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skyeslittlecorner · 11 months ago

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can i request relationship hcs with the avisos boys? i really liked the ones u did for the hades demons even though i dont like any of them that much after chapter 5 lmao 😭

Do I see our favourite family? 👀 Here we go! The scenario will be similar, but we will change the topic a bit. Hades had a ball, and here let's welcome a new fluffy member of the family.

This turned out to be longer than I planned, I hope you don't mind. I just love these guys too much-

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

Bael circled his own Bermuda Triangle - kitchen, office, bedroom. You knew his daily schedule perfectly, you knew when he woke up, when he fell asleep at his desk, and when to get out of his way so as not to fall victim to his legendary cookies.

You quietly opened the door to his bedroom, the first rays of sunlight falling on the dug-out bedding. Bael looked so peaceful. He was sleeping deeply, his broad shoulders rising and falling with his breath, the muscles on his chiseled back twitching as he dreamed something. Despite his tight uniform, you rarely had this view as his back was covered by his cape and the chair. You came closer and combed blond hair which was scattered on the pillow.

“You know I hate waking you up.” You whispered, hoping he wouldn't hear. Just as you were getting up, you felt a firm grip on your waist.

“I'm awake…”

“Mm. Of course." He looked so adorably sleepy that you crouched down next to him and tapped him on the nose. “You should rest some more. Avisos can handle itself for an hour or two.”

He lifted an eyelid as if he was thinking about what you said. You tried to leave again, but he pulled you towards him. Despite being sleepy, he had a strong grip. You landed on his bare chest, radiating warmth and the smell of fresh bedding.

“This isn't sleeping.”

"It is." He wrapped his arms around you tightly, murmuring into your hair. “I have to be sure that I will get up soon... and that my alarm clock won’t run away.”

“I can sneak out as silently as a cat!”

“You probably haven't seen Hell’s cats.”

He kissed the top of your head, and before you could respond properly, you felt his breathing slow down. He was sleeping, so you kissed him on the lips for good dreams. Avisos can handle itself, and you in your boredom came up with a brilliant idea.

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

Naberius looked at you like you were crazy when you told him what was on your mind. You were walking down the aisles of the pet store, right between toys shaped like angel wings or fetch pitchforks. You put into his basket one by one what looked the least poisonous and suspicious to you.

“Did I understand correctly… Do you want to adopt a cat?”

“Not me, us.” You made it clear. “He will live with you in the palace.”

He didn't look happy.

“Cat.”

You reached out and scratched his chin. He tried to be strong, but then he leaned his head back and his lips twitched happily from the petting.

“Yes, kitten. Because I already have the best puppy in the world here, with me. You will take care of him, right?”

“Maybe… He will have to be brought up so that he does not disturb Bael at work.”

He tried to be strong, but you knew he couldn't say no to you. And in addition to the cat food (at least you hoped it was cat food), you discreetly added a collar that would go well with the black glasses and red horns.

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

Amon helped you put out the pet shopping and arrange the room so that it would be ready for a new little roommate. He sat cross-legged in the corner, between the cat lounger and the food bowl, and read the instructions for the small water fountain you had just assembled. He clicked a few buttons and water began gushing from above and pouring down to the lower levels.

“Did you know it's a bird fountain?”

“It's also suitable for a cat.”

His legs looked so comfortable. You couldn't resist. You brazenly placed yourself on his lap and wrapped your arms around his narrow waist, completely distracting him from the instructions. He hugged you tightly and started purring like a kitten himself.

“Nabe said he would help me raise her, but you all will be definitely switching places. After all, if you have patrols, you won't always be in the castle.”

Amon stroked your cheek. He completely forgot about shopping, and water from the waterer he turned on was spilling onto the floor. You tried to turn it off, but it splashed you in the face. As you snorted water, he quickly corrected the wobbly structure.

"Be careful, love, that's not how it's done. Come on, I'll help you.” He cooed, wiping your wet face gently. “Maybe I should fix it?”

“That's probably a better idea.”

You agreed, but when he leaned towards you with his love-struck smile, you wanted to forget about the waterer and pull him down to the carpet with you in a deep kiss.

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

Stolas was your companion whom you took to the shelter. Despite your excitement, you tried to remain calm. You just didn't know why he kept boasting about how he would defeat any beast you chose, but everything became clear when you arrived. The enclosure where the animals roamed looked more like a coliseum full of wild beasts than a meadow with cute kittens. The smallest of them made Earth's lions look like meerkats.

“Just show me who to beat for you!” Stolas rubbed his hands together with aggressive excitement. “Who makes you sad?”

You sighed in resignation.

“I thought they were smaller. When I was shopping with Amon, all the things we bought… were smaller.”

“So it's Amon's fault? I knew. I'll kill him!"

"Wait!" You placed your hands on his chest as he was already turning around to find another devil. “I thought I could have a cat in the palace… but I see they are too big.”

He looked closely at your disappointed face, then pursed his lips.

“If you like animals, I can take you to an owl cafe.”

If he wanted to cheer you up, he made it. You tilted your head with interest.

“Will you turn into an owl yourself?”

"NO!"

You hoped he was lying. You needed a fluffy ball to cuddle up to. Either way, your mood improved significantly as you left the coliseum filled with beasts for a cozy cafe full of cooing birds.

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

You were sitting at your desk, finishing writing down financial reports you wanted to help the Baels with. You've almost come to terms with the fact that you won't have a kitten when Beelzebub stormed into your room without warning. You stared at him with question marks on your face.

"I have something for you!"

His presence hadn't even dawned on you yet, and there was already a cardboard box on the table. He handled it surprisingly gently. Put it down slowly, as if there were porcelain tableware inside, even though it looked solid. It was a strange box, making sounds through tiny holes on the sides.

Beelzebub stood behind you, resting his elbows on your shoulders and folding his arms over your chest.

“Go ahead, you should check it out, I'm sure you'll like it…” He trailed off when, instead of reaching into the box, you took his hands.

“I'd rather have you than welcome gifts, you know?”

He fell silent for a moment. You couldn't see his face, but his voice had softened noticeably.

“You'll like this one. I promise. Open up, don't make her wait.”

You had a feeling you knew what you would find, and it makes you ticklish inside. When you lifted the lid, a pair of coal-black eyes stared at you from a fluffy muzzle. Kitten. A small, striped, earthly kitten. Your voice stuck in your throat as you squeezed Beel's hands tighter.

"How did you know…!"

“I'm everywhere and hear everything, baby.” He reached out and grabbed the kitten by the nape, just like its mother would. Little pet started meowing.

“Gentler!” You smacked him and took the fluffy ball in both hands. “Is this how you treat your new daughter?”

“My daughter?”

"Yes. Now that you have a baby, you have to visit us more often, you know?”

He leaned down and nuzzled his nose into your shoulder.

“As soon as this is all over.” He promised in a whisper so quiet it might as well have been your imagination. “I will never leave you again. I promise.”

You held the purring kitten to your chest with one hand and stroked Beel's soft hair with the other. Despite his giddiness, you felt that these were not idle words. Your heart sank at the thought that he missed you too. Whatever was going to end, let it end quickly, because all you wanted was to go to sleep next to him, knowing that you wouldn't wake up in an empty bed.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb bael #whb naberius #whb amon #whb stolas #whb beelzebub #skye's little talk

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jesuis-assez · 2 months ago

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We know that Lucy calls Tim babe (I refuse to use past tense I’m in denial lol), if you could have your way, what would Tim call Lucy as a pet name? #ChenfordChats

Hmm... I think I'd melt if he called her 'Baby' or 'Sweetheart' I have a soft spot for those ones. I don't know what that's about. I don't want to go there 🤣

And if I think of moments where those terms of endearments could've been used:

6x04:

When he rushed to the hospital and comforted her by touching her head ever so gently. Him softly telling her, "My god, you didn't have to take my hero suggestion so literally" If we were to replace "my god" with "sweetheart" or "baby" ?? 👌

6x06: ( Everyone put your pitchforks down and hear me out ) 🤣

If he said "I'm sorry, baby" or 'sweetheart' right before kissing her forehead. Although, I'm not sure how it would have fit exactly in the scene. But, I wouldn't object to it. It actually was one of my favourite scenes of theirs in season six. It had everything for me. It ripped me apart emotionally and left me wanting more. I loved it, no sarcasm here. I'm being genuine.

The scene itself is already packed with so much angst. But, then there would be them holding hands, " I'm sorry, [term of endearment]" and a forehead kiss in there. We're already on the ground dying and that would just finish us off.

In 6x03:

Lucy is over preparing for her detective exam with Tim being so amazing and supportive.

What he said here was truly enough and It doesn't matter so much that a sweetheart wasn't at the end of him saying 'yourself', but I would've loved it even more. I thought him saying that to her was a huge thing to say, coming from someone who ALWAYS needs to feel in control.

Because Lucy was so far in her head with it. So much that she had been projecting all of her self-doubt onto Tim. She couldn't see that he was being supportive, because it's not like her parents were ever supportive of her career. She's never had that support.

