#dog man: big jim begins

[graphicpolicy]

New Dog Man comes to shops this December

New Dog Man comes to shops this December #comics #dogman

Some howling good news to readers and moviegoers alike. Scholastic has announced that a new book in the global publishing phenomenon Dog Man by Dav Pilkey will be published on December 3rd. DreamWorks Animation and Universal Pictures recently revealed that Dog Man, an animated feature film adaptation based on the blockbuster hit graphic novel series will be released in theaters worldwide in…

[jadetheblade4]

Posting dog man doodles until the movie comes out day 23 and 24 heehoo

[princessrainevillanueva]

Dog Man: Big Jim Begins - New Pictures from Amazon

Amazon updated the Dog Man: Big Jim Begins page with new pictures from the upcoming book! The newest book by Dav Pilkey will be released on December 3, 2024 while you're waiting for DreamWorks Dog Man Movie.

Source: https://www.amazon.com/Dog-Man-Graphic-Creator-Underpants-ebook/dp/B0D5PDVBY9/

[toodleslol]

Eeeugh, brother EEWW

What's dat bruther 😭

Now that I've thought about it, he is kinda blond core

[fun-twisted-tales]

“The past will effect the future” *shows aliens*

[0rangekitty18]

Just watched the Big Jim Begins trailer

Are they gonna go back in time to Make Groovy Gramps good??

Pilkey don't do this to me

[yacinthemorning]

Birdsongs

Chapter 10

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Summary: The Life Pilgrimage is the biggest music festival of the century, set to take place all across the continent. Small-time rock band, GIST, and the up-and-coming alternative band, Empire, are both lucky to be among the hundreds set to make appearances, but there's just one problem. Neither can afford the travel expenses on their own. For better or worse, they're stuck with each other for the next five weeks as they try to make their dreams come true.

And, perhaps, among the chaos and music, two unsuspecting souls find one another...

Ships: Jimmy/Tango (slow burn romantic), Joel/Lizzie (romantic), Jimmy & Scott (platonic)

Warnings: Anxiety, Trauma

“He needs a name.”

Half the table glanced up, and Tango joined them. Jimmy’s hand were on the birdcage, keeping it stable as they rolled over the gravel road, wide eyes staring at the mildly perturbed canary. He was being oddly quiet from it all, keeping close to the bottom of his cage. They blinked, then blinked again when they realized most everyone was staring.

“It probably already has a name.” Pearl pointed out.

“Yeah, but we don’t know what it is. We can’t go a whole month without giving him a name.”

The little bird twittered, as if it could tell it was being spoken about. All eyes turned on it rather than Jimmy. “What about Archibald? Or Hershel.” Lizzie offered.

Jimmy’s nose wrinkled. “No.”

“Isn’t birdie fine?” Tango wondered aloud, at his own detriment.

“It absolutely is not fine, he needs a real name!”

A few folks hummed and hawed, until Scott snapped his fingers. “Remi.”

“Remi?”

“Aye, like Do-re-mi.”

“Mmm, a bit obtuse.”

“Don’t use big words and hurt yourself, Jim.”

“Hey!”

“What about Tweety?”

“You’d name a dog Buddy.”

Pearl’s hand slammed down on the table. “Cheese.”

Jimmy made a sound like a buzzer, and rested his head down on his arm, eyes following the bird as it went about its business. “If anything he looks like candied lemons.”

“What kind of name is candied lemons?” Gem called from the front, Impulse chastising her from the wheel.

“I didn’t say I’d name him that, just that’s what he looks like!”

Tango leaned back with a thoughtful hum, bumping his head against the window. The sun outside glowed through his blond hair, truly making it look like a ring of fire. If he wasn’t surrounded by his bandmates Jimmy might have been enraptured all day. Before he could think too hard about it he blurted out, “Corona.”

A confused grunt left Skizz, mimicking some tv show character Jimmy had never seen, “What, like the Minutemen or like John Mammoser?”

“Neither!” He huffed. “Like the sun.”

The trailer suddenly lurched. With it went Tango, who shrieked only for a moment before his face collided with the table. Everyone else managed to brace. A good thing, too, as a moment later they jumped again, and a third time, before they rattled to an unsteady stop. “Are you okay?” Jimmy whispered to the man while everyone else shuffled to the front. When all he got was a sore groan he pushed the man up by the forehead to check himself. He was in the middle of making sure Tango’s nose wasn’t broken when he heard the shouting begin.

“What do you mean an engine problem?” Gem demanded.

“It’s smoking, what else could it be?” Impulse got up. “I’ll go check. Call Fwhip over the radio and tell him to stop.”

All troubles that sounded like it was best Jimmy kept his nose out of. The group continued to argue while the scent of smoke and gas seeped in through the open windows. Tango’s nose wrinkled up, glancing around like he wasn’t sure where he was before sliding down the bench. “I should go check with Impy.”

“You could have a concussion.” Jimmy tried to protest, not dissuaded when Tango swayed at his first step. He stumbled back into the seat, and Jimmy scooched over to his side once more.

There they waited, until Fwhip showed up and handed Tango his walkie talkie. Then, they were still waiting, but with the sound of Impulse rattling on about what he can see or tested in the background. Occasionally Tango chimed in. Everyone’s shoulders were tense as the minutes ticked on. Besides the two men arguing over what was wrong one could hear a pin drop. Would they have to call a tow truck? Did tow trucks come big enough to drag off trailers? It was not something Jimmy thought about before, but now rattled around in place of understanding what Tango was talking about with the engine.

Something outside slammed down. The trailer shook. Corona tilted his head and let out a tiny tweet.

Everyone spun towards Impulse as he stepped into the trailed. There was sweat over his brow and neck, a grease stain blotting out part of the large yellow logo on his shirt, but he used a rag to wipe his hands clean first and foremost. When he finally addressed them, it was with a smile, “Should probably stop by a shop when we get the chance, but for now we’re good.”

A round of sighs and ‘thank gods’ sent the bands into their seats, with the sole exception of Tango. Some grim look passed between the two men. No one else seemed to notice. Jimmy wouldn’t have if he hadn’t already been sat down and looking to the other blond for reassurance. He heard someone in the background shout to go collect someone who’d taken a walk while Impulse plopped himself back into the driver’s seat. “Did something happen?” Jimmy whispered to his partner.

Tango only shook his head, lifting it from the crook of his thumb to mouth an answer. “I’ll tell you later. We used to work at a shop, it’s fine for now if Impy says so.”

What was Jimmy to do but trust him? He leaned back into his seat, putting on what was surely far better a straight face than Tango was behind his glasses. Across the way the doors closed behind Scott and Skizz, and the engine started up. Tango’s shoulders tensed, nails digging into his knuckles as he squeezed his eyes shut. He was praying, Jimmy realized. He was also leaving red marks, threatening to break the skin when Impulse shut the whole thing down and started the engine again.

It wasn’t his place, perhaps, but Jimmy reached out anyways, laying a hand over top Tango’s. His eye cracked open. Jimmy took it as permission to press on, nudging the man’s fingers out of his own skin. It made something click into place. With a single smooth motion, Tango’s hands pulled apart, one moving under the table and dragging Jimmy’s with it until they were entangled out of sight, far more kindly than Tango did with his own hand but still tight. Jimmy squeezed it back, and the tension rolled from Tango’s shoulders. The trailed lurched again as it began moving.

Corona let out a long trill and began to sing once more.

-

“We don’t have the money.” Tango simply said. Blunt, and resigned.

The rest of the group had wandered over to a burger stand. Small thing, with only three tables set outside the glorified gazebo the counter was set up in off the side of the gas station. The tank wasn’t even in the ground, fenced off and attended to by a local teen who sat out on a bench playing gameboy. The son of the old man running the store and old woman handing a basket of chicken strips to Fwhip.

Jimmy was the only one who dared approach Tango and Impulse, rabbit nibbling down one of his fries as his eyes scanned the scene. “Is it bad?”

“It’s just old.” Impulse sighed, patting the intake. “One thing has an issue and the problem spread. Poor thing’s been through one too many patch jobs.”

“One of the older rentals, innit?” Jimmy leaned in with the pair, though Tango could tell he wasn’t all that sure what he was looking at. In a better mood Tango might call his curious expression cute.

