#many many fond memories of watching it with my dad

[naughtynoodle056]

Actually a horrible day for Dragon Ball fans dawg I just saw the news and fell to my knees, bruh

[justplaggin]

« to the stray dogs »

[gu6chan]

ouaaaaaghhh i've been on a bit of a pokemon binge lately......... i should crack open my old pokemon games and take a peek at my teams :,) i wish i still had my old copy of conquest and black 2 though............ :(

[seraphtrevs]

Trying to watch The Wire but I keep getting depressed. Maybe my soul needs Star Trek TNG right now instead

[nouearth]

red right hand.

pairing. henry cavill x male reader.

word count. 7.3k.

summary. if there was one thing to give your dad credit for (other than helping create your very existence), it was that he has an insanely hot best friend. it was a universal admiration your neighborhood shared with one another. though, how many actively feasted upon their fantasies regarding that hunk of a man? probably only you, because mr. cavill was more than a crush, he was an addiction. and on one summer day, mr. cavill realized that so were you.

content warning. college!reader, dad's best friend!henry, neighbor!henry, age gap, blowjob (r!giving), degrading, throat-fucking, choking, gagging, spitting, kissing, humiliation, body and muscle worship, rough-play, size difference, dirty talk, verbal, praising, size kink.

The warm wind fanned the sweat off your forehead when you slid your window open. The ledge stained your fingers with particles of dust. Grimacing at the fuzz and simultaneous stickiness, it also provoked a storm of laziness as steel reminders from your dad got caught up in the commotion: CLEAN THE HOUSE.

CAR MAINTENANCE.

STOP ORDERING TAKE-OUT AND COOK.

SORT THE ATTIC.

TIDY GARAGE.

CHECK STOVE IGNITIONS BEFORE LEAVING THE HOUSE.

LOCK THE DOORS.

Ya-dah, ya-dah…

Honestly, how could you check-off any of these tasks with this heatwave currently going on? You were sweating bullets, been sweating enough to bathe in your own salt for days now—which you technically were already doing. It was summer, the long-awaited season after the agony of allergies. A temporary relief to your studies as well, until the humidity hit you like a truck and made you realize that living back in a dorm wasn’t so bad. 

At least the building had a functional air-conditioner. 

“Uh-huh, yep.” Your dad’s voice was going in one ear and out the other as you rummaged through your cabinets for a snack. Cereal; stale. Canned meat; too heavy. Potato chips; not heavy enough. “Dad, you know you’ve gone on business trips before, right? This isn’t the first time I’ve been alone.”

“I know, but I’m just making sure. It’s a new house, and I’ve been watching these true crime documentaries about men leaving clubs and—“

“Well, the first mistake was going to a sketchy club in the first place…” You muttered, peering into the fridge, and then lingering, because refrigerator air has never felt so cooling against your skin. You duck your head to puzzle yourself into the cold box, dumbfounded that the heat had gotten you irritated enough to claim a bag of deli meat as your bunkmate for the time being. The sound of your dad’s frustrated sigh on the other line curled your frown into a smile, and you laughed, “I’m a big boy. Stop worrying, and go enjoy—Ow!“ You bumped your head against the door on your way out.

“How can I not worry when you just referred to yourself as a ‘big boy?’ Not even a man?!” You never realized how theatric the man was. It was like his presence never left the house, exaggerated hand movements and all wafting the smell of his homemade meals whenever he would scold you in his favorite place: the kitchen. You smiled at the fond memories.

“Good point—“ Though they were made at your old house, you were sure that once he’d returned, your dad wouldn’t be opposed to creating new memories of scolding your ass off on whatever trouble you’d get into. If you do, that is. You’ve grown since then, finding yourself too tired to socialize.

“Remember, spare key’s in the birdhouse. There’s a compartment at the side of it. Hopefully birds haven’t evolved enough to pick it open.”

“If they have, they’d be picking at our locks right now to kidnap me and probably feast on my body.” Luckily, the fridge was stocked before your dad had left. You crucified him for being overly-prepared at times, but for this month, it was an exception. You picked at a slice of deli meat and cheese, and stuffed it down your mouth.

“Not funny, (M/N).”

“I’m kidding, Dad. Lighten up! I know you’re nervous about presenting, but they invited you to talk to an audience for a reason. They like you. Just be yourself, and remember not to speak so fast. Have some water on standby too.” And speaking of the devil, you gulped down a glass of iced water to cool down your body as your dad chuckled in your ear.

“I know, I know, thanks.” A muffled sound on the other end filled the silence, sounds of people passing and cars honking passing through your ear. “Alright, my ride’s here. I’ll call as soon as I get to the hotel, okay? You better answer—Oh! I forgot to tell you! Henry’s coming over later to look at the car.”

“Henry—Oh, Mr. Cavill? He’s in the neighborhood?” The name rattled a familiar feeling inside of your stomach. Something rather warm, suddenly ravenous when you thought about the last time you saw him.

“Actually, he was the one that told me about this house! He lives down the street. But tool’s in the garage if he asks for them, okay?” 

“Y-yeah, okay. Got it.” You hadn’t seen him many times. Only when you’d come home from semester breaks, yet the mere mention of his name had you flustered as if he was a long-lost friend or something. 

“Okay, gotta go. Love you, and remember, lock your doors! Bye!”

“I will! Bye…” Your phone blinked back to your previous app after ending the call.

You knew he was your dad’s best friend; a divorced father and a bachelor unsurprisngly made a match in heaven.

He was someone that shared your father’s interest in tabletop games and comic books. A replacement for yourself you thought earlier on, but he was way more knowledgeable about those interest than you ever were. You grew up on your dad’s nostalgia. For Mr. Cavill and your dad? These memories altered them who they would be in the future.

He was a friend that would help your dad out on building projects, like that birdhouse he had mentioned. He was a charming man that built the PC you currently use after hearing you complain about the previous laptop you had. And best of all, his looks were as abundant as his kindness. Standing over six feet tall, with a chiseled face that matched an equally sculpted body; he’d been a little crush since you first met him, being the only man who was capable of rendering you utterly speechless.

And in present, the only man who had the power to tighten your briefs and shorts with only a passing thought of his body; muscular and athletic in all the right places. If only your dad could somehow muster up a beach day before summer ended. Either way, the image of his bare body excited you, the blood flow immediately rushing south in agreement. Your dick kissed your shorts at the thought water cascading off his hulking body like meltwater over an ice shelf, freezing you in your place to not-so-subtly gawk.

“Jesus…” Your body couldn’t catch a break, could it? With the ramping heat and the constant sweating, your erection only added fuel to the bonfire that was the pores of your skin. Your cock pulsed madly within the constraint of your briefs, teasing yet begging to be released, to be sheathed from its slick, because it knew you had the key to its relief.

Or rather, Mr. Cavill did.

It was pathetic. You’d been at this for a year now. As much as you were unfamiliar with Mr. Cavill’s disposition, it was certainly the opposite regarding his physical appearance. Though it hadn’t exactly occur to you when this crush of yours had been tiptoeing along the lines of obsession. 

Wait, was it an obsession..? No, no, it was just a crush. 

You hadn’t done anything wrong. All you had done was browse through his social media—he did follow you, and you mutually pursued—and stalked—no—scrolled through his posts. Thank god, he was an avid poster. Pictures of his selfies, his knack for grilling, his love for his pet dogs, his pride over his geeky hobbies, his friendship with your dad and mutual buddies—all of these pieces attributed to allowing you to get to know him more as you were rotting away on campus, missing life back at home. Like clockwork, looking at his feed brought a sense of comfort, a hope that maybe you could be part of his life as well.

“God, what I’d do to ride that mustache…” You blurted out your thoughts, hyper-aware that you were alone in the house. You’d been waiting for this. You’d been surrounded by your roommates 24/7, and then once break started, your dad wanted to insert himself into your schedules as much as he could before the next semester starts. 

As much as you loved them, you needed space. A space bigger than the privacy of your own room. You deserved the whole house to yourself after enduring months of agony from overdue assignments; stress from bickering roommates that led to chaos within the dorm. You haven’t jerked off properly in months, often resorting to a quick session that comforted you on the occasions you’d have to pull multiple all-nighters to get a project done.

You needed relief.

You needed pleasure.

“Fuck,” Your eyes had been fixated on Mr. Cavill’s social media feed as you stripped yourself free of clothing. On one hand, it helped your body cool off from the heat building in the house. On the other, you felt vulnerable, like someone could walk in on you any second, and god, was that a turn-on. 

A grid of his life displayed happily before you, and your thumb scrolled aimlessly in pursuit of multiple pictures ingrained in your brain that had your cock throbbing in your palm. You laid flat on the couch, earbuds fit snug in the canals after briefly switching apps to play your favorite porn in the background of your search. Your stomach sunk deep when the man began moaning in your ears. Hot like the blistering sun outside; you can imagine Mr. Cavill breathing against you like that, as you took his cock in like the video you had playing. Your balls pulled when the man grunted, “Right there,” and you couldn’t help but pull at the ache of your cock, then at your balls to fondle at the loose stretch of skin.

“Right there,” you repeated when your thumb paused at the desired video of Mr. Cavill. Another major part of his lifestyle was working out. Strength training, cardio, marathons. You name it, Mr. Cavill did it all, exceptionally well, and the crème de la crème of it all was that he bared his torso for most of his videos. “Fuck, you’re so big… Fuck, fuck…” 

It was like watching a warrior prepare for battle. Sweat dripped off the holiest parts of his body as he pumped his muscles with heavy weights. Grunts, heavy and lewd sounds filled your ears while Mr. Cavill powered through his body’s resistance. You wondered to yourself if he could take you like that. Force you to take him with brute strength like the weights in his muscular, veiny hands. You were stroking yourself to him, every part of him, palm slick with sweat and spit. Two fingers would get the job done, stretching you out in preparation for his cock. Though, you knew deep down that it would take more than that. Three, or maybe even four, considering the hunk of a man was seemingly built from metal. The video replayed multiple times before you remembered that he had more than enough content for you to jerk off to. You were barely five minutes in, but this was already more pleasurable than whatever you had endured back at the dorms. Your cock felt pleased, spitting out dribbles of thick pre-cum that loosened the stick of your palm as donation to your generosity.

“Fuck, Henry…” You rarely referred to him by his first name. It felt unusual. You were much younger than him. Addressing someone closer to your dad’s age felt rude, like you were trying to assert your dominance despite your age difference. You were many things, but disobedient was not one of them. However, you couldn’t lie. His name felt polishing to your tongue, something that could improve the taste of dreadful meals if one were to whisper it before taking a spoonful.

His name felt like a miracle.

Your sexual appetite was nourished by the frames of Mr Cavill’s second video. He was completely unaware he was bulging, free-balling in his sweaty shorts while he pursued his vitality through jumping jacks, lunges, toe-touches—cardio galore that made his heavy cock bounce in rhythm. You could tell he was large, gifted with insane girth to the point where you could make out the shape of his cock just from him stretching. And the smell; sweat sticking on thick curly hairs on his chest, and a happy trail that seemed to promise a world of musk if you ever had an opportunity to endeavor upon your curiosities. You were practically salivating for him, saliva pooling where your tongue sank, while your cock leaked. You pumped yourself quicker and harder at the frustration that your desire to taste Mr. Cavill’s cock would remain a pipe dream.

All that left you was your imagination, and your own musk. Pulling up at your glans, you squeezed out thick loads of pre-cum before swiping it with your thumb and tasting it off with a suck. Salty, bitterly pleasant on your tongue, and satiated enough to not let your libido falter at the disappointment that it wasn’t Mr. Cavill’s pre-cum, but rather smolder.

“Oh, fuck my mouth… I need that cock, Mr. Cavill. Please—“ The frames of the third video showcased him flexing his arms and torso. His body bursted with pride, veins surging through every fiber of muscle like they were charging him and his very existence. It was veiny too, wasn’t it? His cock. Large and veiny, like how you’d like it. You would struggle fitting him inside of your mouth while his cock veins pulsed with great pleasure knowing that it was Mr. Cavill’s kink that you couldn’t take him. 

No one could.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—“ Your eyes rolled back. The slurping sounds from the porn increased by tenfold as you pumped the volume by a few decibels. Lewd, slick sounds you wished you could perform on Mr. Cavill himself violated your ear drums. Pleasure him. Thank him on your knees for being so kind to your father. For building your PC without compensation. For providing you temporarily relief while you were away on campus, and could only jerk off under the blanket. You were grateful for him. For Mr. Cavill. For his thick arms. For his veiny forearms. For his dashing good-looks. For his muscles. For his strong cock. You’d give yourself to him if you could. Worship every inch of his step, every inch of his body, and that still wouldn’t be enough to show your appreciation towards him. 

Your fist tightened. Your other hand had grown limp by now, dropping your phone to the floor by mistake, but you were too fixated on the pleasure your cock was receiving to retrieve it back. You could watch it from where you were laying, just like this, slickly twisting and pumping your cock to the sound of the porn, to the sound of Mr. Cavill grunting simultaneously as if his thick cock was being feasted on like a hungry beast. “Mr. Cavill, please—I’m going to—“

One earbud slipped from the sweat building on your body, but you were close. So fucking close to coming. And when you do, you’d come on your phone.

All over Mr Cavill’s pecs. His abs. His crotch. His face. Anywhere, as long as it was your friendly neighbor, because—

“Enjoying yourself, (M/N)?”