Yes, Lucy. And not even yourself, either.

That's what she was doing. Listening to that voice in her head telling her that she isn't good enough. That she's not ready and she can't do it. And Tim being her number 1 supporter was there reminding her not to do that. After all... he had taught her not to.

And to see her going back into that mind-set, to see Lucy filling herself with all that self-doubt again? To second guess herself again... It must be hard to watch someone you love, spiral like that. To try and help them through it and no matter what you say or do, it only pushes them further to burning out.

I focused heavily on season 6 for examples. Even if he were just to say, "Are you okay, baby?" I am aware that he said 'baby' to Isabel before (When she got shot in the head) but, that doesn't mean shit here 🤣 It's obviously a term he has been comfortable with using in the past. I don't see why he wouldn't use it again, unless he were to come up with something specially for Lucy. (What I am hoping for)

If he were to actually use 'sweetheart' that would also fit well for Lucy, for how kind-hearted she is and has been to him.

I do hope that Tim might use something that we've never heard before. *fingers crossed* for this one. It won't matter if he doesn't. I'm ALMOST sure whatever endearment he comes up with (if he even does) some of us will probably pass out on the spot *raises hand* Me. I'd-- I'd do that. Ok, I might (very unlikely)

But what most likely would happen is what usually happens. I'll either be internally screaming or I'll sit there on the spot inaudibly screaming 'Ahhhh' while pointing.

I'm hoping it would be something that's unique to their relationship. Or at least Lucy. I'd be so on board for that! I am a sucker for those kinds of nickname/endearments, too.

Y'know, something similar to when she was his rookie and he would incessantly call her 'boot'.

Thank yooooou for sending me this ! I may have put waaay too much thought into this. I'm incapable of answering without talking extensively about it. This ask was a lot of fun 💖🤭

#chenford #chenfordchats #jesuis-assez: Chenford ask #I threw the endearments in the gifs so ya'll can visualise the dream 🤣#Kinda felt like I lost myself along the way and was answering outside of the question but it's all connected.#I'd be a miss if I didn't discuss other things alongside of the question. They end up connecting somehow

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pancakes4two · 2 years ago

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sweet nothings

wc: 2.1k

preview: The rest of the world is so eager to view him like an object, assume that just because he spends his life in the public view, he’s somehow devoid of insecurities. But to you, he’s still the same Harry who cried backstage at Wembley after his voice cracked during a solo. The same shy, innocent boy who vomited backstage after his first show, terrified that he’d messed it all up.

An article criticizing Harry blows up on the internet, and it hits him harder than expected. Luckily, you’re there to help pick up the pieces.

MASTERLIST | READ MY LATEST SERIES

Industry disruptors and soul deconstructers, and smooth-talking hucksters out glad-handing each other

And the voices that implore, "You should be doing more," to you I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it.

—Sweet Nothing, Taylor Swift

———

The article is released on a Friday afternoon. It's absolutely brutal—rips single every creative project Harry's ever done to shreds and leaves no endeavor unscathed. Every sentence is a biting remark, each paragraph swirled with vile accusations. It starts by criticizing his film roles, the creative direction he took in his third album, then accuses him of extorting his own fans. The author questions not only his artistry but his personhood, digs up unverified claims of rudeness and twists them into a narrative of Harry being an egotistical, ungrateful pop star. Within the hour, almost every major news station has picked the story up. It doesn’t matter how far-fetched it is. The internet takes to the author’s vitriol like wildfire, sharing it across social media platforms and online forums. Everyone wants to be the first to say they always knew something wasn’t quite right about him, that it’s about time someone knocked him off his pedestal.

It’s disgusting in every sense of the word. And it hurts even more because Harry is blissfully unaware. He’s asleep beside you now, the two of you having settled into bed to take a quick nap together three hours earlier, when the internet had yet to point their pitchforks towards him. You know he’s been overextending himself lately, still sleeping off the jet lag from tour but unwilling to slow down his life on account of tiredness. He’s always been like that, so dedicated to his music, because to him, putting less than two-hundred percent into the thing he loves most would be a waste. You can hardly remember the last time he’d slept earlier than two after coming home—even without touring commitments, he’s still found a way to keep himself busy—staying late in the studio and meeting with executives from his record label to review the marketing plan for his next album. He’s always thinking about the future, how he can reinvent himself and make sure he can stay doing what he loves for as long as possible.

It’s why he’d deserved this chance to unwind and relax in the quiet of your home. But now, he’s going to wake up to a rogue journalist completely assassinating his character, when all he’s ever wanted to do is sing and make others happy. The way you see it, it’s not the least bit fair.

You look at Harry and brush his curls away from his face gently so as to not wake him. Your phone is still turned on, the article glaring angrily against your palm as you watch him sleep. He looks so peaceful, his arm curled around your waist and his legs tangled with yours as if he can’t bear to be far away from you even in slumber. You wish everyone else could see him like this: soft and vulnerable, his lips upturned ever-so-slightly like he’s dreaming about something particularly pleasant.

The rest of the world is so eager to view him like an object, assume that just because he spends his life in the public view, he’s somehow devoid of insecurities. But to you, he’s still the same Harry who cried backstage at Wembley after his voice cracked during a solo. The same shy, innocent boy who vomited backstage after his first show, terrified that he’d messed it all up. Ten years down the road and he’s gained confidence, for sure. But when he’s not busy being this glittering, hip-wiggling rockstar who moves like he’s got the whole world in the palm of his hand, he’s just Harry. He still wrings his hands nervously before every performance, burns his tongue on hot tea that’s meant to preserve his voice. You remember what he said to you back in June before his first stadium show: I don’t think I’ll ever be able to be someone who doesn’t care about what others think of them. He cares more than the article’s author and the legions of people criticizing his every move online will ever know.

You shuffle forward, closing the gap between your bodies and press a soft kiss into Harry’s forehead. You don’t expect him to stir from it, but it seems he was just about to wake up naturally before you disturbed him, so his eyes slowly open and he smiles when his vision focuses on you. You try to school your expression into something relatively normal. Unfortunately, Harry knows you too well and can immediately tell that something’s off. In any other situation, you’d be impressed by how well he can read you. Even with his mind suspended between alertness and sleep, he knows you’re upset and reaches for your hand in concern.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Harry asks, rubbing circles into the back of your hand. He knows the repetitive motion grounds you when you’re anxious, so he continues to graze your skin with his thumb, willing you to relax.

“H—“ you start to say, but you’re cut off by the sound of Harry’s ringtone. He reaches over you to grab his phone from the nightstand, his other hand still clasped with yours. When he falls back into the mattress, you manage to get a glance at his phone screen. It’s displaying an incoming call from Jeff. Fuck.

Harry accepts the call, still ignorant to the situation. His gaze flickers over your face as the line connects—he's clearly still worried about you.

"Hey, H," Jeff says. You can hear him sigh through the phone, "have you been online recently?"

"Been asleep for the past," Harry pauses to check the time, "three hours, so that would be a no."

"Shit," Jeff says, sounding significantly less collected than he usually does. "Okay. Um, do me a favor and stay off of social media for now. I'll call you when it's all been resolved."

"What?" Harry sits up slightly at the sound of Jeff's voice, running a hand through his hair. "I'm confused. Is everything alright?"

"Listen, it's fine. I've got it all under control, just... don't go on Instagram, or Twitter, or anything."

"Jeff," Harry groans, "don't be cryptic. You're obviously dealing with something that's got to do with me, don't you think I have a right to know what's going on?"

There's silence over line for a bit, Jeff clearly ruminating over whether or not to tell Harry the truth. You chew on your lip worriedly, waiting for his voice to come through again.

"There's an article that’s been published online," Jeff starts, "and it's highly critical of you. It's circulating through social media right now, and we're trying to put a stop to it. I've got a meeting with your label's attorneys in a few minutes, but seriously H, for your own good please do not read it. We'll have it taken down by the end of the day."

"Oh," Harry blinks, clearly caught off-guard. You can't blame him for it. People don't normally wake up from naps and find out half the internet has turned against them. "Alright. That's fine. Um, call me if you need anything. Good luck."

"H, I'm serious, don't—" Jeff begins, but Harry hangs up before he can finish his sentence. He's already sat up fully in bed, back leaning against the headboard as he types away furiously on his phone. You don't try to stop him from Googling the article; he deserves to see what's been written. You just sit up next to him and silently run a hand down his arm, tracing where the fabric of his t-shirt ends and the familiar ink on his skin begins. You reach for him and let him know that he has you to lean on.

"You know what they've written isn't true," you whisper, "you know that." It’s all you can say for now.

Harry doesn't respond to that, his eyes too busy scanning through the article. He spends the next seven minutes reading every word silently, taking each criticism and judgement in. When he’s finished, Harry shuts his phone off with a click and sets it down silently on the bedside table. You avert your eyes from him, afraid that if you look up you might be able to see every morsel of hurt on his face.