Tango was not in a better mood, though. Tango was doing his best not to scream as he scribbled out the costs. “We can’t fix it on our own or we’ll get gutted by the rental shop, and any garage we find is gonna overcharge to hell and back for this. Money we don’t have.” Because that was the whole point of cramming ten people into one trailer, wasn’t it? The amount it’d cost might completely negate everything. “We might as well forget all this, turn around, and head home before the whole thing explodes in our stupid faces and kills us all.”

Impulse was giving him a look. Stop catastrophizing, it said. Pointless, given Tango was absolutely not catastrophizing and simply stating the facts.

Their glaring match almost made him forget Jimmy was still next to him, until he began to stutter out, “Well... What’s the most broken?”

“What?”

“I mean...” His face began turning red, eyes locked on the engine. “Well, we just have to get through the pilgrimage, right? If you fix the part that’s most broken it might... make it long enough?” Tango could see his clutch his guitar case tighter and tighter as he spoke, until the neck cast a shadow over his face.

Indeed, it wasn’t a brilliant plan, nor one that would even work. It was such an odd yet reasonable enough sounding idea, if someone didn’t know much of anything about engines. The sheepish look that betrayed he knew it was a silly idea was quite tempting to assure in that moment, though. Resisting big wide eyes was never a skill Tango had developed. “Maybe not that,” he started slowly, already aware it wasn’t the right thing to say but unable to think of something else. “But, uh, it’s a good start.”

“Sorry...”

“Hey, you’ve come up with more of a plan than either of us.” Impulse said as he straightened his back. “We might just have to go with it too, we got such a tight schedule already.”

“And no money.”  Tango added.

“And no money.”

“I suppose it’s probably more than we could make on the way.” Guessed the tallest, still hiding in shadows.

“Not quick enough, no.” Impulse shakes his head. “If I wasn’t already in my unpaid time off, maybe, but...”

Tango grabbed at the hood and yanked it closed, letting out a long sigh. With a bit of hesitance, Jimmy held out his fries. A silly little thing, but it made Tango realize he’d been holding his brow so tight for so long it might actually be knotted. He tried to let his muscles relax, putting on the best smile he could muster that still probably looked like a dumpy grimace, and took one of the smaller fries. They were drizzled with ketchup, something Tango couldn’t recall seeing Jimmy do before through all the fast food they’d eaten. It ran off the side of his hot dog, and he wondered if it was to cover his mistake after being teased or a spontaneous sort of choice. It’s ketchup, his brain reminded him. You aren’t going to find some great insight into him through how he poured his freaking ketchup. Stop being a staring weirdo.

Tango was, decidedly, not made for this infatuation nonsense.

At the very least, Jimmy relaxed. That made one of them. “We’ll come up with something. Me and Impulse got it going well enough to get us to the next venue. Hopefully.” He muttered the last part to himself. “Don’t worry about it for now.”

“Oh yeah, trust me. Tango will make sure you know when to worry. Y’can’t miss it.” Impulse teased, patting the man on the back. Tango made an offended gasp.

It got a snicker out of Jimmy, “I don’t know, you were already turning a bit red there. What counts as time to worry?”

“Hey! Don’t gang up on me!”

-

Night had come quickly for the next few days. They’d meant to stop in a town along the way for some sightseeing Lizzie and Gem wanted to do, but the engine troubles scrapped those plans. It’d be better to get to the next venue quickly and deal with it there in case they had to drop it off for a few days. Where they would all sleep if they had to do that, Jimmy didn’t know, but it was better than dealing with the same problem while stuck on the side of the freeway.

Scott and Pearl would probably go stay with that Cleo person, he thought, staring up at Corona’s cage. The little bird was fast asleep for once. Maybe they would take Gem and Fwhip with them. Fwhip had buddied up to most of the other bands, though, he wouldn’t have trouble finding somewhere to stay. They could probably clear out the car and have Joel and Lizzie stay in there. If they had the tent he and Tango were fine. “That leaves Impulse and Skizz.” He breathes, scrunching his brow. Would they be okay if they took the sleeping bags, and he and Tango just piled up the sheets in the tent? Should they take the tent? Jimmy barely fit in the thing, he wasn’t so sure about the two larger men both fitting. Maybe he could switch with one of them, though…

“You’re doing a lot of thinkin’ for a guy that’s sleepin’.” A groggy, muffled voice said.

Jimmy slapped a hand over his mouth before he made a noise and woke up the whole trailer. His gaze turned to Tango. The older blinked slowly, face hidden by his own arm wrapping tight around his pillow as he laid on his stomach. This trip had rapidly eliminated anyone’s personal schedules, the night owls sleeping earlier and the early birds staying up. It was still rare, though, for Jimmy to be up late enough to catch Tango like this. “That’s very presumptive, what makes you assume I think at all?” He said, more for his own amusement.

But Tango shifted, just enough to pull his hand out from under his pillow, and reach up towards Jimmy. For a moment his heart skipped, but Tango continued past him, until there was a small pair of thunks. Jimmy followed the arm to his guitar case, where his hand had managed to grab at the strap without him even noticing. He blinked, staring perplexed at the case, then at Tango. “I dunno what it is about it, but you always do that. When you’re tense.” Elaborated the man through a yawn.

Jimmy’s cheeks went red, and like an idiot pulled it closer.

“… Did you never notice?” Amusement coated every word.

“Of course I did!” He shushed. Not a complete lie. It was hard not to notice, when his friends used to tease him so relentlessly about it. But they’d long since given up, and it’d fallen into the back of his mind. He glanced back towards it, and pointedly pushed it aside. It was small, but it was there. A dreadfully anxious feeling. He moved it a bit closer, enough to where he felt its weight against his pillow and the leather brushing his shoulder from time to time.

Tango’s expression had morphed. Not into greater amusement as he thought it would, but something soft and a bit concerned. “It helps me think.” He tried. It was clear it didn’t work, but Tango was polite enough not to say anything else.

The way his mouth pressed into a line, he clearly wanted to. He often did, and just as often seemed to regret it. A feeling Jimmy could relate to. Even if it was clumsy or poorly thought out, Jimmy usually appreciated Tango’s words. He didn’t want Tango to be quiet, he realized. Not because of him.

“I don’t want to forget it.” He whispered. A rough start. “I’m not very bright, y’see. I forget things a lot.”

“No more than anyone else.” Tango finally said, defensive on his behalf, even as his confusion seemed to deepen. It made the corner of Jimmy’s mouth curl up, just for a moment.

“If I forgot my guitar, though, I wouldn’t have much reason to be here. It helps me remember why I am where I am.”

It took Tango a moment, but Jimmy could see in his eyes when he pieced things Jimmy wasn’t sure how to word together. At least somewhat. He still asked, “Do you need a reason?”

“It makes things easier, yeah? If you have a reason to be somewhere.” It wasn’t a great explanation, he knew. The lump in his throat struggled against him. “It’s not as terrifying when things go wrong or people get mad, if you have an anchor.”

“Jimmy...” Tango’s eyes were already glossy with sympathy Jimmy wasn’t sure he wanted. Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut after all, but he’d already explained too much to stop.

“Being on stage with Empire scares the life of me.” He said. Something bit into the side of his hand. When had he gotten hold of his case again? “But it’s better than being in their audience.”

He knew what they sounded like without a guitar, after all. Just as perfect as ever, missing notes unnoticeable if you didn’t know they were supposed to be there. There were worse things people could do than yell.

To his surprise, an almost bitter sort of smile spread across Tango’s own face as he reached out, detangling Jimmy’s hand from his guitar and holding it tight between his own. There was far more understanding in his expression than Jimmy would have liked. Any understanding was too much, honestly. Tango was brilliant, who’d leave him in the crowd? But the wariness of his look brought out the wrinkles around his eyes that were usually more visible on his companions, and Jimmy thought he might have some clue. Being the only one on stage might be just as terrifying.

Jimmy squeezed his hand back.