A voice from behind you alerted your body to jolt and whip around upon instinct to defend yourself. Naked or not, you weren’t going to die, not in the hands of a burglar.

Though, as soon as you did, you regretted it. You felt like stone. Cold, hard stone as all signs of life seemingly felt like it had been sucked dry out of your body, with your erection taking up most of the produce surprisingly as you confronted the intruder.

The six-feet, muscular, handsome, and familiar man of an intruder. 

“M-Mr. Cavill?! What—When did you—“ You were flustered. Radiant heat blooming like the season of Spring across several patches of your naked body. It also didn’t help that your porn could be heard from earbuds once you took the remaining one out, albeit a bit muffled. And your phone, it was facing the ceiling, looping the video of Mr. Cavill training over and over again. Right before him.

Your body was shaking, physically evident despite your efforts to conceal the tremors as the man stared you down, unfazed by the drama of it all. “Fuck—“ You didn’t know what to turn off first. The porn? The video of him working out? Or maybe dressing yourself should be a priority because—Mr. Cavill was still staring, blues lingering on your naked body, seemingly outlining every drop of sweat that followed the contours of your figure. There was movement that naturally caught your attention. 

It was his hand, large and muscular over the center of his shorts. Rubbing, squeezing, fondling at an evidently large mass that made you dry-swallow. You mustered up the courage to finally pause the porn, then clicked your phone off. “H-how long have you been watching?”

“Since the beginning.” He chuckled, stating matter-of-factly. “Your dad told me to come look at your car. Your garage was open. Thought you did that for me, but I guess you really just forgot about closing it considering…” He nodded towards your cock, licking his lips when it acknowledged him with a throb. “Was coming to get you, and I found you like this.”

“And you just watched?!” You sputtered out in distress, hastily dressing yourself back into your clothes, stumbling over your feet in the process. Sweat always made it more difficult to put on clothes.

“Well, I did call you for while I was coming in. You didn’t hear me over your video, and…me, I suppose.” It was smug. Amusing to him that you were in this state of embarrassment after being caught red-handed. You groaned, burying your head into your knees after sitting back down on the couch. The heat was unbearable, but to face Mr. Cavill after being caught jerking off to his videos, you were overcome with horror at the ghastly spectacle of the situation.

“Don’t tell my dad about this,” Your fingers scraped through your scalp out of frustration, but also to keep your head pressed to your knees as they interlaced around you. You refused to even spare one more glance at the man when you felt him practically hovering over you, a gentle smile riding along the coattails of his composure. “…please.”

“I won’t,” Mr. Cavill’s voice sounded clearer, closer than before. Right above you, but still, you maintained your position despite the pleasant scent of his cologne almost breaking away your focus. “Just as long as you suck me off.”

Those final words hit you like a truck. 

You were astounded, confused by the turn of the situation. It felt like a taunt, and it was treated as such because it worked. You whipped your head up upon Mr. Cavill’s demand, almost insulted because it was how guys on campus used to taunt you.

What you expected to grace your eyes with was his face; charming as ever with a mustache that was reliable in stirring immense feelings inside of you.

Instead, you were met with a face full of flesh, Mr Cavill’s heavy and large cock. It sported a strong curve, throbbing veins to prove its accelerating lust, with thick balls swinging low to entice you into a hypnotic state. If someone was to grade you upon your predictions, you’d score a perfect mark, because god damn, he was huge. Hairier than you’d expected, though just as arousing, if not more, because this was unexpected for Mr. Cavill as well. He would’ve cleaned himself a bit if he had a plan to meet you under these circumstances.

“I—You’re serious?” With the string of thick pre-cum dripping from the very slit of his head, it seemed like your question was answered. You could smell him. The musk of his pre-cum. It tingled your nostrils, enchanting you akin to what fresh pastries would’ve done for you on normal, non-libido provoking circumstances.

“Does it look like I’m kidding? Come on, I’m waiting. You didn’t even say ‘thank you’ to me in person when I built you that PC for Christmas. It’s the least you could do, right?” Without warning, he took ahold of his cock and tapped the center of your lips with it. Your orbs shook as you looked up at him, hesitant through the tremor of your lips as Mr. Cavill stared back, determined for you to accept his plea offer with some kind of answer—with your mouth preferably. “Been teasing me for so long… Think I didn’t notice the way you looked at me whenever I came over? How you kept massaging your cock under the table during dinner? Always in those shorts too… God, you were begging to be fucked with your thighs showing like that.”

“No—I-You’re my dad’s friend, I can’t—“ Your hand said otherwise with your fingers taking initiative on their own, wrapping over his large cock, right above Mr. Cavill’s fist. It was a two-hander, a fucking two-hander, yet your fingers struggled to close around his girth. “Fuck, you’re so…”

“Your dad doesn’t have to know, right? I won’t tell. You won’t either. We don’t want to hurt him, right?” One of his hands found its way to the back of your head while he took a step closer, bringing his cock closer to your face. Before you could pull away, there was true grit to the palm of Mr Cavill’s hand as he applied pressure to the back of your head, pressing your cheek flush to the underside of his cock. “Look at you, you don’t have the heart to say no, do you? You’re obsessed with my cock, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes, Mr. Cavill…” You were under his control. Locks of your hair bundled under a grip while he ground his cock against your supple skin, making you smell him; his musky cock, the sweat buried in the deep hairs of his pubic area. It was a glorious scene that returned your cock back to its original state of arousal by tenfold. 

“You’re going to be a good boy and suck my cock off, right?” Almost in your mouth. You parted your lips open to trap his cock into your mouth with the way he maneuvered your head like a rag doll, a brute strength your nape now, pulling and pushing your head as his cock rubbed against your face, but Mr. Cavill pulled at the last minute, right when you were one lick away from tasting meaty flesh. “Close your mouth. You will open your mouth when I tell you so.”

“I—I—Yes, please...” You were pathetic. He held you still, head tilted upwards to face the ceiling and his towering body while his cock and balls laid over your face like a table runner, a perfect heater to warm his meat. A t-shirt remained on his body, and that was a true testament to his appeal, being able to get you off like this half-naked. You reached down, back to fondling at your sore cock, at the blue balls you’d given yourself earlier, sniffing, inhaling the heavy delightful scent of his sweaty cock. Guess his house was having air-conditioning difficulties too.

“I can use your mouth however I want?” He dragged his cock over your face, the head leaking out pre-cum in midst of its journey to introducing itself to every one of your facial features, saving your lips for last. 

“Yes,” You gulped at his rousing speech, breathing in the drying musky pre-cum on the perimeter of your skin. “Please fuck my mouth, please—“

“If you’re good, then this can be a regular occurrence, yeah?” You slipped your shorts and briefs off again, jerking yourself off to simply the teasing taunt of his cock, tapping at your skin, brushing over your eyelids, pushing up against your nose. You felt humiliated. You’d been marked by Mr. Cavill, pathetically as it only took his huge cock to make you submit to him. “You’d like that? Sucking your dad’s best friend off?”

“F-fuck, yes…” His cock was a wand to your body. Every time Mr. Cavill was seemingly about to push into your mouth, you willingly opened it to no avail, even if it was obvious that he’d pull away. You could only get off on his scent for so long. He’d draw your tongue out when he squeezed pre-cum out the tip of his cock, right above your pink flesh. It would sink, drip, slowly like syrup, in thick strings, until it wasn’t anymore with the sudden obstruction of Mr. Cavill’s finger swooping in to nick the sticky web, and letting it waste away on the carpet. “Please, Mr. Cavill… I-I’ll be good…”

It was amusing to him, watching you desperately try to taste and watch him in any way you can, to the point of going cross-eyed as he would center his cock in your vision. He waved his cock like a flag as if he had conquered you. Humiliated you with several heavy slaps to your face, thick smacks that you took in whimpering grace because Mr. Cavill had stolen the resources to your insanity.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Mr. Cavill didn’t waste a single second for you to prepare yourself. The pressure on your nape steeled, bruising to make you open your mouth and whimper, and maybe that was the point, because he seized the opportunity to charge his cock inside of your mouth without warning, making you gag on your own desperation. It was a forewarning. A brief prologue on how you should take his cock as he quickly pulled himself out to properly prepare yourself. In the meantime, he slapped your cheek multiple times with the spit you had already layered him with, cooing at how incredible hard and big he was against your dazed face.

“Fuck, your mouth is so warm. That’s it, you can take it. Good boy.” Saliva spilled out of your mouth like a popped water balloon when he pushed himself inside of your mouth again. You couldn’t control it. You couldn’t control what Mr. Cavill had stripped away from you with the strength he had on your neck. Not to mention, the mass of flesh gagging you into oblivion, leaving you completely incapable of stopping him, as if you wanted him to. “Come on, use your hands too. Don’t be lazy.”

“Mm-mmf…” A compliance that was muffled by a slur of slick sounds, but Mr. Cavill knew what you meant. Amusement played on the corner of his lips as you struggled to fit a hand around the base of his sticky cock, sloppily stroking what was left neglected by your mouth, or rather your inability to take in. You suckled on the head of his cock, plump and heavy on your tongue as it throbbed with every lick you provided him. Stroking its slit with the tip of your tongue, you then dug and slobbered over the salty taste of his pre-cum. “So big… Just like I’d imagined.”

You pulled away to marvel at the size of his cock, taking your time to lube his cock with your spit from tip to shaft before your fist flushed to his pelvis to slap his meaty cock on the pouch of your tongue, lewdly flinging your spit in the air. It was your favorite move, often reliable in coercing a reaction out of the men you’d sucked off previously. The roll of his eyes, the flex of his muscles, the grunt from his gut; you slobbered all over his cock, worshipping every inch with your mouth, polishing the cock knob clean with your tongue and stroking what you couldn’t with two deft hands. Mr. Cavill was no different, he was a man with needs like you, with needs like the rest of the men you’d given head to, and you exploited the hell out of it. You loved making them feel in power, making them feel like you were worth time out of their day, despite their original pleas to use your mouth.

He briefly pulled back to rest a kiss on your lips, one that you’d treasure for the rest of your life. Not only was it because it was your first kiss was him, but because of how delicate he was with you. Warm and inviting like he usually was, his large hands cupped at the end of your jaw, holding you as if you were made of porcelain. “Making me so proud right now, fuck. Take in more of my cock, would you? I like it when you gag.”

“Mm-hmm…” They always do. You mumbled against his lips, no longer needing his guidance to finish what you’d started. Your eyes were glued to Mr. Cavill, aroused by the look he was giving you. A famished stare that demanded to be satiated, by means of sheer persistence as you knew it was going to be difficult to down him with your throat.

Mr. Cavill drove a hand into your hair, cuffing the strands to keep you still, to keep you from pulling away, to dominate you. He watched you without an ounce of kindness, muscles flexing, cock and balls hanging obscenely as you found a better position on your knees with a throw pillow guarding you from bruising. “Want you to throat-fuck me, Mr. Cavill.”

“Fuck, who knew you had such a mouth on you…” He sturdied his stance, spreading his strong legs while manhandling your head between them. You licked a stripe over his balls, then the underside of his cock until your tongue reached the scorching skin of his precum-slicked tip. Approaching the end of the journey, your mouth opened wide to welcome Mr. Cavill back into your mouth, and like tugging on a loose knot, you drew out moans from within his gut, his body loosening in turn of your hot mouth. “Fuck, just like that…”

With a thundering heart, and a building pleasure so morbidly big, you sunk and lowered your head lower, taking in Mr. Cavill’s horse-cock like a fleshlight. Crimson rose to your cheeks, to your neck, as you strained to maintain him inside of your mouth. He was too big. You’ve utilized all the tactics you’ve learned on campus, on a few buddies, on your roommates. Breathe through your nose, relax your tongue and jaw, let your saliva drip out. Yet you’d barely taken a few inches more than you had done prior before a couple of gags alerted you to take a breather. Your head pulled back, but it was met with violent opposition as Mr. Cavill brought your head back down to further shove himself down your throat.

“Mmm—gggrgh!” Your body jolted in defense, stiffening your body into an upright position when you couldn’t refrain from gagging on his cock. Your hands braced on his strong thighs for balance, squeezing at the muscly flesh of skin to distract yourself from the uncomfortable stretch your mouth was receiving.

“Fuck, yeah. Fuck, fuck, just like that. You’re taking it like a good boy.” You were making him proud, so fucking proud. You coughed, gagging, almost choked on your own spit, but the stuffing of Mr. Cavill’s large cock simultaneously emptied your mouth of saliva as it all came flooding down your mouth in lewd webs. “Shit, look at that. I’m making your mouth water, aren’t I? Fuck, what a waste.”

He yanked your head back, pulling him out of your throat, and you had never felt such relief. Breathing, exhaling and inhaling deep to compensate for the prediction that Mr. Cavill wasn’t going to let you spare a second of abandoning his cock like that. Your eyes watered, reddened from straining your muscles to make him fit inside of your mouth. You knew there was a shift in the room when you looked up at him like that, glossy in the eyes, tremors involuntarily making your knees unsteady, coughing as you held onto his thighs. He towered over you, you were beneath him, beneath the ravenous gaze he simultaneously terrified and seduced you with. You couldn’t complain now. You did your job. You made him feel powerful like you’d wanted. Dominating, as his cock leaked in your spit, and spit your saliva back onto your face.