In the end, Harry’s the first to break the silence.

“Who approved that?” Is what he says, his voice faltering almost imperceptibly at the end. It’s quiet enough that only someone who knows him as well as you do would be able to notice.

“H,” you respond, splaying your hand across his chest and letting his head fall gently onto your shoulder.

“None of that is real. It’s not a reflection of who you are.” You say that with conviction. He’s got the most beautiful soul, does everything with so much heart. He’s so full of love that at times you worry he might burst from it. It’s completely unfair what he’s been reduced to.

“You can only read shitty things about yourself for so long before you start to believe them,” Harry says brokenly, and his composure gives away then. He takes a trembling breath in and you feel a wetness start to form on the sleeve of your shirt. You don’t have to look at him to know he’s crying.

It’s in moments like these where his façade starts to crumble, and you see him transform back into the boy you once knew, before the whole world knew his name. Spending every day terrified that at any given moment, people wouldn’t want to listen to his voice anymore and the rug would be pulled from under his feet. Fearing that he might wake up one day and have to return to Holmes Chapel, even though he’s always been too big for the small town he grew up in.

“Love,” you say, pressing a hand to his cheek. His skin is flushed and you can see the ghost of a tear falling down the side of his face. “How is anyone meant to believe anything they’ve said is valid, when they don’t know you? I know exactly who you are, and the person they’re talking about in that article is not it.”

Harry sniffles at that, pulling himself closer to you. You see him glance at his phone, so you turn it over facedown and revert your full attention back to him.

“You’re so incredibly special,” you continue, carding your hands soothingly through his hair, “you’ve achieved an immense amount of success in the last ten years. You’ve impacted so many people, used your platform to do so much good. There’s always going to be people who want more from you, who criticize and tell you you’re not doing enough. But you are doing enough, H. Seriously. You’re only human, and it’s not your fault that others expect you to be more than that. And even so, I think you make a pretty exceptional human already. You know how many people walk up to me when I’m alone and ask me to tell you that you’ve changed their lives? There’s so many that I’d lost track of the number about seven years ago.”

Harry opens his mouth to say something in response, but you pat his face gently and give him a smile as if to say, I’m not finished yet.

“And beyond that, who cares about the industry, about what faceless people online have to say about you? At the end of the day, you’re enough. I’m not here for the Harry Styles who fills stadiums or commands attention at movie premieres. I’m here for the Harry who accidentally leaves the coffee pot on for too long because he’s too busy trying to get me to dance with him in the kitchen. For the Harry who keeps movie stubs and pebbles deep inside his pockets because he wants to keep a souvenir to remind him of every little thing we’ve done together. The Harry who’s a huge sentimental sap, who’s got the biggest heart in the world.”

You finish with a sigh, gazing at Harry earnestly and hoping that he can feel the gravity of your words.

“You’re right,” Harry smiles softly, clasping a hand around your wrist, voice slightly raspy still. “I shouldn’t let it get to my head. It’s just hard sometimes, you know? I feel like I might be a little too soft for all of it.”

“I love your softness and vulnerability,” you say, “And getting upset when people are dragging your name through the mud is perfectly normal. I can’t even begin to imagine how overwhelming it is for you. But you’ll always have me right here beside you. And trust me, I’d be going to war for you over Twitter right now if I knew Jeff wouldn’t kill me for doing so.”

Harry laughs at that, loud and open in the way that you love. “My Princess Charming,” he says, wrapping his arms around you in a crushing hug. “Forever prepared to defend my honor.”

True to his word, Jeff and Columbia’s legal team get the article taken down in record time. They say Harry’s allowed to post a response to it, if he wants, but he’s never been one to start fights over the internet so he settles on this instead.

A single picture, posted to his Instagram of your hands, your fingers intertwined like the two of you were built to be extensions of each other. The caption is simple. It reads:

I find myself running home to your sweet nothings

Outside, they’re push and shoving; you’re in the kitchen humming

All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing.

He turns the comments off, not wanting to entertain any further commentary. It’s a picture meant for just the two of you, a reminder that all the noise coming from the outside means nothing when you have each other. It’s sweet. It’s nothing. And yet somehow, it’s everything you’ll ever need.

———

reblogs & feedback are highly welcomed and appreciated <3

TAGLIST: @crazygirlinthisworld @grapejuice-rry @b-reads-things @s8tellite @michellekstyles @vrittivsanghavi @alienorknight @flwrmuse

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noneorother · 8 months ago

Text

The art director & the Good Omens book cover tier list of doom, part 3

Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3

I am your resident Art Director/Good Omens enthusiast, and welcome to my completely meta-free book cover tier list. Listen, making a book cover is HARD. I should know. But while we salute these artists for their hard work and time, I think we can all admit that once in a while, the vision is just not on. And on very rare occasions, publishers seemed to have managed to commission the cover art directly from hell... here's where we left off last time:

21. Labas zīmes, Latvian cover

Our boys are back! And they are so ready to join the Dead Boy Detective agency. I would say that Latvians don't wear much tartan, so Argyle might seem like a similar print, but it just seems so... not Good Omens. Much like Crowley's flying purple people eater tail and Aziraphale's Conan the Barbarian sword, we're straying into niche AU fan fiction territory here. I mean, it's not *wrong*, but it certainly ain't right, either.

Tier: Does the Job

22. Bons Augùrios, Portuguese

Let me start by saying this cover is so close to being in the blessed category. The layout and spacing are divine, the imagery is simple and whimsical, it reflects the humour inside the gravitas to give you an idea of the *feeling* of reading Good Omens. So few of these covers have gotten this aspect of good design right. Honestly, I would slow clap if it wasn't for that random FLAME JIZZ stuck to the bottom right hand corner of the book. Who's idea was that? Dagon's?

Tier: Great

23. Semne Bune, Romanian cover

I admire two things about this cover: 1) Their utter commitment to a clean 3-colour palette and comprehensible layout. 2) Symbolic demon giving a principality head joke RIGHT ON THE FRONT COVER. This designer had balls. cotillion-sized balls. Now, does Aziraphale's sword have a sentient rooster tassel that watches said head-giving in horror? I sure hope not, but I don't see how that could be allegorical so, I'm torn. I feel like this goes in two categories for completely different reasons. And seeing as I'm in charge around here...

Tier: Great & Not so Good (Omens)

23. Semne Bune, Romanian cover cont.

Compared to the last cover's gigantic double-entendre, this feels so tame and logical. The text is centred and balanced. There's breathing room, and we have wing symbolism! I've never seen a cover try to split Terry and Neil's names like that, which is a fun twist but BY GOD that center line is not straight near the right end of the feathers and it is sending this cover straight down to Does the Job. It's grounded there forever.

Tier: Does the Job

25. HYVIÄ ENTEITÄ, Finnish cover

In this list, having something actually *relevant* to the main plot of the book and not mangling and main characters really puts you in rarefied air. All the motorcycles are book accurate which means somebody read something! Would I have ever picked the empty parking lot of Famine's restaurant as a subject worth a cover? Absolutely not. But the sick 80s lightning tips it into "fine" territory. The text is yellow. It's pretty.

Tier: Does the Job

26. Head ended, Estonian cover.

My face after staring at this cover for ten minutes and finally realizing that this is Hastur and Ligur waiting around for Crowley to pull up:

The artist's face after watching me do that:

Do I even need to rate this? It's called HEAD ENDED. I don't know how to be funnier than that.

Tier: WTF

27. Dobry Omen, Polish cover

Some good points for trying to be original with the layout of the title by drawing a custom pitchfork "Y", but the heinous kerning and the fact the whole text block is not even centred kind of makes me take all the points back. I feel like we're pretty heavy on the demonic, extremely light on the angelic in this take. Maybe it's because on his death bed the lead guitarist of White Snake will finally admit to having designed this cover in his spare time.

Tier: Not so Good (Omens)

28. Good Omens, Hungarian cover

If I told you this designer did not read the book, and instead just watched the trailer of The Omen (the movie) and vibed this heinous brown carpet swatch into existence, you would one hundred percent believe me. I can't even talk about the faux belle-époque font right now. I am irrationally angry.

Tier: WTF

29. Good Omens, Bulgarian cover

WHO. IS. DADDY. WIZARD?? Is all I can think when I look at this cover. Aziraphale & Grommet are recognizable enough, and you could make the case for telescope monkey being Adam, but I need to find this cover designer and shake them until they tell me who this deranged Gargamel is supposed to be. I must know.

Tier: Bad

30. BELAS MALDIÇÕES, Portuguese cover

After all we've been through on this list so far, this truly sucks. It's not even weird. It's just puce text layered atop text to create a great yawn of a cover. Shout out to the designer of the Diablo PC game font, I hope you got paid.

Tier: Bad

Part 3 roundup:

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scarisd3ad · 6 months ago

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To the end and back | Daryl Dixon x reader

Chapter twenty six | I love you, I’m sorry

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Warnings - ANGST! Guns, and shooting, Death, mentions of sex, cursing, usual twd warnings

Summary - after the world ended you were sure you’d never find love again but a certain archer catches your eyes and changes the entire trajectory of your life.

