#rick; fucking done; but like still happy: that little shit.

[grimesgirll]

"darlin', it's time to go to sleep."

you whine. "but i'm still up. i'm not tired yet," you insist as you wrap your legs around his waist, grinding softly. "don't you wanna go one more time?"

rick gives you a tired smile. "i'd love to sweetheart but i already made you cum three times tonight and you’re still beggin' like this. i think it's just gonna keep you up at this point."

you pout. “no! this is the last time! i promise!”

“well, if you promise,” rick accepts your swear with a kiss and slides his slate gray boxers down to line himself up with your already spent pussy. he pushes up your frilly baby blue fur trimmed nightie just above your hips. you’d found it in a department store and it had been driving him wild ever since.

he pulls you into him as the head of his dick glides through the first few inches of you. your cunt is soaked but only an inch or two more and he’s met with that tight, ring of muscle gripping his cock. your leader groans into your neck, pulling you flush against him until you’re squealing and both your hips are snug together.

“rick!”

“isn’t this what you wanted?”

“yes!” you gasp as he picks up the pace and moves in and out of you. “you feel so good.”

“you too, honey,” he grunts into your ear.

you lay back and watch the best you can in the dark as he thrusts in and out of your dripping pussy. his chocolate curls are accented bronze from the dim glow of the outside light from the window.

head against the satin pillow, your eyes are watering and you feel like you’re at your breaking point again. “feel so good, rick,” you manage as you tighten around him.

“shit, baby, happy i can help,” the sheriff huffs as he rearranges your guts.

“so, so good,” you’re babbling as the dam bursts. your legs are numb and you feel light headed enough to see spots but rick is there to bring you right back and fuck you through your orgasm.

“love when you do that, honey,” rick groans, running a hand through your long hair while the other finds your breast. you writhe under him as he plays around with your nipple and cupping your tit. “i know you wanna do it again before you fall asleep, right?”

you nod eagerly. “yes, sir.”

suddenly rick’s lips are on yours again and he’s tapping that spot. your legs start to shake again but you hold on as your leader’s mouth travels south to suck on your nipple.

you cry and hum praises at him through your fucked out haze but he just keeps his warm mouth and a hand on your chest. his free hand goes to your clit to rub tight circles just the way you like it. you gasp into his ear as he tightens his grip on you, dropping a tit to hold your hip and fuck further into you.

“rick, rick,” you stutter.

“feel so good, honey,” rick praises.

his hand finds your breast again and you’re holding onto him for dear life as you get your brains fucked out and every part of your body overstimulated.

it’s no surprise when you cum on his cock, leaving it drenched in the results of an orgasm some people would argue wasn’t real. his dick is slick with you, from the base to the tip as he continues his tirade against your poor pussy. you are surprised that he hasn’t come yet.

“rick…”

“yes, honey?”

“when are you going to sleep?” you ask, nearly dodging kisses on your breasts, your neck, and a tongue down your throat. if only you had the energy.

“when i’m done, honey.”

“can i help?”

rick presses a sweet kiss and a smirk to your shoulder. his sweet girl, always trying to take care of him even when she was so fucked out and on the verge of sleep.

“no, honey. you can go to sleep,” he assures you, pressing another kiss to your temple and slowing the roll of his hips.

“‘kay,” you exhale and settle into the pillow as rick pulls you against his chest, literally fucking you to sleep.

it wouldn’t take him long after you fell asleep to take care of himself and paint your insides white, calm and collected after treating himself to your snug cunt.

with you asleep, he stays in you for a little bit longer before pressing a few more kisses along your neck to ease the feeling of him pulling out of you. he pulls the blanket up the way you like and wraps his arms around you, prepared to have to fight you off in the morning when you inevitably woke up with your lady boner but he didn’t mind. who doesn’t want to start off their day getting their dick wet?

[dragonmama76]

Beginnings Part 2

read Part One, and Interlude first. Part 3 is done!.

Eddie was the opposite of calm.  He was terrified well beyond rational thought and he had one intention.  Survive. By any means necessary.  When he jumped out of the boat and pressed the edge of the broken bottle against his attacker’s throat nothing could have stopped him.  Except.  “Steve, this is Steve!”  Steve.  Steve who he had wronged.  Steve who he had bullied.  Steve with the perfect life that maybe wasn’t so perfect.  And he stopped.  

************

Eddie’s cup runneth over.  His public display of dominance had been more than enough to establish a reputation that he was not to be fucked with.  He didn’t even need to torment Steve to keep the memory alive, but Eddie continued his menacing glances and subtle jabs nonetheless. Because he could.  Because it was fun.  It was that feeling you get when you’re five years old and you’ve just completed some kick ass move like jumping off the swing at it’s zenith and you shout to your parents, “Look at me!  Look at me!”  His own parents had never looked.  They had never been there to begin with.  But now.  Now everyone was looking at what he had done and it felt so fucking good.  He couldn’t be too obvious since the basketball team had rallied around Steve, keeping him out of bounds most of the time, but he still found sly little opportunities to flash his knife or murmur a not so subtle threat when Steve came near.  It was enough to keep his high feeling fresh.

By the time the school year was over, even local drug dealer Rick Lipton had heard of him.  When Eddie decided that manual labor didn’t fit his new image, he proposed they begin a business relationship and Rick was quick to agree.  He knew that Eddie could handle himself if there was trouble and having a dealer embedded in the high school made sense.  Eddie spent the next two years dealing at school and weekend parties and while he wasn’t exactly accepted, no one messed with him and he only rarely had to display his feral nature to the jocks that ran the school.   In the meantime, he convinced the theater teacher to sponsor an after school club for his gang of nerds.  Mr. Hughes didn’t know what Dungeons & Dragons was, exactly, but it felt dramatic and he was happy to oblige.  If only Eddie put as much energy into his academic responsibilities as he had done with his social life he would have been out of High School in a quick minute.  But he was too busy enjoying the life he created for himself to consider the consequences.

Senior year, Steve pulled up to the school in his BMW feeling pretty great for the first time in his high school career. He had an amazing girlfriend, basketball was starting soon, and best of all there would be no more run-ins with Munson.   It wasn’t that he was scared of him, exactly.  After that day in the cafeteria Freshman year Munson had backed off for the most part.  Sure he still glared at him and whispered threats and flashed his stupid knife, but for the most part Steve was able to avoid him and pretend he didn’t exist.  It helped that they never had any classes together.  And while the freak had managed to be at every house party Steve attended, he preferred alcohol over drugs anyway so they had zero interaction. And beyond that, Steve now knew there were much scarier things in the world than a high school kid with a knife.  No, he wasn’t afraid, it was just…a lot.  Munson was obviously still a live wire waiting to strike and Steve had to be vigilant.  He had put up walls and created a persona of his own to balance out the bully that still dogged him and it took a lot of effort to mask his more vulnerable, sensitive side.  Most of his energy went to creating the character of King Steve that everyone now expected and that he hated..  He had done things he regretted, that shit show with Jonathan Byers for example, and he had willingly lost friends in the process, good riddance to Tommy H. and Carol, but he was trying to scale back the arrogant jock attitude and be more himself, especially with Nancy.

His guard was so low that when he sauntered into his first class ready to take on the world Steve was completely blindsided when the freak, himself, pushed past him to grab a seat in the back.  Steve could feel the pinpricks of tears forming.  He couldn’t do this.  Not again.  Not when he thought he was finally free.  He bolted from the room and straight into the bathroom before anyone could really register he was gone.  Shit.  Shit shit shit.  He was pretty sure someone up there hated him these days.  He had fought an other-worldly creature no problem, but it was still Eddie Munson who had the power to make him run.  This year was officially going to suck.

Eddie watched Steve run from the classroom and grinned.  He still had it, baby.  Maybe his second senior year would actually be fun.

Steve’s senior year was anything but fun.   Steve graduated.  His parents didn’t come.  His ex-girlfriend didn’t come.  A bunch of middle school kids came and cheered for him and that was nice, but also kind of embarrassing.  This was apparently his life now.  The brightspot?  Eddie Munson’s name wasn’t called.  Not that Steve was listening for it.  Eddie Munson could go to hell as far as he was concerned.  But he couldn’t help but feel a little relieved not to have to share this day with him.

Eddie watched from under the bleachers as Steve Harrington received his diploma along with the rest of his class.  Whatever.  Fuck him and his perfect hair and his perfect life.

Eddie was definitely pissed to be doing Senior year for the third time, but there were still moments of joy like when he gathered new freshman sheepies.  His original group of freshmen had finally graduated without him, but he still had Jeff, Frank, and Gareth and now he was ready to induct a new crew.  They were a little wary, and if he didn’t know better he’d say they looked kind of shellshocked, sort of like some of Uncle Wayne’s friends who had been to ‘Nam.  With Eddie’s outlandish personality and dramatic welcome they opened up eventually.  He liked the curly hair kid, Dustin, the best.  God that kid never shut up, though which, depending on the topic, could be annoying.

Right now Eddie was extra annoyed because the topic he wouldn’t shut up about was Steve Fucking Harrington.  Was that guy going to haunt him for the rest of his life?  

“Eddie, you’d like Steve if you knew him.  I asked him and he was kind of weird about it, but he says he didn’t really get to know you in high school and I think that’s a shame because he was bullied really badly and I bet you could have helped him and protected him.”

“What are you talking about, kid?  King Steve was never bullied a day in his life.” Eddie scoffed.

“No, he was.” Lucas nodded sagely.  “He said that the only reason it didn’t totally destroy him was that he had the basketball team on his side.  That’s one of the reasons I’m doing basketball.  You got to have people on your side.  That’s what Steve says.”

“Steve says,” Eddie mimicked, “Jocks can’t be bullied, they ARE the bullies.”

“That’s not true.  I’m not a bully.”  Lucas muttered.

“Yeah, well you’re more nerd than jock.” 

“Steve’s a nerd too.” Dustin insisted, “He just doesn’t show it, but he watches Star Wars with me all the time and he has a huge collection of Spiderman comics stashed in his bedroom.  Even Robin calls him a dingus.  Do you know Robin?  I think they should date but she says they are platonic with a capital P.  I think that’s crap with a capital C. They’ll get their shit together eventually.”

“I….don’t know if I know Robin?”  Eddie’s head is starting to spin.  “So who bullied King Steve?”

“He won’t say, but it started freshman year.  He gave us a big talk before school started about being safe and staying in a group.  I guess the kid, like, followed him around and would push him and stuff.  And one time he even pulled a knife on him.  That’s crazy right?  He said he was afraid to go to school for all of freshman year.  It’s awful because Steve had, well he wouldn’t want me to say, but he doesn’t have great parents so home sucked and school sucked.  I wish you guys had been friends. And then maybe he could have been in Hellfire or something.  He’s great with a bat and I bet his character…”

Eddie couldn’t listen anymore. His brain was on overload.  Had he really done all that to Steve?  Actually caused him pain?  

Well.  Fuck.

“Roooobin,” Steve whined, “Are you even listening to me?”  They were behind the counter at Family Video rewinding tapes while they waited for even one customer to come in to relieve their boredom.

“I AM listening, Steve,” she reasoned, “But I think you’re letting your jockish prejudices get in the way of rational thought.  Hellfire is just a group of nerds who role play and I know Eddie can look all scary and intimidating, but he’s totally not a bad guy.  We were in band together last year and he’s honestly just a big goofball.  Yeah, he’s loud and okay, a drug dealer, but I know for sure that he doesn’t sell to underclassmen so you don’t have to worry about that.  The kids are fine with him.”

“You don’t know him like I do.”  Steve glowered, “And…well, I’m afraid that if he knows the kids are associated with me that he’ll, like, take it out on them.”

“Why?  What did you do to him?” Robin glared and Steve knew she thought there was some bullshit King Steve incident in their past and all of a sudden it was too much.  He couldn’t bring himself to tell her how weak he had been, but also this was ROBIN and he couldn’t stand the idea that she thought of him that way.

“NOTHING!” he burst out, “I did NOTHING to him EVER.” And suddenly he couldn’t breathe.  Tears pooled in his eyes and it felt like something was going to burst out of his chest, like that gross Sigourney Weaver film Robin had made him watch.  He sank to his knees and pressed his hands to his eyes.  

“Okay.  You’re okay, Steve.” Robin hunched over him.  She placed a firm hand on his chest, “I've got you.  Breathe with me.  In and out.  You’re safe.  I’m here and you’re safe.”

Steve managed some gasping breaths and could feel his heart rate coming down.  Right.  This was Robin, his soulmate, he could tell her and she would understand.  “It started the first day of freshman year…”

Eddie didn’t end Hellfire early, even though he felt nauseous and increasingly distracted.  He owed it to the group as their DM to see it through so he pushed his feelings aside and let the kids get through a tough battle before calling it a night.  “Okay, that’s it for now.  You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.  Y'all got rides lined up?”

“Yeah, we’re getting picked up,” muttered Mike, “He’s probably already out there waiting.”  “Alright then, chariots may wait no longer.  Scram!”  Eddie hurried everyone out the door and quickly cleaned up the papers and books sprawled on the table.  As he made his way out he could hear the kids chattering away about the most recent developments in the campaign and as he burst through the gym door he heard a sharp whistle.  “Can we please let’s go before your parents kill me for missing your curfew?  I’ve been out here forever waiting for you guys to be done.”  Eddie knew that voice.  He looked up straight into the eyes of Steve Harrington.  He was dressed in his regular polo and jeans, hair perfect as always, leaning confidently on the hood of his BMW, but as Eddie caught his eye he saw the boy flinch and round his shoulders.  Christ Almighty.  What had Eddie done?

Eddie didn’t even remember driving home.  He was at school in his van and then he was fully dressed in his bed.  Over and over his mind replayed the events of the last four years.  He wasn’t a stranger to reminiscing about his days as the Freak who humbled the King, but this time he tried to remember that Steve was a flesh and blood person, a kid, really, like Dustin or Mike or Lucas.  A kid with real feelings and problems who, maybe, didn’t deserve to get picked on for entertainment.  And wasn’t that the thing.  Eddie had never stopped to consider that what he was doing might have been just as bad, or even worse, than what had been done to him.  Maybe Harrington had deserved it?  By his junior year he certainly seemed like a real asshole.  But also, Eddie never really remembered seeing Steve initiate any of the prickish behaviors his sports ball friends liked to engage in.  Now that he thought about it, he remembered a few times where Steve hung back and helped pick up dropped books and papers or check that a kid was okay after having been tripped in the hall.  Eddie groaned.  This wasn’t the first time he’d messed up in his life, but it felt like the most important. 

