#wire base dining table

[thequeenofsand]

Eclectic Dining Room Mid-sized eclectic great room design example with blue walls, light wood floors, and no fireplace.

[a-killer-obsession]

OKAY I DID IT, I FIGURED OUT THE LAYOUT

Disclaimer: it seems like the size of the ship changes every time we see it, but the newest eps vs wano seem pretty consistent so I went with that and used Wire's height for scale

Floor layouts under the cut ✂️

Edit: you can find clearer/more detailed versions here

Layout based on the 31 member crew that Oda confirmed. I also took in to account that a significant portion of the members are fucking massive, so everything is bigger which matches the scale it's drawn in. Floors are approx 5m high with 2m wide doors in most places, which makes sense when a good portion of the crew are 3m tall.

Sorry about my handwritting lmao I'm so tired but I have serious brainworms and couldn't sleep

The specifics:

Kid's Floor

Of course he has his own floor

Quarters include his own private dining space which I imagine would also include a workdesk, bedroom with king sized bed and probably a couch, walk in closet, and bathroom definitely large enough for a massive tub

Workshop also has bathroom entrance for when he's feelin lazy

Ladder space in the middle goes straight through, this is so crew going to the castle deck don't access his floor

Commander's floor

Heat, Wire and Killer have their own rooms and a private lounge just for them and Kid

Heat and Wire share a large bathroom, definitely big enough for normal bath

Heat and Killer have king sized beds, Wire's bed is almost as wide as a king but mostly it's made especially long

Small decking that runs the whole way around, unspoken rule that crew aren't allowed there since windows peer into commander's rooms

Killer could probably fit a drumkit in his room 👀

Cannon Deck

We get peeks of this in the anime and in Oda's notes but they're fuzzy so I just did my best

Made a mistake tho, cannon platform should be whole way around back like a U shape to account for 3 cannons facing backwards, total 9 cannons

Theoretically this is where the helm should be so uh that's where I put it

Screenshots make it look like they also store a lot of other weapons here

Main deck

Forecastle includes navigation room with bookcases, central table, and desk for paperwork

Forecastle also has infirmary with two longer than normal beds to account for larger crewmates, and a desk for crew doctor to keep notes

Door between nav and infirmary cos Kid is lazy

Kitchen and pantry. Given the rooms are 5m from floor to ceiling I imagine that pantry would have a small mezzanine accessed by a ladder to take advantage of vertical space (and would be a sick place to nap)

Galley/dining hall contains 3 bench style tables, seating 10 large crewmates each, with one extra fancy chair at the end of one for Kid

Lower deck

Did my best to do some math to figure out how many larger than normal beds were required and decided on 6 bunks for 12 larger crewmates

Additional rooms for average sized crewmates include 4 rooms with 2 bunks each, and one room with 1 bunk, making for a total of 30 beds below deck. That means, counting the commanders for the 31, there are currently 3 empty beds, so a few rooms aren't complete full

Probably looks like fuck all space but its actually significant for a ship living quarters

According to google you only need 1 toilet per 10 people and 1 shower per 40 but that seems like BS. Bathroom has 4 large, accessible sized toilets, 4 showers, long benches down the center and a long counter with plenty of space and mirrors for makeup, given how many crewmates wear it

Also, storage room. Could be converted to extra room for another bunk

Hold

Access via ladder

4 cells. No toilets, you get a bucket ✌️ tbh might not even have beds but there's room for em anyway

Desk in case they need to keep an eye on prisoners

3 storage rooms, but i think one of these would actually be a torture room. Probably the one by the desk.

Mechanisms for power and water are probably in one of these rooms as well as a lot of materials for ship repairs

Also of note

Crows nest is definitely big enough for a bench, definitely big enough for... activities. Not as big as the Sunny's though I dont think a gym would fit, I think it'd be more likely that gym equipment is kept on the cannon deck

Idk if the mizzenmast is supposed to go all the way through but that physically can't happen with where the helm needs to be based on screenshots so ✌️

Crows nests are definitely access via climbing nets

Please absolutely feel free to use this as a reference for fanfictions, but I'd appreciate a shout out if you do 💖

[artsy-hobbitses]

Do you perhaps have any headcanons on the miscreant Starscream??

DO I EVER.