(A/N) - it’s finally here! Yay I’ve been working on this chapter since may and I’m so happy I’ve finally finished it. I know progress with my fics have been moving a little slower that they usually do but I’m hoping fingers crossed 🤞that I am able to speed the process up a little in the coming months 🫶🏻 also finally introducing the governor as the readers father in this chapter, I kind of hinted at it last chapter, to play around with the idea of it being canon. And I really like the ideas and situations I’ve came up in my head to put them in.

‘The suicide king’

S3 ep 9

Daryl is unbagged and pushed forward towards the middle of the arena. Merle and Daryl stand frozen, their eyes scanning the crowd in utter disbelief. The deafening sound of boos and heckles echoes throughout the arena, drowning out any other noise. Daryl's chest is heaving, faster and faster with each shout made from the audience of people. A blonde woman is attempting to force her way through a group of people, most likely the Governor's personal bodyguards, to get closer to him.

She manages to get through the first set before a surprise second set grabs her up before she can even get to his side. The governor - or maybe I should just start calling him Philip - because I finally know who the man behind the oh-so-mysterious name 'the governor' is. It's funny, I've been looking for this man for the last, what? 20 years of my life and I'm able to find him not even a year into the apocalypse so easily. How could he avoid his kids for 20 years in the old world, but he couldn't even last a year without me finding him now?

I really want to know how my father, Philip Blake, ended up being some dictator for a survivor's refugee camp. I almost want to laugh at how 'badass' he looks right now. makeshift eyepatch over one eye, as he looked over all his people so proud to be an asshole. My father was never much of a threat, but god he tried to be, though he really tried. I didn't hear much about my dad growing up, my maternal grandpa always muttered about how he was "such an asshole of a man", but the one thing I did hear from my paternal grandmother was that he ended up skipping town got some stupid office job and started a new family. it was all some bullshit about needing to start over, without my 'slut of a mother'.

His arm raises, so it's pointing towards Merle. The people of Woodbury immediately quiet down as their leader begins to speak. "I asked where your loyalties lie. You said here." Daryl was finally let out of whatever shackles that were placed around his arms, letting them fall to his sides freely. "Well, prove it. Prove it to us all." My blood runs cold.

"Brother against brother," he says with a dry chuckle. The crowd copies their leader, letting out a small chuckle that's paired with a quiet "yeah."

"Winner goes free" the crowd cheers at that, probably hoping and praying that Merle is able to win. Even though Merle was now deemed possibly 'unloyal' in the governor's eyes, it was still the better option for them. If Daryl died, Merle would have absolutely no reason to want to help us. Merle would go back to being Philip's loyal righthand man, and we, the 'terrorists' would be dead. Glenn had already told them our location and they would be marching up to our door with pitchforks in no time. Philip walks towards Merle shouting "Fight to the death!" as he does so. The crowd cheers once again. This was a scene taken straight out of one of those shitty medieval times shows.

The blonde woman finally turns, revealing her whole face to me. Andrea, the woman I thought I had accidentally left for dead, was here? Of all places, how did she end up here? Well, she had already shown us she didn't care about being led by an asshole, and if she was as close with Philip as she seems, she should already know how much of an asshole he was. "Philip, please. Don't do this," Andrea pleads, as one of Philips's men holds her back. "Don't do this!" He doesn't even glance at her, choosing instead to keep his eye on his prey. He glares at the two men standing in front of him, a smirk on his face that shows he truly enjoys this. The torture. He doesn't even have to do it himself, he just has to sit back and watch.

Merle raises his hand in the air before shouting "Y'all know me!" the crowd cheers, and I can see the absolute look of betrayal on Daryl's face. "I'm gonna do whatever I got to do to prove..." He hesitates for a moment before swinging his arm back and delivering a forceful punch to Daryl's stomach. With a loud grunt, Daryl collapses to the ground, and the crowd erupts in excitement. I stand frozen, unable to believe what I'm witnessing. how could he do that? Do that to his brother? "Holy shit," Jack gasps as Daryl begins to push himself up off of the ground. "That's my loyalty to this town!" just as Daryl has gotten his head off of the ground, Merle kicks him, sending him right back onto the ground.

Daryl lies motionless on his back, his chest heaving up and down with a faint rhythm. My eyes are fixed on him, hesitant to glance away, as if by doing so I might miss the final moments of his life. Merle continues throwing blow after blow as Philip watches on the sidelines with a sick look on his face. The crowd cheers as they lead out a walker. It's practically on a leash as some man, probably another one of Philips's men, leads him toward Daryl and Merle.

Finally, Daryl throws a punch. It's towards Merle's ankles but it gets him somewhere. It gets Daryl back onto his feet. Daryl launches himself toward Merle, tackling him, or at least trying to, but Merle has a leg up in this competition. merle gets Daryl down to the ground first. Both men have their hands around each other's necks as three of Philips's men lead three walkers towards them.

I don't even know what to do to help Daryl out. I could cause some type of distraction. If something more dangerous happens, it could give Daryl the freedom to escape. My eyes fall to my bag. I open it up and grab my gun right as Daryl and Merle get back to their feet. The two are working together to defeat the walkers.

My ammunition is running dangerously low, but my determination to save Daryl is unwavering. I'm willing to take the risk and use my last bullet to help him escape. My breaths come in quick and shallow as I raise my gun, my hands trembling with apprehension. I take aim at a man standing near Philip. I let out one more shaky breath before pressing the trigger and letting the bullet fly out of the gun and toward the man. Luckily for me, my aim was amazing today. The bullet tears right through his skull. Everyone around him screams as he falls to the ground with a thud.

Suddenly, someone behind Jack and I start shooting rounds into the arena, which makes even more of a ruckus. As I turned around to glance behind me, my eyes fell on Maggie, who was casually leaning against the top of the cold metal dumpster that was situated behind us. She shoots round after round into the arena. I let out a sigh of relief and began running back towards her. rick throws one of his smoke bombs, and Maggie continues to shoot. All I can hear is the sound of the automatic rifle and screams. Everyone's scattering like flies. Rick looks up at me, his mouth is open as if he's about to ask me something before his eyes flick to Jack who's stood behind me. "Who's that?"

"Old friend... he helped me," I reply. Rick continues to stare at Jack, scrutinizing him from head to toe as if he's trying to find a reason not to like him. I already know what he's going to ask. "Is he one of the governor's men?" I quickly respond, "He was just a resident and didn't know anything about what was going on, right Jack?" Jack nods, muttering a quiet "mhm."

Daryl and Merle sprint towards us while Rick urges, "Daryl, let's go!" Without wasting any time, we all take off at full speed, our hearts pounding with fear of being spotted by Philip or his men. The only sound that can be heard is our pounding footsteps on the ground as we race towards safety.

We manage to escape the arena and run back into the main town area. We were cautious as we walked around, hoping everyone was in the arena, but there was no actual way to know, so we were as careful as we could.

"they're all at the arena, this way!!" Merle instructs, attempting to lead us toward an exit. Rick was quick to shoot down the idea of Merle going with us. "you're not going anywhere with us!" he growls. "You really want to do this now?!" Merle asks as he runs towards the fence, attempting to pry apart the metal, as Rick and Daryl stand guard. I pray to God Rick won't say anything about Jack going with us. I don't want him to stay here, knowing the possible doomed future of Woodbury.

Finally, Merle manages to pull apart the metal, leaving a nicely sized hole in its wake. We all slipped through without a problem, but we're only met with walkers on the opposite side. "A LITTLE HELP WOULD BE NICE!" Merle shouts as he beats a walker to death with his prosthetic arm. Daryl was quick to pitch in, shooting a walker with his bow. I pull my gun out, shooting off my last bullet into a walker's head, "We ain't got time for this!" before beginning to sprint off.

I stand motionless next to Jack, anticipation building as we await instructions from Rick. "let's go!" Daryl shouts once it's been more than a few seconds, Rick, Maggie, and I not moving. I'm glad Daryl hasn't asked about Jack yet. Maybe it's just because he's too busy to realize. But I hope he never mentions it. I'm scared he'll get mad, or jealous. He's just a friend now, hell we were tiptoeing around a breakup when the outbreak started. But I don't know how Daryl is with exes. I know he can get jealous; he has many times before. Normally, I can predict what he'll do in certain situations, but with Jack, I just don't know how Daryl will react. rick folds, deciding to follow after Merle rather than die.

The walk back to the car is long. My hands are in my pockets as I trail behind a bit, with everyone else at least a few feet ahead of me. I don't mean to eavesdrop, but I can't help but overhear Merle and Daryl's conversation. "sooo, wha's up with you'n tha' bitch?" Merle asks, his head tilting back, so it points towards me. My heart stops, wondering what Daryl would say. Would he refer to me as his girlfriend? Even though we already had discussed what our relationship was, and I was confident in my role as Daryl's girlfriend, I was scared that he'd be embarrassed to admit that we were in a relationship with his older brother.