Eddie didn’t get out of bed for three days.  His uncle tried to coax him out with favorite meals and rented movies, but Eddie couldn’t face him.  Uncle Wayne still thought Eddie was a good person and that was decidedly untrue.  On day three he decided that he needed a new plan.  He wasn’t even sure of the ultimate goal but he knew that step one would be making sure that Steve was okay.

“Robin,” Steve hissed.  “He’s out there again.”  Steve was staring out the front window of Family Video trying to look like he wasn’t staring out the window at the man casually leaning on a telephone pole across the street.  He knew it sounded crazy, but he was pretty sure that Eddie Munson was stalking him.  It was nothing he could prove because it was always in public but increasingly when he was out and about he would feel eyes on him and when he turned to look, Eddie would be there.  Yeah, alright, he was always doing something totally normal like buying groceries or having a smoke.  And sure, Eddie never approached him or glared at him the way he did when they were in school which, honestly felt weird.  And even weirder, a couple of times when Eddie noticed Steve noticing Eddie, he had smiled abashedly and fluttered his fingers in a little wave.  If Steve had to define it, he would have to say that Eddie was 'reverse bullying' him.  Was that even a thing?  Maybe he was just fattening him up with his pretty smiles and doe eyes like a lamb being fed before he was slaughtered.  It was disconcerting to say the least.

Robin gave Steve a sympathetic shrug.  She had been appropriately outraged when he had given her the details of his run-ins with Eddie but it was still hard for her to see him as anything other than the loud funny guy from band.  “Just ignore him.  He lives in this town just like us so you’re bound to see him now and again. And, so far at least, he’s been good to the kids.  Maybe try to let it go?  And speaking of band, did I tell you what Vickie did yesterday?....”  Steve turned away from the window to concentrate on Robin’s latest installment of the life of her crush.  Let it go.  Okay. He could try.

Eddie watched as Steve turned away.  He had learned a lot from watching him these past months.  Steve was kind to cashiers, patient when he was rung up incorrectly, and flirty in a dorky kind of way that never paid off.  He was always carting Eddie’s Hellfire kids places like the arcade or the diner or the mall two towns over and it seemed like he did it out of the goodness of his heart. He was a hard worker, staying late at work to clean thoroughly and lock up.  He was a good friend to Buckley, dancing with her and running around when the store was empty. Eddie could see why Dustin thought they were more than just friends. From the outside, Steve seemed to be just fine, but Eddie watched and he saw more.  When he thought no one was paying attention, Steve looked sad.  He flinched at loud noises.  And at night he went home to an empty house where, Eddie knew, he had to be lonely.  Eddie wasn’t so naive as to think all Steve’s problems stemmed from a stupid kid in high school who wouldn't leave him alone, but Eddie felt responsible for adding to his pain.  He felt lost, except for one thing. Every so often he would catch a glimpse of Steve with Robin or Dustin and his face would light up with the most painfully beautiful smile.  It was like looking into the face of the sun after a long rain and Eddie couldn’t catch his breath gazing at him.  “I see you Steve Harrington and I will do whatever it takes to keep you smiling. I goddamn swear it."

———————-

More to come. Tell me what you think!!

Taglist: @goodolefashionedloverboi @background-noise-headache @phirex22 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lilpomelito @thaliaisalesbian @liesatemyocean @seilahtitania32 @nightmareglitter @writtenbyancientskeletonhats @dammitjim02 @newagemyth @slaalgumacoisayay @batxsignalsx @beawritingbooks @vacantwatchers @hallucinatedjosten @i-less-than-threee-you @bookworm0690 @dino-nuggets-posts @a-gae-af-racoon @my-chemical-sexuality-crisis @whalesharksart @uses-of-anger @epiclazershark @anaibis @kakashimeansplan @that-agender-from-pluto @novelnovella @jackiemonroe5512 @emly03 @shoujo-goddess @zaphodkilledthespeedforce @what-is-life-but-an-empty-void @riverofrainbows @pottenloved247 @strangersteddierthings @a-little-unsteddie

[1427]

When the Levee Breaks (pt. 5)

Daryl Dixon x OFC

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

Chapt Setting: The Farm/Woods

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

Word Count: 2.7k

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

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Man fuck that guy.

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

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

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

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

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

✨🏹 

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

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

“I like you, Dar.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine.” 

“Just fine?” She smiles. 

“Good.” I clarify. 

“Good.” 

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

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

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

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

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

Shit. 

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

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

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

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

How didn’t I see it? 

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

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

Shit. 

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

‘Til the walkers hear me. 

✨🏹

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

✨🏹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop callin’ me tha’.” 

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

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

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

Oh. 

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

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

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

She did come back. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

What? “Why not?” 

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

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

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

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

[esha-isboogara]

Could interest you in a little Rick/Reader concept: reader going on an adventure in a tundra setting and purposefully refusing any warming up measures Rick tries to offer, only to get cold the moment they set foot on the planet, yet still looking smug as all shits. Only to shove their FREEZING hands up Rick’s shirt once they get cold enough before bailing while cackling like a madwoman. NOW IS THIS FUN OR WHAT? (I’ll let you decide if you’d rather do headcanons or a drabble! >:3)

THIS IS ME OMG!!! i am so stubborn once i get an idea in my head i run with it! i’m going to try headcanons with this one bc it’s been a while

rick with a stubborn reader

♡having a significant other as stubborn as him is a blessing and a curse let’s be so honest. someone that will force him to sleep for an hour and not give up just because he refused a few times.

♡at the same time the fights you two get into her serious quick. both of you always think you’re right and will not be taking comments or concerns.

♡rick usually knows best when it comes to exploring the universe so for you not to listen to him pisses him off to no end. why would you not take a coat to a frozen tundra? it doesn’t make logical sense. rick figured you’re doing it just to spite him.

♡once you stepped out of the ship you realized how wrong you really were. the cold air nipped at every inch of exposed skin. you were tempted to turn right back.

♡rick on the other hand had a nice warm scarf and a parka. he was amused watching you fight against the cold. this was his “i told you so” moment.

♡you couldn’t take it anymore. “rick im done i give up. it’s freezing i can’t take it anymore”. and with that you slid your hands under his shirt and rested your palms against his warm skin.

♡if it were anyone he would have whoever them away, cursing at them for even trying such a thing. he’d never admit it but he had a bit of a soft spot for you.

♡”holy shit your hands are cold” he remarked, shivering at your touch. “fuck this shit, let’s just go somewhere else this is lame”.

♡you were all too happy to go back to heated ship.

♡ “i bet you wish you brought a coat huh”?

[beaker1636]

P is for Pearl Necklace - Vinny

AN: What's that? Double update today! Happy Smutty Saturday!

The next day at band practice the guys are all laughing at Chris, finding it hilarious that it was an accidental thing that made him lose his round.  Rick cracking a joke about how you’d think that Chris was the youngest member, the one who still lacks self control, earning him a water bottle thrown at him by Chris.

Vinny laughs watching the scene unfold, but refuses to pitch in with making fun of his singer, not wanting to make the man upset with him because it’s his turn to get a letter and he doesn’t want to make him go any harder on himself than he already could be.  He knows that sometimes it's better to shut his mouth, to keep quiet and that right now is one of those moments. Plus he’s focused on everything that is happening right now, the practice they are supposed to be having despite the fact that half the group is goofing around.  They haven’t played together in a couple weeks and need this before their performance at the festival tomorrow.

He is so glad when he hears Chris say something about focusing on practice, getting everyone back on track so that they can continue to work through things before tomorrow, luckily the festival is in PA so they don’t have to travel far for it, and can all spend the night in their beds.  In fact it has become a little thing, all of the girls have decided they are going to go as well so that it can be a fun little trip for everyone together.  

And now they are practicing again, Vinny in his element as he focuses on what he is currently doing, something that makes him comfortable.  He honestly just wants to get this done so he can go home, rest before they are stuck on the road tomorrow.  Luckily they finish running through the set list and feel comfortable enough to end it for the day, helping the crew load up everything on the trailer and now they’re just sitting around, having something to eat before they all leave.  

Chris stops after taking a sip of his water before glancing towards Vin.  “I’m in a decent mood right now so I’ll go easy on you, Pearl Necklace. Nothing that crazy or hard… mostly so you are well rested tomorrow.”

“Why does everything I get always have to do with oral? I swear to god, altoids, face sitting, now this…. “ Vin grumbles, looking down at his box of chinese food with a grimace. “I mean I guess it could be worse, it’s not like she’s never blown me but”

“You’re complaining all you have to do is get head.. Are you fucking nuts?” Ryan asks with a grumble, unable to believe it.  Why would Vinny complain he got something easy, what the actual hell is wrong with him?

“No, I’m just… I am glad I haven’t gotten anything crazy but I feel like I am missing out on some of the fun I guess..” Vinny answers honestly.

“Be glad….” Chris says with a grumble, thinking about last night again as he takes another bite of his food with a sigh.  “Okay, anyway, tomorrow just show me a photo of her necklace, yeah? You can hide her face and shit like just a close up but I want to see it to know you did it.” 

“Of course that is how you want me to prove it you pervert,” Vinny says with a groan, moving to throw his empty containers away before walking out for the night, ready to just head home.

Later

“Hey Lot,” Vin says as he makes his way into the house towards you, glad that you may not have officially moved in but you are pretty much living with him regardless.  He loves getting to come home to you at night whether it be your apartment or his.

He gives you a kiss, one of his hands resting on your cheek for a moment before he looks at you with a smile.  You still have your makeup on from work, look so pretty right now to him.  You always do but right now more than usual, maybe it's because you look so happy right now compared to how you have been lately, he isn’t sure but he loves it.

“You look beautiful tonight Lottie, I-I’m not sure what’s different about you today but you do look great tonight,” he says, leaving a kiss on your forehead while he pulls you into a hug for a moment, wanting to be close to you. 

“You sure you’re not just sucking up for your next letter?” You tease, knowing that isn’t what this is.  Here lately the two of you are closer than ever and it is honestly nice, the little trip has seemed to help and allowed both of you to express your true thoughts and feelings, brought you even closer together. 

“Well that too, but no, you genuinely look wonderful today.  I like it when you look happy, you always look beautiful but more so when you are happy.” He says with a smile before pulling away from you, leaving a slight squeeze on your ass through your jeans with a chuckle when you look annoyed.

“Go take a shower sweaty, then you can tell me your letter and we can get started yeah? Considering we all have a long drive tomorrow it’s probably better than waiting okay?” You ask, glancing at him for a moment. 

When he nods and starts to walk away you smile at him, happy that he seems to be in a good mood, that he is happy himself.  You were worried practice might not go well after a few weeks off, but it must have because he seems to be having a decent day. It makes you happy to see him in a decent mood, he looks cute when he's happy. 

You settle in his bedroom, taking a seat on the bed, reading while you wait for him to finish his shower. You get distracted while you wait, not realizing that he has finished his shower until he takes a seat next to you.  

Damp hair, in a clean pair of boxers and nothing else… fuck, your boyfriend is attractive like this. Or is that just the fact the romance novel you were reading just had a really smutty scene you just finished… or both?  Either way you shamelessly check out your boyfriend where he sits next to you, not caring if he notices.

“Like what you see?” He asks, a smirk playing on his lips as you look over at him.  Catching you in the act as you let your eyes run over his body. Instantly making you flush and glance away, caught.

“Maybe I do, have a problem with that?” you ask, trying to sound more confident than you currently feel.

“I’d say do something about it… wait, I never told you what our letter is.  Chris was pretty generous, it's just a pearl necklace, and I know you know what that means because of the books you read.  Thing is.. After I give it to you I have to take a photo to show him.” He says, fingers ghosting along your thigh that is barely covered by the shorts you have on.

“Hmmm, okay.  I’m game,” you respond, settling yourself on your knees in front of him.  Looking up at him as you slowly ghost your hands over his little bit of the bulge that is starting to grow.  “It’s me paying you back for our letter F huh?”

You tease, lightly slipping your fingers underneath the band of his boxers enough to feel it but not enough to actually touch him, wanting to toy with him a little bit.  You’re feeling confident for once and it definitely shows.  You decide to lighty run your fingers along his length as you slowly slide his boxers down his thighs, your eyes watching his as you do.

You smile, realizing he's already hard for you and you’ve barely touched him. He’s always really responsive, ready to go for you and you love it.  Love that you don’t have to try that hard to make him want you.  You can feel his eyes on you as your hand wraps around him, lightly stroking him to bring him standing the rest of the way before you lower your head.  You tongue leaves teasing trails down the length of him before you then circle the head with it a couple times.  Happy when you hear him groan softly as you tease him, letting you know that you are getting to him, which is your goal.

“I’m getting to you aren’t I?” You ask, watching him as you continue to tease him.  

“Fuck baby, yeah you are,” he says softly, one of his hands threading in your hair to pull it back from your face so he can see you easier.

You finally wrap your lips around him as you slowly take more of him, moving a bit lower along his length as you slowly bob your head, not quite giving him enough and knowing it.  You want to see how far you can push him before he gets rougher with you, gets annoyed and takes over.  

The answer is not much, because he slowly uses his hand that is in your hair to gently push you down further, making you take all of him as you try to relax around him, gagging slightly but trying to control it the best you can for him as he slowly uses his hold to help you move along his length, but not enough to make it uncomfortable.  You still have a majority of the power here as you do as he wants, him not taking control from you quite yet but you hope that changes soon.

“Can I?” He asks you, you know exactly what he is asking and nod.  Backing away from him slightly so he has room to stand up and do what he wants to with you, you are just as excited about it as he is.

This time when you take him back in your mouth his hand in your hair holds you in place as he starts to rock his hips, working himself as he sees fit in your mouth, slowly at first but then going harsher.  Knowing that you can take his cock like a good girl and let him fuck your face with it as he sees fit.

“You look so pretty like that, tears running down your face as you try not to choke around me,” he praises, his thrusts getting harsher, finding himself growing closer.

There's something about seeing you down on your knees, so willing to let him use you for what he needs, how he sees fit that makes you that much more attractive to him.  Makes him want this that much more.