[tubbytarchia]

juh

he logs on and hes been pranked. his doors now set off wind charges when u go over the pressure plates. its harmless and he thinks its funny (probably sausage) it scares him a couple times but within a few minutes he goes through it and goes woohoo :D! and its so cute

HE SHOWS OFF HIS BASE!!!! HES PROUD OF IT!!!!!!!! i was worried he would be like haha its nothing special haha BUT HE STILL LOVES IT!!!!!!! YAYYYYYYYYY

plans today are obsidian for an enchanting table and a nametag for his dog. his dog vvv

(also he keeps getting distracted irl cuz hes watching football with a bunch of friends tonight. hes such a nerd i loev him)

hes also making a wall. the disc wall. a wall with discs. its hidden

hes talking about how he never does big fancy nether portals and he says "like the boring man i am"... :(( :( :(((((

hes now the disc stealer. i dont think anyone even has discs that they care that much about (then again i only watch jim). he goes around to sausage (and gets cat), fwhip, shelby, eloise, scott (13), mog (precipice), aimsey (otherside), guqqie, cpk (13 + precipice), sneeg (precipice + cat + wait + ward + far + mall + creator), and martyn (cat + precipice x2). the only reason he doesnt do bekyamon is cuz she is online

unrelated but scotts place gives r/malelivingspace and its very funny. its so empty??? didnt get any good screenshots though

sneeg has so many discs so jim takes them all and says hes gonna let him in on it.

his inventory is full of discs and he goes back to his secret room with the disc wall. he mines a block and wordlessly tries to pick it up 4 different times before remembering his inventory is full

disc wall done. or as done as it can be for now since he has every disc on the server. he starts listening to one of the discs (mall) and then. yeah

he fixes it quickly so all is well. he starts playing otherside and takes it out of the jukebox when its about to drop.

he listens to it again (properly) and goes in 3rd person AND HE HIMSELF SAYS when you find bugs under a rock. he dances for a little bit

he goes to answer the door and leaves his character like this and i feel like im watching someones kid. i dont mean to baby him but also look at his stupid face?!?!?!?!?!? the way hes just looking up

he goes obsidian mining for the enchanter which goes smoothly and he steals sugarcane from mog and now his enchanter is all set up. his house is so cute

he goes fishing for a nametag. same guy who was stealing from everyone earlier?? i support him. he does not fish one up :(

shorter stream than usual since hes busy tonight..... among us video on friday

JIMMY'S STILL PROUD OF HIS BASE YAYYYYYYYYYYYY and then that depracation swiftly returns with him calling himself boring. Grrr

"scotts place gives r/malelivingspace and its very funny" HELP CC Scott's IRL setup gives me the same vibe. Why did my man put a shelf in the middle of his fucking room that isn't that big to begin with. What's going on in his head when he makes these decisions.

Bug Jimmy recognition.. you're so right though that just looks like you've been left to watch over little Jimmy as he looks up at you expectantly wtf is this

I also love how he only steals selectively. I can respect it

[biggerbetterbat]

WITH YOU [29] I PROMISE

Daryl Dixon x OC!Charlie Reed

Summary: When group is under attack, Charlie has to make a hard decision. This one will change everything forever. Is it the beginning of Jim's prediction coming true?

Warnings: death, cursing, Walkers

Song: I love you so

A/N: I'm sooooo sorry! I was completely immersed in my studies these days, but I'm back, so...Here is your chapter. I hope you enjoy, and thank you for your patience <3

In the midst of the apocalypse, basic necessities such as food, water, shelter, and safety became constant worries.

That's why she couldn't understand her feelings even more!

Because how in the light of death just waiting for her in every corner, she was losing sleep over a guy? Over Daryl Dixon. A man who was old enough to be her father, a man who was as approachable as a rabbit dog. He was covered in dirt most of the time, sweaty, and keeping everyone at a distance. They weren't even that close! Charlie was also sure that in normal conditions she wouldn't even look at him.

She felt irrational. Daryl was making her feel safe, whenever she needed that he was ready with his big, strong, muscular arms...Oh God.

And the thing was, she never thought about her feelings towards him. She liked him, once again she felt safe with him, but that was it. Daryl Dixon was never the first thought in her mind when she woke up or was closing her eyes...until the conversation she had with T and Rick. They messed with her head and now she was lying in her bed, thinking what she was feeling towards Daryl.

Charlie felt a cold floor under her feet when she left her bed. T was snoring quietly as he didn't have any problems with falling asleep. She narrowed her eyes and leaned in, whispering to him. "I hate you."

The floor was cold under her feet as she left the cell, not really knowing what she should do now. Leaving the cellblock in the middle of the night, wandering around in the darkness didn't seem like an option.

"Hey." she heard a voice that made her jump. She turned in the direction of the noise and she had to look up. A wave of relief washed down her body as she realized two things: first- Walkers couldn't talk and second Daryl chose to sleep outside of the cell. "What are you doing?"

"Can't sleep," she whispered back.

"Come here."

That's how she found herself on Daryl's mattress, sitting arm in arm-with him in silence. Through those past months, they discovered that it wasn't a necessity for them to talk with each other, sometimes the only thing they needed was the presence of the other person.

"You can't sleep either? Or did I wake you?"

"Nah, don't worry," he said. "I can't feel in a deep sleep. And I could hear you moving all the time."

"Sorry," she whispered.

"Your stupid method isn't working anymore?" he asked.

"Not when someone's brain is on the wall right in front of you of my face." she shrugged. "Besides..." she opened her mouth but wasn't really sure if she should say what she was thinking about. It was stupid what she was thinking in that moment, that was embarrassing to say because that would make her even weaker than she was in reality. Because how she could possibly explain that she was just hot used to his presence in proximity more or less ten centimeters? That his snores were calming her down at night because if he was snoring then he was alive and that meant everything was all right.

"Am I making you nervous?" he asked when she was taking too long to answer.

"No. Why?"

"You fidget with your necklace." he pointed.

"And?"

"You always do this when you're stressed," he explained. "When you're annoyed you bit your lips and when you're angry or scared you're clenching your fists."

She let go of the necklace and opened her eyes wider. Charlie was startled by his blunt confession because even she didn't know all those things about herself. She did those things automatically, she didn't care about them, but Daryl did. Probably as the only person in the world.

"I...I didn't know I do all those things," she said with slightly pinker cheeks.

"Does it have a meaning?" Daryl decided to change the subject to hide his embarrassment, pointing at her neck.

"My brothers gave this to me," she said. "Each circle is one of them."

"But there's five."

"Yeah, well...the last one is for a special someone," she answered.

"Mmm." he nodded.

"Do your tattoos have a meaning?" she asked.

"No." he shook his head. "Yours?"

"No. Made them to make dad mad."

"So you weren't Little Miss Perfect." Daryl teased her.

"Oh, I was," she said. "This is my first time in jail."

Daryl snorted and tried to cover a smile. "You're ridiculous."

"And you haven't smiled for a while." Charlie also smiled, while looking at him. "It's nice."

His heart started racing faster. Daryl almost fainted because of this, as if someone hit him in the head. Moments with Charlie were like dreams - soft and delicate, calming. Her presence was making his doubts or worries calm down. And he wanted to laugh at that because he knew and she knew that neither of them was delicate or soft, but both decided to ignore that fact.

"You can sleep here," he said and smirked as he saw her big eyes.

"I..."

"It's okay," he said. "That's your half and this is mine." Daryl moved to part of the mattress he described as his half and laid down, placing his head on his arm. "You can have the pillow, I don't need it."

Daryl looked behind her and her eyes went wider as she heard some giggles and other suspicious noises from behind her back. "Little asshole," Dixon muttered.

"What?"

"Glenn and Maggie are sneaking out again," he answered.

"Again?"

"And you can't sleep?" he looked at her amused. "They've been doing this since we came here."

"Little ass." Charlie scrunched her nose and Dixon smiled.

"Just...go to sleep already," he whispered and let out a breath, closing his eyes, which was enough sign that he was ready to sleep.

"Okay, let's get another car in," Rick called. "We'll park them in the west entry of the yard."

"Good," Daryl nodded walking next to Grimes. "Our vehicles camped out there look like a giant vacancy sign."

"After that, we need to load up these corpses so we can bury them," Charlie said as she left the car that she moved.

Rick nodded, looking around at the corpses placed in neat stacks. Daryl followed his sight and sighed. "Gonna be a long day."

"Where's Glenn and Maggie?" Rick asked. "We could use some help."

"Up in the guard tower...," Charlie said and threw a look at Daryl.

It was a bit stiff between them since the morning, since she woke up on an empty mattress that belonged to him. They didn't talk ever since, but she felt his eyes on her when she was around.

"Guard tower? They were just up there last night," Rick furrowed his eyebrows.

"Things that they do up there...well, that takes time." she shrugged and Daryl let a snort escape his mouth.

"What?"

"Glenn!" Daryl called the boy's name. "Maggie!"

"Hey!" Asian boy opened the doors without his shirt, trying to buckle up his trousers. "What's up, guys?"