Daryl's quiet for a few seconds, giving his brother enough time to throw in another comment. "You to fuckin' around or something?" Daryl chuckles left hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Um...I guess me'n her are together," he says with a shrug. Merle almost immediately bursts out in a booming fit of laughter, which makes Rick turn around and glare. I don't understand what's so funny. Was it so farfetched that Daryl and I were dating? I can see the back of Daryl's ears turn a bright red as his hands nervously play with the hem of his shirt. "yer datin' her! ain't she fuckin' that Chinese boy?" I almost scoff at Merle's assumption. I can almost hear Daryl's eyes roll as he says, "Nah... they're just friends."

"ya sure? I remem-" Daryl's quick to shut Merle down once again "I'm sure"

It's about 20 minutes later when we end up back at the other side of the large acre of woods where we parked the car. As we approach the car, Rick whisper yells out Glenn's name, which makes both Glenn and Michonne get up and run to us. "Oh, thank god," Glenn sighs out as he approaches us. Rick was quick to squash the inkling of relief that Glenn had by revealing our newfound problems. "Now we got a problem here. I need you to back up." the moment Merle's face comes into Glenn's sigh, his face instantly contorted into anger "What the hell is he doing here!" Michonne pulls out her Katana in an effort to protect herself, and Daryl, he's quick to begin yelling in an effort to protect his older brother. There is a gun pointed at almost everyone in the group. "are you guys always like this?" Jack mutters quietly, "Always," I reply with an eye roll.

Everyone is yelling over each other; I can barely understand one word that's coming out of anyone's mouth. "Yeah, right after he beat the shit out of you," Rick scoffs, while I cross my arms over my chest, feeling absolute annoyance simmering inside me. "Hey, we both took our licks, man," Merle chuckles as his back presses against the tree behind him. "Jackass" Daryl scoffs with an eye roll. merle pushes himself off the tree. "Hey shut up!" Merle shouts back at his brother, his voice filled with pure annoyance. The brotherly squabble is quickly shut down by Rick with a loud "Enough!" but that just turns into another fight. "Hey! hey! Relax! Put that down!" Rick shouts at Michonne, who's got her Katana pointed at him. "Get that thing out of my face!" Daryl shouts, swatting at Glenn's gun.

Merle laughs. "Man, look like you've gone native, brother." Daryl turns around, his anger now fully directed at his brother. "NO more than you hangin' out with that psycho back there." Merle just has a smirk on his face, mainly just to piss Daryl off even more. "oh, yeah, man. He is a charmer, I got to tell you that. been puttin' the wood to your girlfriend Andrea big time, baby." Merle said eye's making direct contact with Michonne. my eyebrows furrow with confusion, not because of Andrea fucking my father, that was predictable, Andrea liked a man with power, but I'm confused because Andrea and Michonne had known each other. Glenn's just as confused brows furrowed as he asks "What? Andreas in Woodbury?"

"Right next to the governor," Daryl replies. Michonne takes a few steps forward, pointing her Katana in front of her once again, with the intention of hurting someone. "I told you to drop that!" Rick shouts, lunging forward, making Michonne lower it once again. Michonne has a blank expression on her face as Rick asks, "You know Andrea?" her eyes don't make contact with Rick, instead settling for somewhere right behind him.

Rick doesn't take her silence for an answer, so he gets closer, and his voice drops to a low, sinister whisper, "Hey, do you know Andrea?" he asks once again. She doesn't answer, letting Merle answer for her. "Yep, she does," he says, a smirk displayed on his lips. "Her and blondie spent all winter cuddlin' up in the forest. Mm-mmm-mmm." Rick has a look of betrayal on his face as Merle continues to reveal more and more of Michonne's secrets. "Yeah. My Nubian queen here had two pet walkers. No arms, cut off the jaws, kept them in chains."

What. The. fuck? two pet walkers! "kinda ironic now that I think about it." Daryl is done with Merle's mouth. Daryl quickly spins around shouting "Shut up, bro!" Merle laughs, obviously finding Daryl's anger hilarious "Hey, man, we snagged them out of the woods. Andrea was close to dyin'."

"Is that why she's with him?"

Merle nods. "Yeah. Snug as two little bugs. So, what ya gonna do now, sheriff, huh? Surrounded by a bunch of liars, thugs, and cowards." Merle says, just poking and prodding at Rick, trying to get a reaction out of him. And a reaction is what he got; Rick turns his head, commanding Merle to "shut up!" Merle, being Merle, doesn't comply and continues his antics. Merle chuckles. "Oh, man, look at this. Pathetic!" he shakes his head in faux shame. "All these guns and no bullets in them."

Merles once again got on his brother's last nerve. "Merle! shut up!" Daryl growls, leaning forward a bit, trying to intimidate his older brother. Merle doesn't take that and begins to shout, "Shut up yourself! Bunch of pussies you roll-" Merle isn't even able to finish his last sentence before Rick quickly strikes him in the back of the head with his gun, causing him to fall to the ground unconscious with a thud. "Asshole."

We're all gathered around in the middle of the road, leaving Jack sat on the side of the road, feeling he had no place in the conversation, and Merle still in the woods. Daryl's trying to propose that Merle comes with us, but Rick's not so sure, feeling it will just cause trouble. "It won't work," Rick sighs. Daryl still tries his best to convince Rick, though "it's gotta" I'm not on either side. I know Merle is nothing but trouble. I've known that since the moment I met him. But I also know that Daryl has beaten himself up over losing his brother for the past year. I know having his brother with our group again would make him happy. I want Daryl to be happy, I really do, but Merle has already caused so much trouble for our group. Hell, he kidnapped and almost killed Glenn and Maggie.

"it'll stir things up," Rick argues. I know he's right. Having Glenn and Merle under the same roof probably won't end up well. Glenn was already so pissed off; it wouldn't be right to make Glenn and Maggie feel more unsafe than they already did. "Look, the governor is probably on the way to the prison right now. merle knows how he thinks, and we could use the muscle," Merle did already know a bunch about Phillip, but who says he's even gonna help up, all he did back at the quarry was fuck around and start unnecessary fights with Shane.

"I'm not havin' him at the prison,"

"Do you really want him sleeping in the same cell block as Carol, Beth, or hell, Casey?" Glenn asks. thinking about it, I don't want Merle Dixon anywhere near Casey. I know Merle is Daryl's brother and all, but he should really think about this. I was barely comfortable being within 5 feet of Merle myself let alone my 5-year-old. he has to start thinking about the bigger picture, he has to start thinking about how this could affect Casey, Carl, and the baby. Daryl grunts before muttering, "he ain't a rapist." He wasn't a rapist, but he sure did make me more than uncomfortable on multiple occasions. Look at him, the way he talked, the men he hung out with; would he really want that kind of person around the children?

"Well, his buddy is." Daryl was still trying to plead Merle's case. "They ain't buddies no more. Not after last night," I sigh, arms crossing over my chest "C'mon D you know how Merle is, do you really want that around case?" he huffs, trying not to make eye contact as a look of betrayal spreads across his face.

"There's no way Merles gonna live there without putting everyone at each other's throats," Rick says. I know Rick doesn't want to piss Daryl off, but he also wants everyone in our group to feel safe. "So, yer gonna cut Merle loose and bring the last samurai home with us?" Rick shakes his head, saying "She's not coming back. "

"she's not in a state to be on her own" Maggie argues. Maggie and Glenn continue to try and plead Michonne's case. "She did bring you guys to us" Glenn whispers, in a way he's right. Michonne had helped us, but she's already practically gone rogue pointing that damn katana at people. we just don't know what she's capable of yet. "And then ditched us" rick argues, head turning towards Glenn. "at least let my dad stitch her up" Maggie begs, we can't just leave her out for dead, we should at least let Hershel check her out, so she's has the best chance of survival out there, it just the right thing to do. "She's too unpredictable." She's a loose cannon, that's for sure. On one hand, she has proven herself to be beneficial to our group, but on the other hand, she has also shown us that she could be harmful to our group. She's helping us, but also going missing for a long period of time and pointing her damn Katana at us like we're the bad guys.

We're staring at Michonne. She is leaning against the side-view mirror, staring back at us, almost as if she knows we're talking about her. Scratch that, she probably does know because Rick is not trying to whisper at all. He wants her to know she's unwanted, hoping she'll take a hint and scurry off before Rick can boot her out. Daryl nods agreeing with Rick, "That's right, we don't know who she is" he mutters, but he's only agreeing with Rick right now to try to slip in a word about Merle staying with us.

"But merle, merles blood." Daryl says almost acting like we're all some big family. Deep down, I have a feeling he'd run if Merle asked him. We're not blood, I'm not his wife, Casey's not his daughter. I'm his girlfriend, barely even that sometimes, and Casey, she's a little girl who has accidentally grown too attached. The 'D' around my neck means nothing if Merle is asking for something, and I know that. I wouldn't expect him to choose me over his brother, and I know he wouldn't expect me to pick him over mine, even if it would be a difficult decision for me.