Eventually he stalls when he pulls you all the way down on him, able to feel your throat swallowing around him on instinct for a moment before pulling back, watching you closely as you choke on him.  Knowing that he has this power of you right now, you’re letting him do this.   That’s all it takes for him to fully go for it, now chasing his high as it grows closer and closer as he uses you, thrusting rather harshly now as he hits his end.  Quickly pulling out of you and holding your head back so that he can finish against your throat, meeting his end of the deal as he watches it slowly start to run down your body. Realizing he still needs his photo as proof he quickly takes the photo and then runs off to find you something to clean yourself off with, helping you do so as you move to sit on the bed. 

He also has a second damp washcloth that he uses to help you clean up the makeup that's now running down your cheeks from when you eyes were watering while you worked him over.  He gently takes the rag and does it to help you, wanting to help take care of you like you did for him. 

Sometimes it amazes you when he does this, how he can go from being rather harsh with you to so gentle in just a few moments but that is a part of why you love him. That he can go back and forth with you and keep you on your toes, be harsh with you and then remind you that he loves you. 

When he’s done cleaning you up one of his hands settles on your thigh again, slowly tracing patterns on it as he trails it up, glancing at you.

“Your turn.”

[kitsune024]

Crossovers

Doctor Who

run, boy, run (the Umbrella Effect) by @ford-ye-fiji I Part 1-13 I Series Completed Crack Treated Seriously, AU - Fusion, Time Travel, Number Five | The Boy is So Done, Action/Adventure, Angst and Hurt/Comfort

Two unlikely allies, familiar in more ways than they can imagine, join forces in a series of happy accidents. And then things get really complicated very fast.

The Walking Dead

From One Apocalypse to Another by y_oruko I Chapters: 17/? I Crack Treated Seriously, BAMF Five | The Boy, BAMF Rick, AU- Canon Divergence, Five has beef with almost everyone, Eventual Found Family, The Walking Dead Season 5

Five lost his siblings to the void of time when he recklessly tried bringing them all to travel back in time. It bit him in the ass and threw him into a world where apparently zombies were real. The universe sure loved to screw him over. Rick didn't know what to expect when he followed the priest into a church, but it's certainly not a homicidal teenager.

The Four Horsemen by @silverwolf3432 I Chapters: 24/30 I Five | The Boy/Original Female Character - Dolores, Whump, Original Character Death(s), Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Torture

Instead of waiting 28 years, the Handler plucks a 15-year-old boy from the rubble of the Apocalypse and trains him to be a killer. So Five knows. He knows what it’s like to live through hell, to be broken down and made back up again, to be stripped of everything. He understands and he can relate to the torture Reginald Hargreeves put his siblings through after he disappears, even if they claim he never could. He knows because he went through it too. Because before he worked alone, there was Dolores. Because before he was the best, they were the best. Because before it was just Five, they were the Four Horsemen.

The Five Whistle by @i-logophile I Chapters: 1/1 I one shot Hurt Five | The Boy, Creepy The Handler, AU- Canon Divergence, Episode: s02e05 Valhalla

“What the hell was that?” Five tried to demand, but his breathlessness ruined the effect. The Handler grinned. “What? This little thing?” she asked, pulling a long, thin device from within the folds of her coat. “This is just a little something I had cooked up back at Headquarters just for you.” She twisted the end of the device. In response, the fabric of space released an unearthly howl of agony, making Five’s legs collapse beneath him. Then it stopped, and a shadow fell over him. “Now about that assignment,” The Handler said, gazing down at him with a predatory grin. – After the Hargreeves’ disaster of a family meeting, Five is still pacing the alley outside of Elliott’s when he’s confronted by The Handler. She presents her offer, but since it’s not his only option just yet, Five declines. However, The Handler isn’t so easily denied, and she decides to use a little something from the Commission to convince Five to rethink his decision.

The Lonely Lodger Inn by @i-logophile I Chapters: 1/1 I one shot Blood and Violence, Gore, BAMF Five | The Boy, Feral Five | The Boy, Episode: s02e07 Öga for Öga

"Ben, are you crazy?! We just watched Número Cinco go fucking apeshit on a room full of random people and—” “What if he had a good reason for it?” Ben interrupted, crossing his arms. “What if they were bad guys or something? Ever think of that?” Klaus scoffed. “‘Bad guys’? Really, Ben? We’re not thirteen anymore.” “Exactly, so use your brain, moron. Why would Five just go around murdering people in the ’60s?” “Oh, I don’t know, because he’s fucking psycho?! He’s probably all screwed up from time travel or something! Who knows what kind of shit—” “Klaus.” “What?” “He can hear you.” -- Or, what if the Board meeting was somewhere in Dallas, and one of Five’s siblings stumbled upon the massacre as it was taking place?

Crocodile Tears by @i-logophile I Chapters: 1/1 I one shot Five | The Boy Cries- but it’s “pretend”, Kidnapping, Drugging, Angst, hurt/some comfort, Post-Season/Series 02, The Commission. Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug

A plan took shape in Five’s mind. It wasn’t one he particularly liked, and it would be unequivocally humiliating, but with the Commission coming and their powers shot to hell for the foreseeable future, Five couldn’t think of any other option. Didn’t change the fact that he despised crying. -- Five pretends to cry to get an enemy to lower their guard—emphasis on “pretend.” His siblings don’t catch on. After getting over their shock, they become unnecessarily distressed and proceed to flutter around Five like neurotic chickens. Oh, and some people die, but that was kind of the plan all along.

Can you hug me as I go? by maddienole I Chapters: 10/10 I Completed Five | The Boy Whump, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Flashbacks, AU- Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Angst

What if the FBI captured Five instead of Vanya? 2x7 canon divergence.

Misfortunes with The Sea by @euoniatz I Chapters: 6/6 I Completed Dark Five | The Boy, BAMF Five | The Boy, AU - Canon Divergence, Number Six | Ben Hargreeves Lives - eventually, The Sparrow Academy, Hurt No Comfort, Whump

Five doesn’t hold back anymore, doesn't think he could limit himself again now even if he wanted to. His eyes glow, never to be denied again, and the space around him shifts as if someone is pinching and pulling reality by force. The Boy tries not to laugh, but he feels incredible on a level he has always, during the sad expanse of his life, thought impossible. * When the Hargreeves return from the 60s, Five is already at the end of his rope. He swears off killing, only to find their deceased father in the living room, disapproving as ever. Add six mediocre replacements and a ghost coming back to haunt them and you've got yourself a desperate time traveler whose grip on reality is slipping. Five is willing to sacrifice his own humanity for the sake of his siblings, but is his humanity really the most important thing he could lose? How much power can he afford to let loose before he loses control himself? Will his family even want him after everything is settled?

[practically-an-x-man]

Vestalia (Rick Flag x Eris)

Summary: After two years with June, things finally crumble for the last time. Rick finds solace in an unlikely source.

Word Count: 3000 exactly (wow)

Tags: Referenced Rick Flag x June Moone, post-breakup, pre-relationship with Eris, emotional hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, mentions of alcohol

Crossposted on AO3

____

“You know what your problem is, Flag?”

“What the fuck are you doing here.” It was too sullen to really be a question. He was hunched over the kitchen table, and in the dim half-light Eris could see the shine of tears on his cheeks. It was rare to see him cry, more than rare, and it almost made them pause. 

“She left her key. Under the doormat.” they responded, setting it down on the kitchen counter as they passed, “Stupid place to hide a key, I think. Especially if it unlocks something valuable.”

“Tch. Yeah. My shit apartment’s so worth robbing.” he muttered, shaking his head without looking up.

“I don’t mean the apartment.”

That brought his eyes to her, finally, and they flicked across her face as he pieced together what she’d said. Eris felt a shiver of… something, maybe linked to the admission itself and maybe linked to the look in Rick’s eyes. As much as he hated the sight of tears in them, the strange sort of hope that flickered at the words was even worse. 

Then he shrugged it off, and ran a hand over his face to swipe away the rest of his tears. Eris found himself relaxing, with that little reminder gone. The emotion still filled the room like a New England fog, but it was easier without the physical reminder written across his face. They couldn’t remember the last time they’d seen so much candid emotion from him. 

Perhaps it was the death of one of his military comrades. A squadmate. A close friend. Three years back. Eris didn’t remember his name, but she remembered how it had torn Rick apart. She remembered how he’d retreated, how he’d fled to bars and drunk himself stupid, and she remembered finding him there and coaxing him back. He wasn’t sure why he’d thought to reach out, to comfort him of all things, but it was enough for Rick to bounce back. 

And now here he was again. A lesser loss, a loss without true death, but it still struck him just as hard.

“So you’re here.”

“I am.” Eris agreed, still hovering vaguely by the door. She hadn’t expected this. She’d come for a celebration, a memory of an old midsummer festival, not for a brokenhearted man in an empty apartment. 

“Did you see her?”

“On the way out.”

“Did she look angry? Or upset?”

“Maybe. She’s always sort of scowling. I wasn’t paying much attention.”

“Hm.” He didn’t believe them, and he was right not to. It wasn’t quite the truth. Eris paid a lot of attention, always did, and they had indeed noticed June on her way out of the building. She’d been red-faced, clearly crying but clearly trying to restrain herself, and she’d glared at Eris as they crossed paths. 

But she figured Rick didn’t want to hear that.

“Something happened?”

“Yeah.” The word was almost a laugh, sharp and self-derisive. Eris suppressed a shiver, that ancient beast in the depths of their heart just beginning to stir. They battled it down. Not now. Not for Rick, and especially not when he was so vulnerable. He scoffed. “Something happened.”

“You have a problem, you know.”

“As she made very clear.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Fine. So what’s my problem, then? Enlighten me.”

“Your problem is…” Eris sighed, and slid into the seat beside him, “You never expect to be blindsided. You give too much of your heart away. You let someone wrap you around their little finger, and you let them use you up when they decide they’re done with you. You make friends out of your enemies but never expect the tables to turn the other way. And it gets you into trouble.”

“Look, I’m really not in the mood for this right now.” Rick huffed, “I already feel like shit, I don’t need you to-”

“But it’s one of the things I respect about you. You’ve got a hell of a conscience for someone who’s spent half his life with a gun in his hands. That’s… rare, in this world.”

He paused for a moment, then reached out and set his hand on Rick’s forearm. He couldn’t pretend he was good at this, not in the slightest. But she knew Rick would do the same for her, if he’d found her in the same position. Reciprocity wasn’t a motto Eris often lived by. They couldn’t explain it. 

“She’s just lost one of the good ones. Perhaps one of the only good ones left. She’ll never find another one like you.”

“You sound like a greeting card.” Rick muttered, clearly brushing his words aside. 

“Do they make greeting cards for things like that?”

“Maybe. I dunno.” he said, “Thanks for trying, I guess.”

Eris scoffed. 

“Goddamn it, Rick, do you really think I’m the type to just sit here coddling you for the hell of it? Why do you think I’m here?”

“Couldn’t even begin to guess. But you’re doing a fantastic job of it so far.” Sarcasm dripped off the words, and Eris could have laughed. He restrained himself.

“Fine. Want a drink?” she asked, lifting a bottle onto the table. Rick reached out to turn it, inspecting the label for a moment or two. Then he sighed. 

“Too torn up to appreciate it, I think. Waste of good whiskey.”

“I have more. It didn’t used to be so expensive,” Eris pointed out, but reached down and lifted a second item up onto the table - a six-pack of beer. “But I figured you’d say that. Pick your poison, then. My good vintage whiskey, or Budweiser.”

He reached for one of the beers, cracked it open, and took a hefty swallow. Eris, in turn, opened the whiskey and swigged it straight from the bottle. It wouldn’t do much of anything for him - the last time he’d been anywhere near drunk was back on Themyscira, with a good strong Amazonian wine - but it was a damn fine whiskey either way.

The room was silent until Rick finished his first beer. He didn’t even pause before reaching for a second one. Eris just waited there beside him. They didn’t know what they could say - the booze had really been their only play - and they worried whatever crossed their lips could end up twisting into something vicious. For once, he tried to keep the murmur of conflict quiet within him. That wouldn’t do here.

“Came outta the blue, too.” Rick muttered, as if finally voicing the thoughts that had been running through his head for a while, “Thought we were doing okay. Not… great, but okay. And that’s a lot of what relationships are, I think. Or just… how life is. You get through the okay times and the good ones come along again eventually. But I guess not. Not with her, at least.”

They’d expected him to be angry. They’d seen him angry, time after time out in the field, and they thought they’d see the same thing here. But instead he just seemed resigned to it, melancholy but resolved, so much quieter than she ever would have expected.

Maybe he’d known this was coming. Maybe he’d known for a while. There was no surprise in it, and therefore no real anger. 

Maybe that was for the best. This was the calmest Eris could possibly be, the closest he’d ever come to a comforting presence.

“She just…” Rick continued, now with low flickers of bitterness underneath the words. It still wasn’t true anger, but it was sharper than the quiet sadness from before. “She just shows up, says she’s going off to Argentina. Some… I dunno, some ancient ruins she wants to investigate. She just got back from Mexico last week, doing the same thing. And I said that, and I guess that was the wrong thing to say, because…”

He let out another deep sigh, and paused to take another long swig of beer. Eris glanced over at him, and found him brushing a hand across his eyes. She frowned. This one had hit him hard. She could see that. It needled unpleasantly at her heart.

“Because then she started talking about how I’m always gone, wrangling the Squad and all,” he finally continued, “And how ‘at least her work doesn’t put her in the literal crossfires of the world’s most dangerous people’, and how ‘you’re going to get yourself killed out there someday’, and wouldn’t that just ruin her, and before I knew it she’s saying she can’t do it anymore.”

Another pause. He finished off his second beer and nearly reached for a third. Then he paused, just long enough for Eris to offer the bottle of whiskey to him instead. Rick shook his head. His fingers drummed incessantly on the tabletop.

“And I think maybe we would’ve been alright, y’know, if I’d just left it at that. She’d go off to Argentina, study some artifacts, and then she’d come back and I’d take her out to dinner and we’d get back to making it work.” he said, “She was upset, but not… awful upset. Maybe we’da worked things out.”

“And then?”

“And then I mentioned the fucking Enchantress.” Those words tore out of him quickly, with a fresh bubble of anger - anger at himself, Eris realized, and bit her cheek to keep this new conflict from twisting within her. She couldn’t fire back. Not now. 