"Oh...The things," Rick laughed and gave Charlie a look. "That takes time."

"You coming?" Daryl called again, clearly amused.

"What?" Glenn stuttered.

"You coming?"

"Come on, dude!" Charlie screamed as Glenn was still looking confused. "We could use a hand!"

Carol chuckled like a schoolgirl and Daryl once again snorted. They were having so much fun teasing their friends like that.

"The guard tower," Rick shook his head with hands on his hips, still smiling. He wasn't so happy forever it seemed, so it was nice to have him like this again. The old Rick - nice and kind.

Charlie was passing him by and she threw him a strange look as he caught her staring. "The Joker."

Rick chuckled even more and followed her. While they were walking together, the other two had a talk that was entirely started by Carol who was too curious to just keep her mouth shut."I've never seen you talk so much. Or smile so much," said Carol and earned a confused look. "And you seem so bright around her."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"About you and Charlie," she answered. "You like her a lot."

"She's easy to like," he answered, remembering the warm smile that she was giving him whenever he looked at her. He had her face in front of his eyes, lit up just by the Moon or light from a fire, that's when she was breathing. The dim light was just making her face so soft and gentle, and that was the picture he had every night before falling asleep. As soon as he realized what he was thinking his cheeks turned pink. "But it doesn't matter."

Carol smiled wider and her eyes started shining bright. "You wouldn't act so defensive if it didn't. She probably likes you just as much as you do."

"Stop," he said firmly.

"I'm serious, Pookie," she said. "There's not many people left to find the one. You should ask her out."

"Out where?" he asked. "For a hunt or scavenge? Very romantic date."

She smiled even wider because his words were more than confirmation. "She would like it."

"You see me? You see her? If you do, then stop with this bullshit. She wouldn't look at me like that...if not all of this she wouldn't look at me at all. And I...I don't like her the way you think, because she's too young."

"Stubborn ass..." the woman said as she was looking at his back as he was walking away in fast steps.

"Hey, Rick!" T-Dog called and when Grimes looked in the direction he was looking, his creepy smile vanished from his face.

"Come with me," he said with a death glare, walking at a fast pace. "That's close enough. We had an agreement."

"Please, mister." the prisoner with a mustache said in a pleading tone. "We know that. We made a deal. But you gotta understand...we can't live in that place another minute. You follow me? All the bodies...people we knew. Blood, brains everywhere," he said. "There are ghosts."

"Why don't you move the bodies out?" Charlie asked.

"You should be burning them."

"We tried," the prisoner answered. "We did."

"The fence is down on the far side of the prison. Every time we drag a body out, those things just line up. Dropping the body and just running back inside," the other man cleared out.

"Look, we had nothing to do with Tomas and Andrew. Nothing. Are you trying to prove a point? You proved it, bro," Axel one more time opened his mouth. "We'll do whatever it takes to be part of your group. Just please, please...don't make us live in that place,"

"Our deal is not negotiable," Rick said firmly and there was no sign after sweet Ricky. "You either live in your cell block, or you leave."

"I told you this was a waste of time. They ain't no different than the pricks who shot up our boys. Do you know how many friends' corpses we had to drag out this week? Just threw them out, like. These were good guys. Good guys who had our backs against the really bad dudes in the joint, like Thomas and Andrew," said Oscar. "Now we've all made mistakes to get in here, chief. And I'm not gonna pretend to be saint, but believe me...we've paid our due...enough that we would rather hit that road than go back into that shithole,"

Charlie furrowed her eyebrows for some reason thinking that the man was right. They all did some things- she knew it was probably the best, but that didn't mean they should be treated as criminals for the rest of their lives.

Especially in times like this.

Only T-Dog was sure what they should do about them, and he was trying to persuade everyone else his point of view - which Charlie understood...to some level. "C'mon, dude."

"Are you serious?" Carol asked. "You want them living in a cell next to you? They'll just be waiting for a chance to grab our weapons. You want to go back to sleeping with one eye open?"

"Never really stopped." Charlie backed up T-Dog and he nodded his head.

"Just...Bring them into the fold," he said. "If we set them off packing, we might as well execute them ourselves."

"I don't know," Rick shook his head. "Axel seems a little unstable."

And to that, Charlie didn't have any doubts, so nodded at that, because as Oscar seemed okay, his friend was a little suspicious, to say the least. He was Merle Dixon type...well, not exactly, but still he was the type of man that would make a girl's heart beat faster out of fear in some dark street.

"After all we've been through?" Glenn asked. "We fought so hard for all this, what if they decide to take it?"

"It's just been us for so long. They're strangers," Maggie nodded. "I don't...it feels weird all of a sudden to have these other people around."

"You brought us in," T-Dog argued.

"Yeah, but you turned up with a shot boy in your arms," she corrected. "Didn't give us a choice."

"To Rick," Charlie decided to once more back up T. "I showed up with an Asian dude and another dude with messed up hand."

"They can't even kill walkers," Glenn said to Charlie.

"We couldn't do that either," Charlie said. "But we learned."

"They're convicts, bottom line."

"Those two might actually have less blood on their hands than we do," T rolled his eyes.

"I get guys like this," said Daryl, bringing all the attention to himself. "Hell, I grew up with them. They're degenerates, but they ain't psychos. I could have been in there with them just as easy as I'm out here with you guys."

That was the first time, Daryl actually said something about his past. Charlie didn't really try to ask and get to know his story, because it was long gone. She knew who he was now.

"So you're with us?" T asked.

"Hell, no," Daryl answered. "Let 'em take their chances out on the road just like we did."

"We wouldn't have taken the road if we stayed on the farm," said Charlie. "They were here first."

"They would have been still locked in that cafeteria."

"What I'm saying, Daryl..." Charlie tried to persuade him.

"When I was a rookie, I arrested this kid," Rick interrupted the quarrel. "Nineteen years old, wanted for stabbing his girlfriend. The kid blubbered like a baby during the interrogation, during the trial...suckered the jury. He was acquitted due to insufficient evidence and then two weeks later, shot another girl," Rick said and looked Charlie in the eye. "We've been through too much. Our deal with them stands."

She sighed knowing that she wouldn't be able to help Oscar, so she just nodded her head.

"Move the cars to the upper yard. Point 'em facing out. They'll be out of the way but ready to go if we ever need to bail," commanded Rick as they were heading back to their prisoners. "We'll give the prisoners a week's worth of supplies for the road."

"Might not last a week," T-Dog mumbled.

"It's their choice," Grimes argued.

"Did they really have one?"

"Hey, hey..." Rick stopped suddenly and caused T to also stop. "Whose blood would you rather have on your hands? Maggie's? Glenn's? Or theirs?

"Hey, stop it," Charlie said. "Both of you! You should calm down, Rick. And you should get over it, T," she said firmly. "Nobody's blood will be on our hands."

Rick just nodded his head, while T angrily left them.

"Which one is your boy?" asked Axel as he approached her.

"What?"

"The one who's on our side? Or the moody one?" he asked pointing at T-Dog and then to Daryl.

Charlie looked in Daryl's direction and followed him with his gaze as he disappeared, the sound of his motorcycle fading. "He's not my boyfriend."

"So you're single?"

She turned away with a disgusted expression, walking away. As Oscar was scolding his friend saying something about making the group even more hostile towards them.

Life during the apocalypse was really funny, ironically funny. One moment they were all happy - hot rid of the prisoners, watching Hershel getting back on his feet. There was a chance of getting through the day in peace. They were almost seeing the happy ending sign on the horizon already when work for the day was done and they could finally rest. One moment they were hopeful and the next they were shooting at the Walkers who appeared out of nowhere.

People were yelling again - just like on the farm, bullets were cutting the air and there was this horrible snarling everywhere. In the chaos and shock, Charlie couldn't recognize who was alive and who wasn't. She was focused on killing the dead until she heard a familiar voice: "Lori! Charlie!" Maggie screamed and opened the doors to their cellblock, holding them open so they could enter it. But it wasn't safe either. There were already walkers inside, ready to eat them. Maggie was the first one, so she led them to some corridor that was leading somewhere else. Hopefully, the corridor would take them away from the snarling.

The blaring alarm was disturbed by Lori's grunt, and everyone's focus turned to the woman. Grimes leaned on the wall lowered her head, and cupped her belly clearly in pain. Charlie placed a hand on Carl to keep him in place and just in case to be ready to react if some danger showed up, while Maggie rubbed the pregnant woman's back. "Can you keep up?"