Glenn shakes his head in disgust. "No, merles your blood, my blood, my family is standing right here, and waiting for us back at the prison." We had no ties to Merle, no need to keep him. The only one who did was Daryl. we all know the line we're tittering on, we all know the thoughts and decisions racing through his mind. We all know he's thinking about leaving and going with Merle. that's why my eyes are burning into his with a stare begging him not to. Begging him not to make me go back without him, begging him not to make me explain why he didn't come back. "And you're part of that family, but he's not. He's not"

I can see the anger boiling in his chest, the words he's trying to fight back. "Man, ya'll don't know" We all stare at him waiting for him to say it because we know he is "Fine. we'll fend for ourselves." he finally says it, which almost sends me over the edge. I just want to scream at him. How could he just leave, leave after promising he'd come back? "that's not what I was saying," Glenn says, trying to make Daryl think about his decision. "no, him, no me." It's as simple as that. He didn't think about Casey, Carol, Beth, or hell fucking me. "Daryl, you don't have to do that"

"It was always merle an' I before this" Then he makes eye contact with me, and he sees it, the tears pooling in my eyes that I desperately try to blink back, the begging the pleading, but he doesn't care. "So, you're just gonna leave?" I ask finally breaking my silence. His eyes meet mine. "you'd do the same thing," he mutters. My brother, he wasn't like Merle. He wouldn't be booted out of the group because my brother was a good man. "What do you want me to tell Casey? you promised her you'd come back." he shrugs, almost like he doesn't care. "y/n ya gotta understand this is my brother, my blood. You'd do the same if you found yer's. I know ya would"

"My brother's dead," I say, my voice comes out bitter and harsh. Because how could he bring up my brother, who's dead? Who died trying to help me? How could he compare his racist, misogynistic, absolute scumbag brother to mine? "Then ya should understand. "my arms cross over my chest, and my face twists into a disgusted expression. I can't believe he'd just leave us like that. After everything we've been through. He said he loved me. I thought he thought more of me. I thought this was it. I thought he was going to be my husband.

Daryl starts walking, pushing past Maggie and me, muttering, "Say goodbye to yer pops for me." I spin around on my heels, facing him now rather than Glenn and Rick. I'm practically chasing after him shouting "You're seriously leaving?! After everything we've been through?!" he ignores me and just continues to walk until he gets to the trunk of the car. He opens it and begins to gather his items.

"So, this is it?" I whisper, my hands shoved in my pockets, "guess so" he mutters, my heart drops and tears begin to pool in my eyes once again. "Seriously? What about Casey?" he shrugs, not answering because he knows whatever he's going to say is just going to piss me off. "What about me D? What about us?" a tear falls down my cheek, and my hand reaches up to wipe it away. "you'll get over it," he mutters, slinging his bag over his shoulder. That hurt me. It felt like a stab to the gut. Did he really think I just get over him like that? He shakes his head, almost as if he was trying to ignore the tears that lined my waterline. he's trying not to care.

I've watched Daryl grow so much as a person in the last year. The man I knew yesterday was a scrap of the man I had met at that quarry. But somehow, with Merle's reappearance, he went back to the Douch bag he was. He no longer cared for Casey, Beth, or Carol. He no longer cared for me. He no longer cared about us. All the late-night conversation meant nothing, the necklace meant nothing, Casey meant nothing. "I-I love you," I whisper, hoping it would change his decision. Hoping the quiet admission of love would snap him back into reality.

"Then stop..." he mutters. His words are so bitter, so calloused they slice right through my heart, breaking it into a million pieces. "ya got whoever that guy is over there, ya got Glenn. know you'll be fuckin' one of them by the end of the week," he mutters. Hot, angry tears begin to fall down my cheeks. How could he say that? Was that really all he thought of me? A slut? Did he think I was only with him for the sex? The sex that was so far in between that I can't recall the last time we had it. Did he not notice how in love I was?

I rip the necklace from my neck and throw it at him. It hits his torso before falling to the ground with a soft thud. The silver metal glimmers in the sun staring up a simple reminder of what we were, and what we could have been. "Fuck you" is the last thing I mutter before wiping my tears and turning to walk back towards the group.

The ride back to the prison is a blur. I sit in the back, middle seat, with a shell-shocked look on my face. I don't want to cry, but my body wants me to cry. There's a lump in my throat and I'm desperately trying to hold back tears. The whole ride Glenn muttering quietly to me, "I'm so sorry" "I didn't think he was really going to leave" I don't pay attention to him. I can't listen, I can't pay attention. I just want to be in my head right now. I feel the car stop and feel people leave, but I don't pay it any mind. I don't even pay any mind when I hear the shouting outside. I just want this all to be over.

I'm zoned out until I feel the car park, and everyone gets out. I get out, hands shoved in my pockets. The only thing that knocks me out of my head is the feeling of two little arms wrapping around my leg. "you're back," Casey squeaks as I bend down and pick her up. Her arms wrap around my neck and her head buries itself into my shoulder. I know the inevitable question awaits us, and I still don't know what I'm going to say. When I feel her head leave my shoulder and begin looking around, my heart begins to slam against my chest. "where's Daryl?" she asks eyes still searching, "he...Daryl left"

"Did he die?" she asks, brows furrowing up as I shake my head. I'd rather he had died. It's easier to explain to her that he died rather than he decided to leave us. "No, baby. He found his brother and decided he needed to be with his family." Her brows furrow up even farther, if that's even possible. "I thought we were his family?"

When I get back inside, I tell Casey to stay with Carl and go up and find an empty cell. This is when I finally let myself break down. Sitting on the bed with my head in my hand, I just let go. I'm full-on ugly crying, with tears streaming down my face, and snot bubbling out of my nose. I just hate him so much for leaving. Broken sobs escape my lips as I try to keep myself as quiet as possible. I don't want anyone else to know how badly this hurt me.

My chest rises and falls fast with each gasp I take. The only thought that is racing through my mind is why would he do this? How could he do this? Did he really think that I was a slut all this time, or was it Merle's comments about Glenn, and I that suddenly had changed his opinion of Glenn and I's relationship? Did he seriously think I didn't love him?

"You, okay?" a knock on the wall pulls me from my thoughts. I look up to see Carol. My bottom lip wobbles as I shake my head 'no'. she lets out a sigh as she nods and slowly walks towards me. She takes a seat next to me on the bottom bunk. "You want to talk?" she asks, her arm coming to wrap around my body and pull mine close to hers. I shake my head 'no' once again. I could barely think about him without a blubbering mess, let alone talk about him to someone else.

My head buries into her chest as her left hand rubs small circles into my back. "I know, I know," she mutters as broken sobs erupt from my throat. I just hate him so much for leaving with Merle, but at the same time I want him here, and I want him to hold me. I want to hear him tell me he loves me.

I sat in that cell for the rest of the night, not bothering about dinner because I had already felt sick to my stomach. The only human interaction I have is with Casey at bedtime when she cuddles up next to me in the bottom bunk. I can't bring myself to touch the stuff Daryl had left behind, because I know I'll either break it or throw it at a wall.

Casey's eyes were heavy with sleep, and yawns erupted from her every few seconds. She didn't want to sleep on the top bunk. For the past few months, she only knew what it felt like to sleep between Daryl and me. There was always a warm body next to her, no matter what. I can't bring myself to think how last night was for her. Through a yawn, she whispers, "I miss Daryl" I let out a heavy sigh. In a way I miss him, I wish he hadn't made the choice he had made, I wish he would have considered how'd those decisioned would affect us. I wish I didn't have the burden of living the rest of my life wondering if he's alright, so I guess in a way I miss him.

Casey eventually drifted off to sleep, and I quietly slipped out of bed, hoping that everyone else had retired for the night. As I tiptoed down the stairs and into the dimly lit rec room, I noticed Glenn sitting at a table in the far-left corner. He was shrouded in almost complete darkness, with only his hoodie standing out in the dim light. His head faced down; one elbow propped up on the table to hold it up. "How you holdin' up?" I ask, breaking him from his thoughts. I can see him just and let out a tiny gasp. "shit" he mutters under his breath as his head snaps up to see me.

I laugh, a small smile breaking across my face. "sorry" I whisper, walking across the room to meet him at his table. "watcha doin' up so late?" I ask, sliding into the seat beside him. "can't sleep you?" he asks. I shrug, not knowing why I was still up. I felt like I could sleep for a good week if I really tried. "So...did Jack get booted out with the rest...or..." I ask referring to the commotion I had heard earlier that day involving rick. Glenn shakes his head "Nah, didn't wanna upset you anymore than you already were," he says, tiptoeing around the subject of Daryl.

I can't help but feel bad about Glenn and Maggie. Every time I see the black and blue bruises that decorated his face, I can't help but be reminded of who caused it. I hadn't thought about him in years. The only times I was reminded of the faded remembrance of his face were in old family portraits that were in boxes up in my mom's attic.

