full of heat, a terrible pressure pushed against his rib cage as he looked at Jaskier, so close, and out of harms way.

“And for bringing the calvary.” He smiled, grimacing at the pull on his lip and nodded toward Renfri and Yen. Geralt looked up to see them standing there, looking down at them, arms wrapped around each other, soft expressions on their faces. Geralt felt his cheeks burn, the heat running down his neck as he stood and extended his hand to Jaskier. Jaskier took it and let himself be yanked to his feet, Geralt catching him easily when he over corrected and swayed forward too far. Jaskier grinned at him, a half grin, not moving the right side of his mouth, trying not to irritate the split. Geralt’s hand moved to touch him, to sooth the hurt, but he made a fist instead and clenched it at his side.

“You’re welcome.” Geralt grunted, he could feel the heat creeping into his ears. And Jaskier was giving him some kind of look, his ocean eyes shinning in the single light in the warehouse.

“Can we go home now?” Jaskier asked, his voice quiet, he sounded like a child. Yennefer laughed through her nose and nodded, moving forward to pull him into a quick hug. Renfri wrapped her arms around him as well, hugging him quickly and carefully and then letting go.

“Hmm.” Geralt hummed, moving to wrap his arm around Jaskier’s waist, pulling his arm over his shoulder, helping him walk. Jaskier grimaced at the movement and let Geralt hold his weight and guide him.

They walk to the car in silence. The only sounds in the evening air their footsteps in the gravel and their car doors opening and shutting behind them. The drive is silent too, save for the sounds of Jaskier’s slightly wheezy breathing next to him. They hit a bump at one point and Jaskier grimaces before letting his head fall onto Geralt’s shoulder.

“You know what would be amazing right now?” Jaskier asks, his fingers playing with a rip in the knee of Geralt’s pants.

“Hmm?” Geralt inclines his head towards him, knows he can’t see it, doesn’t really care.

“A milkshake. A gigantic, horribly huge, like, disgustingly large, milkshake.” He sighed, his head pressing into Geralt’s shoulder harder as he tried to get comfortable. Geralt smiled down at him, his stomach fluttering as Jaskier’s eyelids did the same. He listened to Jaskier’s heart calm, his breathing even out and slow, as he relaxed into his side. That pressure was behind his ribs again, shoving at them like it was trying to get free. He moved his hand up and rubbed at his chest, trying to figure out if it was a pleasant feeling, or something he should be guarding against. Jaskier hummed sleepily into his shoulder, the thing behind his ribs pulsed and hummed back.

And he decided he liked it.

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

Michelle Delacruz

“Much like a wild Mustang, this woman has an untameable heart. Wild and fierce, she carries the spirit of the West.”

Name: 

Michelle Manuela Delacruz

Born: 

August 16th, 1877 (Leo)

Notable Characteristics:

Raven hair

Black and purple color scheme

Fierce, light colored eyes

Three deep scars on the right side of her face

Extremely short tempered

Often goes by “Michelle Mustang” due to people often comparing her likeness to a wild Mustang.

Skills:

Sharpshooter

Master rider

Proficient hunter and tracker

Excellent at close combat

Weapons:

Lancaster Repeater

Carcano Rifle

Rare Shotgun

Bow and arrows

Duel wielding custom Navy Revolvers

Family:

Amelia Delacruz (mother, deceased)

Tomas Delacruz (father, deceased)

Joana Delacruz (older sister)

Natalia Delacruz (younger sister)

Background:

Michelle was born to a Mexican-American family out in New Austin. The second daughter of three, growing up in a small shack with her parents and sisters. Her mother a seamstress, her father a vaquero. Given their large family and meager earnings, they learned to live off the land.

One thing Michelle loved, however, was horses. She often was found playing with the steed her father used for work, soon learning how to ride at a young age. Since then she was hooked. When she was out on the land with her family, she would watch the wild horses run across the open expanse and dreamed to be riding amongst them one day.

Being of Latino origin caused more trouble than not for her and her family. They often experienced blatant racism, tailing them home, shouting insults and threatening to lynch or burn them. Regardless, they managed to get home safe.

Until one day, her father didn’t. At the tender age of 8, Michelle and her family found out he’d been ambushed and lynched. The gang of miscreants who performed it were whooping and jeering nearby, ready to take them next. This caused them to move out of fear, relocating themselves further North. With nothing but lint in their pockets and empty bellies, Amelia and Joana sought to find work.

Things were okay for a while. Michelle learned to hunt for the days when money was too scarce for a can of vegetables or a loaf of bread. When she was 14, her mother’s health began to decline from the constant overwork. Amelia died soon after, too poor to afford treatment.

With Joana being 16, they’d managed to secure a household when they struck a deal with a wealthy man, having jobs in exchange for three hot meals and a roof over their heads. Before then, Michelle had never seen a home so extravagant. She became excited when she learned this man had a barn full of horses. She became a stable hand and rode once again, quickly learning how to break and train a horse from the ground up and often assisted in foal deliveries.

After two years, this paradise had come to an end. The man had lost his wealth, which meant having to sell his property and thus, putting the three out on the streets again. None of them could find a steady job, and moved around a lot to find work. It wasn’t until Michelle came across a bounty board in a small town, offering a decent amount of cash for the capture of a criminal she immediately recognized as one of her father’s killers.

Even though Michelle had next to nothing; a worn lasso and a rusty Cattleman revolver, she sought out this man. Using her hunting skills to track him down, she found him in a small camp in West Elizabeth. He had a few guards that she’d taken out without much of a struggle. She eventually cornered him, watching cower and beg for mercy. Blinded by anger, she held the revolver to his head and demanded he look her in the eye. He did, and she watched the realization bloom on his face when he realized who she was. Oh how she wanted to kill him, her finger hovering over the trigger. An inner turmoil of morality burned within her, knowing killing him outright would not bring her father back. She proceeded to shoot him in the leg before tying him up. She then took one of the dead gang member’s horses and rode back, begrudgingly turning him in, but was the first one in line to see him hang.

Afterward, bounty hunting seemed to become a calling for her. Not only had she found each one of her father’s killers, she was able to save enough money to buy a small home for her and her sisters, all the while making a name for herself. At age 21 and having many notches on her belt, she sought to hit a big score: Roxanne, aka “Death Rider” ( @r0xy-w0lf​ ) and began to track the famous outlaw down.

After quite some time, Michelle eventually found her, intent on capturing and turning her in. However, something seemed...different. Roxy gave a vibe that contrasted from others she’d faced, and Michelle found familiarity in her. They sat and talked, with Roxy eventually offering her a place in her gang. Michelle wasn’t keen at first, turned off by the idea of becoming a part of something she’d been hunting down for years. However, Michelle was now alone after her sisters had found lives of their own, and she missed the feeling of close family.

She’s now a part of the Death Squad, who welcomed her with open arms. She’s still trying to figure out the ropes but finds herself fitting more and more each passing day.

Extra:

If there’s one thing Michelle hates, it’s bullies. Facing much prejudice and racism throughout her life have caused her to get into plenty of fights. She will not hesitate to swing a fist.

She was in fact known to hold secret fights as a teenager to pull in extra cash.

She will also stand up for anyone who can’t defend themselves within reason.

She can and will drink you under the table.

When she was younger, she would try to befriend the wild horses by spending time at a distance from a herd that lived not too far from her home. As they grew more comfortable with her presence, she would come up and feed them treats.

She supposedly has German roots from her father’s side, but this was never confirmed.

Very few people know she was a mother. Having entered a relationship with a childhood friend at the age of 18, putting a potentially permanent pause on her dangerous lifestyle with hopes to settle down. She gave birth to a sickly baby, who died just days later. This experience hardened Michelle, as well as caused an irreparable rift in between her and her lover. She often thinks about them both, but doesn’t consider attempting to settle down again.

Her baby is buried out in New Austin, in a place that only she knows. She will visit whenever she’s in the area, and on the anniversary of his death.

The scars on her face were received early in her bounty hunting career, caught in a melee fight with her target when she was momentarily incapacitated by a guard. The outlaw had gotten a few slices in before she was able to break free.

She visits Joana and Natalia as often as she can.

She’s come in brief contact with the Van der Linde gang in pursuit of their bounties, but they were too large and powerful for her to take alone. She found respect in their morals of helping people who need it. She sometimes will chat if she runs into one of them. She’ll often steal Arthur’s hat for a day or so without his knowledge and replace it when he’s not looking.

Horses:

“I prefer stallions to mares. Mares are too much like me, that’s why I don’t trust ‘em.” - Michelle

Dante: Bay Frame Overo Criollo Stallion

Michelle’s main mount. A stallion with a kind eye and sweet disposition that she found charming. Easily her fastest horse, and by far her best.

Santiago: Bay Brindle Criollo Stallion

Michelle’s second horse. She hadn’t been looking for another horse, until his unusual brindle coating caught her eye. She admired how sturdy he was, and certainly built to handle somewhat heftier work and hunts.

Rojas: Chestnut Arabian Stallion

Michelle’s longest held mount. She's not terribly fond of Arabians and their skiddish demeanor. Rojas however, was an exception. One of the colts she helped birth in her younger days, she bonded with him during her two years as a stable hand and broke him herself. After he was sold, she tracked him down when she had the money and bought him back.

---

@theunholyoutlaw​ @verai-marcel​ @eddesceulla​

So, little known fact here for y’all: Michelle is an old character from another fandom that I decided to resurrect for the RDR universe, since in her original setting, she was also a cowgirl (a cowgirl with powers and a ghost horse lmao)

[captain--sif]

We’re family

Word count: 1k Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley, Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), minor female OC, minor Christopher Diaz Additional Tags: Pride, Pride Parades, Buddie First Kiss Week, First Kiss, Getting Together, Fluff, i guess Series: Part 1 of Buddie First Kiss Week Summary:

“Why did we even come here with her? She’s barely talked to us the whole time we’ve been here.”

Buck takes Eddie and Chris to pride to support a friend of his. Eddie has questions.

This fic is part of the @buddiefirstkissweek​ challenge. Please check out the other fics if you liked this one.

Read below the cut, on ao3 or on wattpad.

“Why did we even come here with her?” Eddie kneads his brows together, his eyes flitting between Buck who's carrying an exhausted Chris and the young woman dancing with her friends a few meters away from them  There's an ace flag wrapped around her shoulders that Buck gifted her a few hours prior. Eddie thinks Buck might have gone a little overboard with the size of the flag but that doesn’t mean Buck’s gesture isn’t putting a smile on his face. “She’s barely talked to us the whole time we’ve been  here.”

Buck looks at him like the question is stupid and Eddie supposes that to Buck it is, even if Eddie cannot yet see it.

“We’re here for moral support.”

“I got that,” Eddie says, getting momentarily distracted by the sight of Buck softly stroking through Chris’ curls “until we showed up and she already had a big group of friends showing her support.”

Buck sighs.

“But she doesn’t have any family, that’s why we’re here.”

Eddie nods. “This still doesn’t explain why Chris and I are here,” he teases.

Buck glances at him and Eddie can tell before he’s even opened his mouth that he just said something wrong. The huff that comes out is frustrated and the following “Just say that this isn’t your scene and go on. You didn’t need to come.” makes Eddie’s stomach drop with guilt for prompting that reaction.

Buck picks up his pace and Eddie needs to jog not to lose him in the crowd.