Rick shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose with a deep scowl.

“I reminded ‘er that that was how we met, and that she was the one out in the crossfires and nearly gettin’ killed out there, and if I hadn’t been with the Squad she’d probably be dead herself, and that… that was the wrong thing to say. True, yeah, but… the wrong thing. So she’s all, ‘it wasn’t my fault, you know it wasn’t my fault, how can you even bring her up when you know how much she hurt me?’ and I’m going ‘yeah, but why’d you break the fuckin’ totem in the first place, you shoulda been careful and maybe that wouldn’t’ve happened at all’ and then she’s really pissed-off and saying it all was a mistake, we were a mistake, and to go back to that-”

He snapped his mouth abruptly and dropped his head. Eris turned his words over in his mind. He had a feeling he knew what came next. 

“Go ahead.” they said, with a calm that shocked even themself, “Keep going. I’ve heard it before.”

Rick looked over, something strange swimming in his eyes. Eris couldn’t make sense of it, but they met his gaze without blinking. Finally he nodded, though his jaw was set tight.

“She said… go back to that sadistic nightmare you spend so much time with, if you really want to fight like this.”

“Well. She’s got an awfully high opinion of me, doesn’t she?” Eris remarked, rather dryly, and tossed back another swallow of whiskey. It burned the whole way down, but it was a comfortable warmth. Rick chuckled humorlessly from beside her.

“Yeah. Apparently.” he muttered, then spared them another brief glance, “But I’m glad you’re here.”

Eris thought on that one for a long time. He knew Rick appreciated his presence out on the battlefield, even if out of nothing more than pure survivalist logic. They were a good fighter, physically and mentally resilient, and he could rely on them. And she knew Rick had a bad habit of giving away his heart. He cared too much. There were only two ways to survive on a team with supervillains, they thought - Rick’s method, to care so much that you made those alliances anyway and damned the consequences, until you had more allies than you had enemies… or not to care at all, to make no connections. And somehow Rick and his risks had survived much longer than the ones that hardened their hearts. 

But moments like these? Outside the battlefield, the alliances? Put in a place where Eris faltered and failed, where he needed comfort and all she could give him was booze and too-sharp banter, where she couldn’t be what he needed? He was still grateful for her presence?

She couldn’t say that was new. In a way, it was the opposite. This was old, by decades or centuries or millennia. It always started with words like these.

But they were here. And that was… something.

“It’s a bad day for this, you know.”

“Tell me about it.” This time Rick took the bottle when Eris passed it over to him, and took a long swig before he handed it back. Eris traced his fingers along the rim of it, trying not to think of how his lips had just occupied the same space. It must have been two hundred years since the last time they’d felt these odd little flutters. 

The last one had died in battle, of course. His body was so ruined, torn by bayonets and stamped by warhorses, that Eris could only identify him by the scraps of his many tattoos still visible on the battered flesh. He’d gotten one of them, a great sea serpent winding from his hips to his collarbone, as a means to impress her. Pain tolerance, he’d said, his willingness to be pierced by needles in the name of love. 

Love. Was that what it was? 

Either way, Eris had found the head of the sea serpent six feet away from the rest of him. Gone too early. Like all the others. And that was that.

Were they so sure they wanted to start that again? To risk devoting their heart, knowing it would all end too soon?

Eris shook her head, as if tossing away the thoughts.

“No, really. It’s… unlucky. Today marks Vestalia, the celebration of Vesta and the home. That was why I brought the whiskey. Figured we might celebrate, until I saw her leave. It’s an unlucky day for a home to break.”

“It’s been breaking for a while now.”

“I know.” 

Eris took another drag from the bottle, swishing the liquor around in his mouth before swallowing it. There was something he liked about all this, treating this rare and so-called “vintage” whiskey the way he would simple moonshine or mead. She didn’t believe in hoarding away the good times. Any time was a good enough time, they figured, and waiting for that “rainy day” to show up usually meant the rain just came and went. Rick didn’t speak.

“You pushed me aside for her, you know.” Eris found himself muttering, “You met her, and you let her wrap you around her little finger like you did with all the rest, and soon she was all you talked about. You told me I was your number one, and yet you closed me out of your home the moment she asked you to. I’d have expected that from someone else, but… I thought you were better than that.”

Rick stared at the empty beer bottles, laid out on the table in front of him. His fingers traced through beads of condensation, scattered across the scuffed wood. His lips opened and closed, finding words, but it was a while before he spoke again. 

“I didn’t realize it bothered you. I thought you didn’t care about people. Figured you’d just move on to the next war, or the next guy, or whatever it is that you do.”

To his credit, she nearly had. She’d been shocked at the weight of her own betrayal, and it had almost been enough to spur her onwards. It had been a good few years, following him by his battles and meeting up after the sun had set, sometimes drinks and sometimes more, but everything had to end. And he’d thought it might have ended with June. The emotions were too heavy, at first. 

But he liked Rick. That was the crux of it. He liked Rick, on some level or another (what level that was, he still wasn’t fully sure), and he wanted to keep him around. June or not, cast aside or not, there was only one Rick Flag in the world, and nothing to bring him back once he was gone.

“I didn’t.” Eris whispered, their voice far more rough than they expected, “I’ve always been here.”

He looked over at her, with an expression like it was the first time he’d ever really seen her. There was an intensity there, the sort of intensity they’d usually only seen while under fire, and it made something shiver deep within them.

Somehow they weren’t surprised when Rick reached out, clasped the back of their neck with one large hand and drew them closer. Eris let him. Maybe that was wrong, maybe a better person would have waited until he was in a better state of mind, sans-booze and sans-emotion, but they let him. 

He held her too tight and tasted of whiskey and beer. It was a long kiss, somehow both impassioned and strangely hollow, and Eris couldn’t help thinking of June’s lips on his in place of their own. When was the last time he’d kissed her? How fresh were those wounds?

But it was a nice kiss regardless. Eris couldn’t bring himself to care about the details. 

Except one.

“I won’t be your rebound.” he muttered, “It can be something or it can be nothing, heart or just sex, but I won’t be your rebound from June. If you want me, I need to know you want me. Not just a body in your bed.”

Rick pressed his lips together. His eyes flicked back and forth across their face, visibly sorting through his thoughts. Finally he drew back with a sigh. 

“Then I can’t. Not yet.” he decided, albeit with palpable pain, “I just… I don’t know yet. It’s still too fresh.”

“Alright. Then I’ll wait. However long I must.” they said, and stood up from their seat, “Call me when you’re ready.”

[forgottenvice]

Migrating some of my twitter threads here for posterity and all that

Some #cumplane #svsss discord musings that I'm putting here so I don't forget about them. All starting because I found this gif

Airplane Shooting towards the sky definitely wears this for his public appearances. Specifically at this one Con where superfan Peerless cucumber is planning to attend.

Shen Yuan has printed out every detailed rant and diatribe he's ever done on the book, printed it out and then had a friend bind it for him so he can give it to the hack author. His sister is coming with him so she can get his copy of PIDW signed in secret.

But SY starts having a very very bad con. His sister; being a little shit, convinces him cosplaying as his internet handle would be hilarious. He was never all that good at saying no to her.

Except nobody seems to get the joke. They keep calling him pickle rick!

Like he'd ever enjoy something so trashy as Rick and Morty

 He gets angrier and angrier when people stop him for photos. His sister is having a great time.

Unfortunately due to his stupid decision by the time they make it to Airplane's booth the line is cut off.

He had prepared so much for meeting the author to tell him to his face how much he'd wronged his main character and how Luo Binghe deserved happiness not a harem. But now he can't even get a glimpse of the man because his face is covered BY A FUCKING AIRPLANE MASK.

He can't even get his copy of PIDW signed on the DL by his sister because she missed the cutoff too. She has also by the way has abandoned him for some bayonetta cosplayer.

So he's stuck by himself in a stupid cucumber costume (IT'S NOT A FUCKING PICKLE!)  and his sister has the hotel key and he's tired and hungry and a little overwhelmed by the crowd. BUT HE'S NOT POUTING!

He's just regrouping in a quiet corner of the convention center.

If he was being honest he was seconds away from a meltdown. The only saving grace was that he was basically alone, except some asshole just had to ruin it walking right up to him and sitting down next to him.

"Rough day huh? is it the pickle costume?"

"IT'S NOT A FUCKING PICKLE!" Some how his outburst doesn't even phase the guy.

 "Okay, then what is it?"

"It's... a cucumber," That really doesn't sound better and the raised eyebrow he gets seems to agree, "It's a stupid joke about my internet handle."

"A joke that only one person would probably even get but I can't even see his reaction because the line got cut off and now I just feel like a dumbass."

 "Story of my life, so what's so important about this joke." Shen Yuan thinks this guy is mocking him but when he looks over.

there seems to be a mischievous curiosity behind the question. Before he knows it Shen Yuan is spilling his guts about the whole situation, it feels kind of good to rant about the whole thing.

 And he probably did go through maybe a little to much effort for a damn joke.

The stranger nods sagely throughout, politely listening to the whole story flipping through the bound copy of his critiques. He doesn't ad much but still it helps calm Shen Yuan down.

Rant over breathing heavily he looks to his audience for some sort of reaction.

The man looks at him solemnly, places a hand on his shoulder and utters.

 "That's rough buddy."

He then proceeds to stand up and walks a few steps down the hall before pulling something over his face.

A mask.

An Airplane Mask.

The now masked author gives him a thumbs up.

 "Nice to meet you cucumber bro!" before running away like the little shit he is.

SY feels his blood pressure rising.

IT WAS AIRPLANE THIS WHOLE TIME?!

He felt beyond embarrassed.

Thankfully his sister found him before he committed homicide.

 She pulled him to his feet and grabbed the bound critique and they made their way to the food vendors.

It wasn't until he was halfway through his greasy con fries when his sister pointed it out.

"I can't believe you got this signed?"

"What?" He hadn't worked up the courage to tell her yet but she was holding open his stupid rants about PIDW and on the inside cover was a signature.

"Cute pickle, Love Airplane"

[yourprobnowdumdum]

I've been too busy to draw so time to say a few hc's for my old men (this is mainly pre relationship stuff bc Rick is such an ass here)

Rick ends up rebooting Rickbot because he's busy searching for Prime now, so there's not much personal time to get shit done. Whether that's little home repairs or his own personal tasks that Morty throws a fit about doing, Rick realizes "awww fuck" and starts this stupid robot piece of shit up again

Even before Christmas, Rickbot would go down to level 10 to check on Rick. It's small talk that Rickbot finds goes nowhere bc Rick doesn't care to engage other than grunts and then finally ending with 'aren't you supposed to be upstairs :/'

These tiny visits would include Rickbot bringing down plates of leftovers from dinner bc 'no Rick, a granola bar and a dozen cans of alien redbull with Adderall isn't a meal and when is the last time you slept what the fuck-'

Rickbot and Morty are getting along. Rick fucking hates this, especially at the start of Rickbot joining back into the family unit. He's jealous. One scenario: they go and get ice cream or whatever. Rickbot and Morty are having a damn blast talking something or other, so Rick acts like a baby and is totally rude about it. I mean, he purposely gets between them like "Hey how about you go do something useful and pull the car around, I need to get something from this store" and drags Morty with him after tossing the keys at Rickbot.

Rick would ignore Rickbot in the beginning and act like he's just 'the help'. It would have to take them actually getting to conversing without something going on at the same time. Maybe they actually watch interdimensional cable together and make fun of it together. It's obviously not much but it gets that knot loosened a tad.

Rickbot would offer to help Rick with the search for Prime once they start being more friendlier. Mainly because he doesn't feel like Morty needs to be getting involved in something like this, and seeing how they're the same person, it may do good to have highly intellectual minds work together. Morty's still going to try and squeeze in though.

Bot gets very irritable when Rick is rude to Morty or anyone else like "Hey buddy hey pal knock that shit off"

He's definitely got a good chance with doing *something* because he's Rick and no one knows Rick from the inside and out like himself. Rickbot knows what gets on his nerves, what makes him sad, what makes him happy. But God damn is it work but Rickbot's willing to do it

their relationship is the physical form of someone who knows they need to be better and healthier, but they're scared to bc of how often they've been fucked over in the past so they fight every urge to be nice to themselves.

[dickfics69]

Emotional Motion Sickness | Part 9

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8

AO3

Summary: Daryl gets sick before a supply run, and denies it vehemently. He is a big tantrum baby. Rick is constantly worried and drama ensures.

Chapter summary: A lot of shit goes down. A lot of hurt comfort. I made myself cry writing this so you've been warned

Content warning: adult language, sickfic, mess, snot, bodily functions, hurt/comfort, vivid nightmares, adult content, 18+ for eventual smut (still deciding hehe), original character\

Words: 6.7k

My personal Daryl playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2PrdzgwtCiUgwDLLBy5C4g?si=c83773b44c964bb1

TY to @dumbslxtclub for being my editor and hype girl (if you're a fan of eddie munson and stranger things, this girl is writing the most wonderful fic and you should check it out :)

Chapter 9: Chimney falls and lovers blaze

The group fell into an exhaustive silence, happy, in theory, to be leaving behind the hell that they had just endured. But all were reeling with a trauma only viable from living in an apocalypse. Horizontal rain battered the windscreen, and the ancient wipers were struggling to keep up with demand. The storm had made her sodden residence for good. Thankfully their destination for the night, a small and secure cabin, was only about half an hour away. However, Daryl had severely underestimated Peri’s inability to drive a manual vehicle. Her unconvincing “mmm…not really’ was actually code for ‘I have never ever once in my life done this, ever.’ His mind shot to images of richy-rich parents buying their daughter a brand automatic new car and paying for precious med school. But that was a little unfair, he hardly knew the woman. Still, in an apocalypse it was pretty damn important to be able operate any kind of transportation. Daryl never had the luxury of being taught to drive, no one was ever sober enough, and pretty well no one cared. It was something he’d had to figure out shakily for himself. Like most aspects of his life. He was nowhere near a great driver (much preferring the solo rumble of his motorcycle) but he made do. Rick was really the master of the clutch. All the years on the force in the Old Crown VIctoria really solidified his ability. Not that his insight was any help to Peri right now. An icy cold silence swelled from somewhere behind Daryl. He might have thought the Deputy asleep if it weren't for the rage filled daggers being bored into the side of his skull. The Jeep bunny-hopped yet again, and Daryl was reluctantly forced to intervene. 