1992 or 3 maybe, I was three years old in the picture, mom was heavily pregnant, and dad looked so young. I never realized how young both my parents were when they had me until I looked at those photos. Mom looks maybe 19, dad had to be at least 21. He's got me on his hip, we're all pushed in close, one arm around a waist, Dad's face and I's squished together. We looked so happy.

When I saw his face out in the crowd, I was 12 years old again up in the attic, sorting through boxes, finding the dusty portraits. Wondering how he could leave us. I wasn't stupid. I remembered those last few months, the last year. I remembered the drinking, the fighting, the bruises. I remembered the broken potted plants I remembered my brother's broken arm. I just couldn't believe the man who wore such a bright smile could be so evil.

How could he hurt me, hurt my brother, hurt my mom? I feel like I'm sitting in my paternal grandmother's kitchen this time, maybe 15, listening to her blab on and on about his family. His wife, his daughter. His daughter he loved so dearly, the daughter who had replaced me. 'He just loves her so much,' she said 'No one can take away a father's love for their daughter'. I hadn't thought of him since that moment. After that, I gave up on having a dad. I gave up on waiting. I finally realized he just didn't love me, and I couldn't change that.

But yesterday, seeing him again was like a punch to the gut, and finding out that he was the one who hurt my friends that made me furious. I wanted to be the one to hunt him down. I wanted to be the one to kill him. I couldn't wait to see his face when he realized who I was and what I was going to do.

"Glenn, can I tell you something? But you can't get mad" his brows furrow, a sliver of a smile displaying on his lips as his mouth opens to say something. I'm quick to cut him off, finally revealing the hardest secret I've ever had to keep. "the governor is my dad" his eyes widen, and fear sets in quickly, terrified he'll hate me. "What?" he asks, it coming out as a half laugh as he stares at me. His eyes fall up and down my body, examining every single one of my facial features, finding everyone that even slightly resembled Philips. "Are you joking?" he asks, head cocking to the side in disbelief. I shake my head slowly, and he lets out a quiet "oh my god."

"I didn't even know this governor guy was him until I saw him. You're not mad, are you?" he shakes his head, letting my anxieties settle. "No..not mad, just...shocked, yo-you...wow."

Taglist

@rivversin @soul4death @silicone-bonez @nezukos-number1fan @jai-lovely @maziejay08 @oi-itse @rhaenryawhore @kimbunnysstuff @blipblopper @ramielll @ilyhannah @daryldixonnn @delicatebearpandaopera @daryldixmedown @duckybird101 @0-imjusthere-0 @tanuki-tsuki

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sysmedsaresexist · 2 days ago

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(A Shitty But Important) News Flash ⚡️

📣🚨📣🚨📣🚨

Record scratch

Stop now

Please read

Before we forge on, this is unfinished. I just couldn't get through it. This article upset me. Posting just for the link and my unfinished thoughts.

Put down your pitchforks and pick up your reading glasses, we've got a mutual enemy.

Explanatory hypotheses of the ecology of new clinical presentations of Dissociative Identity Disorders in youth

This was published in 2022 and... please tell me no one else knew this paper existed? How have I never seen it before? I feel cheated. I feel like I just found out there's mean girls talking about our communities behind our backs.

I'm kind of speechless. I've highlighted the important bits, read those.

Abstract

Dissociative Identity Disorders (DIDs) are controversial psychiatric conditions encountered in clinical practice and nosology. DID, as described in the international classifications, has little similarity with the clinical picture of “DID” met in current youth psychiatry. From this perspective, we hypothesize that this current clinical presentation does not satisfy the categorical criteria of the international classifications. Based on the two terminological challenges related to the definition of DID (i.e., the notion of dissociative disorders and the different meanings of the term identity), we propose to differentiate two distinct entities from each other. The first is medical and listed in diagnostic criteria of international classifications; the second comes from popular culture and refers to the vast majority of clinical presentations received in daily clinical practice—presented under the term Dissociative Identity Conditions (DIC).

Pause, because I need that to sink in.

We've been downgraded.

I say "we," as if I'm including myself in this "youth" group. This article will tell you that it cannot be applied to adults.

But despite the fact that I'm (very) old, and despite that it explicity says it can't be applied to me, it does.

I feel personally attacked, despite my journey ending long before this applied to me. This tells me there's a flaw somewhere.

Since the status of DIC is a hot topic in current clinical psychiatry, we aim to identify eight possible explanations that can be provided to support its occurrence: (1) impact of iatrogenicity;

I need to stop right there and just... bask for a moment.

This article is about to tell you that your knowledge of DID is so good that you EDUCATED yourself into having a fake form of it.

There's no going back. We forge on.

(2) factors of suggestibility and desire for social acceptability; (3) psychoanalytic explanations; (4) neuropsychological explanations; (5) socio-cognitive explanations; (6) emotional labeling; (7) narrative explanations; (8) and transient illnesses explanations.

Let's pause again.

Let's think very hard for a second.

In conclusion, we sustain that DIC results from a narrative interpretation of medical discourse by popular culture, developing in patients presenting undeniable distress. Such a transient disease fits in an ecological niche, which echoes the values of society, persisting under the action of a need for narrative continuity of the self.

#syscourse #pro syscourse conversation #sysconversation #pro endo #anti endo #join forces #systems unite #draft cleanup #unfinished

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frostyreturns · 1 year ago

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That post I made about satanic messages being overt and not backwards in music has people reblogging it and tagging it with occult themed metal bands and that's not at all what I was talking about. Metal bands that claim to be satanic are pretending to try to be edgy because their music isn't good enough on it's own . Most of them likely don't even believe in the devil and just put pentagrams on stuff because they think its cool and rebellious.

The satanic messages that I'm talking about most wont even realize are satanic and they are in mainstream music more than any kind of metal band. I'm talking about Beyonce, Kim Petras, Doja Cat, Lady gaga, Taylor Swift...who are all far more satanic than the dudes who wear black and paint their faces to play heavy metal. People assume satanism is about worshipping the devil but it's not. It's about worshipping the self, it's about mindless self indulgence. It's about rejecting christ more than it is accepting the devil...and most people are accepting these messages without even knowing the value system they are rejecting. The real messages of satanism are not coming pre-labelled as dark and evil just like the actual devil doesn't come with horns and a pitchfork. they are brightly packaged for mass consumption with a pretty woman on the label.

Number 1 on the billboard top 100 right now is paint the town red a song about being criticized for being satanic and embracing it and attempting to remarket being evil as a positive. It encourages compromising your values for fame, having casual sex instead of settling down, glorifies selfishness and presents this whole atmosphere of a shitty cunty confrontational attitude as being a good thing. It's one of the more obvious examples but these same kind of things are in just about all of mainstream music without mentioning the devil at all. The satanism I'm talking about isn't the music where a dude is growling into a mic over a deep chugging guitar riff, it's the poppy music your kids are dancing to on tik tok.

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krinsbez · 1 year ago

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A Watership Down Meta/Headcanon/Rant

So, both @jaybutnotthebird and @stavarosthearcane have stated that, to their knowledge, I've not posted this on tumblr, and indicated that they would like to hear it, I'm posting it now!

So I don't recall if it was stated explicitly or was, like, a rumor, but everything about Gen. Woundwort makes so much more sense when you realize he's a hutch rabbit.

Why is he so enormous? Cuz he was bred to be big and fluffy, was fed flayrah everyday, and was taken to the vet if he got sick.

Why is he so afraid of humans? Because they were the first elil he ever encountered.

Why is everything he does in complete opposition to proper lapine culture and behavior? Because he grew up not knowing anything about it.

Efrafa is, in essence, an attempt to make a warren into a hutch.

OK got that? So, here's another thing to think about. Cowslip's Warren, or Strawberry's Warren, or the Warden of the Shining Wire, or whatever you want to call it...they also completely disregard traditional Lapine culture and behavior; they don't tell stories of El-ahrairah, they make weird poetry about the inevitability of death, they keep babbling about dignity, they make ART, etc. This, by the way, is why it and Efrafa come off as so viscerally wrong, because Mr. Adams went to the trouble of putting us in a rabbit headspace, so we can understand the full horror; it's not just Woundwort's tyranny or the farmer's snares, it's that they're unnatural and rabbits aren't meant to live that way.

Now, I know what you're thinking when I say that word, "unnatural", but put down the pitchfork.

Because Hazel and Co. do a LOT of things that is outside the realm of typical rabbit behavior:

Despite being Chief Rabbit, Hazel let's the others argue with and talk back to him.

They made friends with mice and a bird.

He adopted Cowslip's Warren's idea of using tree roots to create a big central chamber

Tales (the sequel short story collection) has them adopt a (obvs. less aggro) version of the Efrafan practice of having the Owsla run patrols

They busted out hutch rabbits.

They used a boat

Meanwhile, Sandleford, the Warren that our heroes fled, was apparently the epitome of a traditional Warren and of course they all died horribly.