“That’s not” Eddie tries to say when he’s caught up with Buck “that’s not what I meant.”

Buck eyes him doubtfully.

Eddie cowers slightly beneath Buck’s gaze. “Ok”, he admits, “yeah, this isn’t my scene. But it’s not the pride part. It’s -- the parade. It’s so loud and I knew it would tire Chris out pretty quickly. Honestly, we just came because it was important to you, and to Cat.” He motions at the mentioned woman. “And don’t get me wrong, I’d go to pride with you too, I just felt like this didn’t serve its intended purpose.”

Buck stops in his tracks, turning to Eddie in the process. Eddie struggles to not get swept away with the crowd, placing himself in front of Buck instead, close enough that the other people can pass around them without too much of a struggle.

He catches Buck blinking before he blurts out: “You’d go to pride with me?”

Eddie feels a blush rising up his cheeks, realization dawning on him that he unconsciously admitted to more than he had planned to let slip through. He goes to pick up his sleeping son out of Buck’s arms, who lets him go easily and without a fight, which Eddie chalks up to him being distracted. Trying to hide his blush behind his son’s head may be childish and probably moot, considering Buck seems to have gotten the message anyway, but Christopher in his arms provides comfort and security, the latter which he's sure he's in desperate need of for the coming conversation.

“Isn’t that what I’m doing right now?” Eddie asks tentatively, Buck’s expression making clear that they both know it wasn’t that.

“Look,” Buck starts resolutely “we don’t have to talk about this if you aren’t ready right now or right here.” He smiles. “But it’ll drive me insane if we don’t talk about it at all.”

“No,” Eddie grabs Buck’s arm to keep him from joining back into the flow of the masses. “What better moment to talk about this than at Pride?”

“Don’t.” Buck looks more solemn than Eddie thought he’d look if they were on the same page about this. Which he’s pretty sure they are if he hasn’t completely misread the situation.

Eddie feels the frown forming on his face. “You just said-”

“Don’t do this if you aren’t ready.”

Eddie can’t stand the way Buck’s voice seems to break.

“I can’t lose you because I couldn’t let go of something you obviously didn’t mean to say. So don’t do this because it’s pride, not if you don’t mean it.”

“Buck,” Eddie says, carefully removing his hand from Buck’s arm and placing it on his cheek, internally cursing himself for not having thought it through when he took Chris. It may have been convenient before when he was being a coward but it's very inconvenient now that he's trying to be brave. He tries to place Chris more comfortably without waking him up. It's a miracle that he was even sleeping through the noise but Eddie isn’t about to complain.

Eddie figures his struggle must have been visible on his face because Buck chuckles. “Regret taking him over yet?” he teases. “I could have continued carrying him.”

Eddie shrugs. “Kissing has always been a little difficult while carrying a child.”

Buck looks at him contemplatively. “You’re serious about this then?”

“You brought us here as a family. Chris and I, but none of our other coworkers, even though they are family too. That means something. So if you’re serious, I am too.”

“I’m gonna help you with this then” Buck laughs softly, stepping even closer towards him, putting one hand on Eddie’s hip, the other on the nape of his neck, carefully around Christopher. Eddie melts.

He can’t do much more than stroke Buck’s cheek until Buck presses his lips on Eddie’s and Eddie is able to grip Buck tighter with his free hand. Just like Eddie thought, they were on the same page, both deepening the kiss, though it continues to be soft as both are careful to let Chris sleep.

“Ok?” Eddie asks cautiously when they finally pull apart. Buck nods.

“We should look for Cat. I promised her we’d take her out for dinner after.”

“We did?”

Buck lifts his eyebrows.

“Then let’s go.” Eddie turns away to start walking again but he reaches for Buck’s hand first, threading their fingers together. “We’re not here for us.”

“Not today” Buck replies and Eddie doesn’t have to look to know he's grinning.

“Not today” Eddie repeats, softly bumping their shoulders together, gripping his son and his boyfriend tighter.

Also find this fic on ao3 or on wattpad.

[theavengerfairy]

One Step Closer - Chapter 3

Previously known as “Gravity”

"My King! King Ezran, wake up!"

"Mmm, five more minutes...."

Never before had Corvus defied an order, especially the order of a king regardless of whether or not he was half asleep upon its issue, but after a nanosecond of hesitation, he shook Ezran a little more forcefully while leaning a little closer to the boy's ear. "King Ezran, you need to wake up!"

"Alright, I'm up. I'm up." Groaning, the young king sluggishly dragged himself up into a sit and rubbed his eyes to clear away the lingering heaviness of sleep in his eyelids. As the world came into focus before him, he was puzzled to find Corvus kneeling in front of him, his usually impassive demeanor now riddled with anxiety that reached out to snag hold of him as well, and his bewilderment only grew when he noticed the darkness looming around them. "Corvus, what time is it? Bait, a little light please?"

No answer. Not even a grumpy grunt.

"Bait?"

Ezran's heart began to pound against his ribs as his eyes scanned his surroundings, a small, rather humid cave that was really more of a pocket in a wall of rock, but no matter where he looked, he could not find a yellow lump dotted with blue patches tucked away even in the darkest crevice of the den.

"My King-"

"Corvus, where's Bait?! Where are we?!"

Corvus's head dropped shamefully down between his shoulders, his eyes fixated on the stone floor because he could not bring himself to look Ezran in the face. "I...I do not know. I recall filling the canteens back up at the stream along the edge of our campsite while you slept, but after that...nothing."

"We need to find Bait and get out of here." By this point, Ezran was on his feet, his hands cupping around his lips to amplify his voice as he began calling out the glowtoad's name, "Bait! Bait, where are you-"

Faster than an archer's arrow, Corvus clamped a hand over the young king's mouth and yanked him to his chest, his eyes darting wildly about. "Lower your voice, my king! Whatever enemy brought us here might hear you!"

As if on cue, a sultry yet eerie chuckle shook the walls of the cavern, and Corvus grip on Ezran tightened till it was almost painful while his head snapped to look behind them at what the young king assumed was the cave's entrance.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to wake up."

Despite Corvus's best efforts to shield Ezran from the view of whoever or whatever was addressing them, the latter managed to wriggle loose from the hold of the former and peeked out his head just enough to catch a glimpse of their captor. Given the number of unusual characters that had entered into his life in the past few weeks, he shouldn't have been surprised to see that their newest foe was hardly human, but his youthful wonder remained undaunted despite the current situation. Below the man's waist where his legs should've been, a mighty cerulean tail instead swished lazily back and forth, its scales glittered likes hundreds of polished sapphires even in the dim lighting. His golden eyes and the golden jewelry hanging from his ears, wrists, and neck glowed equally as bright against the contrast of his caramel skin and midnight black hair that momentarily floated around his head like it had a mind of its own before settling against his chiseled shoulders and collarbone. He should have been utterly mesmerising, but the sinister smile that stretched across his face broke the enchantment of his physique with the revelation that his beauty was merely skin deep.

"Hmm, I was expecting a bit more awestruck of a reaction with a healthy dose of terror, but I suppose moderately stupefied will do." the merman purred coyly as he flashed the boy a smug side-eye.

His instincts whispered for him to be afraid and to recede back into the shadows once more, but instead, when Corvus reached out to push Ezran back behind him, the young king swatted his hand away and marched a few steps closer to the cave's entrance, chin raised and shoulders squared in brazen defiance. Never, not even in his final hours, had his father cowered before an enemy, and neither would he.

"Who are you? Why did you bring us here? Where is Bait?"

"Oh good, you've got some fight in you after all. I was worried about things becoming mundane." the merman sneered with perverse delight as though Ezran were merely some animal that had just performed a trick for him, "However, I'll be the one asking the questions here, your majesty."

"I'm not saying anything until you give back Bait!"

"Oh? Is that so? You think you are in a position to make such a demand?" With a single flick of his tail fin, the merman was a mere inch away from the mouth of the crevice, startling Ezran into stumbling back a few steps while Corvus lunged to insert himself between the two of them. However, with a rumbling chuckle that rang off the walls of the tiny cavern, he gracefully glided back again, his grin now stretching from ear to ear. "Normally, I would have just killed your for such defiance, but I find your naivety rather...entertaining."

With another swish of his tail, the merman was gone, the cloud of bubbles left in his wake serving as the only proof that he had been there a moment before. Unfortunately, the brief period of peace lasted a little over two seconds before he reappeared, a squirming blob of blue and yellow with a glowing rune on its underside held out as far away from him as he could reach.

"Here's your fish bait, though I don't think you catch anything impressive with it. This one seems to have gone sour, and we sea-dwellers are more finicky about flavor than you would think."

"Bait!" Without thinking, Ezran immediately lunged to grab the glowtoad, but Corvus again blocked his path.

"No, my king! Let me get him."

Mild annoyance briefly flickered inside Ezran, but knowing that Corvus was merely trying to protect him, he stepped back without argument. Every muscle in Corvus' body tensed as he slowly inched toward the mouth of the hollow, which rippled and glistened as though some kind of gelatinous membrane had been stretched across it, but no sooner had he dipped his hand into the water did the merman hurl Bait at Ezran and snatch hold of the tracker's wrist, dragging him into the water.

"Corvus!"

Before the human had any time to react and start flailing, the merman painted an intricate, glowing rune identical to the one decorating Bait's underbelly onto the palm of his hand, which he then forcefully slammed against Corvus' throat. An involuntary gasp wrenched the tracker's mouth wide open, but instead of icy water, humid but refreshing air rushed into his lungs.

"I...I can breathe..." Corvus' astonishment wore off rather quickly, and upon noticing that the merman had let go of him, he immediately tried to throw himself at the creature in the best assault that he could manage while suspended in water. Unfortunately, his actions proved ill-advised as the merman easily swatted him away with his tail, sending him flying backwards into the bed of gravel below where he groaned and wheezed for a moment before trying to push himself back up.

"Are you done or do I need to smack you around some more for you to realize that you are in no position to take me head-on?" the merman jeered while lazily floating on his back a yard or so above Corvus' head, seeming quite carefree despite having just been attacked.

"You are making a huge mistake. The armies of Katolis will hunt you down and gut you like the slimy fish you are-"

"If you are going to waste my time with empty threats, I can just kill you and lure someone else down here who is willing to do whatever is necessary to rescue the boy."

"What do you want?"

With slow, languid movements, the creature glided effortlessly in a tight circle around Corvus before tucking his tail fin beneath the man's chin, forcing their eyes to meet.

"Rumor has it that Katolis stole the egg of the Dragon Prince as opposed to destroying it, and a shift in the magical energy on this side of the border has me convinced that they took something else from the lair of the Dragon King as well."

"That's all? You kidnapped us because of a hunch-"

"Please don't interrupt; it's rude." the merman chastised him with a firm thwack to the underside of his jaw for good measure. "You will go back to Katolis and search every crevice of the kingdom for a mirror decorated with runes. Bring this mirror back to me and I will release the three of you, unharmed."

"How long do I have?"

"The water-to-air enchantment that I've cast over the hollow will expire in about a week. Oh, and just so we're completely clear, don't even try bringing reinforcements back with you. I'm not particularly fond of uninvited guests." Skimming away again, the merman began tracing out another rune, this one much larger than the first, in the water. "Now, take one last big gulp of air. You will no longer be able to breathe once you have left my home."