"Something's not right," she answered.

"Are you bit?"

"No, no, no," she said through heavy breaths. "I think the baby's coming."

"Mom?" Carl tensed.

"No, there's no time," Maggie said. "Turn back."

Snarling signaled them that the danger was closer, so they had to think quickly.

In all twenty-four years of her life, she had never even thought that she would end up in this position. In the prison, with a child and a pregnant lady who was in the middle of giving birth with a bunch of the dead trying to kill them. It sounded as ridiculous as it was in reality.

"Lori, let's lay you down," Maggie said trying to be calm.

"No, the baby's coming now," Lori protested.

"We have to get back to our cell block and have Hershel help," Charlie commented because she really didn't want to do this right now.

"We can't risk getting caught out there," Maggie shook her head and then looked at Lori. "You're gonna need to give birth to this baby here."

"We can't risk delivering a baby here all alone!" argued Charlie.

"What is she doing?" Carl tensed even more. "Can't she breathe?"

"She's fine," Maggie shushed him and then devoted all her attention to the woman. "Come here...let's get your pants off."

Charlie saw how the boy was lost in the situation, so she once again placed her arm around him and squeezed his shoulder in a reassuring gesture. The situation must have been hard for him, as he was still worked up from running away from the Walkers and now he was witnessing his mother giving birth.

Still with Carl on her side, they both observed what was going on and with a heavy heart, Charlie came to the conclusion that once again she had to decide. She really didn't want to do that. Oh, how she didn't want to do that...But Greene was alone in it. Alone with Carl that was clueless just like Charlie, but she was an adult and Carl was just a boy. Of course, there was a choice, like always she stood in the middle of two ways. One was to just sit away and wait for the labor to be over - which meant that Carl would have to help deliver a baby. The second way was to just roll up her sleeves and do what she had to do. "Hold this."

"What?" Carl looked at her confused, holding her gun.

"I'm gonna help deliver your brother or sister," Charlie said as Lori was already on the ground. "So just hold this."

"I'll do an exam. Let me see if you're dilated," Maggie said.

"Do you know how?" Charlie asked, looking at the woman, as she came closer to them.

"Dad taught me, but trust me, it's my first time," she confessed, placing her hand in between Lori's legs. Charlie was biting her lips as she was waiting for whatever Maggie would say next. She knew nothing good would happen when she met her big eyes full of even more fear now. "I can't tell."

In the meantime, Lori groaned. "I gotta push."

Charlie's eyes were wide open. She was still thinking about Carl who was probably even more scared and even more lost than them. She didn't know if she should be supporting him or helping Maggie.

Then Lori got up and started pushing, grunting, and yelping in pain, finding her anchor in a wall. Maggie was trying to encourage the woman, help her get through it, repeating words that her body would know what to do, that she was doing great. But Charlie was just there with knowledge just like Carl, and she already knew that nothing would be good- because maybe she didn't know a lot about giving birth, she had a feeling that it shouldn't look like this.

"Lori, don't push," Maggie said suddenly her voice concerned. "Stop. Something's wrong," she demanded and then showed her hand. Reed saw crimson blood covering her friend's hand.

It wasn't looking good, to say the least. Lori was pale and sweaty, her body was weak and she couldn't stand anymore, so Charlie helped Maggie to lay her down on the ground. Immediately Carl kneeled right beside his mom, concerned about her well-being. Charlie was panicking, she didn't know what she was supposed to do because Hershel didn't show her what she should do in a situation like that - she wasn't supposed to be in this situation. She didn't know if she should say something, try to comfort Lori, or help Maggie somehow.

"Mom, look at me, look at me. Keep your eyes open," Carl said in a shaky voice.

"We have to get you back to Dad," said Maggie and she began to shake.

"Now?" Charlie furrowed her eyebrows. "It's too late Maggie."

"But I don't know what to do, Charlie."

"We had our chance back then," she shook her head. "Quickly. Think, Maggie. Think what we should do and I will help you."

"I'm not gonna make it," Lori said, interrupting the quarrel.

"Lori, with all this blood. I don't even think you're fully dilated yet. No amount of pushing is gonna help," said Maggie.

"I know what it means, and I'm not losing my baby," she said determined. "You've got to cut me open."

Shocker. Charlie was shocked by what the woman was asking them. It wasn't even about her or Maggie, but Carl? He would be traumatized for the rest of his life if he would ever see his mother cut open.

"No. I can't," Maggie said immediately.

"You don't have a choice," Lori said.

"I'll go for help," Charlie proposed, forgetting her words that it was too late, thinking just about the boy who was watching.

"No!"

"Carol's the one that practiced that. Dad only taught me the steps, Lori. If I..." Maggie shook her head.

"Please," Lori begged weakly. Her hair made a halo around her hand as she was getting more and more pale, which meant only one thing- Lori would be dead anyway. The same must have thought Maggie, because she looked at Charlie and just nodded her head.

"I have no anesthetic, no equipment..." she said.

"Charlie has a knife," Lori said.

A knife that was a present for her twenty-first birthday and until recently it was collecting dust on her shelf. How she would possibly carry it after killing someone alive with it? That's why she had to try and argue one more time. "You won't survive."

"My baby has to survive. Please. My baby...for all of us. Please! Maggie, please! Please," Maggie was shaking her head, her hands were shaking, tears were running down her face. "You see my old C-section scar?"

"I can't."

"You can. You have to," she breathed. It was odd to see Lori like that. She was weak for the first time and whatever happened between them, whatever bad feelings she held for her in the past, vanished. There was just Lori from the present and a heart full of sympathy toward her."Carl? Baby, I don't want you to be scared, okay? That is what I want. This is right. Now you...you take care of your daddy for me, all right? And your little brother or sister, you take care..."

"You don't have to do this," he answered.

"You're gonna be fine. You are gonna beat this world. I know you will," she whispered, caressing his cheek. "You're smart, and you are strong, and you're so brave, and I love you."

"I love you too."

Charlie felt her eyes being covered in tears, heartbreaking at the sight. She wasn't prepared to witness a scene like this one today.

"You gotta do what's right, baby. You promise me, you'll always do what's right. It's so easy to do the wrong thing in this world. So don't...so if it feels wrong, don't do it, all right? If it feels easy, don't do it," Lori said to her son. "Don't let the world spoil you. You're so good. You're my sweet little boy. You're the best thing I ever did. And I love you," Lori hugged her son and started sobbing, just like Maggie who was sitting there not knowing what to do to help his mother. "Charlie," Lori called her name in a plea. "Please take care of my boy. Please take care of my son. He'll need a figure in his life, a woman figure."

That was a big favor to ask and a huge burden to take care of somebody's son - especially Carl. But who would she be to say no to a woman on her deathbed? "I promise."

"Okay," she breathed as if she was completely peaceful now that she solved the last things on earth. "Okay...now. Girls, when this is over, you're gonna have to...It can't be Rick. All right...all right. It's all right."

Maggie became an even bigger mess, shaking and sobbing. Once Charlie handed her a knife that was securely placed behind her belt, she took it but didn't move an inch. Reed knew that there was no time left and if they waited a minute more, they would lose not only Lori but also a baby. They were already in a position where either Maggie or she didn't know what to do. They just had a knife and a scar after the first pregnancy. So Charlie decided for both of them. She knew that Lori didn't mind who was going to do this, and if she could take the weight from her friend's shoulders she wanted to do it. She took the knife out of Maggie's shaking hands. "Tell me what to do." The girl looked at her with her bambie eyes, filled with tears as if asking if she was sure."There's no time, Maggie," she answered.

"Good night, love," Lori whispered.

Charlie bit her lips and exhaled while looking at the scar. She wasn't able to look up and meet eyes with the woman. "I'm sorry."

Then all she remembered were screams of pain and hot blood running down her hands. Then she felt as if Maggie was pushing her slightly and she was talking all the way in taking out the baby, commenting every stage, but she was too shocked to actually do something. Charlie wasn't there mentally at that time anymore, she was looking at Lori's lifeless body and at her peaceful face.

And then she heard a cry.

"We have to go," Maggie said, shaking Charlie a little, and holding a baby close to her chest.

She nodded her head- still being somewhere else, but she got up anyway."We can't just leave her here." Carl argued. He caught blood blood-covered hand of Charlie and looked her deep in the eyes. "She'll turn."

She looked at Lori's body and then at Carl. "Yeah...give me my gun then."