So, what's the difference?

It goes back to the last lines of the first myth, part of which was used as the first animated film adaptation's tagline:

“All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies, and whenever they catch you, they will kill you. But first they must catch you, digger, listener, runner, prince with the swift warning. Be cunning and full of tricks and your people shall never be destroyed.”

(I bolded the important part)

Sandleford's Chief Rabbit (EDIT: The Threarah) decided he liked things as they were and refused to change, and his people died. Cowslip and Co. allow themselves to be farmed and treat death as an inevitability, and they're slowly going mad and dying one by one. Gen. Woundwort teaches his Owsla to respond to every situation by fighting, and they break and flee when the unexpected happens. The ordinary rabbits of Efrafa are forced to live like hutch rabbits and they're miserable and not having babies.

Hazel does weird stuff…but he does so because he's in a weird situation and has to adapt. He listens to the other's concerns and ideas, he keeps an open mind, he figures out what resources are available to him, and then figures out how he can use them to protect his people.

In short? Unlike Woundwort, Cowslip & Co., or the unnamed Chief Rabbit of Sandleford EDIT: The Threarah, he is cunning and full of tricks.

(I think one of the reasons the BBC miniseries from a few years back didn't hit right is that they failed to get this)

Anyways, thanks for coming to my TED Talk

#Watership Down #Random Thoughts #Headcanons

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melodymunson · 1 year ago

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Rockstar Eddie Munson x fem reader head canons (feat Steve Harrington)

Adult content ahead. Only 18+ no minors

(This is my first time posting a fic for the Stranger Things fandom on tumblr. Reblogs and feedback/comments are much appreciated.)

ao3 link for the fic

Corroded Coffin had fans everywhere and people who knew and loved heavy metal became lifelong fans.

Eddie loved to crowd surf, stage dive at any show, and even get into the pit. He was well known by concert promoters and club owners/staff alike.

The first time you saw Eddie play live he connected with you instantly and when it came time to meet the fans he made sure to ask you backstage. Out of all the groupies or fans he could've chosen he picked you.

When Corroded Coffin was the headliner he would put 110% into his performances and you would be sure to take pictures of him and CC because they were the best live band you had ever seen.

Once you got on Eddie's tour bus with your VIP all-access pass he played some unwritten songs and covers for you.

You of course bought all of the band's merch and loved all their designs.

Your job for the band was to help run the soundchecks and sell the band's merch and of course, get big tips from some of the fans.

You loved Eddie for so many reasons and him being a rockstar was just a small part of it. When he was onstage you loved to see his energy as a frontman and lead guitarist.

Most tour dinners were nothing special mainly fast food or easy and fast microwaveable food from the local grocery stores. Sometimes though Eddie took you out to dinner and it was romantic.

Eventually, you and Eddie decided to get matching tattoos of a coffin and his band's logo on your right shoulders.

Neither of you were heavy drinkers but wouldn't turn down free drinks and shots. Eddie's favorite drinks were whiskey and vodka but he loved the occasional beer.

Corroded Coffin toured with some amazing bands including Autopsy, Carnivore, WASP, and Napalm Death.

When you were watching shows with him he would either crowd surf or get into the pit. On occasion, he would hold you during the slow rock ballads.

He may have had a bad boy image to the rest of the world but he was more than a rockstar to you and you understood him completely and he loved how down-to-earth you were.

What started as you being a groupie soon turned into a relationship. It was spontaneous and he was the best mix of gentleman and rockstar.

When guys would look at you he was very protective and made sure to leave his mark and let them know you were his girl only. He would mark you up with hickeys or kiss you and hold you close to him.

You got an "I'm with the band the rules don't apply to me" shirt you would wear to some of the band's shows. He of course got an "I'm in the band the rules don't apply to me shirt" he often wore during some of his shows.

Most of your wardrobe consisted of black clothes and ripped jeans, Corroded Coffin shirts, metal tee shirts, and low-cut tops and fishnets along with platform boots. Spiked jewelry, chokers especially, and spiked bras are also a turn-on for him. Eddie would especially love it when you wore all black and when you chose to pair fishnets, a corset, a leather jacket, and heels together- he almost couldn't resist the urge to rip your clothes off.

He usually pairs a Hellfire Club shirt with cutoff and ripped denim jeans together as well as a denim jacket and Converse chucks or Vans tennis shoes but he always looks good.

He wasn't too much into cover songs but on occasion, the band would be known to cover Metallica and Black Sabbath.

For their headline Halloween hometown show you cosplayed Elvira and he loved it. Eddie went as the devil complete with mask, pitchfork, and cloak.

Neither of you have a particular preference for the type of fan/groupie to hook up with but most of the fans wore dark lipstick and were goth/alternative with low-cut black clothes. He was a sucker for women with pretty eyes though.

So many women threw themselves at both of you and took their tops off at his shows but this was just the normal every-night rockstar occurrence. Bras and underwear thrown at him on the stage happened at every show.

Sex on the tour bus was wild. Whether it be with just Eddie, other girls, men, or couples, you still had a wild and crazy time.

One of your favorite partners was Steve. Even though he was a jock he loved going to Eddies shows and supporting him and he loved to see you. After a few drinks and a joint or two, you and Steddie were fucking in the back of the bus in every position.

All the times you fucked other people together were one-night stands. The important thing was that Eddie was yours and all the sex you had with other people was protected.

He got off on seeing you go down on another woman and please her. For his birthday you let him watch and film you fucking 3 other women. He loved it and came so hard just by jacking off to it.

Being with Eddie and other women on the bus you would either fuck on the couches or in the back room and you could pretty much get them to do whatever you wanted. Being with a rockstar came with its privileges after all.

Sometimes you would just have groupies on the tour bus to suck Eddie off and film them as they did so. They were always willing and eager to please and the whole time Eddie would look right into the camera and smile.

Leather, whips, and bondage were some of Eddie's favorite things as well as pegging and you were willing to oblige and sometimes you were even his dominatrix.

Some of the concerts you attended as VIP because of his rockstar status were Ozzy, Judas Priest, Metallica, ACDC, and Joan Jett & The Blackhearts.

In the recording studio, it was quite the experience especially when he laid down the vocals. He even had you do guest vocals on the album by recording your moans as he fingered and fucked you.

Most of the time you get a chill and relaxed day off just to go do something fun like paintball, play some Dungeons & dragons, go hiking in abandoned places, go to the roller skating rink or the arcade.

Most days after the shows he takes you to the local bar or strip club/burlesque club and tip the dancers very well, have a few drinks, and bring a girl or two back to the bus.

Dustin and the rest of his gang including Will and Eleven go to the local shows and ones that are all ages of course to see Corroded Coffin and Eddie even gives them a special shoutout and side stage access/VIP treatment.

For a while, he had been thinking about getting another guitarist and he decided to hire you. The gift that he presented when you were going to get asked to be in his band was a Fender electric guitar that was purple. He had been teaching you for a while and giving you lessons and would teach you more.

What you saw as most fitting for his next birthday would be a new electric guitar and you got one for him custom-made with his initials and it was blue. He of course loved it and told you it was the best present anyone had ever gotten him.

For his first big band photoshoot, he made sure you went with him and he posed with you scantily clad but very tasteful. You both had your guitars and posed together.

Once Corroded Coffin had made it big you and Eddie got a place of your own. For so long he wanted to be able to move out of the trailer park so he did and you got a nice place that was decorated with so many rock n roll posters, a King sized bed, silk and satin sheets, and curtains/drapery, a music room, a sex room, and even a small custom recording studio.

The new place was missing something and you decided you wanted to get a pet to adopt so you sat Eddie down and talked it over and it wasn't difficult to convince him to get one. Later that week you went to a cat and dog rescue shelter and found the cutest cat that was a tabby.

When you were on tour either Steve and Robin or Dustin would take care of the cat and you and Eddie made sure to bring home lots of toys when you got back.

Once Eddie's band got their big break and finally played a bigger venue and as headliner, he decided to propose to you onstage.

After being newly engaged to Eddie he had a chance to be in a music documentary and brought you along with him for being his biggest muse.

Being with Eddie and in a touring band was what was the best thing for you now and whatever came next you would be ready for it.

tagging @corneliuswatkins @keeryatmosphere @chrrymunson @xxhellfirebunnyxx @bimbobaggins69 @reidsbtch @babygorewhore @inourtownofhawkins @lokis-army-77 @imyourdaninow @ali-r3n @harringtonfan4 @koskeepsake @munson-mjstan @bunnsandroses @take-everything-you-can @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @steveslittlesunflower @emsgoodthinkin @jadeylovesmarvelxo @lofaewrites @zestychili @s6raphic @probablyin-bed @corrodedcorpses @dollalicia @hopsgirl

lemme know if you want to be added/removed

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson headcanons #rockstar eddie munson #rockstar eddie #steve harrington x fem reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson imagines #rockstar #stranger things headcanons #stranger things fic

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