With that, he pushed the rune outwards, and a mighty current dragged Corvus down large tunnel located on the other side of the larger cavern. Glancing back at the little pocket in the rocky wall, the creature caught a glimpse of the glower the young king was sending his way while he held the glowtoad protectively in his little arms.

"This isn't anything personal, your majesty. It's just business."

--------------------------------------

"You have until noon to meet us by the grove of wild pear trees on the other side of the town, understand? Don't get distracted and lose track of time!"

Anora's words repeated in Callum's mind as his eyes wandered to the sky above only for him to immediately regret his rather foolish choice as the bright sunlight stung his eyes.

"Are you sure that this is a shortcut because I'm starting to think that taking the main road would've been faster- Ow! When did a crate get there?"

"With as crowded as the main road gets at this time of day, these alleys are definitely going to get us to the shop sooner. Also, maybe if you kept looking ahead instead of up, you would've seen the crate coming." Madeleine replied rather smugly as she rounded a corner, quickly grabbing hold of Callum's sleeve and pulling him with her so that he wouldn't smack into the brick wall directly in front of him.

"Alright, you got me. How do you know that this blacksmith will help us, though?"

"Tobias only has one kid and the twit doesn't know a thing about smithing to save his life, so in exchange for my help with his shop, he gives Anora and I whatever supplies we need to survive." Glancing back at the prince, she added rather in a teasing tone, "What did you think we lived off of? Berries and grubs?"

The mention of grubs brought a wave of unpleasant phantom bugs slinking about in Callum's throat and stomach, nearing causing him to gag aloud, but the prince quite literally swallowed the sensation and blocked the memory of Lujanne's "cooking" from his mind before it could make him sick again.

"I might be getting a little too personal here, but you and Anora seem to really trust and care for each other."

"So do you and Rayla."

Callum's cheeks lit up with bright pink fire, but he continued to ramble on as if he hadn't heard the remark, though his words were noticeably more jumbled and rushed now, "How did you two get like that? I mean, why did you start to trust each other? Rayla and I had the common goal of getting Zym home and ending the war, and even then it took awhile for us to warm up to each other."

A blanket of sincerity settled over Maddie, momentarily masking her impish nature, and a softer, sweeter smile replaced her mischievous grin. "Well, Anora was gentle and kind and beautiful; basically she was the exact opposite of everything that I had been taught about elves. The whole saving my life thing definitely helped with winning me over too. It still took time for us to reach the point we're at now, but a little compassion can take you a long way. Any more burning questions?"

"Well, actually-"

"Oh look at that, we're here!"

Callum's unamused glower went entirely unnoticed by Madeleine as she waltzed up the short set of creaky stairs that led up to a little porch with a back door, the gleaming brass knob looking extremely out of place next to the weathered wood that somehow didn't give way as Madeleine yanked on the handle.

For some reason, the groaning of the door sent a flurry of uneasy butterflies fluttering about in Callum's stomach. "Are you sure that we can just come in this way? Maybe we should circle around to the front-"

"Callum, you're overthinking this. I already told you that Tobias is a friend. Look, you can wait out here if you really want to, but this is all gonna go a lot faster if I have an extra set of hands to help carry the supplies."

She made some good points, and while a few of his nerves still flitted about in an anxious tizzy, most of Callum's initial jitters had subsided. However, his feet still dragged somewhat as he trudged through the door in pursuit of Madeleine after she had already disappeared inside.

Callum had somewhat been expecting a blast of muggy heat to the face as the miniature hallway attached to the back entrance widened into what he assumed was the back room and workspace of the blacksmith's shop, but the air was actually cooler than it had been outside. The stone forge located against the wall on their left was completely dark and appeared to have been that way for at least a few days, and the room was unexpectedly tidy and free of any loose pieces or signs of labor. Callum didn't have to ask Madeleine if something was wrong; the bewilderment with a pinch of apprehension smeared across her face told him all he needed to know.

"Maybe we should go meet back up with Rayla and Anora and try again later. He could just be out at the moment-"

Madeleine didn't even hear Callum as she wandered past the cold forge and the untouched tools lined up neatly in their appropriate spots and poked her head through the doorway that led to the front of the shop. This room too was devoid of the usual signs of life as particles of dusted lazily floated around the room instead of browsing customers and the bell above the front door hung still and silent. The daylight streaming through the windows provided enough light for Madeleine to carefully navigate her way over to the service counter without bumping into anything, but it was just as bare as the back room aside from a faint blanket of dust.

It wasn't long before Callum poked his head into the room as well. "Madeleine?"

"Tobias always leaves a note if he has to go somewhere, even if it's on short notice."

"Maybe he just forgot."

"No, that just isn't like him. I know he said that he would be leaving to go sell some wares at a fair towards the outskirts of Katolis soon, but even after telling me ahead of time, he still would've left a note just in case."

"Well, what do we do now?"

Madeleine was at a complete loss, and it was at that moment that the squeal of the back door being opened again rang out throughout the shop. Mind clouded with relieved excitement, she dashed past Callum back into the workroom only to clumsily skid to a stop when she was met not my the jolly old blacksmith with tanned skin, a kind face, and an unruly black beard that she had come to adore but by a lanky young man with a harsh scowl and even harsher eyes.

Callum and Madeleine both hardly dared to breathe as the newcomer regarded them with surprise followed by anger and then malevolence, his lips stretching from a tight line into a dastardly sneer.

"Well, what have we here? Two rotten little thieves snooping around in my dad's shop?"

The hairs on the back of Madeleine's neck rose on end. "What are you talking about, Midan? You know full well that your dad and I have a deal to work together. Where is he?"

"A deal, you say? You got this deal written down on paper?"

"What? No!"

"No? Then you might just be lying to me so I don't call the authorities on you for breaking in and trying to steal from my old man. I knew you were going to be trouble from the moment Dad told me about you, little rat."

"We weren't going to steal anything! I just need to talk to Tobias-"

"The only person you're going to be talking to is the sheriff," Midan hissed before slyly adding, "unless, of course, you give me a good reason for not turning you over."

Callum's heart had jumped into his throat as Midan and Madeleine were arguing, but he nonetheless managed to find his voice somehow, though there was a distinct quiver to it now. "We need help. We're going on a long and important journey and we need supplies-"

"Couldn't care less." Midan sharply cut in, not even sparing Callum so much as a glance. Instead, he kept his eyes locked on Madeleine, his devilish grin never wavering as he waited for her to arrive at the conclusion he knew she would have to face.

"What do you want?"

And there it was.

"Well, with Dad in the hospital after breaking his foot a few days ago, it seemed that I was going to have to regretfully withdraw the business from this year's Five Kingdoms' Artisans Fair since...well..."

"You can't even craft a chamber pot?" Madeleine quickly chipped in, not one to miss the opportunity for a witty jab even in her current circumstances.

Midan's smile soured but he tried to pretend as though the girl's comment inflicted no damage upon his pride. "You and your friend here are going on a journey, huh? Well, it looks like your trip is going to include a pitstop at the fair. Now won't that be fun?"

[felineevil]

TCM time, under the cut if you don't wanna see me ramble about my favourite chainsaw welding cannibal. Tldr i saw a silley article that i thought missed the point of Leatherface as more sympathetic slasher and i sat down and wrote for an hour because i’m like that i guess.

While many slashers fall under almost supernatural levels of inhuman and unstoppable, it is not true for the whole genre- there are characters with motives and reasoning, even if we may not understand them ourselves, because of course we do not operate under the rules and universe of horror movies.

I think it's not hard to place Leatherface under this category, both given subtext and the actual content of the movies.

For full clarity i am pulling only from texas chainsaw 1 for the most part, and at the end i'll chat a little about 2- i'm not particularly motivated to watch more than these two, so to me they are where my enjoyment of TCM is, so if my rambling is undone by later movies additions...so be it!

I don't have to be right, i just like writing about stuff!

Yippee!

In the original movie we meet Leatherface for the first time, a man who's big in every sense of the word and an intimidating figure indeed- a common trait for slashers.

But the first time we meet him is not him chasing down unsuspecting people, nor bursting through walls with a monstrous menace, it is a quiet scene at first.

Our first victims find his home and, when not receiving a response from the man inside, they enter- the first we hear of Leatherface is agitated, stressed pig-like noises, hardly an invitation to enter ones house, they sound very clearly like a noise to tell someone to not come in.

This isn't a sound to lure people, i think it'd be quite unsettling to most- it certainly wouldn't make me want to enter a house, i'd be getting the hell out of there in case there was some sort of angry hog.

But our victims enter anyway and, in ways very clearly meant to be the ways of dealing with meat, are dispatched.

There does not seem to be any glee in the act, it seems like work- everyday, normalcy.

This IS meat, the same as the cows down at the killing sheds- to Leatherface at least.

If you've been in the meat business along with your family all your life, and have never been taught that there's anything wrong with applying this approach to ALL meat, this seems logical

Later on we find another victim approaching the house and we hear Leatherface again, this time it's not an agitated sound- it's the light jangle of a bracelet, previously worn by one of the first victims, Pam, and a soft giggle.

We hear this big, powerful man gently making his new bracelet rattle and tittering with an innocent glee to himself- he likes this trinket, it makes him happy.

Of course any moment of reprise is broken as our next victim enters and is quickly dispatched, and what do we see next?

Panic.

We see panic, fear, Leatherface looks around after the third kill with a terrified sense of "how many more are there?" This is not a celebration of a kill well done, he checks the windows in a state and then sits, hitting his palms against his head in clear distress- he's afraid of this situation, he doesn't seem to know what to do.

These people, to him, are intruders in his home- a threat to him and his family.

We of course don't see this group of teens as a threat, they're framed as the innocent victims to us- but consider how sympathetic you'd feel to people wandering into your home while you were alone.

It is clear Leatherface decides he needs to find anyone left, perhaps he thinks he's being deliberately sought after by them, that they're after him and his family- or perhaps it's just what he's been taught to do, make sure there's nobody left to tell.

Another thing we can take from this moment of panic is that it is not hard to understand his reaction as comparable to something experienced by neurodivergent people- when panicked i tend to hit my hands against my legs and bite my tongue repeatedly, to calm myself down.

I flap my hands when excited, tap the back of my teeth with my tongue when nervous- stimming.

So it would not be unreasonable to consider Leatherface some form of neurodivergent, or something like that, and if i remember correctly Gunnar did mention at some point studying people who were to add to Leatherface's characterisation.

The next kill scene we see is the most frenzied, and the first full chainsaw kill- it is not hard to presume this is Leatherface in his most dangerous state, he's now fighting back, perhaps he thinks for his life of his family's.

This does not seem to be his default state, it is more brutal and aggressive than we've seen him before- it's also messier, he's not dispatching cleanly and quickly now, this feels like an embodiment of his fight response kicking in full force.

When i think about being afraid, i know my response is flight- and when i reach my panic limit i'll run and run and get myself as far away from anything that is frightening me as possible, even if it is irrational and illogical to do so, even if it means aggravating or upsetting people around me.

The reverse or opposite of this response is fight, and it is quite easy to see Leatherface in the absolute end state of that at this point- fighting as hard and as frantically as he can, pure instinct mode.

This is possibly the most frightening state i can think of seeing anyone in, never mind a tall, strong masked man with a chainsaw!