In her eyes, he was just a kid, just a little boy who was just causing trouble, but Carl had two eyes and he knew more than any of the members of his group thought he did. That's why he could tell that Charlie was a mess after what just happened. Her hands were shaking, her eyes were full of tears, and they seemed to not be present. Carl could see that what she did to help his mother and his sister, took its toll on her and he didn't want her to be the only one carrying this weight on her shoulders. "She's my mom."

"Should I stay?" she asked. In normal conditions, she would argue, but she wasn't thinking clearly.

"I can do this," he said and that was enough for Charlie to turn around and just leave the room.

She left Carl and Maggie behind, feeling suffocated but the walls of the boiler room as if they used the whole air. She was out of breath, covered in blood, and lost. What happened moments ago felt unreal, the moment she cut Lori open she felt like she was on some drugs, like her body wasn't her anymore, almost as if she was watching a movie.

"Oh, my God," Beth breathed as soon as she saw her. Charlie looked at her and that was the moment she realized that she was outside and the sun was shining on her wet from tears face. In a second Rick was by her side.

"Where...Where is she? Where is she?" he was asking, shaking her shoulders.

She looked down at her hands and up at Rick. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't want...We wanted to help. I'm sorry."

Once he realized the meaning of her words he started sobbing, he was a mess and he just couldn't stand in one place. He was pacing, and couldn't really decide if he wanted to stay with his son or see his wife.

"Rick, I'm so sorry," Charlie said turning towards him and her eyes filled with tears again. "I'm so sorry. I'm..."

"Charlie," Daryl called and dropped his crossbow as soon as he saw her. The moment he got to her, his hands were on her cheeks to prevent her from looking at Rick and focusing. But her eyes never met his as she was trying to look everywhere, muttering some nonsense like a crazy person. "Charlie! Look at me!"

That's when she snapped out of her daze and finally looked into his eyes. That's when it really hit her. When she realized that she was looking at Daryl, when she realized she was crying and when she stopped muttering, Charlie realized...She killed Lori. Her lip trembled and Daryl furrowed his eyebrows. "What the hell happened in there?!"

"I..." She opened her eyes and then she looked at Carl and Maggie. Then she saw how Rick collapsed on the ground, still crying. "I'm sorry. I'm..." she choked and wrapped her arms around Daryl, who quickly received the hug.

"Shhh," he said into her hair. "It's okay now."

previous masterlist next

[izzyhandslightofmylife]

Help

When they talked about it later - which was almost never, it was too dark, too painful - Jim put it well. 

Sitting on the deck, night lit by the glow of a few lanterns, they kept their eyes on the stars and the grimace in their voice to a minimum, saying only, “it was the beginning of the end”. 

Fang began to sob and was quickly surrounded by the rest of the crew, but nobody would be able to replicate Ivan’s embrace again. 

They don’t talk about it after that. 

–

In a small voice, Frenchie piped up, “How do we”, he stuttered, “I mean- how do we know that this is how he wants to go?” 

All eyes turned to Izzy, who sighed and held up his hand, using his thumb to rub a spade tattoo gleaming in the dim light. 

“He had one of these”, he whispered, as if afraid, afraid that a ghost would come down, afraid that another man, very much alive and very much real, would enter the room at any moment. 

“Pirates get it all the time. It means, if someone finds you, they know you want to be buried at sea.” 

Silence fell before, unprompted, he spoke again, still gruff, of course, but scratchier this time. As if there was something caught in his throat that he couldn’t get out. 

“When I was younger, I always thought-” the ghost of a smile. “I thought, who in their right mind would want to go to the ocean? But, I guess, the longer you spend out here, the more it…makes sense. Ocean never really leaves you and you don’t want it to. I don’t think-” 

Here, he cut himself off, as if afraid of what would come out. In a tone of finality, he said almost reassuringly, “Trust me. This is what he wanted”. 

With no objections after that, silence fell again, each crew member lost in their own thoughts. Fang was wrapped in a cloud of grief, so immersed in his pain that he could scarce comprehend the world around him. Jim’s face was stricken, as if they had just realized how likely it was that, under current management, they could die. Archie made herself smaller, hunching her arms in and burying her head in her shoulder. And Frenchie- well. Sadness, especially sadness like this, was too dangerous, too close to the box, threatening to burst open any moment. 

Instead, he directed his thoughts toward the captain, currently sitting in his quarters like always, but whose presence was so powerful that it seemed as if tendrils of smoke were emanating from his door, spreading through the entire ship. 

“I’m glad”, he said suddenly, air rushing out of his lungs, box in his mind leaking even now. 

“I’m glad he’s going at sea. I don’t want his body to have to stay here anymore, on this ship. Not with him”. 

Once again, all eyes turned to Izzy, expecting him to object to the statement, spoken into the empty air almost like a challenge. In the earlier days, those kinds of sayings would come up all the time, only to be shut down immediately afterwards by the first mate, who could hear Edward’s name like a dog responded to its owners. Overtime, the questioning dwindled, as the crew worked every day and grew too weary to care. 

Now, though, he looked up, stared at the group for a few moments, and lowered his head again. After a moment, he gave a tiny, imperceptible nod. 

Later, they marched one by one up the stairs, Ivan’s limp body decaying in a coffin. It was simple, wooden, but for a pirate, it was a big deal. Most of the time, there was no way to be sent off except to be tossed over. Archie, Jim and Frenchie had gone to shore the day before, fulling expecting to be murdered when they returned. 

Instead, it was pitch black, and nobody was waiting for them except for Izzy, who told them they were safe, followed by a, “You’re in your room right now, understand? Good, now fuck off”. 

It may have been simple, but it served its purpose well; on any other ship, the “waste” of flowers and gold would have been laughed at, but when Fang began the preparations and the rest of the crew joined in, Izzy didn’t object. 

As long as it was done in secret, it was fine. He had wrestled with himself over it, sure, lying to his captain about the chunk of missing coins one day, but what was there to say? Seeing Ivan all laid out like that had been sad. He deserved it. 

Izzy had known Ivan and Fang for years now. He didn’t know if he could call them friends, really- the voice of a drunk man rang through his head, “what kind of pirate has a friend?” but it was hard to have someone there, next to you, for years, and all in one day never have it again. Maybe it was friendship. Now he’d never know. 

The solemn procession reached the edge of the ship, where the casket was lowered down by a system of ropes. In the background, the strum of a guitar picked out a soft rhythm. For the first time in forty years, Izzy Hands prayed. 

He didn’t know to what he was praying to. Not God, never God, but he needed to ask someone who knew better if Ivan would be okay. Something nice, like gold, not stolen, just in the ground for anyone to find. The ocean, maybe. Something purer than he was, something worthy of worship. Of love. 

So he asked the ocean, head bowed, to keep Ivan safe. In the background, a noise punctured his brain- Fang’s deep wails. Fang, too, then, and this whole crew. He had to keep them safe in a way that he couldn’t keep Ivan, and for once, he wasn’t ashamed to ask for help on that. Even if the help might never help. Even if the ocean might never answer back.

For a moment, he thought it might actually work. 

Absorbed in his thoughts and still leaning over the side of the ship, the view of the waves calmed him for the first time in ages. He hadn’t allowed himself to just sit and watch ever since he had sold Bonnet out. He hadn’t deserved it. 

He was a fool. The spell was broken as soon as heard the heavy thud of boots make their way on deck. 

“What’s all this, then?”

Ed’s voice, so casual but so threatening, rang through the air as the crew backed away from the rail like children caught red-handed, tears still streaking down their faces.

As always, Izzy stepped forward from the rest of them, saying “We’re disposing of the body, captain”. 

After a moment, watching the solemn faces of the crew was too much for Ed, and Izzy knew it. He couldn’t face anything of what he’d done. His sadness was the center of the universe; he was too consumed by that to worry about anyone else’s. 

Casual smile. Snort. “Well, get it done quickly then, we don’t need a whole procession”. 

“Yes,” Izzy thought bitterly, “We do”. 

Anger welled up inside him, which was new. He hadn’t allowed himself to feel angry at Ed in a long time, but this was different. Another image flashed through his mind, this time of Fang, cradling Ivan’s body, and Edward, walking away without looking back. Peace was all they needed. Peace was what Ivan needed. And to get that, he had to get his captain to leave. 

So he used the anger, biting out a short snarl and lifting his head up,

“He deserves one, Ed, after that all the shit he’s been through”. 