“Ya gotta rev mbore when ya change gears!”

“What do you think I’m trying to do, Daryl?”

“I’dunndo, but y’ain’t findin’ the friction point fast enough! S’mbakin’ the whole damnd car bounce.”

“Well if you hate it so much, why don’t you fucking drive?”

Daryl shot her a weary glance. ‘You know I can’t.’  He didn’t want to vocalise his complete ineptitude for any focused activity, and prayed she’d get his telepathic message. He hoped that his glassy eyed stare and unspoken thoughts were reason enough to absolve him of driving. Strangely, he was thankful for the unsteady bumping of the vehicle. He knew, without the loud grumblings of the engine, he would’ve fallen into a desperately feverish slumber. 

Daryl felt a surge of relief when Peri returned his gaze with one of understanding. They held eye contact for a split second before her hand drifted from the gearbox to the pocket of her jeans. She struggled against the drizzle-clad dampness of the denim, but eventually pulled out a small blue pot of something. 

“Please don’t bite my head off, but I grabbed this for you.” She held out the small vessel towards him, semi-shaking it so that he would accept the gift from her hands. “Just thought you could use it…”

Daryl grabbed the small pot from her hands, probably a little too aggressively. It was his natural instinct to refuse help from everyone, always. Well, if it was life or death, maybe not. Daryl just had a cold. A small glance down at his hands revealed the object in question to be an almost empty vial of vapour rub. He thought briefly about rejecting the offer, saying he was fine and trying to keep up his miserable facade. However, at this point, denial was a pretty laughable state of mind. Daryl hadn’t caught a glimpse of his own reflection since this morning in the prison bathroom. He looked frightful then and felt a millions times worse now. Safe to say no one was buying the “I ain’t sick” schtick anymore. Not even Daryl. The almost constant urge to sneeze had subsided somewhat since the morning, which he was vaguely thankful for. Although he’d prefer the ticklish outbursts over the wheezing crackle in his chest, the bunged up sinuses and the febrile trembling. Those symptoms were actually starting to worry him. He’d been sick often enough as a child to remember the drowning sensation of infection well. It was only a matter of time before someone forced antibiotics into him, probably Peri, maybe Herschel. Not that he deserved any. He didn’t really deserve anything right now, except maybe Rick Grimes’ wrath. Which was still brewing in its potency. 

Still, Daryl was grateful for the small comfort Peri had given him, and huffed his appreciation back to her with a forced smile. The action felt completely foreign to him and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt genuine contentment. Rick’s disappointment and anger, that house, the murder of that little girl, - all rattled around inside the sick man’s head. Panic was inching its way back in again and Daryl was goddamn tired of it. Tired of feeling brittle and pathetic. Tired of the ceaseless pity. Fuck! He needed a cigarette. He so longed for the slow rumble of nicotine through his system, no matter how angry it made his congested lungs. But he was pretty sure Rick still had his lighter from early, and there was no way in hell he was asking for it right now. Deputy Grimes might actually kill him. Letting out a shuddered sigh, Daryl unscrewed the lid of the menthol flavoured gold and held it up to his chapped nose. He couldn’t smell a goddamn thing, but if the burning in his eyes was any indication, the product definitely had some potency left. 

A sudden jolt of the car sent his already sensitive nose thrusting into the jar of translucent cream. The broken skin of his nostrils made brief contact with the powerful substance and set them alight with an intoxicating burn. Daryl rubbed his face aggressively, trying to rid himself from the sudden pain.

“Yo, Peri, what the fucgk-”

“-Shitting-dick-fucking-fuck-piece-of-shit-fucking-machine!” Peri cast out a rapid line of expletives, and a small pang of panic arose in her eyes.

“Already told’ya, engage the-”

“Yeah, engage the goddamn clutch! That’s what I’ve been fucking doing Daryl!” She shot him a glance that very much said “stop telling me what to do asshole” and then redirected her manic attention towards the dark, wet road. “Something’s wrong with the car, it’s not me this time…Listen…”

Daryl forced himself to silence the sounds of his own misplaced frustration and he listened. And sure as shit there was something wrong with the car. The erratic jumping and sputtering of the engine weren’t the result of crappy driving anymore. Shit. 

“What’s goin’ on?” Rick’s drawl emerged from the back seat. ‘Oh, so now he talks?’

“Endgine’s havin’ a goddamnd meltdown.” Daryl responded, still absentmindedly rubbing at his stinging nostrils. “Pull over.”

Peri did what she was told, a slur of expletives muttered under her breath all the while. She pulled over and further into the undergrowth, aware that camouflage was key to survival no matter where they pulled up and for how long. Daryl let out a weary sigh, knowing full well he had to brace the hideous weather again in order to check the engine. The day turned to night continued to be a bane to the sick man’s existence. He watched as Peri popped the hood internally, doing a small double take when she went to exit the vehicle. 

“Th’hell ya doin’?”

“Looking at the engine? My uncle had a Jeep, I think I might know the issue.”

“Bullshit y’aint, stay ind the car!”

“What? You gonna stop me, Daryl?” She shot him a daring look that might’ve made him laugh if he wasn’t feeling like fresh death. “You’re welcome to keep my company, of course.”

And with that she shut the door and became visible only from the shadows of her hands backlit by the torch in her mouth. Daryl gnawed on the side of his thumb once again, flinching as his teeth made contact with evergrowing raw flesh. What would little miss med-school know about cars? Daryl was the mechanic of the group, not her. The hunter was on the verge of a mental spiral about his efficacy in the found family when he heard a snigger from behind him. He turned and witnessed Rick huffing out an emotionless, snide sort of laughter. 

“Th’fucgk you laughing at?” He spat back. But before he could entertain a response from the other man, Daryl was out in the cold again. Shivering. With his crossbow held weakly at his side. He couldn’t remember the last time he was warm or comfortable, and that just made him feel even more miserable. Pulling leather tight around his torso he joined Peri at the hood of the car, trying to make heads or tails of what she was looking at in the dark. With an obnoxious ‘popping’ sound, she withdrew the torch from her lips and handed it to Daryl. She looked smug and a little too pleased with herself. Daryl hated that.

“Clogged fuel injector.”

“Okgay, so?”

“So?”

“How ya gonnda fix it, smartass?”

“Uh try and clean it out, but it probably needs a whole-”

“-Whole new onde, yeah.” Daryl finished Peri's sentence, somewhat impressed with her knowledge of mechanical issues. “I’ll tinker with it. Jus’ stand watch ‘kay? Dond’t really feel like bein’ blind walker bait righ’ now.” 

Daryl put the flashlight in his mouth and leant further into the open engine. It took a few minutes to adjust his watering eyes to the pipes and metal in front of him. Apart from the rapid beat of rain on the hood above him, it was all but silence between the pair. Just the way he liked it. Daryl found the source of the problem, but the meek torchlight was flickering, and his hands couldn’t quite turn the injector cap. It was too slippery, and his eyes kept blurring in and out of focus.The dizziness reminded him of the last time he had gotten shit-faced with Merle before the world turned to shit. They were sitting outside his brother’s trailer, smoking and drinking cheap gin in a hot Georgian summer. They were having a competition to see who could sink the most pistachio shells into an old can. At least that's what he vaguely remembered doing. But the night was a blur after the first ten or twenty minutes, and clearly Daryl had lost that little game. Daryl shook his head, desperately trying to avoid painful memories of the only family member who had ever shown him an ounce of care. Damn, he missed his brother. He was a jerk, but he missed him. His trail of melancholy was interrupted by a hurried nudge at his side. 

“Daryl, man, we got company…” The hunter turned to match his gaze with Peri’s. Two shadowy figures were hobbling their way towards them, their snarls getting louder with every second. Daryl cursed and reached for his crossbow that lay perched against the wheel of the car. Before he could aim the weapon, the young doctor waved him off.

“I got this.” She supplied, lunging forward in the darkness. Daryl could’ve been anxious about her disappearing into the night but down deep in his soul, he knew the woman could defend herself. She’d proved herself as a worthy fighter in his mind. Some grunts and thuds of bodies followed a while later, and Peri emerged from the immediate forest, a spatter of congealed blood adorning her blades and the corners of her wet coat. Daryl let out a trembling breath he didn’t realise he was holding at the time.

“Y’kay?”

“Yeah, those cunts had it coming…” she responded brashly, wiping her knives on the inside of her damp jacket and ignoring the stymied way Daryl was judging her use of language. “How’s the car looking?”

“Ndeeds a new injector, but I’ll get it goin’ in the mbornin’” He shrugged a shoulder, and then proceeded to close the bonnet with a metallic squeak. “Cabins’not too far from here, s’too dark to try and fix it now…”

Peri nodded and Daryl sniffled back some snot that was threatening to leak out of nose. He was drenched yet again, but that just seemed to be the new normal. He hung his crossbow along the length of his back and rapped on the back door of the car, not bothering to open it.

“Grab yer stuff, we’re goind’ on foot from here.” He yelled through the closed doors, and watched Rick and Carl share a look before they joined him in the rain. The four group members gathered about the trunk of the jeep, picking up what was needed for the night. Pre-packed backpacks and a couple of duffle bags from the house raid hung off their dripping bodies. It was better to take more than necessary, so as to not be caught out. Of course, weapons were pocketed too, with extra ammo. After the events at the cursed red-brick mansion, they all felt like extra caution was paramount. 

Daryl led them through the wet, overgrown forest. He instructed them to keep close as there was scant visibility through the excessive downpour and dense foliage. The hunter actually felt useful for once, being the only one who could successfully navigate their way to respite. Thunder cracked above them like gunshots, making them tense every time the sky echoed its fury. Fortunately, the dissipating booms were keeping the walkers confused and scattered, and away from the four beating hearts traipsing through the woods. Daryl really goddamn hoped it would stay that way. 

After about ten minutes of travel, and silent navigation, Daryl led them all into a small clearing. There was a small but sturdy cabin in the near distance. He raised a hand and they all stopped in an instant. Rick left the tail end of formation and stood flush with his partner at the front. Daryl listened intently for danger, and scanned the area for threats. When he was satisfied he turned to Carl and Peri and began instructing their next moves. 

“We’re gonna stay t’the left side of the tree line. There are bear traps along th’ perimeter, s’watch ya feet.” Daryl was about to move again but Rick caught his bicep in a firm grip.

“Bear traps? That really a necessary addition to the place?”

“You tell mbe.” He quipped. Yanking himself out of Rick’s calloused vice, he sauntered over to one of the traps in the distance, where the shadow of a walker was thrashing in place. Daryl dealt with the rotting being before the others could even blink. His eyebrows hit the roof of his head when he made it back to the group, smirking slightly when Rick hung his head in a sigh. Daryl whistled to garner the group’s attention, then slowly but surely led them toward the safety of the cabin.

Once securely inside, there was a group exhale of alleviation. A reverie of calm swept over the small room, each individual person allowing the idea of safety to enter their bodies for the first time in hours. Daryl ravaged the space, pulling out some oil lamps and lighting them, bringing some visibility in the gelid darkness. He was about to grab some firewood when a small voice stopped him.

“Daryl, this place is great! You really fixed it up all by yourself?” Carl’s puberty ridden voice slipped into the space, a keen child-like admiration adorning his eyes. 

“Hmph, yeh I guess kid…”

Daryl had fixed up the cabin. And a few more to boot. Originally it started out as a selfish project, having a place to stay when he needed alone time to hunt. But as the months rolled on he had started growing nervous when his family started going on longer and longer runs without sufficient safety. As a result he found a few abandoned spaces and did them up, so to speak. Daryl Dixon was not an interior designer by any stretch of the imagination, but he made sure that they were safe, had food to eat and a place to lay down. In the early days of being together with Rick, he’d often freak out and need to get away for a while. Going out on ‘extended hunting trips’ he said. But he really just came to one of his cabins to clear his thought-logged mind. It helped then. And it was a useful resting place for now. Daryl wanted to feel accomplished, he really did, but the guilt and shame rattling around his body were making his throat tight. He needed that cigarette. Now.

“M’goin’ out for a smoke.” He uttered to no one and walked his way over to Rick with a very pretend sense of everything is fine. Daryl nudged the man with his foot, eyeing him as he started to unpack a dry set of clothing. Daryl kept his resolve whilst Rick pinched the bridge of his nose with continued exasperation. The hunter was going to get his lighter back goddamnit! Begrudgingly, Rick stopped what he was doing, reached into his pocket and held out the desired item, glaring up at the sickly man in the process. 

“Really?” He twanged with spite.

“Yeh.” Daryl snatched the lighter from Rick’s hand, and stomped his way over to the door. He knew Rick wasn’t done with him. There was going to be a shit show of contempt and blame and sure as shit Daryl would be at the receiving end of it. But he needed to be alone. Just for five minutes. To wallow in his own specific brand of misery. With nicotine and his own flagrant mind.

“Hey Daryl, where’ya goi-”

Daryl closed the door behind him refusing to entertain another question. Couldn’t everyone just leave him the fuck alone? Christ. They were safe, with dry clothes and food, what more could anyone possibly want from the living picture of torment? It was freezing and wet. And yet Daryl leaned up against the porch railing, inviting the wet sprays of storm onto his already sodden clothing. He fiddled with one of a few cigarettes he had left. He brought it up tremblingly to his mouth, flicking the lighter a careless amount of times. Flame met dart and he held it there, just watching the orange glow spread. His throat was tight, painful, lumpy. Everything was shaking and breathing was arduous. Daryl wasn’t stupid. He knew what a panic attack was. He used to do odd jobs for a Vietnam War vet, what seemed like a million years ago. Adam? Abraham? Aaron? It didn’t really matter anymore what the guy's name was. That was the old world. Adam-Abraham-Aaron would often mistake a young Daryl Dixon for some sort of enemy, try to lash out, realise his mistake and cower in a corner. He’d be gasping for air and crying and shaking uncontrollably. Daryl didn’t get paid enough to deal with that. But he did, becoming all too aware of anxiety symptoms in the process. So yeah, Daryl wasn't an idiot, trying to convince himself he wasn’t about to succumb to a tidal wave of feverish emotions. He was just trying to postpone it with all his might. As he had been striving to all damn day. 

Just as the flame was about to die, Daryl brought the cigarette up to his lips and inhaled as though he wasn’t knocking on death’s doorstep. The nicotine hit his system, a warm glow spreading like a sunrise through his extremities. 