See, this is the important thing about Leatherface, throughout this movie we do not see a man motivated by bloodlust or the love of killing, we see a man motivated through terror- a mirror of the survival instinct of the final girl of many a horror movie, in texas chainsaw fear is not reserved only for our survivor, but instead permeates every inch of this movie and it's plot.

Texas chainsaw IS about fear, it is an object of panic, of terror, of desolate desperation- and Leatherface is himself an embodiment of that, both causing it and being caused BY it.

Many slashers are born evil and given no leeway into thoughts of wether they could have been steered in a different direction, but Leatherface is in many ways more tragic- given better circumstances and different situations he would not be a killer, it is quite clearly mentioned that the family has only turned to such ways of living because of pressure from economic collapse and desperation.

Leatherface is not a face of the devil nor an object of evil, he is a vulnerable man who has been shaped by circumstance and manipulation into doing terrible, terrible things- killing is his normality, just as all of us grow into our lives he has grown into his.

It is easy to be desensitised and become used to all manner of things if they are framed as normal and fine to us, it's not hard to see how if given a different start Leatherface might not have turned out this way.

It is easy to see glimpses of good in him, during the last house scenes- once he's calmed down and in his safe place- we see a very different side to him.

First comes Drayton's fury, berating Leatherface who, despite easily outmatching his brother, cowers and shies away like a frightened child- his high voice frantic as he tries  to explain that he's been good, that he's done good.

It is hard to match the cowering man with the one who ran through the night with a blaring chainsaw just moments ago, blood spattering him and his deadly weapon- and yet here he is, tending to the kitchen almost like a house wife.

He's subservient and does whatever is asked of him, no real sign of violent urges like one might expect.

Later as Drayton talks to Sally we see Leatherface enter the room holding food for the table, he stops for a moment to look at Sally- but it's almost curious now, rather than aggressive, eventually being shooed away and cowering once more from his older brother.

Later we see him in his 'pretty lady' mask, a mask he adorns with makeup himself, fussing over his grandpa and helping to feed him, care for him- gentleness shown towards his family member here that again, seems the polar opposite of his behaviour before.

While his advances towards Sally could be considered sexually menacing, i personally think it's more curious again- he seems to like the notion of 'pretty' whatever that means to him, wether he likes to look pretty or just like pretty things i don't know, but his interest is more towards her hair, gently playing with it for a moment.

It is not until the time for the killing blow comes that the violence returns, with Leatherface attempting to help his grandpa strike Sally down- and as this fails and she escapes we switch back to see him as we did before, hunting her down.

Now, all of this is not to say that Leatherface does not commit terrible, gruesome violence nor to excuse that- it is simply to look with a different gaze upon a character outside of what the tropes of horror movies expect of us.

It is clear that the sympathetic feelings towards Leatherface are not completely accidental either, as come the second movie we meet him again- a comical, kinder telling of the character with much more humanity given to him.

We see him show moral feelings, ones that conflict with his family's desires, and we see him capable of deciding to show mercy- he shows clear emotional responses and connections to other people through Stretch, and we are shown he's not some thoughtless monster at all.

It leads us to wonder if one (admittedly excellent and exceedingly brave) lady could get him to stand down just by talking to him, surely he can't be all bad- for all it's goofy silley nature TCM2 introduces an interesting telling of Leatherface that i think can compliment some of the sympathies towards him from the first.

Even more so he's a man ruled by his family, and when away from them he is more vulnerable and easy to persuade- Stretch quite easily manages to get him to drop his weapon and instead turn the other cheek when she's trapped in the Sawyer lair, with Leatherface dancing around with her (much to her dismay) and not harming her physically at all, though the upset caused by having a dead friends face slapped over your own probably is going to cause it's own set of troubles.

But is this what we expect from pure evil?

By Stretch's final capture by the Sawyer's we see Leatherface almost completely torn, smacking his head against a lamp as he tried to choose between letting her live snd his families wishes- he's experiencing a moral conflict, can pure evil do that?

Again we can see that if given different circumstances Leatherface could've been a good man, and if you think that reading takes away any of the frightening nature of the first movie and you wish to call me silly or chastise me for '"woobifying" Leatherface- i propose that this does in fact make the movie all the more tragic and frightening.

I don't believe true evil exists in real life, but i know fear does, and i think tragedy brought on by preventable events and terror is all the more frightening than killing just for killings sakes- a pure evil unstoppable force is fantasy, a fairy tale told to scare children, but the idea of being trapped in a situation with someone terrified enough to take your life frightens me more..

So wether you want or need Leatherface to be a sympathetic, well loved character for you, or a horrifying cold killer, i don't think this reading into his character should take away from either of those ideas of him- i think without trying to understand the reasoning of why the events of the first movie happen we could miss some of the real horror of the movie.

Anyways, this has been me rambling- i hope i was at least somewhat understandable, i just love texas chainsaw massacre and i love Leatherface and i like to talk, even if i'm not great at it.

[lapinbunwrites]

Grimm!Pyrrha AU

Rating: Not Rated

Archive Warning: None

Fandom: RWBY

Characters: Pyrrha Nikos, Salem, Tyrian Callows, Arthur Watts, Cinder Fall, Jaune Arc

Ao3 Link

Cinder walked around the Land of Darkness, waiting. It took a few minutes before someone was able to crawl their way out of the Pool of Grimm. The woman crawled out, coughing out dark liquid and breathing heavily. Cinder smiled while she was walking towards her. She put the tips of her fingers on her chin and lifted the woman's face up to meet her eyes.

"How does it feel Pyrrha?" Cinder smirked.

"It...It feels different." Pyrrha answered.

Cinder let her get on her feet. She turned around and started to walk away. "Salem wants to see you."

"Very well."

Pyrrha kept her distance from Cinder. She remembers that they were on other sides, but now, now they were on the same team. Pyrrha walked through the long hallway, walking into a room with a long table with many empty chairs. She stood at the edge of the table and looked far across from her. There sat a woman with white hair and black sclares and red irises. Salem gestured for her to sit down. Pyrrha did as instructed and sat a few seats away from her.

"Tell me, how do you feel?" Salem asked.

"I feel different. I feel the void pooling up into my center. I can feel nothing but hatred and anger." Pyrrha answered. "I'm not attuned to this."

Salem knew that feeling all to well. "In time, you will come to terms with the feeling." She said softly. "I have big plans for you." She then turned to look over to Cinder and Tyrian. "Train her."

Tyrian smirked and was going to enjoy fighting her. The three went back through the long corridor. They took a left before the door exiting the castle. The room was empty, aside from a few weapons. Pyrrha walked over to them and looked at them. She picked up the black and gold lance gun that was there. She turned it around and examined it. She pointed it one of them, signaling that she wanted to fight. She rushed at Cinder but she was able to dodge it easily. They fought and fought, but nonetheless Pyrrha was on the floor, defeated. Salem walked in. She wasn't happy with the results, but she wasn't shocked by it. Pyrrha got up off the floor and looked at her.

"You are weak." Salem reminded her.

Pyrrha didn't say anything.

"You will train endlessly until I see fit."

"Yes ma'am."

Salem and the other two left. She waited a few minutes after they left before leaving the room. She was shown her room. There was a new outfit for her to wear. She quickly changed into it. Pyrrha walked over the the mirror. Her eyes were now black sclares with red irises and she has black marks all around her eyes. She was now wearing a gold gorget that was connected to fabric that wasn't connected to overbust corset. The fabric was black and fitted a small portion of her back that went into sleeves. The sleeve on her left arm was longer that she tucked under a fingerless glove. She wore another fingerless glove on her right arm that went to mid part of her arm, leaving the rest to show skin. Each glove had circles on it to make an eye. Her left shoulder also had a gold plate on it. Pyrrha also wore gold dark red gauntlets with silver linings.

She wore a black overbust that was open in the middle of her torso and it had gold linings. It showed a large scar that ran a little past her chest. She adorned a long red cape that stretched to the ground. Pyrrha looked at her pinkinsh red skirt and lifted it up. It went to her knees She sighed and let it go. She tapped the ground with the top of her toes. It wasn't a bad pair of boots. They were silver high-heeled boots. She wore silver greaves that went down to her boots. She also wore thick black stockings.

All of this was so different from her old outfit. She couldn't lie and say she didn't like this outfit. Day in and day out she trained endlessly in this new outfit. She had to figure out to maneuver a fight with her cape. It was rather difficult to deal with. Weeks on end she fought and fought.

"Must get stro...stronger." Pyrrha muttered. "For...For them."

Tyrian put his foot on her back making her fall back to the ground.

"Forget about your friends. They mean nothing to you know." Salem said.

Tyrian moved and laughed deliriously. She got up and kept on training with him. Weeks and weeks she forgot about her friends. She became more and more mindless. It went to the point where her mind broke and she couldn't remember anyone or anything other than words.

"Now, who do you remember?" Salem asked.

"Remember who? Who are you?" Pyrrha replied.

"Good."

Weeks and weeks go by and she started to gain more strength and new memories. She didn't remember any of her 'friends.'

"Pyrrha, I have a mission for you." Salem said.

"Whatever the mission is, I will complete it fully and exceptionally." Pyrrha responded.

"Are you sure you want to send her out on a mission?" Arthur asked. "She may be strong but I don't think it's a great idea to send her out on a mission."

"It's a simple mission." Salem said. "I want you to take the Grimm creatures out towards Beacon Academy and distract them. Take however many you want."

"As you wish, my queen." Pyrrha said.

"Go immediately."

Pyrrha did as instructed of her. Before she left, she looked in the mirror. More and more black scarring grew upon her face. It was only natural. She left the castle and headed towards Beacon Academy with some decently strong Grimm. It took a few days before she arrived. It was nightfall and a big event was going on. Pyrrha instructed the Grimm to destroy anything. It sounded off the alarm for the school's defenses. She stayed by the school's main doors and waited. People were flooding out of those doors and met with some other Grimm. Only a select few decided to fight them and defeat them. Pyrrha ran towards one of them and started to fight them. They engaged in the fight, but they were wildly under-powered against her. It came to the point where she was about to kill them.

Jaune was able to shield them from the final blow. She stepped back and took one good long look at him. He was utterly shocked to see who it was. He was unable to move. He couldn't believe it was her. He thought she died when they went to check out on a bandit raid. She cracked a menacing smile.

"Pyrrha!" He yelled.

"Yes?" She asked.

"Why are you doing this?!"

"I am instructed to. It is my job to do this."

"Who put you up to this?!"

"My queen of course."

"Who?!"

"That's enough questions. Either fight and die or cower and live."

Pyrrha lifted up her weapon and pointed it at him. Without thinking, Jaune charged at her. He did his best to fend her off. It was a matter of time before he was worn out. More and more hunters and huntress in training came to his aid. Her time was up. She left without a scratch. Jaune lifted up his head and looked at her back.

"Pyrrha!" He yelled. "Pyrrha! Come back!"

She didn't even bat an eye. She made her way back to Salem's castle. It had been a few days since the attacks had happened and Salem was pleased with the results.

"Well done, Pyrrha." Salem said.

"You words praise me." She replied.

"This is what it means to succeed."

"You words are too much."

"Get some rest."

"Very well."

"What was the point of that mission?" Arthur asked after Pyrrha left the room.

"It was to gather information. She was to distract everyone while one of the other three gathered some information for me."

"I see."

"Everything will fall in place in due time."