A glint of anger flashed in Ed’s eyes as his demeanor switched, body stilling and jaw clenching. 

–

“They’re our fucking crew, Captain,” Izzy said, spitting out the word like poison in his mouth. “It’s supposed to be your job to care about them.” 

Suddenly, his body was slammed into the wall, head throbbing from the impact, shoulder blades digging into the wood. Ed’s was pressed on his neck, a shark tattoo staring up at him. In his hand was a knife pressed to Izzy’s temple, with just enough pressure to draw blood. 

It was too much. Too much weight on him, brown eyes glaring into his, and so much anger, radiating from every pore in Blackbeard’s body. For one of the first times in his life, Izzy was scared of him. 

Just when he thought he was going to choke, the arm was released, and he doubled over, gasping for breath. In front of him stood the Kraken, panting with rage but then still, a tableau of something patience masking his features. He stroked the knife in his hand, eyebrows raised, waiting as if bored for Izzy to get up again. 

As soon as his mind cleared, he straightened up, head once again tilting upward to look at his captain. He had to do this, not just for himself, but the crew, too. Before all this, when the man in front of him was angry, Izzy could direct it all towards him, absorb it all and do it willingly. Now, though, the Kraken’s anger was contagious, leaking everywhere, hurting everyone, including the people above him, and hadn’t they suffered enough? 

Almost gently, the Kraken hummed, “I don’t tolerate insubordination on my ship, Iz. You know that”.  

He waited for Izzy to nod, never looking him in the eyes. “Go get the scissors”. 

By now, Izzy’s mind had shut down, oblivious to the world around him. It was the easiest way to get through these sessions if you weren’t thinking about them while they happened. 

“Yes, sir,” he murmured, blank eyed, returning in a moment with the scissors and handing them over like an offering to a god. Without being told, he sank to his knees and took his boot off, two bloody holes now where his smallest toes used to be. While the Kraken flopped down on one of the only armchairs remaining, Izzy lifted his foot up to the stool in front of him.

[lforlimbo]

Letters to Nora

8 December 1909: 44 Fontenoy Street, Dublin

My sweet little whorish Nora,

I did as you told me, you dirty little girl, and pulled myself off twice when I read your letter. I am delighted to see that you do like being fucked arseways. Yes, now I can remember that night when I fucked you for so long backwards. It was the dirtiest fucking I ever gave you, darling. My prick was stuck up in you for hours, fucking in and out under your upturned rump. I felt your fat sweaty buttocks under my belly and saw your flushed face and mad eyes. At every fuck I gave you your shameless tongue come bursting out through your lips and if I gave you a bigger stronger fuck than usual fat dirty farts came spluttering out of your backside. You had an arse full of farts that night, darling, and I fucked them out of you, big fat fellows, long windy ones, quick little merry cracks and a lot of tiny little naughty farties ending in a long gush from your hole. It is wonderful to fuck a farting woman when every fuck drives one out of her. I think I would know Nora’s fart anywhere. I think I could pick hers out in a roomful of farting women. It is a rather girlish noise not like the wet windy fart which I imagine fat wives have. It is sudden and dry and dirty like what a bold girl would let off in fun in a school dormitory at night. I hope Nora will let off no end of her farts in my face so that I may know their smell also.

You say when I go back you will suck me off and you want me to lick your cunt, you little depraved blackguard. I hope you will surprise me some time when I am asleep dressed, steal over me with a whore’s glow in your slumbrous eyes, gently undo button after button in the fly of my trousers and gently take out your lover’s fat mickey, lap it up in your moist mouth and suck away at it till it gets fatter and stiffer and comes off in your mouth. Sometime too I shall surprise you asleep, lift up your skirts and open your hot drawers gently, then lie down gently by you and begin to lick lazily round your bush. You will begin to stir uneasily then I will lick the lips of my darling’s cunt. You will begin to groan and grunt and sigh and fart with lust in your sleep. Then I will lick up faster and faster like a ravenous dog until your cunt is a mass of slime and your body wriggling wildly.

Goodnight, my little farting Nora, my dirty little fuckbird! There is one lovely word, darling, you have underlined to make me pull myself off better. Write me more about that and yourself, sweetly, dirtier, dirtier.

JIM

*

16 December 1909: 44 Fontenoy Street, Dublin

My sweet darling girl,

At last you write to me! You must have given that naughty little cunt of yours a most ferocious frigging to write me such a disjointed letter. As for me, darling, I am so played out that you would have to lick me for a good hour before I could get a horn stiff enough even to put into you, to say nothing of blocking you. I have done so much and so often that I am afraid to look to see how that thing I had is after all I have done to myself. Darling, please don’t fuck me too much when I go back. Fuck all you can out of me for the first night or so but make me get myself cured. The fucking must all be done by you, darling, as I am so soft and small now that no girl in Europe except yourself would waste her time trying the job. Fuck me, darling, in as many ways as your lust will suggest. Fuck me dressed in your full outdoor costume with your hat and veil on, your face flushed with the cold and wind and rain and your boots muddy, either straddling across my legs when I am sitting in a chair and riding me up and down with the frills of your drawers showing and my cock sticking up stiff in your cunt or riding me over the back of the sofa. Fuck me naked with your hat and stockings on only flat on the floor with a crimson flower in your hole behind, riding me like a man with your thighs between mine and your rump very fat. Fuck me in your dressing gown (I hope you have that nice one) with nothing on under it, opening it suddenly and showing me your belly and thighs and back and pulling me on top of you on the kitchen table. Fuck me into you arseways, lying on your face on the bed, your hair flying loose naked but with a lovely scented pair of pink drawers opened shamelessly behind and half slipping down over your peeping bum. Fuck me if you can squatting in the closet, with your clothes up, grunting like a young sow doing her dung, and a big fat dirty snaking thing coming slowly out of your backside. Fuck me on the stairs in the dark, like a nursery-maid fucking her soldier, unbuttoning his trousers gently and slipping her hand into his fly and fiddling with his shirt and feeling it getting wet and then pulling it gently up and fiddling with his two bursting balls and at last pulling out boldly the mickey she loves to handle and frigging it for him softly, murmuring into his ear dirty words and dirty stories that other girls told her and dirty things she said, and all the time pissing her drawers with pleasure and letting off soft warm quiet little farts behind until her own girlish cockey is as stiff as his and suddenly sticking him up in her and riding him.

Basta! Basta per Dio!

I have come now and the foolery is over. Now for your questions!

We are not open yet. I send you some posters. We hope to open on the 20th or 21st. Count 14 days from that and 3 1/2 days for the voyage and I am in Trieste.

Get ready. Put some warm-brown-linoleum on the kitchen and hang a pair of red common curtains on the windows at night. Get some kind of a cheap common comfortable armchair for your lazy lover. Do this above all, darling, as I shall not quit the kitchen for a whole week after I arrive, reading, lolling, smoking, and watching you get ready the meals and talking, talking, talking, talking to you. O how supremely happy I shall be! God in heaven, I shall be happy there! I figlioli, il fuoco, una bona mangiata, un caffe nero, un Brasil, il Piccolo della Sera, e Nora, Nora mia, Norina, Noretta, Norella, Noruccia ecc ecc…

Eva and Eileen must sleep together. Get some place for Georgie. I wish Nora and I had two beds for night-work. I am keeping and shall keep my promise, love. Time fly on, fly on quickly! I want to go back to my love, my life, my star, my little strange-eyed Ireland!

A hundred thousand kisses, darling!

JIM

[jadetheblade4]

NOT a good day to be a dog man fan on twitter and see Big Jim Begins leaks i just really hope that Dav is somehow not gonna go the way he's looking like he's going

[princessrainevillanueva]

Dog Man: Big Jim Begins - Official Cover Reveal!

Scholastic revealed the OFFICIAL COVER of Dog Man: Big Jim Begins, the 13th book in the series by Dav Pilkey releasing on December 3, 2024!

Pre-order links: https://www.scholastic.com/site/pilkey/dav-pilkey-at-home/dog-man-series.html

Follow me on Instagram and X for more updates on Dog Man books and more Dav Pilkey news!

[wrestlingfaves]

The Royal Rumble Marathon: 1988

I’ve been re-watching the Royal Rumble, starting with the first one in 1988. Only the Rumble itself.�� Let’s begin the marathon:

Warning, spoilers ahead for the past Royal Rumbles…

1988

I remember reading there was a Rumble before the first televised one in 1988. The 1988 Royal Rumble is the one that introduced the concept to the world at large. Battle royals had been used in wrestling for decades, but the Rumble introduced the concept of starting with two men and adding more in various intervals.