“You were fucking hungry for my cock, weren’t you? Look at you. You’re a bloody mess…” With one swipe, he gathered the layers of spit you had generously supplemented his cock with, and smeared it across your face. You took his humiliation with good grace, moaning at your loss of pride with every smear. It deducted the more he messily layered your face with your own spit, but as demeaning as it was, there was immense merit to the satisfaction on Mr. Cavill’s face. “Open up.”

“M-mm, ah—“ Your mouth opened with a vulgar sound. If Mr. Cavill had something to compare it to, it would be like sticking a spoon into a cup of jello, and then scooping its content out. Sweet and glorious to his ears, salty to your mouth as he bought your head forward again, and plunged his cock back down your throat, deeper, and further within the confines of your throat. You squeezed around him, eyes clenched tight while he brought your face flushed to his pelvis, the hairy bush of his public area gentle abrasive against your nose. He smelled as delectable as he tasted. A hint of spice, sweat, salt, you could lick at it if it was made into a popsicle, lap it up if it was in a bowl and you were on all fours, bowing to his feet.

Your cheeks bulged as your mouth churned internally to produce more slime to seemingly ease the slide of Mr. Cavill’s cock thrusting inside of you now. He was careless, half-bent over your head to lock you into a tight embrace while his spit-polished cock rubbed at either side of your cheeks, rut against the roof of your mouth, then thrust himself into the depth of your warm throat. You couldn’t have escaped if you had wanted to. He was too strong. Two hands unrelenting around your head while he packed his large cock deep into your mouth, pelting into your gags and whimpers with fast, sharp thrusts, the sound of his wet dick choking you mutually turning you and Mr. Cavill on. You want to quit, yet he was choking you too good. Water streamed down your cheeks. Whether it was your own spit, sweat, or tears, you couldn’t comprehend it because Mr. Cavill was uncompromising, refusing to yield for your comfort.

You were fucking grateful. That was what had been missing from your college experience. A man. Someone taking charge for once. Someone utilizing you like the whore you made yourself out to be. Mr. Cavill saw right through you, through your taunts from several breaks ago, and he was fucking furious for making him wait.

“Shit, I’m close,” Fucking your mouth furiously. You could get off like this. Fuck, no. You were getting off to this. Fucking your cock with your fist, doing your best to match the pace of Mr. Cavill’s hips. You wanted to look up, to watch his face morph from admiration to animalistic desire as he utilized your throat at his own disposal.

You blinked away your tears, even if they had stung, and gawked at how captivating Mr. Cavill was for being selfish, thrusting into your mouth with one hand keeping your face free of your hair from obstructing his view. A frown permanently framed his mustache, and his dark brows furrowed at the approaching climax. He wasn’t looking at you. Rather, he was scrutinizing your wet mouth as it was jam-packed with his cock. How could a mouth look so pretty while doing something absolutely obscene? How could a throat feel so tight, so addictive, even after piping his cock down its drain several times? How could you let him treat you like this, a complete stranger, completely violate and humiliate you on your knees, like a broken doll whose purpose was to fulfill a man’s deepest desires? Maybe he needed to have a talk with your father. Talk about how broken you were, and that you needed fixing. Spend a nights with him at his house, and he would help you rewire your brain. He’d fix you. Fix you with his cock. With his lips. With his hands. With his body. Your eyes rolled back at the thought, fisting your cock faster, twisting to his heavy grunts as he was nearing closer and closer to the edge of his insanity.

“Mfghm!” Your throat felt raw, the subtlest whimper scratching at your throat like claws on chalkboard. But you persisted, pumping your shaft vigorously, your ears lapping up Mr. Cavill’s constant appraisal for your performance. Good boy. That’s it. You’re taking my cock like how I want it. You want your reward? Fuck, sloppier. Spit on it. Spit on my dick. I like it sloppy. 

Sweat pebbled every inch of your skin. You couldn’t take it. It was coming. Your stomach sank and steeled upon the sudden rise of fulfillment, and you quickly released your grip after a final stroke before coming into the air. Thick ropes catapulted upwards, your cock throbbing with every pulse, and your balls emptying itself more and more with a bounce, a twitch, and a jolt. “F-fuck, ugh…”

“Fuck, yeah. Look at all of that cum. Fuck. You came that much just from my cock, look at that…“ Your body spasmed as the carpet soaked up your semen. His voice gruff yet gentle at the same time, making your cock twitch once more before softening. 

“Come on, not done yet. Suck me off.” He spat out, tugging your head forward after a quick breather.

Something in you clicked, and you began sucking his cock off like it was your job. Twisting, stroking at the slick shaft while nipping at the head while you caught up to your breath. Suddenly saltier on your tongue as some of your cum had landed on your hand before it was smeared across Mr. Cavill’s dick. You’ve never tasted yourself before, but it was a found contentment you didn’t expect to turn you on.

Then, you took one last breath, cleared your throat, and charged forward. Long, thick inches slid into your throat once more, and you’d hold yourself there upon his final warning, mouth agape, lips pressed into the fur of his pubic hair. Your tongue flattened at the underside of his veiny cock, and your nails dug into the back of his thighs as you felt a thick warmth rush down and coat the inside of your throat. His cock throbbed, and Mr. Cavill’s grunts emptied from his gut with every spill. You could feel every heavy pulse as Mr. Cavill came down your throat in heavy, creamy spurts. You didn’t want to swallow. Not yet. You wanted to savor him. Savor the taste of his cum. You’d pined for it for so long, for all you could know, this could be your last opportunity to properly taste him. Slowly, but surely, his loads rose and pooled in the back of your throat upon barricading it with a tighten of your trachea. The rest of his spurts emptied on your tongue as he pulled himself out, and milked himself to completion. 

“Don’t swallow yet.”

You nodded, panting, awaiting for his nuts to be emptied as he flung his cock a few times, hurling drips of cum and your spit over your tongue and face. When he was seemingly emptied out, his gaze fixated on his cum pooled in the back of your throat; semi-translucent and filthily swimming with your own spit, and then Mr. Cavill’s own saliva, as he then spat into your crowded mouth. 

“Now swallow.”

You whimpered at the vulgarity of this affair, yet you were highly-aroused by this shame you were feeling. Mr. Cavill’s gaze stilled, anticipating with calm amusement while petting at your cheek. With one clean gulp, you downed your guilt, scrunching your nose when the salty taste of his spunk throttled your tastebuds, and sighed in satisfaction.

“Does your throat hurt?” He was on his haunches, carefully examining your throat as if he had his hand around you from the outside. It was a surprising return to his normal self, at least, the man that you knew as your dad’s best friend. Caring and patient, as he tended to your neck with apologetic kisses, and a gentle massage around your nape, where he must’ve gripped too hard upon your jolted reaction.

“A little… Didn’t take you were one to be rough like that.” Your knees gave out, letting yourself fall back onto your butt knowing that the couch would catch your position.

“Not usually, no… You just… happen to rile me up for some reason.” He was smiling, joining you on the floor, and nuzzling his furry mustache into the crook of your neck as if he wasn’t choking you with his cock a few minutes ago. It was unusual, yet charming. “Seriously, don’t tell your dad, okay?” He whispered into your ear before turning your cheek to look deep in his eyes.

A meaningful stare, a beat of silence, before you spoke, “Only if you promise me something.”

“What’s that?” Mr. Cavill pressed a kiss to your swollen lips, another apology for stretching your mouth without much warning.

“You really meant it that this would be a regular thing if I did a good job?” Mr. Cavill scoffed at first. It was almost embarrassing. Were you being naive? Was this too good to be true? Your cheeks flushed red, and you solemnly casted your gaze downwards, defeated because that was that it felt like. The sound of rejection always came with a scoff, everyone knew that. 

“Well, it was going to be a regular thing even if you had accidentally bit my dick off.” He suddenly laughed at how susceptible you were by the smallest actions, and at this moment, you were surprised that maybe this crush wasn’t so one-sided after all. He teased at your frown, kissing the corner of your mouth until it was a smile, and then prodding at your sides when you resisted. “Come on, you couldn’t possibly think this was a one-time thing.” 

“Tempting…” You snuck a head in between his thighs, reaching for a certain tool that had brought in so much pleasure and pain to your body. “I don’t know… we don’t talk much. I don’t know you that well.” 

“Don’t.” Mr. Cavill teasingly warned, stopping you by taking ahold of your wrist. Though, one step too late, as you already cupped his flaccid cock, tormenting his balls with a few tugs and squeeze of your palm as an act of revenge for your throat. “Well… then let’s get to know each other. No problem doing that, right?”

“Mm-mm, guess not.” Pursing your lips, you nodded, feeling placated by his words.

He sighed into your mouth, kissing you again, licking at the inside of your mouth, tasting your tongue and then your cheek, to soothe his selfish stain on your body with the work of his mouth. 

“First, I want to hear you say ‘thank you’ for building that PC of yours before I promise you anything.”

“Jesus, we’re still on this?”

“Yes! Do you know how long that took me?”

“I didn’t ask you to build me one—“

“God, you’re an ungrateful brat.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[redflagshipwriter]

Mama Bat 9: Dinner Out

masterpost

After her promise, the bats were a whirlwind of activity. He didn’t know where Uncle D or Alfred went, but Cass and Bruce gently bustled him across the house to plan his ecto dinner like it was an attack on an enemy base.

“I think it was around here,” Danny said uncertainly over the map in Bruce’s study. “I don’t know the names of any of these places. But there was this abandoned-looking theme park that had a lot of what I need.”

He didn’t have to be the world’s smartest ghost to recognize that there was a lot of tension in the air after he said that. That tracked. There were not many pleasant ways for a place in the human realm to accumulate a glut of deathly energy.

“That makes sense,” Bruce said. “Cass, honey, do you think we should ask Dick and Jason?” He folded the map back up along the same lines as before without even looking. Danny wondered at why he had that muscle memory. Did he fold everything in the same pattern?

“Big visible muscle,” Cass agreed. Her phone appeared out of nearly nowhere. “Danny.” 

He stood up even straighter. 

“Is Amity dangerous?” She pinned him in a look, her soft brown eyes arresting. “Dangerous to Jasmine Fenton?”

“Jazz,” he corrected automatically. Cass nodded. He rolled his ankles around, stimming below their line of sight. “Uh.” Danny faltered. “Um.” He bit his lower lip and tried to feel less like there was a painful hand around his heart. 

He hadn’t thought so. But he would never have thought that he and Vlad were in serious danger, either. Now that the GIW and Mom and Dad knew… They would know who to ask for more information.

His parents would never push his friends or Jazz too hard. But the idea of the GIW trying to intimidate his friends and family was almost too upsetting to consider.

“Batdad extracts them?” Cass cocked her head at him to make it even more of a question. It was up to him. Was it a good idea?

Danny licked his lips. His mouth was so dry. He struggled for words. “Maybe.” One shaky inhalation. “If, um.” It sounded like someone else’s voice. It couldn’t be him saying that right now. “If it wouldn’t be too obtrusive… I don’t want to extract them and then, like, they can’t go back if they wanna.”

“We can handle that.” Bruce made eye contact to promise. He looked, Danny thought, like a more responsible, boring version of Jack Fenton. His eyes burned. 

“That would be, uh. Cool.” Danny managed to get that out and avert his eyes, but he felt like everyone could see that he was about to cry.

Whatever. He leaned to the left before he consciously knew that Cass was lifting an arm to put over his shoulder. It slotted in place like they’d done it a billion times. Danny tilted his head towards the nails she gently scratched through his hair.

“Batdad, Damibat, Timbird, Stephanie,” Cass listed easily. “Amity.” She jostled Danny a little. “And we get dinner. You only need me. I’m the best. But we bring boys too, Dickbird and Jason.” She blew a raspberry.  

Bruce looked exhausted and fond. “She is the best,” he agreed. Danny watched their interplay like it was a pingpong match. “I think you ought to go tonight to get something to eat. Would you recommend that we contact Jazz and your friends in the daytime, or should we leave as soon as possible?”

…They all had school in the day. Even Jazz was still in high school. Danny eyed Bruce doubtfully. He did know about school, right? “Night is probably better.” 

“I’ll make a few calls.” Bruce sat back and seemed to flip a switch into planning mode.

“Text!” Cass said, disagreeing strongly. She rolled her eyes, but it wasn’t too mean. “Grandfather Bat.”

“Oh!” Danny startled. “Um, I should contact Sam and Tucker. So that they know to expect you.” 

Bruce balked. “We don't normally contact civilians about ongoing investigations…” He looked constipated about it.

Danny crossed his arms. He wanted to think it was stubbornness more than self comfort. “You're not going to like, creep up on my friends. If they want to go, they need some time to get ready.” 

“Preparing could give away the plan to observers.” 

“Is Amity Park Batman's domicile?” Cass asked archly. “Batdad.” She put both her hands on his desk and leaned forward to give her father an unimpressed look. “Mayor of Amity Park?”

Bruce snorted and then covered his mouth guiltily. “Point taken.” He cleared his throat, trying to retain some dignity. “Danny, do you need help to contact your friends?” 

He shrugged. “Just a computer.” Danny fiddled with the strings on his hoodie. Tucker's hoodie. “I know you gave me a phone, but we thought -”

“That communications might be intercepted,” Bruce said, nodding as if that kind of paranoia was commonplace. “It's the first thing I would do if I expected a person of interest to contact a friend. What's your workaround?”

Danny bit his lip. It sounded stupid when he said it aloud. 