-------------------------------------------------------------------

The lovely @artist-assassin and I are in the same RWBY discord and she was showing everyone her lovely Grimm!Pyrrha AU and I instantly loved it. I loved it so much I wrote a little bit about the AU she was doing. I’m so happy that I got to do it. Thank you so much and I’m sorry I screwed up while trying to describe her outfit. I really like her AU! Please check her art out. It’s amazing!!

[promptlists]

Childhood Crush (Gil X Reader)

Words: 2846 Requested: Yes! Warnings: Fluff, Swearing

Prompt A: I need you stop biting your lip like that B: You what? A: Seriously, it’s like you’re purposely trying to sabotage my attempts to forget that I’m completely in love with you. B: Hold on, rewind a little. Did you just say you loved me? A:Shit! Fuck! Did I just say that out loud?

A/N: I tweaked the wording of the prompt a little so that it better fits Gil’s character - but yeah, it’s stil basically the same

“You give her that back you big bully!” You yelled, storming towards a pirate, pointing an accusing finger. You may have only been small but you could sure as hell shout, and soon you were squaring up to the boy in front of you. “Y/N! What a pleasure to see ye” Harry exclaimed, taking a wad of paper notes from his mouth and grinning at you. You scowled. “Stealing from children Harry, that’s a new low even for you. Give it her back” You said plainly, looking back at Dizzy who was cowering behind you. The pirate had charged in to the “Curl up and Dye”, demanding her days wages before knocking a tables worth of hair dyes and combs onto the floor. You were less than impressed. “I’m sorry sweetheart, no can do,” the pirate continued, spinning on his heels and whistling as he went to leave the building. You glanced to your right, where Dizzy was sweeping up Harry’s mess glumly, staring at the floor. He wasn’t going to get away with this. “Still running around after Uma I guess. You always were like her slave” you called after him, hoping to bruise his ego enough for him to return. It worked. He froze in the door frame, his eyes narrowed as he met your gaze. “A little rich coming from ye isn’t it princess? Still following your sister around blindly?”. You rolled your eyes. It always came back to Mal. You were the youngest daughter of Maleficent, meaning you were always compared to your purple haired big sister. Usually you didn’t mind, you and Mal were pretty similar after all, but the constant comparison was growing tiring. “Leave Mal out of this” You warned, taking another step towards the pirate and plucking the money from his hands and throwing it towards Dizzy, who caught it with both hands. “You’ll regret that little witch” Harry snarled, grabbing the back of your fore arm. “I wouldn’t bet on it” You spat back, making the first mate chuckle manically.

Maybe he should have bet on it. Dizzy may have got her money back but now you were being dragged through the back alleyways of the Isle’s streets, with your hands tied behind your back. Harry was stronger than you had anticipated, so it didn’t take him long to have you pinned against a wall as he fastened rope around wrists. You were on your way to Ursula’s Fish and Chip Shop you could tell, the stench of decaying seafood detectable from miles away. You glanced at the pirate who was holding you hostage, sniggering to yourself. Although you looked pretty harmless you had been taught to fight from a young age, so even though Harry may have won, he didn’t escape your scrap unharmed. There was dark purple bruise staring to form under his eye, from where you had swung a punch at him. A sense of accomplishment washed over you knowing that the pirate wouldn’t be bothering Dizzy again for a while, as Harry grunted a little in pain. Served the cocky little shit right.

The doors to the fish and chip shop swung open, the combination of  the bustling atmosphere and questionable smells making your head ache slightly. You had never really eaten there before, the fierce rivalry between your sister and Uma herself, repelling you from ever entering. You didn’t think you missed out on much. The pirate, dragged you by the arm into the furthest corner in the restaurant, pushing you down onto a bar stool. You sighed impatiently. “Harry! What happened to your face?” You looked around to see a the son of Gaston, staring at Harry with a mixture of confusion and excitement. Harry caught you grinning smugly to yourself and scowled back at you before turning to his friend. “Nothing to do with ye Gil” He grumbled, still glaring at you. You raised your eyebrows with mock innocence in return. “Hold on a second Harry…” Gil gasped as if he’d come to a staggering revelation. He looked at you, then at Harry, then back at you. “Did you get beaten up by tiny little Y/N? Again?” You spluttered with laughter at the word again. You and Harry were known not to see eye to eye. When the pirate did nothing but scowl more, Gil erupted into huge fits of belly laughter, gaining glares from the customers around him. You were reminded immediately why you liked the boy. “Gil shut ye mouth now” “You did!” Gil exclaimed, clearly proud with himself “You got beaten up by Y/N! Wait till Uma hears! Uma come listen to this!” He was still laughing until Harry stood up beside him, tapping him on the end of his nose with his hook. Gil gulped and quickly shut up. “What the hell is going on out here?” Uma appeared from out of the kitchen, an unamused expression painted on her face. ‘Uma!’ Gil shouted, excited “You missed it. Harry just got beaten up by-” “Me” You said, speaking up for the first time, diverting everybody’s gaze towards you. Uma lips flickered upwards in a smirk for a split second before returning to a poker face. “Well well well well” she said making her way towards you, Harry following grinning behind her “Would you look what the cat dragged in?” “Actually I was dragged in here by that mindless pig that you call a servant” It was enough to agitate the first mate, causing him to lunge for you. Uma put her hand on his shoulder and he relented, simply waving his hook at you menacingly. “Harry chill,” the daughter of Ursula sighed. “I don’t see why you just won’t let me hook her,” Harry replied, reaching forwards and sweeping the hair out of your eyes with his hook. When he pressed his face continually closer to yours, you decided enough was enough, taking it upon yourself to spit directly in his face. What? You valued your personal space.

Harry recoiled, but not before taking a swing at you with his hook, cutting your cheek which now ran with blood. “You little bi-” the pirate snarled, before being pushed out of he way by Gil. “Hey guys what are we looking a-” Gil took one look at your face and jumped back a little “God damn it guys, you hurt her!” You were doing all you could not to cry, but the searing pain along your cheek bone was making it increasingly more difficult not to. You stopped yourself before a tear could slip, biting your lip instead. You were the daughter of Maleficent, you were not going to burst into tears about a little cut. “Harry! To the back with me! Now!” Growled Uma, grabbing the pirate by the arm and dragging him away. He had the audacity to blow a kiss to you as he sauntered away. “Go choke on a catfish!” You yelled at him as he left your sight, attempting to wipe away a droplet of blood with the back of your sleeve, but failing. It was harder than it looked when your hands were tied behind your back. “I’ll go get the first aid kit” said a chirpy voice from behind you “Wait there” You shot around to see Gil wandering off into the back of the shop, leaving you sat on your stool alone. You could have run out of those doors quite easily, rallied up your friends and dragged them back down there to get revenge. But you didn’t. You sat and waited for Gil to return.

“Gil, I really appreciate this, but I’m not so sure I need three gauzes stuck to my face” you laughed. You grinned as the boy wrapped the majority of your head, including your eyes and ears, in a thick white bandage on top of the seven plasters he had stuck over you wound. All of this for a cut that was two centimetres wide at the most. “You think you might need four?” Gil asked confused. “I think we might need to lose the bandage” “Okay” he replied simply, unravelling it from your head. Once you could finally see and hear again you couldn’t help but smile at the boy who was grinning back at you. “Thanks I guess-” You began but were interrupted. “It’s fine. It’s not like I didn’t used to do it when we were little”. The comment caught you off guard. You weren’t expecting it. You were a clumsily kid, always the child to fall over and cut their knee. Gil was a kind kid, always the child to give you a plaster and his apple from his lunch box. “Yeah, I’d forgotten about that” There was a long, but not uncomfortable, silence. “You’re funny you know” Gil started. “Am I?” You asked slightly confused, only to be met with vigorous nodding from Gaston’s youngest son. “Yeah! It’s funny when you embarrass Harry. He’ll be really mad you know, he hates when it when people do that to him. But it’s okay I’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt you again” “Thank you Gil but there’s really no need” you said quickly,  trying to get him to drop the topic as you saw Harry and Uma enter the main restaurant again. Something told you Harry would not be thrilled with Gil talking about him or helping the girl that was supposed to be their hostage. The poor boy was blissfully unaware and continued to ramble. “It’s usually me who makes Harry mad. He doesn’t like you I think but that’s okay, I like you and he doesn’t like anybody except for Uma anyway” He was still talking as the two approached. You were trying desperately to warn him but he wouldn’t let you get a word in edge ways. “Actually, I don’t think Uma likes you either,” Gil frowned before continuing “But that’s not your fault. She’s still mad about that time your sister put shrimp in her and everyb-” “AND YOU NEED TO STOP TALKING” Gil whipped his head around to Uma, shouting in his ear and giving him the dirtiest look. “Come on mate. Outside. Now. You know where to go”. Harry hoisted Gil upwards and walked behind him as he trudged out of Ursula’s Fish and Chip Shop, plonking himself down on the step by the entrance. Something told you this wasn’t the first time this had happened. He tried to walk back inside but Harry pushed him back out, his hook held to his chest. That time he stayed put. Uma was still glaring at you. “You’re going to stay here until Mal comes for you. Got it?” It wasn’t so much of a question so much as it was an order. “Are you really going to use me as bait so you can continue to argue with my sister? Doesn’t that sound a little petty?” “Guess what, I just so happen to be a petty person” Uma snapped before, walking to lecture Gil outside.

The next time somebody spoke to you again it was Gil. As soon as Uma and Harry let him back in he inched his way towards you looking sheepish but deep in thought. He stopped in front of you and took a deep breath. “Uma says to tell you that I’m not allowed to talk to you even though you’re really pretty and you make me laugh because you stand up to Harry and it’s funny when you make him look stupid” He grinned at himself, clearly proud that he had delivered the message he was told to. Something told you that the message had changed a little from when Uma had first told him, but you didn’t say anything. You felt your cheeks slowly start to flush red as you blushed uncontrollably. He thought you were pretty. You cursed yourself in your mind. There was no way you were going to lose your cool simply because Gil complimented you. But you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. “I remember one time when we were seven…” “Harry said that you couldn’t play with me because you were a girl so you dumped your whole carton of milk over his head and then stomped on his toe” Gil laughed. “Yeah! You remember that?” You started to chew on your lip a little. You had always been close with Gil as children, practically inseparable, but something happened when he met Uma and you started to hang out with your sisters friends. The two of you drifted apart. “Of course I remember! We used to spend all our time together but you didn’t like Harry and Harry told me it was pointless me having a crush on you…” As soon as he said the words he bolted upright “Forget I said that last bit” You chewed down on your lip further, practically drawing blood. Because it was all flooding back, your first childhood crush at the age of five years old was stood beaming a smile at you. “It’s been forgotten” There was an awkward silence between the two of you, neither knowing what to say. You were still biting your lip, the metallic taste lingering in your mouth confirming that it was, in fact,  bleeding. “I need you stop biting your lip like that” Gil said eventually. “You what?” You looked at the boy as if he was going crazy, but he refused to drag his eyes away from your lips. How long had he been staring at them. “Seriously. If Uma and Harry knows I’ve been thinking about kissing you they’ll kill me. Plus, I’ve been trying to forget that I’m in love with you Y/N and you’re not helping” You were completely and utterly stunned. There was a lot of new information dropped into that sentence. New information that changed a lot of things. A lot. “Hold on, rewind a little. Did you just say you loved me?” Gil’s eyes widened with alarm “Oh no! Did I just say that out loud?” He jumped up from where he was sat beside me and began to pace up and down. “I just made things weird didn’t I, I messed things up again” “Gil relax,” you said softly “I’ve missed you” You were telling the truth. Although you were friends with the core-four like your sister you had missed Gil more than you wanted to admit. He may have been goofy and he may have a knack for saying the wrong things at the wrong time, but he had good intentions and you loved him for it. That and the fact that he wasn’t too bad on the eyes. “You.. Missed me?” Questioned Gil looking slightly dazed. “Yes you, you buffoon” Gil broke out into the widest grin and let out a giddy giggle. You practically melted on your barstool. “I’ve missed you too Y/N! Wait till I tell Um- Maybe that’s not the best idea” “No, it’s probably not” you chuckled. “Does this mean we can be friends again?” Your heart sunk a little. You had always wanted to be more than friends with Gil. Always. Even at five years old. Former Y/N knew what she wanted. She got stuff done. “Friends?” “Who am I kidding Y/N. I Kind of think I love you” Gil took another step towards you and cut the ties on your hands, wrapping you in a hug. You hugged him back, breathing into the crook of his neck as he spun you around. “I kind of think I love you too”. He put you back down, setting you on top of a table. “I know we just decided that we are going to be friends…” you raised your eyebrow at the the word but he continued anyway “…again but you should probably get out of here before Uma and Harry come back. I’ll meet you at the docks tonight” You gave him a quick nod. “They’ll kill you if they know you let me go” “Then they’ll just not have to know will they” He grinned at you but you rolled your eyes. Gil was the worst person to keep a secret, he’d probably tell them himself by accident. “Okay Gil,” you whispered “I’ll see you around”. You leaned forwards and kissed his cheek causing his whole face to burn bright red. “I’ll… Um… I.. guess… that um…. I’ll see you around… Um too” And with that you walked out of the Fish and Chip shop, fully prepared to start a brand new chapter with the son of Gaston. You sent an imaginary thank you to Harry Hook. If he hadn’t have been such an asshole, you would have never re-discovered your childhood crush.