It was so good.

. 

Until it wasn't. 

The coughing fit startled him out of any sort of tobacco related respite. With a hand clamped to the pillar beside him, Daryl was forced into convulsions from his ailing lungs. Vomit, spit, snot, - they all threatened their existence as the sickly man gasped for air. So much for relief. 

—

Rick was tired. Oh so very tired. The sheer number of mishaps and wrongs that plagued the man’s day made the last eight or so hours span into what seemed like weeks. The Deputy stood by the rickety cupboards in the old cabin, firewood clutched to his chest like it had a heartbeat he needed to protect. He was going to start a fire. He was sure he was going to start a fire. But time seemed to move around him without a thought for how he felt on the matter. Carl and Peri had changed clothes and were drying their hair with a singular hand towel. They were laughing about some comic book character, musing about “how wrong Michonne had it. The Punisher was going to destroy Jigsaw.” Or something like that.

Rick wasn’t really listening, he was too busy overthinking. Trying to decide what he was going to do about Daryl. Fuck, Daryl. How did everything become so goddamn strained and complicated? Rick’s heart was breaking for the other man. Sick, embarrassed, angry. Two of the ailments probably directly related to Rick’s unhelpful actions. Images of Daryl's sick face flickered through his memory like an old time-y film. The feverish flush, the sadness, the fragility. Quite frankly, Rick had never seen Daryl like this before. Sure, he had acted like a grouchy wounded animal in the past but there was something far beyond defeat that Rick couldn’t quite put a finger on. Why couldn't that stupid stubborn man just accept some goddamn comfort? And then there was what he did at the house. Fuck Daryl was acting like a completely different person. Anger and frustration swelled from Rick’s gut, a terse grip forming over the kindling in his arms. The Deputy was caught between a rock and hard place. The rock being his heartache, and the hard place being his white hot rage. Leaning into the hotter of the two plights, Rick settled for his valid fury. He could worry about Daryl’s affliction later. He needed to sort out the bullshit.

Hell hath no fury like Rick Grimes.

“Carl. Start a fire.” Rick hissed, tossing the firewood to the ground. Peri was placing a bandage on his son’s forehead. They both looked up at Rick with bewildered expressions. Expressions that Rick felt mildly culpable for. “I’ll uh…i’ll be back.”

He nodded to no one and headed towards the door of the cabin. A muffled, wet coughing fit met Rick’s ears stopping him in his tracks. Rick didn’t love the fact that Daryl smoked at all, but let it slide here and there. The harsh new-world realty was that cigarettes weren’t going to kill him. But the fact that he was smoking now, with a raging chest infection, well. That just pissed Rick off more than we wanted to admit. He waited until Daryl had stopped before joining him on the small porch.

“You shouldn’t be smoking those.” Rick gestured towards the lit cigarette that hung limply between Daryl’s fingers.

“Why don’t-cha take it off-a mbe?”

“Look I know that wasn’t my best move, but you know it’s just makin’ you worse.”

“Mb’fine-”

“Don’t you fucking say it, Daryl!” Rick snapped. He took a step forward and made contact with the weary blue eyes of the hunter. Melancholy and wild indignation stared back. Rick wondered if Daryl would snap back, and engage in the argument. Maybe he’d punch Rick - it’d happened before over much smaller things. 

“Wha’, ya gonna slap mbe again?” 

“Look, I’m sorry if I hurt you, but I did what I had to do.” 

“Hmph.” Daryl tossed the extinguished cigarette to the ground and tucked his hands into his armpits, strongly resisting the urge to shiver.

“What? That’s all you gotta say?”

“Rick, can we just talk about it later?”

“Nah, we’re doin’ this right now.” Rick stopped his senseless pacing and pierced the area around Daryl with his index finger. “What the fuck happened back there?”

“S’nothin’”

“Cut the bullshit, Daryl! You were half passed out on that wall! A few more seconds and you’da been gone to the damn walkers.”

“Didn’t need no help, I had it.” Daryl returned his gaze to the ground in front of him and Rick rolled his eyes with an icy scoff.

“Bullshit! You could barely stand, and you think you had it? What about when I told you t’go, and you completely ignored me? Y’almost got yourself and me killed! Because of what? A cold you were too goddamn pigheaded to admit to? Was it really worth risking everyone’s lives for the sake of your pathetic pride?”

“It ain’t…It ain’t like that Rick.”

“Tell me then. What’s it like?” Rick waited, hearing only the sounds of wind and rain whipping around them. He watched Daryl biting at the inside of his thumb, and hoped somehow he could read the soft-hearted redneck’s mind. The hunter was normally fluent in silent communication but Rick couldn’t understand a word. “Well?”

“Didn’t want-cha to worry ‘bout it.”

“Didn’t want me to worry?” Rick emitted a sort of high pitched manic laughter that seemed to surprised them both. “Hell, Daryl! That’s the only thing I’ve been doing all goddamn day! I tried to convince myself you’d be fine because you’re my right-hand man and I needed you. But I should-da put my foot down this mornin’, let Glenn come instead. You clearly weren’t up for it, but hey, maybe that's my fault ”

Rick watched his words topple around in Daryl’s head. He was so drawn in on himself now that Rick could barely see his face behind the damp shaggy bangs. He was shaking, and the Deputy could hear the distinct sound of teeth chattering together. He didn’t know what kind of response would follow. If there was a response at all. Daryl sniffled and opened his mouth to speak. 

“Ya don’t trust me anymore.” It wasn't a question or a statement. Just words brokenly whispered out as nothingness, being carried away by torrid winds.

“I do…I will, I just…” Rick didn’t really know how to respond. Did he still trust Daryl? Rick needed the man like he needed air, and the hunter had saved him more times in the last two years than he wanted to admit. But things just weren’t right. A chainsaw couldn’t cut the tension that hung between the pair.

Rick leaned against the sliding of the cabin so he was opposite Daryl. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off a tension headache that was brewing. “I took a chance today, letting Carl come on the run. I spent so long tryin’ to get him to do normal stuff and just be a kid again. But he’s a man now, and I wanted to give him the opportunity to be one. I was meant to be worried about him, Daryl, not you. Christ! He saved your damn life out in those woods! He’s my son, I can’t…That can’t happen again, okay?”

Daryl flicked some hair from his eyes and nodded his head weakly, seemingly cognizant of the mistakes that he had made. A neutral quiet befell them, while the horrid weather continued her blistering monologue into the night. Rick felt somewhat relieved to get some bubbling frustrations off his chest, but there was still something sour lingering. Like there was a war raging in his partner's head that no amount of allyship could end. Rick was sick of being shut out, so he had to try. 

“I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but this ain’t you Daryl. Just tell me what’s going on, please.”

“Ya wouldn’t get it.”

“Then make me.” Rick almost pleaded. He leant forward slightly, hoping to make contact with Daryl’s icy blue eyes. Yet they remained distant, the very indication that there was to be no follow up to Rick’s desperation. The Deputy intimately knew the mistake he was making, cornering Daryl, basically begging him to talk. But it had been like this for weeks, and Rick didn’t know what to do anymore. He needed Daryl to open up. And if he couldn’t do it with the man who loved him, the man who pounded his prostate every other night, who would he talk to? Probably Carol. Man, Rick wished he could garner advice from that woman right now. Was this how Lori felt everytime she pressed him to open up? Woof, Rick, don’t open that door. 

Instead, Rick sighed ruefully and pressed forward with fruitless interrogation.

“Were you going to tell me you were seein’ Merle again?”

“Ain’t a big deal.” Daryl said with a congested sniffle. The hunter clearly had no qualms with quipping back, as long as it suited him.

“Of course it is, Daryl!” The Deputy exasperatedly ran a hand through his damp curls. “You should’a told me.”

“You didn’t tell nobody about Lori.”

“That’s different.”

“It fucking ain’t.” Daryl looked up now, piercing blue eyes illuminating from behind sickly shadows and hickory hair. Rick sighed silently, fervently trying to keep his temper at a low simmer. The way Daryl had spat out his late wife’s name had sent a chill deep into The Deputy’s core. Not because his lover was jealous. Not because he felt guilty for falling in love again. But because Daryl was right. Rick had waited far too long to divulge the magnitude of the ghosts that plagued him after Lori’s death. And when he finally admitted to his waning mental state, he never explicitly told the most important companion in his life. His best friend, his comrade, his second in command. He never told Daryl. The hunter had, however, instinctively put two and two together and waited with open arms to comfort Rick when reality and grief had boiled to a head. The realisation of his sudden hypocrisy hit him like a baseball bat. He felt ashamed and angry. Emotions probably on par with the shivering man in front of him. 

Rick knew he should concede to the stalemate and end the porch side argument before either man did something regrettable. But there was a stubborn pit of lava sloshing around his insides that refused to satiate until Rick had fully unloaded the expanse of his concerns. 

“Th’last time this happened, your brother was missin’, without a hand, and you’d impaled yourself on your own bolt. Now Merle’s dead, and you’re sick as dog and it’s happenin’ again.” Rick watched Daryl flinch at the blunt mention of his brother’s passing. A reality of unresolved mourning embedding itself deep into sinewy skeletal muscle. Muscle memory doesn’t forget pain. Rick could see the thin ice laying before him, but overarching concern pushed him forwards.

“Daryl, I’m worried ‘bout you and not just ‘cause of today. You’ve barely mentioned Merle since he died and that just ain’t healthy. I know, okay? I’ve been there, and we both know what that does to a person. I just wish you’d talk to me, hell, anyone about it!”

“And what?” Daryl spat, squaring his shoulders from where he sat propped against the old railing. “Ya think singing fugckin’ Kumbaya and talkin’ out our feelings like stupid housewives is gonna mbake everything better?! It ain’t, Rick! They’re all dead. Merle. Lori. Talkin’ about it ain’t gonna bring ‘em back.”

The sick man’s voice trembled on the last of his words, his emotions fighting against steadfast resolve. Daryl was undoubtedly angry and hurting. His pain amplified by cruel viral tendrils lodged within his once stoic body. Rick’s heart was breaking beneath a sheath of misplaced contempt. 

“No it won't. I wish it could, god, do I wish that.” Rick paused, trying to assemble some version of articulation in his brain. “I just know that bottling up trauma can ruin a person. Especially in this world.”

“Pfft.” 

The weak and dismissive exhalation of air was so juxtaposing to Daryl’s previous fervour. The hunter was once again retreating from partaking in serious discourse. Rick had had enough. 

“Jesus, Daryl!” Rick launched himself from the wall of the cabin and took some long strides in the hope of calming himself down.

But Rick was Rick, and pacing on a small semi-dry veranda was not enough to pacify months of suppressed frustrations.

“I know this-” Rick gestured rapidly between the pair. “-Has been a huge adjustment. To me, to Carl, to everyone, to you. I get that, I know that. But fuck Daryl, I’m so tired. So goddamn tired of you running away every time things get hard. Every single day feels like one step forward and five steps back. Falling asleep in the same bed is a wildcard with you if you’re just gonna take off in the middle of the night. And yes, I know when you do and it makes me sad. I wish you’d tell me about your dreams so I could help you, like you did for me when Lori died. I love having sex with you but I just wanna be naked together without being terrified that you’re going to flinch away at the slightest touch. I want to shower with you, I want to rip your shirt off. I want you to trust me.” 

Rick forced himself to take a much needed breath. He watched Daryl for a sign of rebuttal, but the hunter remained glued to the spot, his eyes taking intent interest with the ground. 

The Deputy couldn’t stop himself. 

“Daryl…I’ve seen them. The scars... I know that makes you uncomfortable, but it’s the truth. I’ve seen them and I don’t care. I mean, I do care, I care how you got ‘em, I care about you. But they don’t make a difference to how I feel about you.”

Rick shut his eyes forcefully, taking a momentary reprieve. The word vomit escaping his lips was not eloquent in the slightest, nor could it be controlled. 

“I need you, Daryl. I need to know you. Please, please, let me in.”

Rick’s frantic pacing found himself once again facing the sick body of the hunter. He searched desperately for a response in the misery that sat opposite him. Rick watched as Daryl’s mouth opened and closed a few times, trying to formulate something audible. Moments felt like hours before chapped lips formed to create dialogue.

“Rick, I…” Daryl’s voice was weak, thick with congestion and evident emotional tumult. He stopped abruptly, inviting a wave of quiet between the feuding lovers. A few wet coughs and wheezy inhales escaped the broken man sitting before The Deputy. Eventually, Daryl seemed to  steel himself enough to return his gaze upwards to the pleading face of a man who wanted too much, who wanted everything. Rick could see the tears pooling in the basements of his lover’s eyes. Eyes that were red-rimmed and exhausted beyond recognition. Eyes that told Rick to stop, to retreat, to leave. 

But he couldn’t. 

“Daryl, please.” 

Before he could stop himself, Rick was inching forward without sense, dropping low to his knees so he could look up at the sick man. So he could plead for trust, for love, for hope. He knew he was inviting a world of mistakes, lunging himself into Daryl’s emotional and personal space. He was quite literally cornering a wounded animal. But he couldn’t stop. Rick was compelled by a force called sheer desperation.

“Rick, don’t.”

“Daryl…”

“Rick.” A warning. 

Rick was now crouched in front of Daryl, blue eyes meeting blue in a haze of warnings and pleadings and needs unmet. Now that Rick was finally up close with the other man he could see the feral energy behind the hunter’s glare. His cheeks were ruddy and feverish. One was visibly pinker than the other. The warm hue trickled down his angular face to an open slit in the corner of his mouth. Blood had coagulated heavily where Rick’s hand had met Daryl’s face earlier in their frightful day. Shameful bile sloshed needlessly in the pit of his stomach. 

He did this.

Rick's hands reached out before sensory neurons told him to. Fervent filled fingers made brief contact with frighteningly freezing ones. Rick gasped at the desperate contact.

Before he could shudder another breath, Rick was shoved forcefully backwards by arms that had had enough. He landed awkwardly on his backside, frustration filling his shallow cup once again.

“Don’t fugckin’ touch mbe!” Daryl had said as he pushed Rick to the floor of the decking. 

Rick sat there for a moment. Embarrassed, angry and hurt. The emotional toll of the last half an hour had taken his rationality and replaced it with blinding dismay. This wasn’t right. Nothing about this made any goddamn sense. Two broken men in the midst of a tornado. Daryl stormed away and Rick couldn’t control himself.