I'm gonna assume you're new here or at least have not seen all headcanons, so I'll collated into one document. RIP you're getting sandblasted with a horrible sky gremlin who has hidden heart of a hero (DON'T LET THEM HEAR YOU SAY THAT, HE HAS STREET CRED TO MAINTAIN).

Starscream/Stefan Scavarro got his codename from the shriek that his suit's engines made when he would divebomb opponents from the heavens. Combined with them seeing literal stars when he blindsided them and how much of a 'sky devil' he was with his red armor, a terrified senate guard described him as the rebellion's "(Azrael) Morningstar, screaming bloody vengeance as he swoops down from the heavens to hunt the wicked". Hence, 'Starscream' was born.

He wears his hair long to cover the Cold Construct barcode on the nape of his neck. Touch him there without his permission, and he will break your fingers.

He's the best cook on the team, and he'll say it's because he's rather eat barb wire (the taste of his blood would at least add some flavour) than be subjected to the military slop he lived with for twenty years. It's never too late to learn how to how to cook and eat well, though if you substitute fresh garlic for powdered garlic in something you're serving him, he's going to fight you across the dining room table after he's done eating it. Food should be respected, even if they were the product of a culinary crime.

He learned to tailor his own clothes during his college days, and has since become very proficient at it. He make most of his formal garments, and is considered the most fashion-centric member of the team.

He was very close to Senator Shockwave/Sharifuddin Waseem as a young politician, to the point of having an unrequited crush. Sharif accepted him as a part of the senate despite his status as a (freed) Cold Construct driving others away from him, and both spent most of their time together in the senate researching and drafting bills pushing for more rights and protections for the Manual Class and Cold Constructs

He has a personal dislike of Optimus Prime/Omar Parvez, and blames Omar for what happened to Sharif, as Sharif surrendered to Proteus on Omar's watch. He had earlier requested that Omar not leave Sharif's side before their mission began and he was assigned to another post, because he had a bad feeling about Proteus' plans for Sharif, and accused Omar of being too spineless to stop it. That Omar had to choose between saving Sharif or the men Sharif told him to keep safe was something he refused to consider. However, in time they do come to an understanding when he accepts that Omar was given a impossible choice and made the one that respected Sharif's last request and sacrifice.

While he can't bring himself to keep pets (he doesn't want to get attached amid a war), he does have a fondness for cats! He admires their beauty, grace, independence and low tolerance for bullshit. He eventually adopts an old and ornery female cat named Graymalkin post-war to keep him company while Windblade/Wariko Baisho is out at work

Stefan has a ridiculously high pain tolerance due to the abuse he was put through from childhood at the air base he grew up in. His eardrums have ruptured more times than he can recall from flight test chambers and high altitude barotrauma, and if he didn't stop crying, his handlers would give him something to really cry about before they dragged him off to the medics. He has an accelerated healing factor, they saw no issue with letting out their frustrations on him, as he was simply an asset in their eyes, even as a seven-year-old.

As such, he has very warped idea of what constitutes a 'major' injury on him---he can be running around cradling his disemboweled intestines in one arm without breaking a sweat. He offhandedly tells people that an injury doesn't register as 'major' to him unless it's a skull fracture where he can feel a section of his head caved in, or a direct shot to the heart.

Because of this, he also has a very skewed idea of what 'hurt' means to him personally and how he's meant to react to it. He's internalised his handlers' assertion that because he can heal, his pain does not matter. So what if people hurt him? It's what he was built to withstand. There is a weird sense of pride he has about this, he sees it as a mark of strength, and it's partly why he's as defiantly blasé as he is about Megatron's abuse when they get in each other's faces. At the same time, it's also deeply lonely for him and he oscillates wildly between shying away from physical contact and being starved for 'good' touch at the same time.

To add to this, while he grows to harbour unspoken attraction towards Wariko which he attempted to throttle multiple times in their early says interacting with each other, he stops icing her out when she becomes the first person to acknowledge his pain, and that him being able to heal and bearing no scars from his abuse doesn't make that pain any less real. She's also his first experience with 'good' touch, which he quickly finds he cannot get enough of.