[thelambsofiscariot]

[ give me the juicy tidbits of serial killer!gradeus' m.o.... what kind of serial killer is he~? usual victims~? a stressor that got him to start killing~? GIVE ME ALL THEM TIDBITS I LOVE CRIMINALS... er well not love. i'm /fascinated/ by serial killers so... ye B) also this is to build a working profile for raskreia /shot ]

ooc: Ohhh boy. Gradeus. I want to give him a last name for the sake of his human AU… Anastos? Gradeus Anastos. Sounds good enough. Man, idk where to start, really, but I’ll start with the basic ideas swirling around in my head and dump them out onto the answer. 

I put it under the cut because yeah… long story. And don’t read if you don’t like murdery things, obviously.

Typical stuff: started young. The whole “torturing and killing animals” thing, except it wasn’t just the typical bird he found lying on the ground, or burning down anthills. His family had multiple dogs and cats, so that was easy access to him. He was just always an angry child. So many things he didn’t like about the world — he got pissed when something went off schedule, when something didn’t go his way, or when his parents tried to get on his case. But Gradeus got smart while he was a kid; he knew that there was no way he was going to jump on his father, a man of almost 6 feet tall, or even his mother. Too big, too strong, too fast for him. He was a wiry little thing… and short. Size has always been a big thing for him. It’s a matter of insecurity, really.

But dogs and cats couldn’t argue or fight back. He never drew blood at first because that’s obvious. The parents are going to see, and he’s going to get his arse kicked because one cut? Fine, but so many collecting over time? Yeah, they’re going to know it’s him, and he’s not going to get himself caught like that. He doesn’t even start, because he’s smart enough to know that if he begins, he probably won’t stop. He sticks to throwing blunt objects at the pets, physically kicking them around, picking them up and throwing them as hard as he can, and dumping their food out for days on end when his mum tells him to feed them. Nothing too far, nothing that they can’t tank. He’s a small boy, after all.

Then he really goes far one day when he’s just pissed off beyond normal. Probably around pre-teens. I figure he’s probably the bully type… goes after kids younger than him., because he doesn’t know how to pick on anyone his own size or bigger. He’s a special kind of a coward, one that knows how to get what he wants. And he doesn’t feel bad about being a coward, either. As long as things end up how he likes them, why should he care about how he goes about doing them?

So like. He’s just pissed off because he can’t get to the kid he’s trying to tear apart. Because the kid has a mouth to tell on him with. He goes home, seeing red, and one of the bigger dogs nip at his hand for food — and oh, how could he have forgotten! Isn’t that convenient that the dogs and the cats can’t tell on him like little human boys do? 

So he spills blood for the first time. Kicks the dog into the backyard and really goes all out. Throws rocks at the poor thing. Steps on it with all his weight. Clubs it until it cries. Because this time is different — this time he’s picked up a knife from the cutting board on the counter on his way out. This time he intends to kill. The dog claws at his face and leaves a huge scar across his skin, and that just pisses him off even more. The damn thing is definitely dead after that, for daring to fight back when it should’ve just cowered and sat it through.

Anyway, his new scar is a good excuse. He can tell his mum that the dog attacked him, and that’s why he had to defend himself. She’ll look past it, because he’s her precious lil boy.

And man, he can’t stop after that. He just keeps thinking about it. There was just something so addicting about stabbing something breathing and alive, and watching the life drain out of it. Seeing it helpless and shivering, slowly bleeding to death and unable to do anything about it… because of him. He has that much power. And isn’t that an amazing thing?

He starts looking into it more. He quickly becomes an avid fan of anatomy, and suddenly crime shows are all that much more interesting. He’d been fairly fascinated with the concept of death beforehand, and was always a violent kid… but now the interest in these subjects has upped tenfold, and teeters on the edge of obsession. He tones it down with the bigger animals that his family come into contact with just as much as he does, and begins going to out seek and capture smaller, more vulnerable animals. Spiders? Good to pull their legs off of and watch them squirm. Frogs? Slimy, ugh, but good enough. Birds? Whenever he can get his hands on them. And the real prizes are the stray kittens and pups that can easily be lured in by the promise of a snack…

But Gradeus has to learn quickly to play the part of the innocent little boy, because his mother of all people is starting to clue in on things. Stupid woman can’t keep her nose out of everything, like she’s supposed to. So he learns to fall into a role: he doesn’t play an entirely pure character, because that sort of back and forth is hard to do. There’s no way he can do a 180, switch from his usual angry self to an angelic personality. That’s just asking for trouble… so coming off as the hot-tempered, but endearingly so, guy with a heart of gold will have to do.

For a while, he plays it safe. He gets that what he’s doing isn’t really… normal. But does he care? Nah. As long as you’re not caught, it’s whatever, right?

He doesn’t know how the notion of murdering a human being starts to grow in his head. But somewhere along the line, the seed must have been planted, because the temptation grows stronger every day. Looking at the kids in his class, visualising it… it doesn’t do enough for him. He desperately wants to have that feeling of being able to plunge a knife through something soft and alive again.

So he starts planning, without knowing when it’s going to happen — just that it will someday, and so he might as well prepare.

His usual victims tend to be girls, but he’s expanding beyond that. He’s really picky about the types of girls he goes after, too — he likes them screaming, but not… pathetic screaming. He’d prefer the kind of girl who kicks and shrieks and really tries to escape, rather than one who’s just begging their way out of a situation. Granted… he’s not against the begging, but if it happens too fast, then there’s really no reward. He always feels most comfortable with the girls. They’re not too tall, they’re not too strong, and they’re a lot softer and more delicate than men are. Most of them can be overpowered easily, even with his stature.

Boys? Now, that’s a problem, because Gradeus might have strength… but there’s a lot higher risk there, because even the dumbest jock can flip him over. He picks boys wiry and thin. Smart is fine — but he’s controlling, hates it when he doesn’t know what’s going to happen. He wants to have the thrill and the adrenaline of the chase and of physically subduing the victim, but he does not ever, ever choose a victim where he is not 100% sure that he will succeed. It drives him insane if he knows he doesn’t have the upper ground, or will have it eventually. He desperately needs it. That’s the enjoyment factor for him, and he’s also just obsessive about having things go his way… he doesn’t necessarily enjoy unpredictability. He wants victims to surprise and to impress him, but there’s a hard limit about how clever someone can be until they go from amusing him to pissing him off.

And honestly? Anything pisses him off. He’ll be fine with one thing one day, and the next he completely goes berserk at that exact same thing. It’s like he’s looking for reasons to get angry… of course, in the real and working world, and at school, he’s not allowed to show that outwardly. He just has to simmer slowly in his anger… but when he has a victim with him long term, there is no telling what is going to set him off. He likes to treat his prey like they’re for his personal use. Clean the kitchen, stand in the corner and stare at the wall for a few hours, do this and that. Whatever he says goes. He’s really all about that control — and if it’s broken, even in the slightest, most unintended ways, he goes insane. Even if you do everything he says, cross the T’s and dot the i’s… there’s going to be something in your body language he doesn’t like. Something that nags him even if you do everything perfectly. His mind is constantly telling him he needs more control, and it’s getting to be an unreasonable amount.

Otherwise… he just enjoys pain. Inflicting it, emotionally and physically. Watching a victim fall apart slowly when they’ve got no access to any typical human luxuries or necessities. People really fall apart quickly and splendidly when they’ve got no food, barely any water, and not even a pot to piss in. Watching them lose their minds is fantastic.

And then there’s just the killing itself. He just likes stabbing things that are alive until they’re, well. Not. And he really prides himself on not being a killer who does the same old boring thing all the time, either. He’ll try it all. He’s gouged out some eyes, and sewn some lips together. Some while the victim’s already dead, and some while they’re… not.

He’s got some principles though. No cannibalism for him. Albert Fish is not a role model of his, thank you very much.

[sage-nebula]

Pardon me, what test(s) did you take to figure out your Hogwarts house? The Pottermore one was kinda.... ehhhh.

I took the Pottermore test (… a lot, I’ll explain), but I also Sorted myself because I know the Houses and I know myself, which makes it easy for me to see where I belong.

To explain more in-depth:

The Pottermore test, as you know, contains seven questions out of about thirty-five. (I think it has been slightly revamped, but when I took it back when it first released.) This is terrible, because it means that you’re not getting the full picture whenever you take the test. You could take the test multiple times and get a completely different result simply because you’re presented with different questions. It doesn’t do to simply take it once and decide that’s the end all, be all of your Sorting.

So what I did back then was I took the test ten times. I figured that this would give me a nice selection of all the questions (which were, remember, penned by Rowling herself), which would then give me a more trustworthy, definitive answer on my House. Out of the ten takes, my results were:

Gryffindor: 5

Ravenclaw: 2.5

Slytherin: 2.5

(The .5s come from a Hat Stall between the two Houses, wherein I was allowed to pick. At the time, I picked Slytherin, but I’ll still count the Hat Stall for what it is, which is a tie between Ravenclaw and Slytherin.)

This told me pretty definitively that I’m a Gryffindor, since even though I had Ravenclaw and Slytherin in a few Sortings, it took both of those combined to reach the total I had for Gryffindor. That sends a pretty clear message about where I belong.