Ten minutes later, Damian joined Cass in her perch on the back of the sofa and watched with morbid curiosity as Danny joined Doomed chatroom after chatroom, scanning for Sam's username. “She’ll leave it running whenever she's home in case I ping her,” Danny defended weakly. He left another chatroom. 

Damian hummed, two pitches that came off incredibly doubtful. He had a gift for that.

“No, really, this- yes!” Danny pumped a fist and sent a HEY ITS YA BOI message. 

It took seconds for Sam to get to it and add his temporary account as a friend. She sent a DM before he could and then ignored his response to start a voice chat. 

Once he'd confirmed to her satisfaction that he was himself and that he hadn't gotten any deader in Gotham, he passed on the information that the friggin Batman was going to stop by Amity and wanted to check in. “But don’t worry, he’s kinda cool,” Danny added. “I gotta go. I am starving.”

Sam said all the rude words that she knew in quick succession. Damian looked sort of impressed. “Fine,” she said, obviously annoyed about it. “I’ll meet with Batman, but only because I hate the GIW more.”

“You hate Batman?” Damian asked. It was hard to tell from his tone if he had any feelings about that.

“That’s Damian,” Danny introduced. “He’s cool.”

“Hey,” Sam said shortly. “Yeah, he’s basically a cop. You have a problem with that?” Her voice went a little too aggressive.

“Just so you know, Damian is a child,” Danny said warily. 

Sam scoffed. “You said he’s cool. I respect him enough to fight him if he’s wrong.”

“Batman may be improved by your feedback,” Damian said idly, as if he wasn’t making trouble for his father on purpose. “You should be certain to give it to him as soon as you see him. Do you have time to prepare a presentation?”

Danny sniggered into his hand.

“I can reuse the posterboard from Current Events class, yeah.” Sam mused. “Good idea. Alright, thanks for the heads up. It’s really good to hear from you. We were starting to get worried here. You missed a check in, you know.” She was trying to sound tough, but there was a hint of strain.

Danny flushed. “Yeah, I had logistical difficulties,” he said, which sounded less pathetic than “I got robbed while I was sleeping outside and had no money to  use to access a computer.”

He ignored the thoughtful look he knew he was getting from Cass and signed off. He avoided making eye contact with anyone as he stretched, hands over his head. Then Danny put his hands on his hips and kind of stretched by rotating his back around. “Well, that’s done. Have fun with Sam, Uncle D.”

Damian made a hum in the back of his throat, eyes lost in thought. “I think I will.” Then he stalked away without a proper goodbye. Just a big housecat, that kid.

“Do you think Jason and Dick will be here soon?” Don’t ask, don’t ask, Danny silently hoped.

Cass looked at him for a long moment, silently weighing options and odds behind her dark eyes. Then she nodded. She turned on her heel and left, obviously expecting him to follow.  

Danny jogged to keep up. How did she move so fast without running? She had short legs, too. He was still busy pondering when they rounded a hallway corner and heard male voices from the entryway.

“Wait.” Cass shoved him the last step with a gentle palm press to the shoulder and then flitted back down the hallway.

“Hey, buddy,” Dick said.

Danny managed a nod in return. He stuffed his hands into his hoodie pocket and tried not to look like he was hiding.

Jason all but oozed reassurance at him, without ever looking at him. As far as the eye could tell, the blonde was barely aware that Danny was present. But under the surface of his skin, his masses of ectoplasm were roiling with  a sort of proprietary indulgence. 

It was a kindness, probably, that the two men continued their conversation as if they were still alone. Danny didn’t really pay attention, thoughts consumed with  a mixture of nerves about his worlds colliding and sobbing relief that he might get really, genuinely full for the first time since he had to run away from Amity Park. He edged a little closer to Jason without thinking about it consciously. 

Cass arrived silently. Danny looked up as she entered the room only because he could sense her steady presence. “Time to go,” he said.

Jason startled with a very small jump. His expression instantly changed to exhausted resignation.

“Haha,” Cass said, pointing at him.

“Poor scared little guy,” Dick cooed. “You can’t sneak up on him like that.”

“Too scary,” Cass said, nowhere near as convincing as Dick at empathy.

Jason scowled. “Shut up,” he complained. He zipped up his jacket and yanked the door open. The sound of early crickets immediately cut into the house along with a fresh, cool breeze. “You both suck.”

Danny felt a faint smile pull at his face. He ducked his head and fell in, following at Jason’s heels. He didn’t look back to see who shut the door. 

Dick drove them all. They parked a few blocks away and made it across the barren, creepy fairgrounds in utter silence. Danny followed his instincts and the source that he’d sensed from kilometers away in the city center but had been too worn down to even try to trek to without at least feeding his human body.

“So, what now?”  Dick turned a cautious circle. “I didn’t exactly expect to see a physical object for you to eat, but I did sort of expect something.”

Danny made a face. “If I had the right tech I could filter and extract it out of the air, condense it into a really dense, liquid form. But, uh.” He turned a little to the side to avoid eye contact and hunched into his hoodie. “I sort of need to just hang out and…filter feed.” He grimaced. He sounded like a dumb fish.

“Inefficient,” Cass observed.

He nodded. “Yeah, but I’m really drained, so I need to be around a high concentration to get a jumpstart. If I needed less, I could probably just…” Danny made a circle gesture and sort of pointed at Jason. “Hang around him, I guess.”

Cass hummed in the back of her throat. “Perimeter.” Then she ran directly at a wall and hefted herself up onto the roof of the derelict funhouse. She was out of sight in seconds, which was impressive athleticism. Danny watched her go with raised eyebrows.

Dick huffed and shuffled even closer to Jason, clearly wary of Cass. “You can’t be the favorite uncle,” he lamented. “That should be me.” Danny choked down a laugh and pretended to be very busy filter feeding.

“You’re just crabby because you aren’t full of delicious ghost juice,” Jason muttered into Dick’s ear at a volume that he clearly thought Danny wouldn’t hear. The banter didn’t stop him from making periodic glances around the area. He caught an elbow to the gut from Dick for the comment and the inattention. Danny took a step further away from jabbing range.

“We aren’t here to hear you brag about how juicy you are,” Dick said out of the side of his mouth. 

EW. But Danny felt smug satisfaction in Jason’s aura at that answer, so apparently it wasn’t as nasty sounding to him as it was to Danny. He made a blegh face, scraping his tongue against his teeth.

‘Maybe I should tell them at some point that I have better than human hearing.’ He pointedly wandered a few steps further away and pretended to be occupied with sniffing out the highest concentration of ectoplasm.

Jason grinned unpleasantly. “No, I usually have that conversation with all of your exes- oof.” Jason bent over and tried to breathe through the hit to his diaphragm.

Danny did his best to ignore the commentary from the peanut gallery. He took deep breaths and tried to keep an eye on all the shadows. 

Amusement Mile wasn’t saturated with high quality ectoplasm like Amity Park, but nothing ever should be. Danny licked his lips and tried to stay alert. There could be any number of distressed or territorial dead around a place like this. It was eerily still. 

“This place is just plain creepy.” Danny hid a shudder. “What happened here?”

Jason huffed a laugh with absolutely no joy in it. “It’s more like what keeps happening here.” Danny glanced over at just the right angle to realize that Jason had a gun in his pocket. Holy shit. A gun. His eyes went wide.

“But nothing should happen tonight,” Dick cut in. His eyes looked tight and tense in a way that his breezy tone didn’t hint at. “The person who likes to use this area as a staging ground is currently in lockup. We double checked before we came out here.”

All three of them tensed when Cass jumped back down off the same building she’d climbed earlier. “Suspicious,” she said flatly.

Dick and Jason instantly lost their facades of ease. Danny realized, a bit late, that this place was really fucking concerning even to the living. “What’s wrong?” Dick snapped out. His posture changed and somehow his shoulders looked broader. Alarmed, Danny glanced between the adults.  

“Someone was here.” Cass held up a very familiar piece of tech. “Inside vent.”

Danny felt the blood drain out of his face. Cass zeroed in on the expression. “GIW,” he said. “Uh, that measures… that senses ghosts.” He licked his lips. “I think we should go.”

“Are you- are you going to be hungry?” Jason’s brow furrowed fiercely. “You think they might have an alert that you came out here?”

“We are more capable than we look.” Dick promised. And his serious voice was pretty reassuring, actually, all things considered. But Danny still felt like he was going to be sick. 

 Tires screeched. It was too late to get out of here.

[and-so-he-rambled]

Library

(An excerpt from the prequel to Gotham Rogue Vlad Masters. Vlad is 29, Jazz is 6, Danny is 4)

Masterlist

Vlad was still a weak man, no matter how much he tried not to be.

He sat in the castle library, knees pulled to his chest and eyes trained on the cassette player sitting on the oak coffee table. The library was one of his favorite parts of the castle and one of the reasons he’d fallen in love with the place. Most of the books had been about cheese, its history and the many ways to make it, but he was slowly replacing them with his own collection. Currently it was mostly the well loved science textbooks he’d obsessed over in his teens, but he had several boxes of the classical literature he’d started reading in his free time. He’d despised fiction for most of his life, but he could appreciate it now.

Vlad leaned forward and pressed the rewind button.

“Hey Vladdy!” The tinny voice of Jack filtered through the speaker of the cassette player. “Remember how Maddie was pregnant? Not anymore! We have a daughter Vladdy! Can you believe it?”

Vlad stared at the black plastic speaker, a mask of emotionless on his face even as every emotion rushed through him.

“She’s beautiful V-man! Has her mother’s hair! She’s six pounds, did you know how tiny babies are? She’ll need to do a lot of catching up to me!” Jack laughed boisterously, air whooshing through the speaker as the phone was moved.

“Say hi to Vlad!”

There was a crackling sigh, tired but fond, and then she spoke.

“Jack, I’m feeding the baby. Hi Vlad, hope you’re well.” Vlad took a shuddering breath, mouth tasting like bile. She sounded so serene, so alive.

“Can’t wait for you to meet her Vladdy!” Jack yelled as he took the phone back, a little baby crying briefly before Maddie’s cooing quieted them. “We should all get together soon, the four of us! Jazzy is going to love her uncle, I just know it!”

The last day he saw Jack and Maddie in person was the lab accident. He’d obsessed over pictures and recordings, over website updates and phone calls, but he hadn’t seen them once since he died. Ten years, in a few months it would be ten years since the accident, and nine since he died.

“Is that my dad?”

Vlad jumped, the leather in his armchair tearing as his claws slipped out.

He fought the urge to walk away, to continue putting on a strong facade and not caring about Jack and Maddie’s deaths. To not acknowledge it, maybe for the kids sake and maybe for his.

“Yes.”

Jasmine hesitated in the doorway, hands tucked away in the sleeves of her pajamas. She had plenty of nightgowns, but she loved keeping her arms and hands covered as much as possible. After a long moment Vlad motioned her to come in and watched her slink around the edge of the room until she stood at his side.

“I recorded these a long time ago. This was when you were born.” He reached down and pressed the rewind button, the mechanical wirr filling the room at the tape rewinded.

“Hey Vladdy!”

They listened to Jack’s boisterous voice together.

“Why…” Jazz sniffled, trying to hide her tears with her sleeves. “Why didn’t you ever come? Dad always called you, and he’d get sad, and mom would say you’re busy. Why didn’t you wanna see us?”

“Oh Jasmine, it wasn’t anything you and Daniel did.” It wasn’t. It was the idea of them, the idea of the perfect happy family of his enemy and first love while he learned to puppet his own corpse. He couldn’t face that until he was forced to.

Jazz set on the edge of the leather ottoman, eyes drawn to the tape as it ended with a click. She watched him silently as he opened the shoebox and placed the ejected tape inside.

“…can I pick one?” Vlad hesitated. Nobody had ever seen his tapes, let alone touched them. They were precious to him, the only weakness he had allowed himself, but Jack and Maddie were gone now. These memories weren’t ones he could selfishly hide, they belonged to Jazz and Daniel now as well.

He pushed the box towards her, watching her fingers peek from beneath the fabric of her sleeves and run along the cassette labels. She pulled out a tape labeled for Daniel’s birth, handing it to her godfather. She continued to look through the tapes as he placed the cassette inside and started it.

“V-man! I bet I just missed ya! I come with big news, you’re an uncle! Again!” Jack laughed loudly, probably throwing his head back and screwing up his eyes the way he always did, with his cheeks and nose flushed from joy and his eyes bright. Vlad’s chest ached.

“His name is Daniel James Fenton and he’s a chip off the old block! Still small, but he’ll be just like his dad, I know it! Jazzy is so excited to be a big sister!” The audio crackled before a small child was heard.

“Hello!” A two year old Jazz yelled.

“It’s Uncle Vlad!“

“Vlad! Unk Vlad! Hello!”

“He’s not actually on the line dear.” Maddie could be heard in the background. She sounded exhausted, but fond of her husband and daughter.

“Oh. Bye-bye.”

Jack laughed again, so uncaring and free and infuriating.

“I’ll call back later since you’re busy, V-man. Love you!”

“Jack, it’s talk later, not I Love You.” Maddie corrected.

“But I love him?” Jack sounded confused as the line clicked and the tape reached its end.

Jazz was trying hard to keep her composure, but there were tears in her eyes.

“Jasmi-“

“When I was little, I thought you were like Santa.” Her voice was wavering, eyes wide as she tried not to blink and let tears fall. Vlad didn’t correct her that she was still little.