“Fuck I hate you sometimes.”

The words sliced the air with their anger. Words that should never have been said. Words that tumbled out of impulse and reactivity. Words that landed in complete betrayal. 

An utterance from Rick’s soul he didn’t know he had access to.

The Deputy sat there completely flummoxed. He couldn’t fathom why or how he had said what he had. Maybe he didn’t say it. Maybe he just thought it, as a hair trigger reaction to Daryl’s violence and months of stubborness. 

One gratingly slow twist of his head proved him disgustingly wrong.

Daryl stood eerily still, his back facing Rick, stopped in his tracks by the disarranged outpouring of exasperation. The strong, wide shoulders that held the weight of the world, crumbled in an instant.  A strangled sob escaped the man, shattering Rick’s heart into a million pieces. Daryl was visibly shrinking in on himself. His fever wracked body was heaving hard with turmoil. Rick had witnessed Daryl cry a handful of times before, but never because of him. Him, the leader who had sworn devotion and alliance and care to the volatile red-neck. This was a brand new chapter of agony.

The hunter had heard Rick’s words loud and clear. It wasn’t a dream, it was real. It was a waking nightmare. 

Rick scrambled to his feet ungracefully, knees popping unceremoniously as he raced to right his wrongs. Shame was too lenient of an emotion right now. He was disgusted with himself. A fleeting moment of unbridled possession threatened to unravel everything Rick held so dear. 

“Daryl, Daryl, please, I’m so sorry-”

“-Fuck you, man.” Daryl croaked. The voice was small, broken, irrevocably sick. Distorted by hiccuping sobs and window shattering winds. Rick stepped closer, desperately trying to close the distance between the pair that seemed to grow wider with every passing second. 

“I…I didn’t…It ain’t true…You gotta believe me…I don’t…”

Rick’s brain was short circuiting. There was nothing he could say to undo the mess his bleeding subconscious had created. Blinding fear and cascades of regret twisted their way up from The Deputy’s stomach and formed an unmerciful lump in his throat. His eyes felt the telltale burn of a tearful tsunami. But he grit his teeth and clenched his jaw against bodily instinct. Rick would not feel sorry for himself. He would not cry selfishly in the presence of the heartbreak he single-handedly shattered. 

He was about to advance again when a sudden bolt of pain burst from his jaw. In a split second, Daryl had whipped around and clocked Rick with an excruciating blow to the face. The Deputy stumbled, pressing a hand firm against the impact zone. He felt his blood boil and quickly evaporate as he realised it was the least he deserved. 

When Rick eventually straightened he was face to face with Daryl. The younger man was staring back at him with a tapestry of complicated emotions. Tear tracks stained his flushed cheeks and his lower lip trembled faintly until it was stopped by anxiously chewing teeth. Glassy crystalline eyes peered deep into Rick’s soul, screaming with explosive pain. 

“Mb’done, Rick.” 

The hunter tensed and dropped his gaze as he pushed past Rick. He sluggishly picked up his crossbow from where it lay against the railing. A slew of muddy coughs escaped the man who was palpably too fractured to care anymore.

“Goin’ on watch. Don’t follow mbe.”

And then he left. Heavy boots and a sluggish frame disappearing into the night without looking back.

Time slowed to an excruciating crawl. Rick couldn’t do anything. He just stood there, blinding pain in his face and anguish crawling out of his chest. He stared out into the black expanse in front of him where Daryl had been engulfed by darkness. 

Rick had fucked up. Real Bad.

Daryl was done. Done with what? Done fighting? Done talking?

Oh.

He was done.

It was over. 

[countlessrealities]

Morty's Birthday asks || @advnterccs sent:

Once Rick found Morty, he made a beeline over towards him. A gentle hand placed on that shoulder to guide him over towards the furthest part of the room. Just so they both could be alone.

Lowered down onto one knee so that he could make eye contact with his counterpart's grandson, he began to search through his inner lab coat pockets. "Shit, I-I wasn't aware we were doing birthdays, but i-if you and my Morty want to celebrate,"

Blue pupils looked off to right as he shrugged. As if he weren't a fan of this decision of publicly celebrating birthdays. Even if months earlier, he had sort of done the same.

Gaze locked back onto the teen's face, pulling out a small device. It was rounded and long. Almost that of a remote with several buttons on it. All labeled with very familiar icons that looked like the masks of some superheroes.

"But, I-I pulled an all-nighter and made this," He handed it over. "Basically, y-you press a button and you get limited powers from wh-whichever superhero you choose,"

And before he could stop there, he continued. "A-And no, this isn't or doesn't work the same way as that other fucking device, so y-you don't need to worry about consequences o-or me pulling some fucked up shit on you, alright?"

Standing up, he patted that shoulder firmly a few times. Then his hands combed through those brown locks, ruffling the strands.

"H-Happy birthday, little buddy, y-you're a good kid, so I-I want you and my Morty to have a good day, okay?"

{ To your Morty from my Rick 😊🤭😊 }

Morty went easily enough when his other grandfather's hand landed on his shoulder and guided him away from the rest of the little crowd gathered in the living room. He had made a good guess of what this had to be about the moment when he had realised that the man wanted them to have some privacy, just as his Rick had done that morning to give him his present while everyone else was busy preparing the party.

Apparently neither scientist was fond of the idea of being seeing indulging in something like handing over birthday presents.

The thought almost made the teen rolling his eyes, because that behaviour was honestly ridiculous, but he was distracted by Rick kneeling in front of him and offering some kind of excuse about not knowing that they "were doing birthdays". Speaking of more ridiculousness.

However, Morty still bit back the sarcastic comment that had rose to his lips. This was just Rick being Rick and he had come to accept and love the man for whom he was, with all his flaws, no matter how exasperated he could make him at times. That went for his Rick and it automatically applied to his grandfather's counterpart too.

"G-Geez, Rick," he still breathed out, because he couldn't let the other get away with that bullshit completely scott-free, but he didn't hesitate to take the device he was being handed.

Curious hazel eyes studied it for a few moments, before darting up towards Rick's face at the explanation of what it was for, lips already curling in a frown and eyebrows furrowing in suspicion.

However, it seemed that the scientist had anticipated his doubts, because he continued without giving him the time to interject. The mistrustful expression lingered on Morty's face for a moment, but then he allowed the feeling to slip away. While that particular episode was forever impressed in his memory, a lot had happened between it and the present, and he wanted to believe that the Ricks wouldn't be so cruel nowadays.

"I-I believe you, Rick," he answered after a moment, but there was a warning note in his tone, something that seemed to spell out "don't make me regret it".

His gaze fell back on the device in his hand and he finally let himself feel excited about it. Superhero powers of his choice. Limited, sure, but with no price or consequences. He and his boyfriend would surely have a lot of fun with that.

The pats on his shoulder went almost unnoticed, but the hand that slid in his hair caught him off guard. The gesture wasn't completely foreign to him, but it was rare enough that it surprised him every time. Just as it filled his chest with a hint of warmth every time.

"I...W-We will, Rick," he hurried to reply, tilting his head backwards to be able to look up at his other grandfather. "I-I mean, this is awesome! FM i-is going to love it too. An-And we can make our own adventures! Uh, h-home...E-Earth-based adventures, I mean. S-So..."

His voice trailed off for a moment and he made sure to make eye-contact with the other before continuing. Every trace of wariness was gone, replace by a grin that fully lit up his eyes.

"T-Thanks, Rick. Y-You're really the best, uh...the best everything ever."

[frenziedslashers]

I know we ain't a huge fan of Lori but imagine how proud she must feel to know Rick made it so far. Shane feels dumb as hell for assuming Rick wasn't made for the new world. Dale is probably horrified at Rick's recent actions. Glenn is mad at him bc Rick betrayed Maggie.

PLEASE I FORGET ABOUT DALE LMAOOOOOAOAO I didn't care for him or Andrea. I could tolerate him at least, though. Andrea I wanted to bite, and not in the friendly or sexy way either. I wanted to fuck her shit up like she PISSED me off so much.

With Lori, I wasn't a fan of her with Rick. As a person she seemed okay. Like any other lady tbh. She was a decent mom, not bad. I just hated how she treated Rick. I like to think that she would be proud of Rick and her kids.

Shane on the other hand better be wearing his shitting pants, because he winds up shitting his pants if he does happen to see Rick if the afterlife exists and h knows how absolutely feral he became.

Dale is terrified of everyone. No one is justifiable. He is scared of Carl even.

Glenn hates anyone who did Maggie wrong but he is so fucking proud of her. God, I loved those two so much. He was such a simp and so supportive of her. Me too, King.

Hershel and Beth are looking down on Maggie. So proud of what she has become. She is so strong and such a great leader. She has done everything and anything for the people around her and they couldn't be more proud.

Beth is also looking down on Daryl. So proud and happy for him. Glad that he is alive and still fighting, even if it gets hard and he doesn't even know what he's fighting for anymore. She's just as proud of Judith and so happy that she's growing to be the little fighter and sweet girl that she is - so is Tyreese.

Abraham is proud of Rosita for everything she does. Yes, she may have done some stupid ass shit, but she fought for the cause, and didn't give up. She honored him, and he's thankful for it all.

Good lawd, I think about these people all the time.

[fragmcntdstars]

@araneorum ( erin loomis ) sent "Maybe you should do what you do best - run and hide."

         okay  ,  so  he  was  really  glad  that  he'd  convinced  martha  to  take  alexis  out  of  town  for  a  few  days  .   his  daughter  had  graduated  &&  expressed  an  interest  in  taking  a  gap  year  ,  wanting  to  explore  a  little  before  starting  college  .   really  ,  he  hadn't  gotten  that  same  opportunity  himself  (  well  ,  not  in  the  traditional  sense  )  ,  so  he  was  more  than  happy  to  let  alexis  go  where  she  wanted  .   within  reason  ,  of  course  .   so  ,  they  were  off  in  florida  to  spend  a  few  days  at  the  parks  before  heading  on  a  cruise  .   gina  had  paid  for  it  –  he  needed  to  find  some  fucking  way  to  pay  her  back  [  …  ]  or  his  ex  -  wife  was  going  to  hold  it  over  his  head  for  decades  .

         screw  erin  .   she's  gotten  under  his  skin  (  again  )  &&  he  fucking  hates  how  easily  she  can  do  it  .   they're  out  at  a  diner  ,  one  of  the  few  24  -  hour  ones  he's  still  found  in  the  city  ,  so  its  not  like  stu  could  really  do  anything  to  make  her  regret  her  words  .   shit  .   was  that  something  he  wanted  to  do  ?  moreover  ,  when  did  he  start  thinking  of  himself  as  stu  ?   he'd  done  it  before ,  but  it  wasn't  something  he'd  [  …  ]  really  thought  about  before  .  legally ,  in  all  ways  that  mattered  ,  he  was  richard  castle  .   still  ,  in  his  mind ,  rick  &&  stu  had  combined  into  the  man  he  was  .   his  gaze  flicks  to  the  coffee  in  front  of  him  ,  busying  himself  with  fixing  the  coffee  to  his  liking  before  he  picks  up  the  ceramic  cup  .   its  still  warm  ,  almost  to  the  point  where  it  hurts ,  but  he  uses  it  .

         he  needs  to  think  about  something  else  .

         “  no  ,  maybe  you  should  run  ,  ”  he  says  ,  trying  to  keep  his  tone  civil  .   still  ,  there's  something  hiding  in  his  tone  .   over  the  years  ,  he'd  cultivated  a  decent  number  of  connections  throughout  the  city  .   powerful  men  ,  judges  especially  ,  who  he'd  gotten  to  know  really  well  .   fuck  ,  he'd  still  maintained  a  good  relationship  with  patterson  .   “  go  back  to  woodsboro  .  "   he  wants  to  say  more  .   fuck  ,  maybe  he  should  say  more  .   he  thought  she  was  dead  .   maybe  he  should  be  more  welcoming  ,  but  erin  being  here  risked  too  much  .   he'd  constructed  good  life  for  himself  ,  a  life  that  he  deserved  ,  but  erin  being  there  threatened  [  …  ]  well  ,  threatened  everything  .

         was  that  giving  her  too  much  credit  ?   it  unsettled  stu  a  little  bit  .   honestly  ,  it  unsettled  rick  even  more  .   why  was  he  thinking  of  himself  like  that  ?   he's  a  little  silent  as  he  drinks  the  coffee  ,  thoughts  tumbling  through  his  head  .   “  how  the  hell  did  you  find  me  ,  anyway  ?  ”

[beaker1636]

A is for Altoid (Vinny)

AN: Part 1 of the Alphabet Game! This one definitely was way more fun for me to write than I expected it to be! Next is B is for Body Oil with Ryan! Enjoy!

“Hey Vin, we’ve been home for three days, the time has come,” Vin groans as soon as the words leave Chris’ mouth, not ready for this shirt to start.

“I know, so what do you assholes have for me?” He glances around the room while asking his question.

“Who even gets to start this? We said whoever just did a letter gets to assign the next one but no letter has been played yet,” Rick says, having an idea but unsure if he would be allowed to give it.

“If you have an idea then just say it, does it really matter being the first one who does it?” Ryan says, taking a drink from his water bottle as he groans when Vin shoots him in the game.

“Okay… well here you go Vin,” Rick says, pulling a tin of Altoid mints out of his pocket and hanging it to the younger man, a smirk on his face as he knows that more than likely Vin hasn’t tried something like this.

“What exactly are you trying to tell me to do here?” Vin asks, looking over at Rick as he slides the tin into his own pocket.

“You have seriously never heard of this? Jesus, just get Carlotta to have one in her mouth when she blows you. One, it produces more spit and two, the cooling feeling is fucking great,” Chris says, rolling his eyes. “If you don’t know these things I feel sorry for Lottie, your bedroom life has to suck.”

“First of all, she would kill you if you call her Lottie, she only allows me to.  Second, maybe I’m just so good that we don’t need anything extra to enjoy ourselves.  She said I have magical hands… just saying,” Vin responds with a smirk, knowing he just got Chris to shut up. 

“Okay, so it's decided A is for Altoid.  Remember she has to tell one of the girls about it for it to count,” Ryan says, wiggling his eyebrows at Vin as the words leave his mouth.

“That was fucking creepy, please don’t do that face again,” Justin says, glancing over at Ryan.