However, that wasn’t the end of it. A (now inactive?) blog here on Tumblr called Pottermore Analysis worked to figure out which answers in each question led to which House. They did this by compiling the results from hundreds of people who had taken the quiz. They then compiled all of the questions and answers into one single quiz to make it easier for people to get a definitive answer about what House they belong in. That quiz can be found here. I took it again just now, and it seems that nothing has changed:

In my personal opinion, this quiz is the only trustworthy, definitive one. Again, the questions and answers were penned by Rowling herself, meaning that this quiz acts as a sort of Word of God when it comes to Sorting. Any other tests or quizzes you find the internet were written by fans, and while there are some that are at least better than:

How do you brush your teeth?a.) Bravely! Fight the plaque!!!!!b.) While reading a book to prepare for the school day uwuc.) After eating a big breakfast with my friends!d.) Evilly >:)

By and large I still don’t think they’re very reliable, or at least not more reliable than one written by the author of the books.

That said, I also know the Houses, and I know myself. I’m very self-aware. In the words of Keith Kogane, I know who I am. And from that, even without the Pottermore quiz, I can Sort myself, just as I’d Sort any other character (or person) after getting to know and analyzing them. I won’t get into the huge long diatribe here, but the bottom line is that each House is about what you are and what you value, and how that shapes how you see and interact with the world. All of the listed traits within the books factor into it as well (e.g. when I Sorted Alan into Gryffindor, I did talk about courage and daring and how he both exhibits and values those qualities), but you can be brave and be in a House other than Gryffindor. That’s not the end-all, be-all. A character has to exhibit the quality, has to value the quality (and prioritize it in valuing it—it has to really draw them), and from my perception, the thing that drives them, particularly when backed into a corner, has to be there, and this differs from each House. This is the thing that kept Hermione out of Ravenclaw, and put her into Gryffindor, in Rowling’s own words (albeit Rowling phrased it differently from me). It’s this driving question and prioritization that shows us where we belong.

To sum it up quickly: 

Gryffindors are driven by their internal sense of morality, and the question that drives them is one of Right or Wrong. This is the honor part of chivalry (“… daring, nerve, and chivalry sets Gryffindors apart”). This can (and does) mean different things to different Gryffindors, to the point where two Gryffindors could get into a heated fight if one felt that something was Right while the other felt that that same thing was Wrong. So the important thing here isn’t whether or not the Gryffindors are objectively morally Right, but that they feel in their heart that something is Right or Wrong and it is important to them that they follow it. Gryffindors are the ones most likely to make personal sacrifices in pursuit of something that is Right; we see this time and again in the series, where Gryffindors will make personal sacrifices by severing bonds with family or friends in pursuit of the “greater good”, where they will stand their ground even as it breaks their heart because they feel that this is the Right thing to do and they could not live with themselves if they didn’t do it. Gryffindors will walk their path alone if need-be, because to betray their inner sense of what they know / feel is Right is to betray their very core, and they can live through a lot of things, but they cannot easily live with knowing they went along with / cowered before what they feel in their heart of hearts is Wrong.

Ravenclaws, like Gryffindors, are people of principles, motivated by a driving question. But unlike Gryffindors, the question that drives Ravenclaws is not Right or Wrong, but is instead True or Not. Ravenclaws question. They poke. They prod. And they do not trust their gut instincts—not if the facts presented prove them wrong. And note that this doesn’t mean that Ravenclaws don’t have gut instincts or set morality systems (just as the above doesn’t mean that Gryffindors don’t question things or care about facts!), but rather that, when backed into a corner, Ravenclaws are going to focus on evidence and logic rather than their own personal feelings. Even if they feel that something isn’t quite right, if the logic is sound, Ravenclaws are going to believe the logic and evidence presented to them, because it would feel irresponsible for them not to (whereas a Gryffindor would feel very upset, because “just because the logic is sound, doesn’t make it Right”). Again, for a Ravenclaw, the question is True or Not. That is what they are constantly working to figure out. This could be as specific as the Truth of a certain matter at hand, or a more abstract Truth of their purpose in the universe or an area of study (however scientific or whimsical) they’re interested in, whatever. The point is, Ravenclaws don’t rest on this. They continue to question, continue to work toward the Truth (personal or universal), won’t stop until they’re satisfied (which could be never), and will fall back on their head over their heart each and every time.

(And note: This, right here, is why Hermione was put into Gryffindor over Ravenclaw. According to Rowling, Hermione was put into Gryffindor because she decides with her heart over her head when backed into a corner, and we see this time and again in canon. For as intelligent as Hermione is, and as much as she loves to study, she makes her important decisions based on what she feels is Right or Wrong versus True or Not. That she stayed with Harry in Deathly Hallows, despite Ron pointing out that logically Harry had no effing clue what he was doing, is a good example of this. At her core, Hermione is Gryffindor, not Ravenclaw. Both Houses are ones of principles and ideologies, but how those principles and ideologies manifest is quite different, and can be a determining factor.)

Hufflepuffs are driven by their loyalty to their communities—by their dedication to groups of people they see themselves belonging and holding loyalty to, or (in more extreme cases) those they see as “people”, period, or at least “people worth protecting” (in less extreme cases). Loyalty is a oft-stated trait of Hufflepuff House, but for Hufflepuffs loyalty is not about the individual, but rather about the group collective. Hufflepuff mentality is, “I don’t have to like you, and maybe I don’t, but you’re in this circle and so I’ll still work for your benefit.” This, again, means many different things to many different Hufflepuffs. For some, it’s their religion. For some, it can be their entire country. For those who look at things in an even wider scale, it can be “everyone who isn’t part of this one specific enemy group”. Someone who is misanthropic and hates most people but still feels that loyalty to queen and country (and those within the country) is of utmost importance could easily be a Hufflepuff, just as easily as someone who does tons of volunteer work for their community because they love everyone in it so much. It’s all about loyalty to the community. And this is important, because while Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs will sometimes look similar due to both wanting to do things for what they personally view as the “greater good”, Gryffindors are driven by internal morality / ideology whereas Hufflepuffs are focused on the people. A Gryffindor would actually be far more likely to extend mercy (that chivalry once again) toward an enemy than a Hufflepuff would, because a Hufflepuff would see the enemy as outside of the circle / not worth helping or protecting, whereas a Gryffindor would extend that mercy particularly if it seemed as if the enemy might come over to the Right side. (Think of in book four: The Hufflepuffs were merciless to Harry once they had ousted him from their circle. Once you’re out, you’re out, particularly if you seem to pose a threat to the community.) As well, a Gryffindor will cut themselves off from / abandon the community if they feel the community is in the Wrong, whereas the very idea of abandoning the community (again, whatever that community is) is extremely upsetting to a Hufflepuff, who could never understand how you could choose principles over people. Bottom line: Hufflepuffs are driven by their loyalty toward people, but they’re driven by loyalty to a group, however large or small. It’s about the community, the collective. Versus …

… Slytherins, who—like Hufflepuffs—are a House driven by people over principle, but their loyalty is far more selective. Slytherins, as stated in the Pottermore welcome letter (and shown over (the Malfoys), and over (Regulus), and over (Bellatrix), and over (Snape) again in the books), “look out for their own”. And while this might seem as if they’re community oriented, they aren’t. Slytherins have specific loyalty to specific individuals that they feel are worth displaying that loyalty to. Slytherins are driven by what is best for them and theirs. They do not care for causes, nor do they care for communities; if ditching either is imperative to doing what is best for them and theirs, they will do it in a heartbeat without a second thought. (And to that end, Slytherins are also very into promoting them and theirs; they’re very supportive of their loved ones and friends, prizing the individual over the collective, both in terms of actual safety and security and in terms of accomplishment and value.) In the books, the Malfoys said “fuck all of you and this noise” in the seventh book when it came to protecting each other, throwing up big middle fingers to both the Death Eaters and the Order, causes or morality be damned. Regulus sacrificed his life to deal a blow to Voldemort, all because he couldn’t stand to put Kreacher through pain again. Bellatrix wasn’t really a Death Eater because of the cause; regardless of her own bigotry (and she had a lot of it, and sadism to boot), she was really there because she felt personal loyalty to Voldemort. And as disgusting as it is, it was Snape’s personal feelings toward Lily that led him to betray Voldemort, rather than any sort of morality or drive to do the right thing. (So no, Dumbledore, you did not Sort too soon—Snape is, was, and always will be a Slytherin.) Slytherins will make whatever choice is necessary in order to do right by and protect their specific loved ones. Even if it means potentially damning the world (or at the very least not lifting a finger to save it until after the loved ones are safe), Slytherins will do that, because to them, the most important thing is that their precious ones are safe. In this, their circles of loyalty are often much smaller than a Hufflepuff’s, but also much tighter, and “I don’t have to like you, but I’ll protect you” doesn’t factor into it, because no, they do love all of their precious ones. That’s why they’re precious in the first place. (And for the record, this is a huge part of the reason why Manon from PokéAni is a Slytherin. We see in both TSME 3 and the Flare arc that her reaction to world-ending crises is “grab my precious ones and gtfo of the danger zone”. In TSME 3 she argues with Alan because he wants to go save the world and she doesn’t want him, someone she considers precious, in danger; and in the Flare arc she doesn’t really give too much of a fuck about the crisis unfolding in Lumiose City, caring far more about how Alan is missing and Hari-san is still comatose instead. That is a very Slytherin mentality to have: “worry about my people first, everyone and everything else can wait.”)

Of course, some of these things can overlap. Perhaps to a Gryffindor, protecting their loved ones is the Right Thing to do. But that can change; and if it does, and standing by their friends or family is no longer Right, the Gryffindor will be able to more comfortably break from them than a Slytherin would, because to a Slytherin, nothing is more important than them and theirs (something which may be seen by some as selfish, but which to a Slytherin makes perfect sense and is selflessness in its own right, because it’s not just about them, but also their loved ones, and what kind of heartless fuck abandons or betrays those closest to them?). It’s all about what drives you, but also how you react when backed into a corner. When push comes to shove, is this how you are? Or could something else take priority? If so, what? Figure that out, and go from there.

Of course, all of the other House qualities / values are still important and do still need to be considered, so you can’t make a Sorting purely based on this. (I mean, you can, but I feel it’d be incomplete; a true Sorting should incorporate all the other traits, too.) But this, I feel, is at the core of each of the Houses, so it is at the very least a good place to start.

[onlydarylnormanfic]

1, 2, 18 & 20? ❤❤

1. “Describe yourself how you would describe a character you’re introducing.”

I’ll do it from Daryl’s perspective:

“Daryl watched as she heaved the axe blade up into the air and slammed it down into the wood. She swore a little as her thumb hit the edge of the piece as it split. Daryl chuckled as she shoved the thumb into her mouth and sucked on it quickly before getting back to work. Daryl loved her stubborn, fiesty nature. She was always her own boss and didn’t take crap from anyone. 

On top of that she also happened to be just about the sweetest flower he had ever known. She was always protecting the women and children too weak to fight on their own in this crap heap of a world. She did whatever she could to keep people safe, including nearly losing her own life a few times. Daryl didn’t like that she was a fighter sometimes, this world could be too dangerous and he loved her too much to watch her die. He didn’t think he could handle that. He pushed those thoughts from his head and smiled larger as he saw her walking toward him.

She dropped the ax and stared into his eyes with one thing on her mind as she walked confidently over to him. He huffed in awe as he took in the beautiful sight of his strong woman coming back home to his arms. She walked right into this body, wrapped her arms around his back, and pressed against him looking up at him with loving need, “I see you staring, Dixon. Let’s go do all those dirty things you want to do to me.”