“I thought all kids had an Uncle Vlad that their dad made up to make them feel better. But you were real, you were real and you still didn’t come see us. Not until mom and dad died and you had to!”

Vlad didn’t know what to say as angry tears spilled over against the six year olds best efforts, hands flying up to hastily scrub away the evidence.

“Why do you keep pretending you want us? I don’t wanna go back to the hospital and I don wanna lose Danny but you didn’t want us!”

Vlad hadn’t wanted to suddenly have his former friend’s children in his home, but he couldn’t fathom them being with anyone else. He dug to the bottom of the tape box to find the only college photo he hadn’t torn up or defaced. They all looked so young, all wearing lab coats and hanging off each other. No one was looking at the camera and Jack had pulled both Vlad’s and Maddie’s feet off the ground from how hard he hugged.

“I loved your parents.” He handed her the most precious thing he had, even more than his signed football that he’d viscously outbid a children’s hospital for. Though, maybe it wasn’t anymore.

She took it gently, scarred fingers peeking out and running over her parents faces.

“Then why?” She whispered, lip quivering as she brushed her knuckle down her mom’s curls.

Why indeed.

“I got hurt, and I had to get better.” Her father had caused it, had killed him, and he’d suffered, but she didn’t need to know that. As much as he hated Jack he wouldn’t corrupt her memories of her father. “I was hurt for a long time, and when I finally was better I realized how much I missed, and it was far too late.”

“Dad used to say you were busy, when I was little it was because you were sick, but last time he said you had a company now, and you were a business man. He was really happy.”

Vlad bit his tongue until he tasted blood, setting down the tape he was holding before he crushed it. How did Jack have the right to be happy for him after ruining his life?!

“I see.”

“Uncle Vlad?” Jazz brushed hair from her eyes, looking so much like her mom aside from the light streak. Maddie always had naturally straight hair despite the hours spent making it curly each morning.

“Yes dear?”

“You promise you won’t make us leave when you don’t want us anymore?”

Vlad’s core twinged as white hot pain shot through it. It was still healing after his obsession break, but it had been doing much better lately. Henry played off the pain without showing it, huffing a puff of smoke out his nostrils and leveling her with a serious look.

“Jasmine.” He offered his hands palms up, and she slowly reached out to touch the very tips of her fingers to them.

“I am never going to not want you and your brother. In fact, I will commit crimes against humanity before I let either of you be taken from me.”

Jazz considered that for a moment.

“What if you die?” She whispered, betraying her worries.

“Oh Jasmine.” He grinned, perhaps with too many teeth. “I’m a very hard man to kill.”

They listened to a few more tapes until Jazz was fast asleep curled under his arm, finally relaxed in the presence of her parent’s voices. She was easy to carry back to bed, but he took his time crossing the house to the kid’s room.

[peachymilkandcream]

Movie!William Afton x Wife!Reader Scrapped Part 2

(A/N: Someone asked in the comments of the last one for a Part 2 and here we are! Part 2 of Scrapped babyyyy! In which Vanessa is reunitted with her mother. I also may or may not have been watching Markiplier's FNAF playthroughs while writing this but hey. Hope you enjoy and please read the warnings!)

WARNINGS: Implied and mentions of noncon, dubcon, violence, domestice violence, age difference, power dynamic, murder, yandere behaviour, yandere themes, gaslighting, emotional manipulation, descriptions of gore

=============================================

William had been recovering well, his deep wounds had become little more than dark red dents in his skin as he healed. Husband and wife had been silent since that night, aside from simple requests and small talk they hadn't talked about what they saw, what they knew. She knew about the murders, she knew what he was, each of the children, stuffed into the suits of the place where they had brought their own children so many times. And yet she said nothing.

"So are we going to pretend nothing happened?" He asked all of a sudden while she changed his bandages.

"What do you mean?"

"The murders. You know. What got me into that suit, surely you figured it out by now, you're not that stupid."

She pauses for a moment, just long enough to convey her true feelings. "Yes I know."

Annoyed she doesn't continue he presses further. "And? You can't just say nothing."

"What is there to say William? You killed children, you almost died. What more can I say? You think I'd leave you now? Report you to the police?"

"That's how most normal people would react."

His wife sighs, trying to find the words. "Look. You're my husband. I have no life outside of our marriage. No education, nowhere to go, I don't know where Micheal or Vanessa are because you told me they left without a trace so how could I get rid of you? You're my support, my rock."

William lets a half smile come to his face, this was the woman of his dreams. Sticking by him through thick and thin. He almost regrets not telling her years ago about what he did, maybe then he could have someone to help clean up his messes. "You're really are special, you know that?"

She blushes and he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, settling his hand on her chin and pulling her closer and in for a kiss. All his schemes and plans had led up to this, and he wouldn't trade it for anything.

===========================================

Every once and a while Vanessa liked to visit the old place, despite everything her father had done she had some fond memories as a child here. It was the one place where her mother was happy, all the other memories she had of her were crying or blindly agreeing with whatever her dad said. The times she'd venture to the back office just to witness her father forcing her mother down. Vanessa shivered, sure this place had a few good moments, but most were overcast by the dark shadow of her father's madness.

But memories wasn't why she was there that night, she was searching for William. Ever since that night she couldn't get him out of her head, he was most likely dead from his wounds, but the thought didn't comfort her. She had never actually seen him die, and knowing him, it was like he had nine lives. Worry brought her out tonight, she had to see the body to feel safe in her own home again, content that he really was never going to come for her again.

It didn't help that she couldn't find it now, from what Mike had told her the children had dragged him away in that damn suit, but to where was anyone's guess. The place had always been too big, and now she was scouring it just for a peace of mind.

Lights other than her own flashlight in the main dining room caught her attention. She hoped Mike hadn't brought Abby back to visit, she could kill him for that if William was somehow still alive. But her flashlight slid from her hand when she saw the woman she thought she'd never see again.

"...Mom?"

Her mother looked up, surprised to hear the voice, but tearing up when she saw her sweet daughter. "Vanessa? Is that you my dear? Oh my what are you doing here?"

She holds out her arms for a hug, which Vanessa rushes into. How long had it been since she'd talked to her? Every time she had phoned William answered and demanded that she never call back. The one time the call went through all her mother did was defend William with every breath she had even as Vanessa told her about the crimes he had committed.

"I missed you mom-" Vanessa gives her one final squeeze before letting go. "I should ask what you're doing here."

"Well these things were your father's pride and joy, it hurts me to see them rot like this. Plus I feel like I have more of an understanding of them now."

Vanessa perked up. "Now? Why now?"

Her mother met her gaze. "I know about it Vanessa, what William did, I know about it all."

She sighs with relief, finally her mother believed all the rumours, now with dad gone she could be free of him, free to live her life. "I'm glad you don't have to live with the lies anymore Mom, he kept so much from you."

"I'm sure he had his reasons, your father is a headstrong man."

Frustration flowed through Vanessa, she always did this, her mother never had a backbone on anything except when it came to Dad. People regularly walked all over her and she just accepted whatever anyone said except if it was against that man. "Mom he kept me and Micheal from you."

"But honey you never called, how could he keep me from you."

Tears spring into her eyes. "I called Mom...I called...so many times, he answers and then doesn't tell you I've phoned-"

"Now why would your father do that?"

"Because he's a psychopath Mom, I've been telling you this for years. He hurt you, he neglected us, he murdered children! How can you defend him?!"

"Don't raise your tone at me young lady."

Vanessa sighs and tries to calm her nerves. "Why didn't you leave him Mom?"

She crosses her arms. "And go where Vanessa? You and Micheal left and without an education or a means to support myself where could I go? Your father has given me everything I could ask for. And on top of that I love him to death."

"He hurt you Mom-"

"And I needed a bit of discipline when I was young and reckless, I've changed for the better."

Vanessa sighs. "Whatever, I won't argue." She shifts feet awkwardly. "How have you been holding up though? With him gone."

What she didn't expect was her mother to seem confused. "What are you talking about? Your father hasn't gone anywhere."

Her eyebrows furrow, and dread fills her as she hears footsteps. The same dread that filled her dreams, praying that she wouldn't see her father come through those doors like he did now. "There are you are my love. And who's this? You found dear Vanessa, coming to find me and fix me up, don't worry sweetheart, your mother already did that."

Vanessa stares at her mother with wide eyes. "You helped him!? Why!? Why didn't you just let this bastard rot!?"

"He's your father Vanessa, be respectful, and besides, I couldn't just leave him here to die could I?"

"Yes! You could have avenged those poor children!"

William smirked. "As you can see your mother hasn't forgotten her loyalties like you have. She fixed me up good as new, she was worried about me unlike you. I knew you'd come back, I knew you wouldn't have let that wound kill you so easily. Now you prey on your mother, filling her head with doubts and ideas to fit your selfish narrative. No more. You will never speak to her again or else I'll finish what I started."

"I can't do that Dad, I can't let you continue hurting her."

William sighed. "That's such a shame. We could have been a family again but you insist on breaking your mother's heart." He runs a hand through his wife's hair. "Sweetheart? Go wait in the car while I take care of this with our daughter."

She simply nods, leaving the two alone and not questioning the murderous look in his eye.

"Now Vanessa, shall we finish this?"

============================================

A long time had passed, and finally William joined her in the car.

"Is everything okay honey?" She asked.

"Yes dear, Vanessa and I had a good heart to heart, she won't be bothering us again."

She accepted it, as always, although deep down she questioned why a heart to heart covered him in so much blood.

[strangeswift]

my dad just walked into my room, pointed at my jaws poster and insisted that i have never seen jaws. i told him that of course i have seen jaws, many times. he began to quiz me on jaws trivia, none of which i could answer because i have not seen the movie probably since i was like 12. he then called me a poser for having a jaws poster. in my defense i have fond memories of watching it as a child and really i just like the poster because it has a shark and a naked lady which are two of my favorite things. i did not tell him that though.

[justsigma-bsd]

"Visiting" An Old Friend

No real warnings tbh- I can't tell if this is fluff or not

Maybe Interesting for: @respiratory-kristem @fukuzawa-armeddaddyagency @currentlyeatingrocks @my-taintedsorrow

So maybe he had lied about visiting an old friend. Of course he could've said that he was going to visit Paul. But Paul wasn't an old friend- he was his best friend, in all honesty.

No, the friend he was visiting... honestly, even calling him a friend was a stretch.

Alexandros and him had shared a similar, perhaps the same, experience. The older man had simply suffered for far longer than him.

He walked for almost an hour before he finally reached the outskirts of the city, close to a cliff that overlooked the sea. It was rare that people came here, as far as he could tell. Maybe that's why he chose this spot.

He knelt down in front of a larger tree trunk, running a hand over the numbers, names, engraved into the wood.

To this day he wasn't quite sure how many numbers were true, and how many he'd overheard and assumed to be people.

The only ones Sigma knew with certainty were few, and the ones he could match with faces fewer. Among the numbers was only one actual name, along with one or two that had been scratched out.

"Hello, Alexandros" he murmured, voice quiet and gentle. Unwilling to disturb a soul that wasn't even resting in this makeshift grave. "Hello, Seven"

Predictably, there was no response. The dead couldn't talk, after all.

With a heavy sigh he bowed his head. "I wonder... would you shake your heads at my stupidity sometimes? Or be proud of who I've become despite the rocky start into existence?"

He sat down, leaned against the trunk slowly. "I wish you could've lived to see the world" he murmured.

His wandered up to the clouds, watching them pass by. Idly, he wondered what they'd think of him now. Wondered how he'd come from a terrified soul lost in the desert... to here.

Almost four years ago he'd woken up in a desert, lonely and with no sense of who he was, no sense of purpose.

From basically a slave, to a terrorist, to a detective...

So much had changed, just this year. He'd left the Decay, joined the Agency. Found family with those he'd helped try to destroy. Found genuine friendship with people and met the love of his life-

God, there was so much that happened. Good and bad things alike. Things he'd likely never forget, thanks to his memory. Things he'd love to forget and things he prayed he'd never forget.

His entire life had been a mess of trial and error- but now? Now he had found his place in the world.

"I found a home" he murmured, perhaps to the grave, perhaps to himself, perhaps to the sky. "It's not like what I thought a home was supposed to be. It's nothing like Sky Casino. It's not a place"

He spoke it like a confession, quiet and into the wind, but the smile dancing across his lips was fond and relaxed. "Home is with my husband and my kid, with my dad and siblings... and I wouldn't change it for the world"

Silence.

Of course there was silence, after all, the dead don't speak, but despite the chill of autumn, he felt warmer than before. He didn't feel lonely, either. He hadn't felt lonely since... he hadn't felt lonely in a while.

For a while he sat and watched the sky, until eventually, a familiar calico cat hopped onto the tree trunk, rubbing her head against his.

"Hello, Rai" he greeted the nekomata. The cat purred in lieu of a greeting, curling up and settling her head on his.

He huffed out a small laugh. "I promise I'm not sad, kid. Not this time, at least" he murmured, reaching up to gently scratch behind her ears.

Spending time with the cat-shifting yokai hadn't been in his plans for today, but he didn't mind the company.

[specialagentlokitty]

Daryl x reader - no angels here

Part 3:

Daryl stayed with you for a short while before he got up and made his way back inside, but you stayed outside watching as more and more people started their days.

When the door to the house next to yours opened you smiled brightly.

“Well, somebody is up early.”

“(Y/N)!” Judith smiled.

You beamed brightly at her, watching as she came running across her garden into yours and up on the steps with you.