The Rumble in 1988 was still in prototype mode, missing many of the staples of later Rumbles:

No participants had entrance music.

Fans weren’t counting down for the next participant.

Managers were allowed at ringside.

No comedy spots.

No rapid eliminations.

No surprise entrants.

No big man going on a rampage, causing multiple eliminations.

No tag team fighting each other.

No “winner goes to Wrestlemania”.

No storyline to the Rumble.

The 1988 Rumble only had 20 participants as opposed to the traditional 30.

The participants, in order of entrance:

Bret Hart (accompanied by Jimmy Hart), ½ of the Hart Foundation

Tito Santana

“The Natural” Butch Reed

Jim Neidhart, ½ of the Hart Foundation

5) Jake Roberts

Harley Race

Jim Brunzell, ½ of the Killer Bees

Sam Houston

Danny Davis

Boris Zhukov, ½ of the Bolsheviks

Don “The Rock” Muraco

Nikolai Volkoff, ½ of the Bolsheviks

“Hacksaw” Jim Duggan

“The Outlaw” Ron Bass

B. Brian Blair, ½ of the Killer Bees

Hillbilly Jim

Dino Bravo (accompanied by Frenchy Martin)

Ultimate Warrior

One Man Gang

Junkyard Dog

Bret had the longest performance in the Rumble. Not many highlights in the Rumble as the “tropes” weren’t in place yet. Bret and Tito were my favorites to watch as they are my preferred type of wrestler. Butch Reed and One Man Gang are interesting as they would be in much different spots in the next year. Butch Reed would leave for WCW and form the “Doom” tag team with Ron Simmons. One Man Gang would turn into Akeem the African Dream and form the Twin Towers with the Big Bossman.

Jake Roberts, Jim Duggan, the Ultimate Warrior, and Junkyard Dog received the biggest reactions from the crowd.

Jim Duggan wins the Rumble.

Of the twenty participants, eight have passed away: Butch Reed, Harley Race, Nikolai Volkoff, Ron Bass, Dino Bravo, the Ultimate Warrior, and the Junkyard Dog. If you include non-wrestling participants, the total is eleven: Howard Finkel (the ring announcer) and Joey Marella (the outside referee).

Overall Rating: 4 out of 10

[fun-twisted-tales]

Just a crumb, please I’m BEGGING 😭😭😭😭

(I am 18 and therefore an adult. I post things for shows meant for kids. If you are a kid, be careful as will I.)

[lenievi]

001 for both mckirk and spones please!

This is gonna be long :D I'm gonna have to use read more

001 | send me a ship and I will tell you: mckirk

when I started shipping it if I did: so when the lockdown in 2020 started, I had nothing to do and just watched stuff. I have this favourite dubber and I was looking at the list of stuff he dubbed, and saw Star Trek AOS on that list. This guy is the voice of 2000s Alan Rickman, Tom Hanks, Tony Stark, he also apparently dubbed Garak in that one Star Trek series, and so seeing the reboot films on the list and his name next to McCoy, I was like, gotta check how he sounds. The fact that Kirk was also dubbed by a guy I generally like was a plus. (funnily enough Captain America/Iron Man and Kirk/McCoy are dubbed by the same guys here, which is funny to me). So I checked youtube and the scene I saw was the scene in Beyond where Kirk and McCoy are alone and are having a drink. And that scene did something to my brain, and I was like this is the dynamic I want, I wanna read fics, so before that I had to watch the films. So I watched AOS, basically through McCoy (Kirk/McCoy) lenses and started to read fics. Three weeks later, I decided to watch TOS because a lot of the fics referenced Kirk's backstory, so I wanted to know about it. The three weeks reading fics and looking through livejournal, kind of made me think that McCoy wasn't really an important character in TOS and that AOS made up the mckirk relationship (such a lie), so when I started watching TOS, I only planned to watch episodes heavy on McCoy. Which like... were most of them at the beginning lol I kinda decided not to trust the fandom after like three episodes or something. I binged the three seasons of TOS in like three weeks. I've had a hard time seeing tos!Kirk with men for a long time (I've had a complicated "relationship" with tos!Kirk for so long), so my interest in tos!mckirk was primarily as a platonic relationship [but it was always my fave relationship, I liked it even more than spones, actually] (but romantic in aos), but I started to insert Kirk into my spones fics, wrote a part from his POV, and then one day I just woke up and decided to write a tos!mckirk fic (it was actually because I started to read aos fics again, getting back into aos!mckirk, but... the tos version has been calling me) and just embraced the romantic (and sexual lol) aspect of their relationship.

my thoughts: I love their friendship so much. It's very important to me. I like that McCoy knows what to say to pull Kirk back on the right path, I like that Kirk can be vulnerable around McCoy. In AOS I like that McCoy is the only one Kirk shares stuff with about his mother and his insecurities (in Beyond it looked like he never even allowed the other crew to acknowledge his birthday... until McCoy finally decided to give him a party, after 5 years on the Enterprise...)

What makes me happy about them: we see both of them the most at ease around each other. They can forget who they are around each other, for a moment, at least. McCoy gives Kirk some of his most brightest smiles; McCoy can make Kirk genuinely laugh. Kirk needs him. badly.

What makes me sad about them: I eat angst for breakfast, so uhm...

things done in fanfic that annoys me: the lack of their friendship even in gen fics T_T (we all know what annoys me in aos fic, we don't need a rehash)

things I look for in fanfic: having more fics would be fun lol You know, just a genuine intimacy they show in the the show. Jim's sense of duty being the cause of angst.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other:  McCoy with Spock (I do like the idea of mckirk to spones after the movie era, more or less). tos movie era Kirk? Actually, no one.

My happily ever after for them: buying a cabin in the mountains and getting two dogs (one big and one small) post TUC (then we can stop time lol or not...)

who is the big spoon/little spoon: idk haven't thought about their sleeping position. It would probably change based on what kind of story I'd wanna tell

what is their favorite non-sexual activity: .... you know, they're happy when they find the time to have sex...

spones under the cut

001 | send me a ship and I will tell you: spones

when I started shipping it if I did: so above I said that I started to watch TOS because of mckirk, right? Mainly because of The Conscience of the King and Tarsus IV, right? Well... I finished that episode shipping spones LMAO It really was quite quick for me.

my thoughts: the most engaging dynamic in TOS imho

What makes me happy about them: The loyalty, the trust. They were in each other's lives for 100 years. 100 years. That they're more similar than different. That they actually understand each other, but would never admit it. "I don't think I could stand to lose you again." < what is that? so real to have McCoy say that

What makes me sad about them: that they would leave the other one behind and die if it meant to save Kirk (this isn't meant negatively, I'm not really explicit about it or talk about it, but my spones know that Kirk's life is a priority, sometimes even just to show that no, we're not emotionally compromised, we know what our duty is kinda way. I just think it'd be great to explore that in a fic)

things done in fanfic that annoys me: uhm (I'm speaking in general, it is just my opinion based on my taste; I believe that everyone should write what makes them happy, we can't ever please every single person) McCoy using hobgoblin, elf, jackrabbit (the last two are terms that Kirk used to make Spock angry) as a form of affection/endearment, or at all tbh. McCoy being insecure because of Kirk. (give me Spock being insecure because of McCoy-Kirk friendship) Some people feeling guilty about writing spones and therefore still making kirk-spock have the specialest bond *rolls eyes* I just don't get the need to quantify relationships, I guess. Any kind of pet names.

things I look for in fanfic: balanced relationship, mature arguments that don't rely on pettiness, trying to combine the different world views, not needing to express love in a traditional way, but a way that works for the two of them and their two differing cultures.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: McCoy with Kirk, obviously. Spock with Chapel or T'Pring (even during the movie era, yes).

My happily ever after for them: 100 years. What more do you want? LOL My personal hc is that when McCoy dies, and Spock goes to Romulus, McCoy's spirit is always there because a part of his soul stayed inside Spock's katra. So Spock is just haunted by McCoy's spirit until he dies on New Vulcan, and then they're put into the katra stone. Together forever.

who is the big spoon/little spoon: I imagine them more as Spock sleeping on his back and McCoy's head on his arm/chest.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity: banter (they especially enjoy if it makes Kirk exasperated)

[ask meme]