With that she let go, grabbed his hand, and winked at him as she pulled him toward their cell…”

(a little mini fic there haha)

2. “Is there any specific ritual you go through while/before/after your writing?”

Right now it is just when I have the time, but usually my ritual includes picking a request or having a fantasy of my own and thinking on it for a few days to a week. My fantasy’s I have to create a story around. For the requests the story is sort of already loosely built so that framework helps.

I usually work on a fic a few chunks at a time it probably takes me 2-3 days (without work) to work on one story. But other than that I have always just been the dive right in type of writer. It usually flows pretty easily, I have always had that *ability* to just type up things without much framework. In fact, the more freedom the better for me. I was always the one leaving a ten page paper till the last minute and throwing it together the night before. lol. 

18. “How old were you when you started writing?”

I used to right some Pacey x Joey fic when I was 16. I would say around 15-16 is when I really started to write. I was really into song lyrics too when I was younger, I wrote a lot of lyrics as well as some fic. This is the first time I’ve written so much smut, I might have written one or two when I was younger but if I did I never published it. 

So Norman/Daryl gets the recognition for me writing this smut and publishing it. That damn man is too hot! Thanks for the smutty inspiration Norman! ;)

20. “4 sentences from your work that you’re proud of.”

hmm I have a few scenes I like I’ll share those.

1. All of You Pt 4 [x]

“You feel your entire body screaming with anxiety as your heart races and you force your body forward, dropping out of the truck and slamming your feet onto the pavement. You looked over at Daryl and he puffed his chest out, telling you that you two were strong together and that everything would be okay. Your eyes get harder as you take a deep breathe, square your feet, and turn to look at the man they called Rick.

You stand shoulder to shoulder with Daryl, with his hand over yours, protectively, as you feel and hear the wind whipping around your mangled hair and over your body as it rushes past. You stare into Rick’s eyes and you suddenly feel like you are being examined as his eyes searched yours. You shift awkwardly as his head slightly cocks to the side his eyes still searching yours. You stand there squaring your shoulders and holding yourself dominantly back to the man as your hair whips violently in the wind.

You feel Daryl squeeze your hand, trying to support you, as he stared straight ahead at Rick, same stance as you, awaiting his reaction.”

(I love writing the reader shoulder to shoulder with Daryl, as if they are equals, not her cowering behind him. You probably notice this theme in my stories a lot with the strong female characters)

Dirty Thoughts [x]

“You step outside and you can see the dim streetlight as it emanates down the road of Alexandria. Your boots hit the wooden surface of the deck, as you walk out onto it. You didn’t see Daryl anywhere, you sighed to yourself, and your body slumped down a little.

“Hey Y/N.” You hear his sexy, low growl and turn to your right, where the sound is coming from.

You see Daryl sitting on the bench located all the way at the other end of the deck, in the corner. The light did not reach his shadowy figure and all you saw was the outline of his body and a burning red cherry, coming from his cigarette. It burned hotter as he inhaled, you hear him breathe out and see a plume of smoke coming out from the shadows, as he blew it toward you.

“Hey.” You say, nervously, as you forced your feet to move over to his side of the deck. 

The closer you got the clearer the image of him becomes. He has one of his feet up on the bench, as he sits relaxed, leaning against the back wall of the deck. You move closer and you can see his eyes as they watch you walk slowly over to him, he looks you up and down again, making you almost forget your nerves.”

(I loved the image of him sitting in the shadows and only being able to see his outline and the cherry of his cigarette).

Happy Birthday Daryl [x]

“Suddenly you smile to yourself, “I know what will get you up…” You say to Daryl, who can’t hear you. You shimmy off the bed and grab the sheet that covered you both all night and ripped it off the bed. You stare down at Daryl’s body, down his big bare chest, to his black jeans, all the way down to his legs and his bare feet. He slept with his arms at his sides palms up, his eyes twitched a little as he began to come out of his sleep.

You quickly reached down and unbutton his pants and unzip them. You try and wiggle the pants down his hips from the odd angle you stand at beside the bed. You twist your body and grunt a little bit trying to pull the pants off him.

You hear Daryl clear his throat and freeze, your hands on his hips, you slowly look back at him, and see him grinning from ear to ear as he pulls his hands behind his head, looking down at you trying to undress him.

“Somethin’ you need?” He asked cockily smirking and wiggle his hips in your hands.

You smirk and lick your lips, “Actually, it was something I wanted to give you. It’s your birthday after all.” You smile seductively and turn your gaze back down to his pants.

“Damn. Alright.” He said, lifting his hips in the air, “Go ahead, baby.”…”

(omfg can you imagine him walking up to you trying to give him a blow job? Too hot an image so this makes the list!)

4. Teach Me [x]

“Suddenly he moves his body up and over yours, forcing you to lay on your back. You peer at him in shock and watch as he gentle presses his right hand down on your sternum, holding you to the ground.

“What if I were a walker? What would you do?” He asked, as you struggle a little under his hand.

Your eyes close, trying to focus, this was another test. You think back to the training you had been giving and move your left arm up swiftly, pushing it hard against Daryl’s arm restraining you, forcing his grip off you. You roll to your right a few times and force your body to your feet, fists raised.

Daryl rolls over and crawls his way slowly to his feet, swinging his arms, and staring at you, a small smile never leaving his lips.

“Good.” He says as enthusiastically as Daryl Dixon can and he nods his head up at you.

“Now… Come at me.” He raises his arms and juts his fingers up and down, gesturing to you.

You dig your heels into the ground and nod your head, determined to do good. You sprint forward and slam your body into his, using both hands to push him to the ground. You both fall and you land hard on top of him, your hands bracing against his chest. You hear the thud, but neither of you feel the fall thanks to the pure adrenaline running through both your veins. You feel his hands quickly come up to your hips and harshly pull them as he pivots his body around, turning you onto your back and pushing you hard into the ground. You cry out in pleasure, feeling his hands force your body into the ground with so much pressure.

He looks at you and curiously cocks his head to the side, smirking. Had he heard you cry out for him? He stares down at you and you look back at him licking your lips a little as you feel his body straddling yours. You look down at his hips on yours and then stare up into his eyes with longing. He nods and swoops down, crashing his lips onto yours.

You feel his tongue as it grazes harshly across your bottom lip and then across your top, you cry out again and arch your body up into him, opening your mouth to him. You close your eyes and he watches you cry out. He growls and you feel it all through his body as he presses against you, you feel his hips press hard into yours moan again. He plunges his tongue into your awaiting mouth and swirls his tongue harshly around your mouth, capturing your tongue and making love to it. You feel his hand come up and cup the side of your face, pushing you into him harder. You swirl your tongue around his faster in response to his urgency.

He groans a little and presses his hold body onto you even harder, thrusting his hips up into your core, watching for your reaction. You smile a little, your eyes still closed, stopping your tongue for a moment. He smirked and did it again a few more times, watching you come undone a little. Your hair harshly rubs into the grass as you feel his hips grind you into the ground a few times. His tongue swirls around yours a few more times as both of his hands cup your face and pull you into him. He quickly exists your mouth putting a little kiss onto the tip of your nose. He leans up and peers down at you with a mischievous smile.

“What if I were a walker?…” He shifts his weight, pushing his groin into yours holding into you. “…What would you do?” He asked, smirking at you.

You moan a little to yourself, loving the feeling of him pressing himself into you and then look up at him, smiling a devilish smile. In one quick motion you lean your knee up and gently graze his thighs apart from inside them and swirl your body around, pushing him down onto the ground beneath you, your hands pushing his chest down as hard as you could. You breathe heavily as you feel the lust and adrenaline pump through your body. You grind your hips into his a little bit and watch as his eyes turn to you lowly looking like he had a bunch of naughty intentions. His hands grazed up your thighs and roamed to your hips, his right hand moved lower and grabbed the side of your ass harshly. You writhe your hips into him in response, straddling him as the sunset glow appeared on both your bodies.

You look down at him as you grind your hips into his, you feel his throbbing cock beneath his pants and sigh a little in response.

“What are you going to teach me now?” You ask lowly, riding him into the grass.

He smirks and grabs your ass harder, pushing you into him harsher as you grind into him.

“Baby? I got all kinds of things to teach you.” He emphasized your name and you became even wetter.

Suddenly his right hand came back to your hip and both hands swirled you around, his body pushing you both over in another somersault, him landing back on top of you. He grabs your wrists and harshly pushed them both up above your head, holding you into the ground. He positions his legs so he is straddling you, his clothed cock pressing into your core. You writhe up into his hips, staring at him with longing…”

(I love writing these types of smut pieces where Daryl can play roughly with the reader, I think he’d love to be able to push and pull someone around who was just as strong as he is. I loved this entire fic actually a lot of action description with I also love to do).

Honorable Mention - I’m Home Baby [x]

“He slowly climbed in and under the sheet. He laid sideways with his right elbow propping up his body. He stared over at you, now so close to him, he could feel your body’s warmth as he scooted his body closer and closer, until his forearm met your shoulder. He towered over your sleeping face as he slowly reached his left hand over to your body and shoved it under your tank top, landing on your soft stomach. He swirled his hand over your skin, as he looked down at your face, which turned into a smile the minute his skin made contact with yours.

He smiled at you lovingly at your reaction and quickly swooped down to give you an innocent kiss on the nose, before slowly moving his lips down to yours. His lips gave yours a soft, gentle kiss hello, and continued down the side of your neck, leaving kisses all the way up to your ear, meanwhile his hand started to venture north.

“I’m home, baby… Wake up…” He said huskily into your ear, before taking your earlobe into his mouth and biting it a little, trying to awake you.

“Mmmm…” Your mouth and body react to his lips and you slowly start shaking your head, starting to break away from your slumber.

“That’s right, baby… Wake up for me, I need you…” He purred again into your ear, before crashing his lips and tongue down onto the sweet spot behind it, the one he knew you loved.  

He began to suck and swirl around your skin, causing shivers to explode onto it. He smiled at your body’s reaction and bit your neck a little, in reaction. He worked his lips up and down your neck as his hand ventured up toward your breasts, lovingly taking each one of them on thrill ride after thrill ride, trying his hardest to wake you up.

“Oh god!” You groan out as his tongue and his hand work on you, roughly.

Suddenly, your eyes pop open and you notice you are breathing heavily, your heart racing, so fucking turned on. Your eyes squint as they hit  the harsh light from hallway, you close them for a second, blinding yourself. Your brain slowly awakens and you smile to yourself as you begin to feel him all over you. Norman was home. Your confused eyes turn to happiness as your brain slowly identifies his tongue on your neck and his hand on your breasts, your eyes begin to focus and you lovingly reach your right hand over and put it in his hair, gently massaging it as a thank you for his actions.

Norman bites your skin at your touch and swiftly detaches his mouth from you. He leans up and over your face, smiling tenderly down at you with nothing but love and longing.

“Hey, baby.” He said softly as he looked down into your eyes, he was so happy to be home and in your arms again.”

(I really love this one. Imagine Norman trying to wake you up and being so fucking turned out that you were dreaming about him? I could! Love this one and my first ever Norman smut piece!)

I honestly love all the stories it is hard to pick just 4. Thanks for the ask @addiction-survivor25 ! Hope I did it justice! Stay Smutty! haha