She hugged you tightly and you hugged her back, offering Michonne a wave as she came over with RJ in her arms.

“Morning (Y/N), you’re up early.”

“Yeah, I had a long sleep.” You laughed slightly.

Michonne smiled, sitting down on the step below you, letting RJ sit on the deck next to you to play with his sister.

“I take it he’s back then?” She asked.

“Yeah, I don’t know for how long though. But he’s back for now.”

“You really are an Angel, we’ve been trying to get him to come back for a least a few days for a while.”

You grinned a little at your friend.

“Nobody can say no to my sweet face though.”

“Yeah, especially Daryl, you could ask him to walk of a cliff and I bet he would.”

“I ain’t stupid.”

You both looked to the door where Daryl was crouched, hugging the two children who were happy to see their uncle.

You turned back to Michonne.

“What’s got you up and about so early anyway?”

“Mainly these two wanting to come see you, got some council business to see to as well. Could you watch them for me?”

“Yeah, that’s no problem you know that.”

“Thank you so much, honestly I’d be lost without you.”

Michonne got up, and you moved so she could say bye to her kids before jogging away.

You turned to the two of them and grinned a little from ear to ear while Daryl headed to the garage to work on the bike you had in there.

You didn’t ride it anymore, mostly because it was busted up pretty badly, so it just sat there as a little project for him to work on to pass the time.

“You guys want to take a walk? Go sit by the water?”

“Yeah!” Judith beamed.

Turning around, you let her climb on your back, and you picked RJ up with your other arm, standing up.

You made sure they were both safe and stable before you began to walk towards the water.

“Tell us a story?” Judith asked.

“Hm, what kind of story do you want?”

“Carl and dad…” she whispered.

You smiled softly to yourself and you nodded your head.

“Yeah, yeah I can do that.”

You didn’t have many stories with them, you hadn’t known them as long as any of the others had, but you still had some stories to share, so you did.

You always picked the ones that would give the children fond memories, whether it was about just talking or playing little jokes on Rick, or playing board games with Carl.

Something that didn’t invoke anything bad, and you made sure to never miss a single detail, trying to help keep alive the memory of their dad and brother.

When you reached the pond, you lowered yourself down, letting Judith get down first before you sat down with RJ on you leg, letting him play with the toy car he had.

You carried on tell a story with Judith listened to very intently while picking at the Daisy’s that were growing all around.

You weaved a small flower crown from them, and placed it on her head, making her laugh a little bit.

“Fit for a princess I reckon.” You said.

Judith grinned a little bit at you.

“You need one!” She beamed.

“Oh I couldn’t, there can only be one princess, that’s you.”

Judith picked a few more flowers and handed them to you which you weaves into a crown for her, and you watch RJ crawling around on the grass carefully to make sure he was safe.

You didn’t want them to have to face the reality of the world at their young age, and you hoped they wouldn’t have to for a long time, you hoped they could live safely in the walls and not have to worry about any of it.

But you knew Michonne.

When they were ready she was going to teach them how to defend themselves, she was going to try her best to make sure they knew everything they needed to know.

But that wasn’t your job to teach them.

Yours was to protect them, like you did for everybody who needed it, you protected them all of you were able to.

You carried on making flower crowns for the girl, and you looked down at the little pile of them.

“Judith who are all these for?”

“It’s a secret.” She grinned.

You laughed softly, nodding your head.

“Alright.”

You watched them for a few hours until Michonne came to get them, and Judith left happily with an arm full of flower crowns much to her moms amusement.

You carried on sitting there for another few minutes before you got up, making your way down the streets, passing the church.

“Hello stranger, you haven’t walked this way in some time. I haven’t been able to see you recently.” Gabriel smiled.

You turned to look at him and walked halfway down the path before stopping.

“Hey, yeah I’ve been trying to change up my route a little bit so I can see everybody.”

Gabriel chuckled a little bit, gesturing inside.

“Do you want to come sit for a while?”

“Keep asking Gabe but I’m going to keep turning you down I’m afraid. Churches make me feel uneasy.”

“They’re not so bad once you’re inside, I know outside they can look rather daunting, but if you give it a chance perhaps the lord can help you if you need it.”

You hummed a little.

“Do you really believe that?” You countered.

“Well, I will admit sometimes I have my doubts, but I do still believe. Do you?”

“No, I never really have. Maybe that’s why they unsettle me so much.”

Gabriel nodded his head, walking with you back to the curb so you could both sit down to talk there instead.

“We all have to believe in something to get us through what’s happening. What do you believe?”

“That it has to end eventually, this won’t go on forever. Maybe it won’t end in our lifetime, but I think it will end one day, and the world will rebuild, recover.”

He smiled.

“That’s a nice belief, I can see why we’ve given you the nickname Angel, you certainly have a way of making even the darkest times seem brighter, hopeful.”

You smiled softly at him, leaning back in your hands.

“Everybody has a belief Gabriel, especially in times like this.”

“Well, in that case I hope you wouldn’t mind if I add you to our prayers, even if you may not come into the church.”

Your eyes shot open, and you quickly sat up and turned to face him.

“No! No please don’t!”

Gabriel looked shocked at your sudden outburst, and he raised his hands a little bit.

“Alright, I’m sorry I never meant to offend you.”

“No, no. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you, I just… please don’t… makes me uncomfortable is all…”

“I understand, in that case I won’t.”

You smiled slightly at him and stood up, offering him a slight bow as you began to back away.

“Thank you my good sir.”

Gabriel laughed softly at you, watching as you wondered away to go about your day with whatever it was you wanted to do.

You wondered back home, and you used your window to sit at your usual spot on the roof as you stared over the community.

You kept thinking about what Balthazar had said to you, about his warning.

Despite everything that had happened he was still your best friend, almost like a brother to you, and you trusted his word.

So you knew what he had said to you would have been true, and you knew it was only a matter of time until they found you again, because you couldn’t stay hidden forever.

You could try, but despite the sigil on your arm to protect you, you knew that it wasn’t going to last all that long.

Daryl knew you had arrived home, he had heard the front door close, and he heard you wondering up the stairs.

He made his way out the garage, standing in front of house, he stood there and looked up at you as you stared straight ahead.

“There’s something wrong with her.” Michonne said quietly.

Daryl nodded his head, glancing over at his friend.

“Yeah. Don’t know what though.”

He turned his attention back to you, and he just stared, because with the angle of the sun and your shadow against the house he could have sworn he saw something.

Whatever it was didn’t match the shadow of you sitting there, but it seemed to be part of it but he couldn’t make out what it was.

When he blinked it was gone, and it looked just like your shadow once more.

You seemed to come to your senses again and you sat forward, grinning down at the a little bit as you waved, and the pair of them waved up.

“Daryl you remember what happened last time this happened?”

“I know… but she won’t tell me anything…”

Michonne sighed, looking at the flower crown she was holding in her hand.

“Here, Judith wanted me to give this to (Y/N). Maybe you should.”

She handed it over and Daryl took it, making his way inside, up the stairs and out the window as well.

He sat next to you and you beamed brightly at him.

“Hey Daryl!” You beamed.

“Here. From Judith.”

“Aw! I was wondering why she was making so many!”

You proudly took the flower crown, placing it on your head and he scoffed a little bit, reaching out to adjust it for you.

You smiled softly at him, then went back to watching over the community.

“What do you reckon life woulda been like if this hadn’t happened?” You asked.

He scoffed a bit.

“No point thinking about that crap.”

“Come on Daryl, sometimes it’s nice to wonder, right?”

“Nah. Waste of time.”

You turned to look at him, reaching up to brush some hair from his face and he just shook his head so it would fall back into place.

“Do you think we would’ve met?”

Daryl sighed a little.

“Nah.”

“Why?”

“Cause we’re two different people, we never woulda crossed paths.

You hummed a little bit, turned back to face the streets of Alexandria.

“I’m glad we did you know, even if you are a big grump at the best of times.”

Daryl let out a mixture of what was a scoff and a laugh.

“Whatever man.”

You grinned a little.

“Grumpy Daryl.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re so moody!” You teased.

“Oh my god!”

Daryl got up, making his way back inside and you laughed loudly as you followed after him.

He made his way back to his room, and you snickered as you stood in his doorway, watching as he sat down on his bed.

He looked up at you.

“You’re so adorable when you’re in a mood.”

“Stop.”

You snickered again, giving him a mischievous grin.

“Aw, are you embarrassed Daryl.”

“Shut up.”

You grinned from ear to ear, and you pushed yourself away from the doorframe.

“Alright, alright. I’ll leave you be, see ya later.”

Daryl immediately sat up at the thought of you going somewhere in your current state.

“Where are you going?”

“Just for a little walk, I’ll be alright. I think they’ll need your help patrolling the walls today anyway since a few of the others are going to the hilltop.”

He narrowed his eyes a little, standing up to walk over towards you.

“Daryl, I’ll come back. I told you I’m not running away this time.”

“I’m coming with you.”

You shook your head, placing a hand on his chest to stop him from walking and he immediately did, looking down at your hand.

“I’ll come back, okay? Trust me.”

Daryl didn’t say anything and you sighed softly, walking over and you placed your hand on the back of his head, standing on the balls of your feet.

Daryl leant down, letting you press your lips to his forehead for a few seconds before you moved away.

You smiled softly at him then hugged him, and he wrapped an arm around you.

“Stay nearby.” He said sternly.

“I will.” You laughed.

You both made your way towards the gate, and he watched as you walked outside of it, and you turned to grin brightly at him as the gate closed.

Daryl wanted to go with you, but he knew you were right, they needed help watching the gate, and at least from up there he could see you and keep an eye on you as you wondered around the front for a while

[loser-jpg]

Best 4th in the North

A common occurrence between the housewarden of Savanaclaw and the prefect of Ramshackle was moments spent at sunset, lying on Leonas bed. Leona would use Dee as a pillow, trapping him underneath, with him really not seeming to care as he spent the time scrolling through his phone or distracting himself with his thoughts on the occasions Leona was unsuccessful in getting him to nap with him.

Moments like these Dee would speak to Leona, not often expecting an answer, more to fill the silence, or possibly just a love of hearing his own voice.

"Oh, it's the fourth of July."

Leona glanced up to see Dee looking at his phone, eyes wide at the screen.

"...And?" Leona looked at him in confusion, what did the date mater? Last he knew there wasn't anything important today.

"Back home today's a holiday. A fairly stupid one, in my opinion, but I just happened to notice." Dee paused for a minute, staring at the ceiling as he thought. "Though I did like my families traditions."

"Hmm?" Leona hummed in a low tone, he wasn't actually interested in the topic, but he liked hearing Dee talk, and it was nicer to be somewhat invested in the conversation.

"We'd go up north to my grandparents house, cook out, play yard games, and when the sun started to set me, my sister, and my cousins would light sparklers- OH!" Dee sat up, moving fast enough to almost give Leona whiplash. "I need to tell you the story of how the table exploded!"

"...How what?" Leona was even more confused than before, especially with the excited look Dee had at remembering whatever this story was.

"How the table exploded one year! My dad set up all the sparklers on this glass table, and had the candle to light them on it too, and my uncle accidentally got some of the sparklers sitting on the table on fire so all of them were popping and the table shattered. It was actually really funny, because my cousin just grabbed the hose and sprayed all the broken glass even though the fire was already out." Dee giggled a bit, settling back down as if the fire hazard horror story he had just shared was some fond childhood memory.

"How in the world is that story supposed to be funny."

"It just is. Anyway, once it would get properly dark we would go down to town hall and sit on the steps to watch the fireworks show...It'd be nice to see fireworks here."

The last part was said almost in a whisper, as though it was a thought he intended to keep to himself rather than share with Leona.

"Whys that." Leonas words were mumbled and quiet, with him seemingly balancing the edge between sleep and consciousness.

"The sky here is a lot clearer than back home. I always thought it was so cool how many stars you could see. You really only saw that many when you went out to the north country, but here you see a ton. I figured that'd mean fireworks would look cool too."

Leona couldn't say he was fond of fireworks. Maybe there had been a time where he was, but in recent years any celebration that used them only served to remind him of troublesome memories.

When Cheka had been born the whole of Sunrise City celebrated the entire day, ending it with a gruesome amount of fireworks. Leona assumed the same happened when his brother had been born, but of course he wouldn't know. Leona doubted anyone set off fireworks to celebrate his birth.

Only a few days later Leona was woken up by an annoying amount of notifications on his phone, the fact that they were from his boyfriend being the only reason he didn't ignore them entirely. The notifications consisted of a string of messages accompanied by a single image.

Herbivore:

I FOUND BACKYARD FIREWORKS AT SAMS!!!

[insert image]

GET UR ASS OVER HERE RN

PLEASE

PLEASE

PLEASE

:DDDD

Leona half debated not responding, or at the very least saying he wasn't getting up to go all the way over to Ramshackle, but another message was sent before he could decide.

you have read receipts on i know u saw if u dont show up ill set them off in savaclaw causing who knows how many problems O-O (<- face for intimidation factor)

Leona didn't actually care if Dee did set of fireworks in Savaclaw, but he was obviously very excited, so Leona decided to indulge him.

Fuzz head:

Alright, alright. Gimme a minute.

Herbivore:

lame ass dude usin proper grammar in text

Fuzz head:

Or maybe I wont.