He adores musicals. In particular are The Greatest Showman, Moulin Rouge and The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

When he and Morgan are in one of their more civil moods, they play chess together in a weirdly companionable silence, as despite their mutual disdain, they understand each other the most. They're equally matched, and it's the only time where Morgan will sincerely compliment him about something, and he'd accept it without sneering or boasting. (He used to play with Sharif, who doesn't do so now as Shockwave, while Morgan used to play with Omar, so it also feels like a moment of bonding over shared loss)

He's an excellent dancer! Mostly ballroom-based which he picked up during his days as a young politician for big senate events, but he enjoys mixing things up a bit with tango or freestyle.

Has mastered walking in high heels.

He alternates between having a soft spot for Thundercracker/Teo Cortez, who he sometimes sees as a younger brother, and calling Teo out as being the 'weak link' of the Trine. He can one day be planning a heartfelt birthday party and baking a cake for Teo since Teo can no longer celebrate it with family, and the next day be screaming at Teo for messing up at target practice. He justifies this hot and cold by saying that someone like Teo isn't made for war, but since Teo insists on being here, he would rather have Teo sad or angry at him for being harsh over the work they have to do, than to have Teo dead from softness and carelessness. He was genuinely relieved when Teo finally left the Decepticons, and they do reconcile post-war.

Openly calls Tarn out for being a fanboy simp in bad Decepticon cosplay.

He never really takes Bumblebee/Benjamin Bane seriously as a fellow combatant and is constantly breaking into Omar's comm signal on the field to yell at Omar to send "your son" back home, this is NO PLACE for a child playing DRESS-UP. (Ben's "I'M 18 YOU POMPOUS PRAT" is immediately met with Stefan's "DON'T YOU TALK TO ME LIKE THAT, STOP KICKING ME IS PRIME RAISING YOU IN A BARN")

That said, despite being on opposite sides of the fence, when Ben becomes a discorporated soul, he is drawn to Stefan, who can hear him because it is Stefan, rather than Omar or even Memo and Charlie, who unknowingly first truly heard him. This goes back to when Ben was nine, and had a chance to visit the Quintesson War Museum on his birthday; his father and mother however, had no interest in exploring the exhibits with him and left him to do so on alone. On a whim, he asked a passing man, a young politician Stefan who was visiting before a conference, to help him take a picture. Stefan wanted this to be a one and done, but after asking Ben about his parents and finding out they left him to celebrate his birthday alone, he decided to chaperone Ben through the entire time that Ben was there and listened to this boy talk about everything under the sun. He didn't put much thought into this after he left, it was just a few hours of making a child happy/feel less lonely on on their birthday (he's never celebrated one! what a novelty that is), he didn't even have the presence of mind to ask for the boy's name since he himself was not given one until he was 18, but Ben never forgot.

As vain as he is, Stefan hates seeing old pictures of himself, especially those taken of him during his old senate days. He hates the boyish way he used to smile, he hates the hopeful light in his eyes, he hates coming to terms with the part of himself he felt he had sacrificed to hate over humanity on the day they razed the Senate… and how he barely recognizes the man he used to be. Wariko eventually makes him see the truth; that the man he was is the man he still is deep down.

He loves collecting plane models. He does not love putting them together, however, and it's a task he often bribes Skywarp into with offerings of muttabaq fresh off the gridle.

Sharif's old nickname for him is "Pretty Bird", Wariko calls him "Uguisu" (Japanese Bush Warbler).

Extremely protective of his armored flight suit. It was a prototype made by Sharif years ago for him--it was his first taste of flying without a helmet or within a cockpit, and he's never been able to forget that feeling. He also sees it as the last gift Sharif ever gave him before becoming 'Shockwave'. He refuses to let Morgan touch it, and the one time he did approach Shockwave to make some amendments, Shockwave told him to rubbish it for a better upgrade. He declined, and has since learned how to fix and programme the suit on his own. He won't admit it, but it feels like keeping the last physical bit of Sharif's memory alive.

Deeply in love with sky and flying in general; he embraces it as the most free he ever feels. He's up early for morning flights to catch the sunrise, and when he feels like he needs to get away from it all, he flies up high enough that ice gnaws at his face and he can't breath before freefalling through the clouds. It helps him gain a sense of perspective.

Stefan and Wariko do eventually get married, and he settles into a Way Of The Househusband role to her Lady First Delegate. They end up adopting two Cold Construct kids, Suzume and Gabriele.