“Shit you’ve been so quiet I forgot you were here too, you must have  really been into the game,” Ricky says with a laugh at the sudden reminder that Justin was there.

Later

“Hey Lottie, how was your day?” Vinny greets you from the couch with a smile when you walk in his front door from work.

“Could be worse but it also wasn’t great, my kids were awful today,” you say back as you pull your shoes off your feet before trudging your way over to the couch and sitting down with a sign next to your boyfriend.

“Well I am in a good mood now that you are here, happy to have you home.  I was serious when I said move in with me last night you know,” he says, pulling you in for a light kiss before letting you settle back into the couch, moving to fiddle with something in his pocket.

“So what is in your pocket that you keep playing with? It is related to that stupid game the boys have come up with isn’t it?” You ask, giggling when he chokes on air as the words leave your mouth.

“I-it’s yeah.  Rick gave me these and I’m supposed to make you blow me with one,” he blushes slightly as the words leave his mouth, pulling the tin out of his pocket.

“It still amazes me that with everything we have done you still get so flustered about things.  You’re shy about the fact I have to suck your dick? You act like I have never done it before, I was expecting something awful,” you tease him, laughing as his face turns red when you pop one in your mouth.

You slip off the couch, settling on your knees in front of him on the floor and rubbing a hand along his thigh as you try to get him to relax.

“We’re doing this right now? You can wait if you want to relax a little bit first,” he says, shifting a little when he feels you start to palm at him through his jeans.

“May as well, I would rather now than wait,” you shrug, moving to reach his zipper.

Taking the hint he moves to slide his jeans and boxers down for you, leaning back in his spot as he reaches for his half hard shaft, giving himself a couple strokes before you slap his hand away.

“You’re not touring so that means this is my job now,” you hum, replacing your hand with his own.

“I thought you liked watching me get myself off?” He asks, turning the teasing back on you now, leaving you a little flustered.

Rather than responding you blow a teasing breath of air that is now cool from the mint over his head, smiling to yourself when you feel him shudder underneath your touch from the new sensation.

“You don’t have to tease me with this, you do enough of that the way it is,” he whines, making you giggle.

“Hey, I’m just following the rules and making sure you get the full effects of the mint, gotta complete our challenge right?” You can feel a smile pulling at the corners of your lips when you meet his eyes.

“Sometimes I hate you Lottie, you know that?” he groans.

“No you don’t.”

Before he has a chance to respond you bend down, making sure the mint was on your tongue as you lick up the underside of his shaft, knowing that he can feel it moving along with your tongue, the sensation making him shift.  When you reach the tip of his cock you wrap your lips around it, again making sure that when you swirl your tongue around his head that he can feel the mint moving along with it.  You absolutely love every little shift of his hips and the shudder that he gives you, knowing that he is enjoying the sensations that you are making him feel.

“Fuck,” he groans, his hand finding it’s way to your hair, brushing it out of your face because he wants to see himself between your pretty lips.  There is something so erotic that he enjoys about being able to see you pleasuring him, taking care of what he needs from you.

Deciding that you have teased him enough you slowly begin to take more of him in your mouth, slowly bobbing your head more and more as you go, but not quite ready to give him the satisfaction of taking all of him.

Vin makes that decision himself, tightening his grip that is in your hair and pulling you down, making you take all of him.  He holds you there, loving the feeling of you swallowing around him, seeing your saliva starting to make its way out of your mouth while you choke on him.  When he finally lets go he gives you only a second to breathe before pulling you back down on him and repeating the process

“Fuck, I love it when you choke on me, letting me take what I need from you.  Am I able to get rough with you tonight baby,” he asks, pulling you off of him, his dark eyes following yours as you nod.

“Lose your clothing and go lay down, head off the bed,” he says, standing up and helping you up with his hand, following you to the room and enjoying the show when you start to shed your clothing along the way, leaving a trail of clothing on the way to his bed.  You make sure to slip a new mint into your mouth before you leave the room, wanting to keep that cool feeling that he seems to be loving going.

“No, on your back,” he says, watching as you lay down. “I want to see all of you while I fuck your pretty mouth.”

You roll over, leaning your head back to allow him to do just that, opening your mouth with your tongue out waiting for him to do it.  He thrusts harshly into your mouth, searching for his own pleasure that only you could give him right now, groaning as he continues to do so.

Reaching down he rolls one of your nipples between his fingers, you moaning around him and him groaning at the vibrations that it sends down his cock, the pleasure getting to him.

“The coolness and added wetness, baby, I am getting close.  Should I return the favor once I cum?” He knows you can not answer him but when you groan he knows that you are enjoying this more than he honestly expected you to.

He thrusts harshly, not giving you a chance to recover from choking on him before he does it again, a few more times before he spills himself inside of you with a groan. 

“Please, let me see it before you swallow baby?”  he asks, pulling himself out of your mouth and smirking to himself when you are there, his load in your mouth before you swallow it.

He helps you move up from your position so you are laying on the bed, rubbing your neck for a moment before he lays down next to you.  Pulling you in for a kiss, tasting himself on your tongue.

Sliding a hand from your hip to your center you can see his eyes darken slightly. 

“Seems blowing me gave you a problem of your own…”

He pulls his lips away from yours, moving towards the foot of the bed before he pulls you down by your thighs, quickly getting to work with his tongue which he uses to tease your clit, knowing it will make a pretty moan fall from your lips.

You shift your hips, hoping he will get the hint that you want him to move things along, craving your own release and growing frustrated with him.

“Should I continue like this? I could sit and eat you for hours and never get tired,” he says, pulling away to glance at you.  Taking in the beauty of your heaving chest, the way your eyes are half closed as you whine, chasing your own pleasure that he is denying you right now.

Without warning he sinks two of his fingers inside of you knuckle deep, rather roughly but he knows that you can take it as he continues at a relentless pace, knowing that this will get you close, but also not be quite enough.  Edging you closer to the edge of your own release, but not giving you enough to fall over.

“Should I give you what you need, let you finish?” he asks, slowing his movements when he realizes that you are about to finish, making you whine at your ruined orgasm.

“Fuck, please Vin,” you whine, looking up at him.

He smirks at you, moving to kneel on the floor at the edge of the bed.

Using his free hand he spreads you open, giving him access to torment your clit with his tongue as his hands get to work, knowing that the feel of his tongue is going to bring you back to the edge quickly, especially when his fingers start pounding into you again.  

“Vin, I’m gonna,” you don’t get the rest of your words out before it hits you, making you arch your back and let go with a moan as he continues to lap at you, removing his fingers so he can clean up your release with his tongue before he moves to sit on his knees, looking up at your proudly.

“So did I fix your bad day?” he asks, knowing it’ll probably be a few seconds before you respond, catching your own breath.

“Shut up,” you groan, covering your face with your hands as you slowly come back down to yourself.

“We may have to try that again, the coolness of the mint and the fact it made you a lot more sloppy…. Fuck it was amazing.” he says, moving to lay next to you and brush a strand of your hair that fell behind your ear.

He leans down giving you a soft kiss, followed by another and another.  Knowing that you love it when he is sweet with you, and smiling to himself when you giggle at his actions.

“My fucking throat hurts now though… you get dinner duty, I need to go take a shower now,” you say softly, smiling when his head lays on your chest while you play with his unruly curls, enjoying the afterglow of what just happened between the two of you.

“Or I can order dinner and we both shower together… after I thank Rick for this,” he says, sighing in content at your comforting touches.

Slowly the two of you get up, him going to do just that and you going to let Naomi know that her boyfriend’s suggestion for A was complete, not wanting to but knowing Vinny won’t get credit for his letter if you don’t let one of them know.

[reilleclan-blog]

They just don't make hyper-fixations like they used to

I'd say I should "hyperfixate" on my craft but my craft is just video gaming these days no motivation for anything else. Photo mode just so happens to be a joint thing with my new hyperfixation, Cyberpunk 2077 but cyberpunk is a very taxing hyperfixation the mods, already have my startup screen lagging and I felt I only downloaded like 3gb of mods?

Anyways um yeah I'm still breathing ig maybe I should actually do something on the weekend. A "purpose". I do a job I find "helpful" (helping older ppl) but once I clean up I'd rather just go home, I go home and then I'm sitting at home listening to my mom yell about shit or yell at me then I game to focus on anything else, or sleep and then I sleep and dream about stupid shit like nightmares or what I wish for? I don't really know.

Also I have like 20 cavities but haven't done shit about it *old cringe white guy smiling* like wtf ??

Cowboy bebop, Naruto, Rick and Morty, cyberpunk, samurai champloo, amvs, (idfk) Tokyo ghoul, I just don't fucking know anything

Idk maybe I'm just pressuring myself to have a "purpose" but maybe I should just be happy I'm alive and can even breathe a little longer. Especially the way the world has been looking. Everytime I think about having to get up to work I always have these "existential thoughts" ok bye

Edit: and my phone is glued to my hand or something. I LITERALLY PLAYED "MASS EFFECT" SO I COULD FEEL POSSIBLY WHAT PPL APART OF THE FANDOM FEELS SND I FELT LIKE A "PANG" OF INTEREST AND THAT WAS IT. Is there a correlation to me self diagnosing myself as adhdautistic? So many questions. I just watch tv shows just to pass the time mostly, most movies are just so formaliac, I have a hard time fully enjoying something. Ig if I watch with friends but still. I find myself mostly watching comedies on my alone time, Bob's burgers is just classic, and Rick and Morty still funny but I've watched it so many times. I have been making yt videos lately but then I have to remotivate myself to make yt videos again and I feel I only be having energy just for the gaming part so I stream stuff. (And i enjoy it) but then the depression sets in(or the other shit) and then I get upset that streaming isn't going to do anything for me (I'm never making it out the hood) not like I hate the hood but I don't exactly love it either,

Maybe this is just the disease of the impostered black "creatives" I don't fucking know

[grimsneverendingfuneral]

I do I do! Oh my God I love “British football” so much, I’m using that from now on. I play soccer, but we call it football here! I’m a goalkeep, which is shocking because I’m so short lol. And, I mean, not to brag but I think I’m pretty good for someone my height 😌

Yeah, it was so stupid. Not that I’ve learned my lesson because I’m most definitely going to keep climbing like a little squirrel hunting for acorns, but I’ll just be a liiiiiitle more careful. Ooh, yeah, you definitely gotta be more careful when living alone. Hopefully you’ve been safe and alright til now.

Omg thank you! You’ve reminded me that I need to finish the new Rick and Morty season. I’ve only watched the first two episodes hehe. I haven’t heard of most of these, but I’ll definitely give em a try! Agh, I’ve been meaning to watch Bojack Horseman since the third season came out. Is it really as good as people say it is? Like, is it worth watching all six seasons?

Aw, Grim! That’s so cute! You must have such a wonderful and creative imagination. Wow. I feel you with the nail polish 100%, I love bright and fun colours, all the glitters and metallics, like… If it’s shiny or bright, it is going on my nails.

I’m so happy you had a good time with your friends and that you wrote two chapters!! I cant wait to read it!!

:0 what a plot twist Grim!! I didn’t expect being asked a question in return aaah! I have to think about that… Oh, jeez okay, I had this dream back in high school, but I still remember it so clearly haha. In grade 12 we had this huge project we needed to do for our music final, and I was putting in so many hours towards it that I dreamt about it! I dreamt that all of Guns and Roses and Queen (don’t ask, long story) came to record vocals and guitar for my project and they kept getting it wrong so the girl who was working on the project with me kicked them out and I was like “omg you can’t just do that that’s queen and gnr omg…” lol. So I went and apologised to them and we had tea together. It still haunts me HAHAHA

And now time for your questions! *rubbing hands together evily* Which season is your favourite? Do you have a specific scent you love? Vinyls or CDs? What was your least favourite subject in school and why? 🎤

MIC ANOOOOOONNNNN wazzzaaapppp. GLAD to talk to you!!

yeah you just keep on climbing. youve gotta keep going no matter what. just keep being yourself and active and the best goalkeep your team has ever experienced.

lmfaoooo yes nothings changed. i still daydream just as much as i used to as a kid and its wonderful. i wouldnt wanna be any other way. so glad we share the love for glitter nail polish!!! im actually about to paint them right now. im thinking this iridescent kinda translucent blues gonna look sexy

i haven't watched the new season of Rick And Morty either cause then it'll be finished and im fr a fiend. im in love with Rick its disgusting really. classic daddy issues.

anywayssss about Bojack, honestly its very much worth it, in my humble opinion, but the third and fourth season are kind of the seasons you have to get through to get to the flipside of the show, which starts to get REAL as fuck during seasons five and six. then when its done youre just kinda sitting there like damn...........

GNR AND QUEEN are literally two of my favourite bands of all time. i mean, i have A LOT of favourite bands but i had a severe fixation on GNR in highschool to the point where like i know the band member's grandmothers names and shit. i asked this question because its a question i like to ask people to break the ice in conversations. i was also curious about yours!! EVERYONE has a dream that they remember, for some reason, one that just stuck. and its always from early childhood too.

ok questions time......heeeehehohhoooohhooo.......my favourite season is spring. it used to be autumn but the last two autumns ive been sort of too stressed about the pending doom of winter and halloween has kind of sucked too (even if halloween is every day of the year for me) so i have officially decided that spring is my favourite season. its fall but flipped. love the wetness and the flowers blooming. the smells. the anticipation for the summer. the way the ice melts. its sensual.

a scent i love GOD. my favourite scent of all time is clean laundry. if i go to hug you and you smell like fabric softener i will be so bricked up itll be awkward for the both of us. i sometime seek it out in those cotton scented candles and shit. although i love it so much, i never seem to smell it on myself, even if i rub bounce sheets on my fuckin sweaters. guess its kind of like when you go to someones house. you smell their smell but then you come home and you cant smell your smell.

i have a special place in my heart for CDs cause i grew up with those but i have a lot of vinyls and no CDs cause storing CDs is more annoying than storing vinyls to me...... i know its weird cause vinyls are bigger but the texture of them is better.

aaaanddd my least favourite subject in school was math. no surprises there. not even cause i was bad at it, i was pretty good, when i wanted to be. but i went to an arts school so the teachers in math were always so pissed off lol. no one gave a shit about math class to the point where the teachers would just give up and sit at their desks to do their own thang while we just fucked around

ok question for you...... whats something kind youve done for someone recently?