Herbivore:

NO WAIT SRY IM SRY PLS COME OVER ToT

Leona chuckled at the stupidity of the conversation, and then the stupidity of the contact name Dee had given him. He'd have to come up with something more ridiculous to change Dee's contact to.

By the time Leona made his way over to Ramshackle, unsurprisingly quite a bit after Dee had texted him, Dee was already setting up a small yet colorful box on the concrete away from both the building and the grass. He waved Leona over when he saw him and Leona saw more boxes a ways away.

"I got a lighter too at Sam's, somehow he always has what I want."

It was a surprisingly true statement, that shop was always stocked with things you'd never expect, seemingly just after you had thought of needing it.

Dee waved Leona back away from the box, as he leaned down to light the fuse. Leona took a handful of steps back and watched Dee race over shortly after, with the small firework lighting as soon as Dee had stepped out of the way.

It was pathetic in Leona's opinion. But Dee wore a stupid grin on his face at the sight, and the way the bursts of light illuminated his face in the dark was quite a sight.

Leona wrapped an arm around Dee's shoulder, pulling him into his side to watch the firework finish and flicker out. As Dee pulled away from Leona to set up the next firework, Grim came running out from Ramshackle.

"Mrah! Hench-human what was that noise!" Grim ran past Leona and up to Dee, grabbing onto his leg.

"It was the firework, I told you I was setting them off but you said you didn't care." Dee looked down at Grim who was seemingly on the verge of tears.

"Well stop it!"

"Hah, the furballs scared." Leona laughed at Grim as Dee leaned down to pick him up anyway.

"I am not! The great Grim is not afraid of some measly fireworks!" Grim struggled in Dee's grasp, trying to pick a fight with Leona from too far away.

Dee groaned in annoyance at the two, "Then do you want to try lighting one?" He leaned down again pointing to the fuse on the next firework. "Use a small flame to light it."

Grim hesitated before blowing a flame on it, Dee pulling him away right after to join Leona again at a safe distance. Leona watched as Grim cowered back into Dee's arms for a moment before growing accustomed to the loud cracks and the bright light.

Grim jumped out of Dee's arms as the firework died, looking over to the pile near them. Both Leona and Dee could tell that his fear had subsided and instead was replaced by awe at the small show of lights.

"Set up another one! I will light another! Haha!"

Dee laughed, but grabbed another anyway, Grim following him to light it and run out of the way. The two continued like that, sometimes even lighting two at a time, as the pile of fireworks left grew smaller and smaller.

Maybe fireworks were a nice thing after all.

[gingerwerk]

Trick or treat!! 💚

🦇

“You ever been to the Grand Canyon?” Oswalt asked suddenly, brown eyes staring wide at Eugene with an intensity he had never seen in the laid back man. 

“No,” Eugene responded with a slight shake of his head; until he had joined the Marines he hadn’t been further from home than Florida. 

 “My dad went when he was a boy and I swear, every time he could he’d bring it up to me when I was little,” Oswalt continued as he looked away to check on the C4 coffee. “And I’d always ask him about it, why did it matter so much? Why did he always bring it up? But he just kept saying I had to see it to understand it. The summer I turned ten he finally took me.” Oswalt paused his story to divy up the coffee between their two cups, a slight smile now present on his face. “We didn’t get there until way late at night, everything was pitch black… we were staying in these tiny old cabins and I immediately passed out when we got there. Couple hours later and my dad shakes me awake, just as the sun is coming out. I step outside and ten yards away from the cabin door is the fucking Grand Canyon.”

Oswalt turned to look at Eugene again, his tired face now lit up with awe at just the memory.

“What was it like?” Eugene asked quietly before he took a sip of the burnt bitter liquid that tried to pass itself off as coffee, grateful for Oswalt’s topic of conversation to distract him from everything else around him. 

“Ground cracked open a mile down, colors in the sky I hadn’t seen before…” he said slowly as a fond, faraway look appeared in his eyes. “My dad was right. Pictures don’t do it justice. You’ve gotta be there, right at the edge, looking down into it… it’s incredible. You gotta see it, Sledge.”

“Would you two idiots shut the fuck up?” Snafu grunted loudly from where he laid curled up in the grass behind them. “Some of us are tryna sleep now that we don’t have Charlie crawlin’ up our asses.”

Both Eugene and Oswalt glanced over their shoulder and watched as Snafu’s body slowly relaxed and listened until his breath slowed into even, heavy breathes; the bastard had managed to fall back asleep in almost an instant. 

“Wonder how long it’ll be before we can do that,” Oswalt murmured, clearly impressed.

“Alright, everybody up and on your feet,” Captain Haldane announced as he rose from where he had been crouched on the ground a few feet away, quietly talking on the radio, and slowly scanned the sea of olive drab in front of him. “We’re moving out.”

“Fuck,” Eugene heard Snafu hiss before he pushed himself up into a sitting position; as he slammed his helmet back on his head, he made sure to send both Eugene and Oswalt a flat glare. 

The two friends exchanged a brief look before they rushed to get their shit together and followed dutifully after their captain. As they marched down the beaten down jungle path, many of his fellow platoon mates chatting quietly as they went, Eugene watched as Oswalt walked next to him for a moment before he said, “I’ll have to see it sometime. The Grand Canyon.”

“Hey, I’ll take you,” Oswalt declared brightly with a large white smile, eyes focused on Eugene briefly before they went back to carefully watching the forest floor in front of him. “We’ll go together when we get out. I can fly to Mobile or you can fly up to Chicago, we can get a car, and head west. What do you say?”

Feeling his stiff, tired face break into a smile after the past twenty-four hours of terror, Eugene nodded and said, “it’s a deal.”

[confusedfoam]

Some dndads travel headcanons, because why not it's summer and it's traveling season for lots of us. only did s1 dads because they unfortunately still own my heart.

Darryl

- He has left southern California like twice in his life, and both were just going up to northern California. once for his and Carol's honeymoon, and another time when grant was like 8ish to finally go visit Casey and see her brewery.

- Absolutely despised sleeping anywhere that's not his home. the few times he's had to stay at a hotel / families house he just can't sleep at all

- He has never been on an airplane and has absolutely no desire to do so. If he ever did go on an airplane he would be a disaster internally and externally that would come out as being extremely over prepared and way too early. also he would Suffer in airplane seats.

Ron

- Was dragged all up and down the west coast and some of the interior as a little kid before Willy got completely sick of traveling with his wife and kid and dumped them back in Stud's old house that he technically still owned but had been let sit for years.

- Good at short and long road trips, weirdly bad at anything in the 4-6 hour range. it's not long enough to him to really settle into the drive but is too long to be remotely casual.

- Deeply fond of sketchy dates motels and kitschy roadside attractions. Will absolutely buy cheesy tourist t-shirts if presented the opportunity.

- Also not really an airplane guy, never had much of an opportunity until he was grown and then had no one to travel with. But if he did fly he would be that guy who doesn't bring anything to do with him and just watches other people's movies over their shoulders. also he'd forget to take his belt off going through airport security.

Henry

- Never left the Oakvale area as a kid, so his first trip was a Big One

- Spent his early earth years road tripping around the US, hitting different national parks and such. Falling absolutely in love with the diversity of nature when you don't spend all your time in one patch of forest. He absolutely Lost His Mind at the Grand Canyon

- Continued to travel a lot as he and Mercedes got older and had the kids and everything, they loved taking the boys to different parks and camp sites and such.

- Also really enjoyed traveling internationally once he got his whole paperwork situation sorted.

- Was pretty freaked out about flying the first couple times, but now he's a pro. Unfortunately he is an incredibly chatty seat mate and also one of those people who wears sandals without socks on an airplane. so he puts his bare feet all over the floor at security

Glenn

- Traveled a very average amount as a kid, just little family vacations. Tagged along with where ever Bill was going during summer breaks as a younger teen.

- Drove all over the freaking country as an older teen / young man seeing various shows and trying catch The Glenn Close Trios big break.

- Shares Ron's fondness for weird little tourist traps and questionable attractions / restaurants

- Extremely pro car camping, if only for all the hazy memories of doing so in his youth.

- Would make sure that somehow he could block out a week or so to take a road trip with Nick somewhere during summer break.

- Flew a few times as a kid and such. Absolutely hates flying as an adult, it brings out the conspiracy theories in him hardcore and he absolutely cannot do it sober.

Jodie

- Hell does not have vacations

- Traveled many realms as a young and wild demon, having misadventures of the sort that get you trapped in a guitar

- as Jodie Foster the human cop and married man they only took incredibly basic family vacations to the stereotypical vacation spots like once a year.

- Has no feelings on airplanes in any particular direction, besides he would like more leg room.

[let-me-love-you-loki]

Nowhere to Run--Ch. 60

Chapter 60

            He wasn’t entirely fond of the idea, but it was a compromise that Jericho was more than willing to make. Hell, he’d known a long time ago that he couldn’t say no to Kat Prince. When she’d asked this of him, he’d had no choice but to agree.

            It surprised him how much being away from Kat and the baby made his heart constrict with worry. They were literally a few dozen feet down the hallway, yet it still felt like they were on the other side of the country. The memory of the aching longing that he’d felt every time he had to put Kat back on a plane to California settled in his chest so strongly that it felt like he couldn’t breathe.

            Jericho stopped outside the door to Kat’s room. He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. He didn’t like this one little bit. “Go on,” he grumbled, jerking his head toward the door. As Jack Perry shuffled past him, he couldn’t help but murmur, “Stubborn ass woman.”

***

            Déjà vu hit Jack hard as he closed the door behind him. The flood of memories almost took his breath, only this time it was Kat in the hospital bed. She had been his best friend for years. Without her, he wouldn’t have been able to weather the pain of losing his father. He’d loved her fiercely and wanted nothing more from his life but to wrestle and marry her. But that last one had fallen apart not too long after they laid his dad to rest.

            God knew that he still loved her in many ways. He’d been protective of her since the day they’d met. He remembered moments between them that were best put away and forgotten. But he would never doubt the fact that he loved Kat Prince.

            “Are you going to be an asshole?” Kat asked out of nowhere, steel in her voice.

            Jack couldn’t help but crack a small smile. “I’ll try my best.”

            There was silence for a moment before an answering grin crossed Kat’s face. “Come here.” She held one hand out to him. With the other, she cradled a bundle of blankets against her chest.

            His knees felt like water as he crossed the room to stand by the bed. Kat took his hand and tugged him closer, tilting the bundle closer to him. Jack looked at the little girl that he’d been the first to hold. She was awake, her wide blue eyes watching him with a knowing look. Her dark hair looked just like Kat’s. She had round little cheeks and chubby little fists that waved toward him every now and then.

            Jack was wholly unprepared for the rush of feeling that crashed over him.

            “Thank you, Jack Jack,” she said softly as she squeezed his hand. “Without you…”

            He sank down on the side of the bed and ran his free hand over his hair nervously. “Is she okay? Are you okay?”

            Kat turned her attention toward the baby and smiled. “She’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

            Something like a heavy weight dropped off him. He hadn’t realized how much fear he’d harbored for the safety of both of them. “What about you?”

            “Sore as fuck. Mildly traumatized,” she laughed. “But I’m okay. Because you were there and did everything right.”

            He sat there in silence for a moment, looking between the two of them. The same sense of protectiveness that he’d always felt for Kat poured into him as the baby watched him with those wide blue eyes.

            “Here,” she said, pulling her hand away and holding the baby toward him. “Hold her.”

            Jack’s heart thundered in his chest as he took the baby from her. He held her carefully as he bounced her gently. She looked up at him, waving her fist in the air. Without hesitation, he leaned down and kissed those chubby fingers.

            Kat looked at him with her dark eyes. Eyes that reflected a strange mixture of hope, worry, and confusion. All of it overlaid with a cautious fear. Jack couldn’t blame her. The words he’d said to her, the way he’d acted for the last two years… he was ashamed of the way he’d behaved. He’d been so caught up in his own feelings that he hadn’t stopped to think of how she felt.

            “Kat… I—” Jack stopped and took a deep breath. His guts churned as if he were going to be sick. The baby wrapped her hand around his fingers as if to give him support. “I don’t know why you want me here. After everything…”

            She closed her eyes for a moment. He could see the memories of everything running across her face. That day in her apartment ran through his mind. He’d been drunk, but it didn’t excuse what he’d said. The rage that had rushed through him at the news she was with Chris Jericho had overwhelmed everything else. Even his love for Kat.

            Because that’s what it had been. He loved her. He was still as in love with her now as he had been that day in the hospital when his father passed. When he’d realized that she was happy but not happy with him, it had nearly broken his heart. But he’d promised himself that he would be her friend. That he would do everything that his father had asked of him. To help Kat be happy.

            The thought struck Jack hard in the chest. He felt like he was choking.

            Luke would have been so ashamed of him.

            “I’m sorry, Kat,” he said at last, his voice coming out in a gravely rush. “I’m so sorry. For all of it. I still…”

            Kat gave him a faint smile. “I know. So do I. But—”

            “He’s better for you. You love him more.”

            “Differently,” she whispered. “You’re my best friend, Jack Perry. And you always will be. Chris can’t change that, and I really want my best friend back.”

            Adjusting the baby in his arms, he reached out to take her hand. He squeezed her fingers tightly. “The day Dad died, when I went into his room after you, he asked me to do one thing for him when it came to you. He asked me to help you be happy. The last two years… I’m let him down so much. Because I’ve been so fucking selfish.”

            Kat turned her hand over and threaded her fingers with his. “I want my friend back. I need him back.

            Jack squeezed his eyes shut, tears brushing past his lashes and slipping down his cheeks into his beard. “Can you forgive me, Kat? For everything I said and did. For letting you down.”

            She took a deep breath and set her eyes on him. Her face changed as if she were having an argument within herself. For a moment, he thought he could hear her heart beating.

            “Will you be her godfather, Jack?”

            “What?” He felt absolutely stupid. “What? Jericho…”

            “Don’t argue,” Kat said firmly. “Otherwise, we have a big problem.”

            His brown eyes met hers. “Why?”

            “We’re going to have to change her name.”

***

            It was so hard to hold back the laughter at the look on Jack’s face. It was like he’d been slapped. The expression on his face was the same as he’d had that day in my apartment, but this time it was kinder. Gentler in his surprise.

            My heart felt heavy and light all at once. Hearing Jack apologize for everything he’d done was enough to make me feel like hundreds of pounds had fallen away from my shoulders. I couldn’t necessarily forget the hurt he’d caused, but I could try to move forward until they became a faded, fuzzy memory.

            “What?”

            I rolled my eyes and smiled. “Her name, dumbass. If you don’t say yes, we have to change her name. And that’s going to be really annoying.”

            Jack’s eyes glittered. I realized he was about to cry.

            “We named her Louise.” I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “Louise Jacklyn Antonia. For you and Tony. For Luke.”

***

            Jericho walked away from Kat’s hospital room, one hand on his hip and the other pushing his hair back from his face. He was tired. There was a fatigue settled into his bones, and he couldn’t explain why. Old worries came rushing back to the surface. Could he be a good father? Was he too old to be a father? Would he be able to be there for their daughter? For Kat?

            And he hated the fact that he worried that Kat would change. Not physically—it didn’t matter to him. But what if she didn’t want him in the same way anymore? What if she didn’t want to go back into the Playroom? Jericho loved Kat Prince for every single thing about her—her intelligence, her tenacity, her focus, her laughter, her beauty—and the idea that he couldn’t love her this way anymore made him feel sick.

            “Chris!”

            He looked up at the sound of his name. The Inner Circle sat around in a circle in the waiting room. Santana had called for him, waving him over toward the boys. As he walked over, Jericho looked around. Members of the AEW staff and roster had filled up the small lobby. Tony Khan sat in the corner on the phone.

            “How’s mamí doing?” Ortiz asked as Chris sank down into a chair facing them.

            Chris couldn’t help but smile. “Sore, but good. They’re both amazing.”

            “Then why the long face, boss?” Jake asked quietly. It was something that very few people ever knew about the big man. He was smarter than he looked and more observant than most knew.

            “Worrying about fatherhood. About how things are going to change.”

            Santana leaned forward to look at him. “Yeah, things are going to change. You’ve got this new being to look after. Kat’s gonna be a little different for a while. Let her adjust to being a mother.” He cracked a smile. “And you might be old as hell, but you’re going to be a good father, Chris.”

            He laughed despite himself. “That’s not the only thing I’m worried about.”

            He looked down at his hands. At his fingers. He took a breath.

            An idea came to him.

___________________________________

Tag List

@spaghetti-hoop

@rollynchwhore

@lilred91

@mariejr88-blog

@thenerdybaker523

@mrsmattMrsmatt

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@ryantaylorgirl

@daddyslittlevillain

@Rdhester1987

@unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin

[duckprintspress]

A Sherlock Holmes Day Roundtable Chat

May 22 2024 marks Arthur Conan Doyle’s 165th birthday and is celebrated as Sherlock Holmes Day! We’ve got a lot of Holmes lovers in the Press (including yours truly), so we thought – let’s talk detective! The people who joined in on the round table chat are: Zel Howland, Nina Waters, E. C., Maggie Page, May Barros, Rascal Hartley, Shadaras, boneturtle and an anonymous contributor

1. What is your personal opinion on Sherlock Holmes?

Zel Howland: I /love/ Sherlock Holmes! My dad is a big Sherlock Holmes fan and bought the complete works for me and my older brother, and I have very clear memories of burying myself in the nice hardcover edition of A Study in Scarlet while the rest of the house watched TV. Reading, watching, or listening to any Holmes story or adaptation to this day brings to mind that specific sense memory of the book, the wood of my desk and chair, the smell of some soap I had spilled… very evocative, and that’s before I even start on how fascinating I find the characters and plots!

Anonymous: I read an anthology of Sherlock Holmes stories back in the day and it rewired my brain. I’m not fond of mystery stories at all – I don’t really enjoy competing with the protagonist to figure things out – but I do like driven, complicated characters with complicated and sometimes toxic relationships. And Sherlock Holmes is a delightfully complicated character, and his bond with John Watson has been giving people something to chew over for [over a century]. Beyond that, it’s fun how many angles Doyle approached the mystery formula from. Even though I’m not a mystery fan at all, I still got carried along in Watson’s excitement and empathized with Holmes in the rare occasion he was stumped or fooled. And that central relationship anchored things in a very human way that a lot of mystery novels, even those inspired by Holmes, just don’t.

Then I watched BBC’s Sherlock. And the movies that came out about the same time. And the old Granada series. I got really fascinated with all the ways that different people had retold the same stories and the same characters, updating them or failing to do so, and watching the evolution of Sherlock Holmes in media has been a hobby of mine ever since. Video games, anime, comic books, and of course literature – he’s everywhere. It’s fantastic.

Nina Waters: I’ve loved Holmes since I was a kid; I grew up on Basil of Baker Street, then I read the original Holmes stories, then started watching adaptations, especially the Granada Holmes.

E. C.: Same, re: loving Holmes for basically as long as I can remember.

Maggie Page: I’m in the midst of a years-long obsession with all things Sherlock Holmes. I adore him. After reading a chunk of the canon, I became fascinated with the divide between the cultural concept of Holmes and what I saw on the page. He’s a richer character than the tropes inspired by him.

May Barros: I like his stories, it was one of his stories that I read when I was trying to get proficient with the English language (it’s not my native language). An aunt gifted me a book of his stories in English and I read it all.

2. Has Sherlock Holmes influenced you or your writing in some way? How?

Zel Howland: Starting on Sherlock Holmes so early in my life /definitely/ had a huge impact of my taste in fiction and my writing down the line. Even as we’re talking about this I’m working on the outline for a new mystery novel that began as a riff on Agatha Christie, but has quickly devolved into something much closer to Hound of the Baskervilles.

Rascal Hartley: I got the Barnes and Noble compendium of all the stories back in junior high and blazed through them. I secretly fancied myself in love with Irene Adler but the specific story that had the most impact on me was The Adventure of the Dancing Men, specifically the cipher and reading how Holmes solved it. It gave me a love of codes and ciphers and languages that has rather stuck with me to this day (and also, his explanation of the most common letters in order has helped me win many games of hangman, lol)

Nina Waters: I dressed as Irene Adler for Halloween circa 2005…

E. C.: Half-formed thought:  Sherlock Holmes and the many iterations of how his stories are told and re-told and expanded by other writers probably paved the way for how I think about fan fiction.  Laurie King’s Holmes books are an example of straddling the line between pastiche and fanfic.

May Barros: I mean, his stories taught me English in a sense. If I’m writing in this language today, it is in part because of him.

Maggie Page: Examining these differences [between the concept of Holmes and what I saw on the page], comparing portrayals, and diving into meta-analyses has developed into a hobby that’s inspired me to read and annotate the complete works as well as giving me aspirations of writing my own version of Holmes someday. To that end, I’ve learned more about queer culture in the Victorian era than I ever imagined I’d know, but that’s been fun too.

3. What impact do you think Sherlock Holmes had on culture?

Zel Howland: It is honestly hard to overstate how culturally significant Sherlock Holmes has been. From being a milestone in fannish history where popular acclaim brought the character back from the dead to the countless adaptations that have graced the pages, the radio, and the screen, down to the very formulas that we use for the mystery genre itself. Dame Agatha Christie might be the mother of the murder mystery, but Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wrote the DNA.

Shadaras: I feel like Holmes is one of those characters who just permeates culture? I didn’t grow up reading Holmes, but I knew about Holmes and could understand a lot of references because there are so many stories based on it -whether they’re direct adaptations (like BBC Sherlock, the Guy Ritchie films, or Elementary) or more indirect inspired-by stories (like House). The whole concept of a consulting detective comes from Holmes, as I understand it, and I think that concept helps shape/structure a lot of procedural mystery stories in the modern day even if they don’t otherwise draw from Holmes.

Nina Waters: Some of the earliest “fanfictions” I can remember reading were anthologies of Holmes stories written in modern times. Societally, I feel like even giving a concise description of influence would be futile, that’s a dissertation topic right there, because it’s such a cultural pillar.

Maggie Page: Sherlock Holmes has had an immense impact on culture, so it’s difficult to touch on succinctly.  You can find traces of Holmes everywhere; he’s even the origin of the usage of “canon” to refer to any official body of work.

May Barros: I do not think, I know. Sherlock Holmes was such a success when Doyle was writing that several people tried to adapt his stories into other mediums even when Doyle was alive, Doyle even suggested people published their “fanfics” as original stories with the character names changed (source: FIC by Anne Jamison)

4. What is your favorite adaptation of Sherlock Holmes and what do you love about it?

boneturtle: My favorite Sherlock Holmes adaptation is the Goalhanger podcast Sherlock & Co.!  It is a delightfully character-driven adaptation of the Sherlock stories, with the premise that John Watson is a modern-day podcaster instead of a writer. From the opening monologue: “My name is Dr. John Watson, once of the British Army Northumberland Fusilier Regiment, now a true crime podcaster based in Central London.” Oh my gosh, just thinking about it makes me smile. Not only are the stories genuinely gripping, it’s also such a fun spoof on the current true-crime podcast obsession.

Zel Howland: Is it cheap to say House M.D.? If we’re talking about more literal adaptations, I definitely have to say CBS’s Elementary. While it certainly isn’t perfect, Johnny Lee Miller and Lucy Liu bring so much to the table as Holmes and Watson, and I really can never say no to a procedural show.

Anonymous: Bit of a tangent, but I think my overall favourite mystery series is Umineko: When They Cry. However, Umineko isn’t so much a mystery story as a story about mysteries and the people they affect. And the reasons I like it so much boil down to it being a very human story about intense, toxic relationships and the struggle to understand driven, complicated characters. In other words, I like Umineko because I like Sherlock Holmes. Like I said, it rewired my brain.

Shadaras: Relatedly, I’d love to rec Katherine Addison’s The Angel of the Crows, which has an end note that talks about how it started out as BBC Sherlock wingfic (but in the original Holmes era) and then became a whole novel of its own with plots riffing off the original Holmes stories. It’s a fantastic novel, highly recommend if you enjoy urban fantasy and/or Holmes-inspired stories!

Maggie Page: 4 – If a loose adaptation will suffice, The Mentalist is my favorite show. The dynamic between the Holmes/Watson analogues, Patrick Jane and Teresa Lisbon, is the best part, naturally. Jane’s characterization (as someone playful, gentle, protective, fierce, sometimes harsh, and much more) feels truer to canon than many direct adaptations. The wonderful ensemble cast is a huge bonus. And the hook of the overarching plot reeled me in completely. Spinning theories about Red John was one of my first immersive fandom experiences, and I loved every minute.

May Barros: I love Elementary. I love Lucy Liu as Watson and the show’s interpretation of Sherlock just hits right for me as a caring neurodivergent rich man who’s doing his best but is not always understood

Nina Waters: The Granada Holmes (…) is my favorite version along with Elementary and The Great Mouse Detective.

E. C.: Jeremy Brett is definitely my favorite Holmes, because he managed to convey the analytical brilliance and focus and dismissiveness, but with a base of kindness that I think gets lost in some portrayals.  That’s why I also like Jonny Miller’s version in Elementary (I also think this is one of the best portrayals of addiction and recovery, and also of a truly healthy platonic love and mutual respect between male/female leads, I’ve ever seen on a network show).

boneturtle: Another great “Sherlock” adaptation that has almost nothing to do with the original story other than the name is the c-drama “Maiden Holmes,” starring a female detective hiding her gender to be able to work with the police in ancient China and ultimately uncover the truth about the reason her family was killed when she was young. It’s ridiculously wholesome and has really strong plotting and character development, but might not be worth including in the post just because it’s such a loose adaptation.

Anonymous: I don’t think Case Closed/Detective Conan by Gosho Aoyama is actually a Sherlock Holmes adaptation, but the shadow of Holmes and the “great detective” genre hang really thick over the series. The characters are iconic, the mysteries are clever and emotionally affecting, and the pacing is so abysmal that it’s often joked that the series is composed of episodic side stories with occasional moments of plot. And it’s still one of the greatest manga of all time.

I do want to recommend The Great Ace Attorney. It’s a visual novel, that should count as a book, right? And its take on Sherlock Holmes – I mean, Herlock Sholmes – as a goofy airhead who’s none the less both genuinely brilliant and deeply affected by Victorian-era politics separating him from his Watson is interesting. Ace Attorney as a franchise is good at swinging between dramatic storytelling and goofy nonsense, and playing Sherlock as a comedic character first and foremost without downplaying his intelligence and observation skills is a neat concept. Herlock Sholmes is arguably too observant – he sees everything and has difficulty figuring out what’s important to the case at hand, which is why he needs a partner to help him focus.