If you'd like more Winblade/Starscream headcanons (because they are my power couple!), you can find them here and here!

[guilty-pleasures21]

The roommate

Surprise! Happy Halloween/Diwali/Dia de los muertos everyone!

Credits to @tojishugetiddies for giving me a base idea. Thanks, sweetie ☺️! 

This is just a two-parter, so I’m releasing part 1 today and then part 2 tomorrow on Halloween itself. 

Also, side note: I came up with the Optimus Prime idea before I went to watch the Transformers One movie, but I can’t recommend it enough!!! It’s SO GOOD 😭😭😭😭😭!!!

Original story

BONUS Halloween story!

Part 1

Part 2

Warnings: none.

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

Roommate!Miguel who walks down the stairs in his costume. 

Your neighbourhood was notorious for doing a big blowout celebration for Halloween and just like you always had, you loved dressing up for it. Your kids were old enough this year to go trick-or-treating with their friends, but you didn’t mind staying at home to hand out candy with Miguel- it gave you a chance to admire the other kids’ outfits and also left you with some alone time to get up to a little ‘trick-or-treating’ of your own with your big, strong husband … 🤭 

You rip open a packet of sweets and pour the contents into one of the large bowls in front of you and your son takes advantage of the opportunity to snatch a sweet as he walks past. You tsk at him in irritation, but Rio just shrugs and pulls out his phone as he takes a seat at the dining table. 

Roommate!Miguel who wraps his arms around your waist as he comes up behind you. 

“Need any help, querida?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek in greeting. You twist your head around to give him a smile, then snicker softly at the fake moustache you’d drawn onto his upper lip. 

You’d called him into your bathroom after finishing your own makeup, then sat him down on the chair in front of your dresser. He’d slid his hands up your thighs as you’d climbed onto his lap, his fingers squeezing and stroking you while you’d sketched the fine hairs onto his face. 

‘Miguel,’ you’d chastised him as his lips had stretched into a smile, ‘try not to smile so much.’

He’d grinned at your soft laughter and moved his hands up to your waist. 

‘I can’t help it, querida,’ he’d told you apologetically. ‘Why didn’t you just let me grow my own moustache?'

‘Because,’ you’d argued, getting back to work, ‘you’d look like a creep. And it would be annoying to kiss you.’

He’d snuck his fingers beneath your shirt and began running them across your skin as you’d continued and soon, your costume prep time had turned into a full-on makeout session with your sweet and sexy husband. 

Roommate!Miguel who steals a sweet out of the bowl as well. 

Your jaw drops in surprise and you glare at him as he walks around the kitchen island to take a seat in front of you. 

“Like father, like son,” you grumble, shaking your head in disapproval as you tear open another bag of sweets. “If I ask the two of you for help, you’ll probably finish all the sweets on your own.” 

Miguel glances over at his son in question, but Rio just shoots him the same confused look he was sure was on his own face. “!Papà!” 

Miguel looks up as your youngest son barrels down the stairs, a look of alarm on his little face. 

“¡Ten cuidado, pollito! (Be careful!)” Miguel warns him, holding his hands out as Rafael races towards him. His son slows down a little, but his body still buzzes with panic.

“!Papà! The lights aren’t working! Fix it!” 

Roommate!Miguel whose lips twitch with amusement at his son’s demand. 

He’d helped him attach the optical-fibre cables running through his Optimus Prime costume a few days ago, but something seemed to have gone wrong in the meantime. Miguel turns Rafael around and examines the cables, finding the problem easily. He reattaches the loose wire and turns the switch on, causing the costume to light up as they had intended. 

“Yes!” Rafael exclaims, bouncing with excitement. “¡Gracías, Papà!” 

He gives his dad a quick hug, then dashes back up to his room without another word. 

“Rio?” you call. “What time are your friends getting here?”

Rio checks his phone again for any new messages. “They said they should be here in about ten minutes. They’re picking up Danny first.”

“Who’s he dressed as?” Miguel asks, trying to find a way to steal another sweet from one of the bowls. Rio grins and sets his phone aside. 

“Daphne,” he reveals delightedly. “He got his mum to help him alter his skirt and everything! I think he’s going to steal his sister’s heels, but Shawn said he’s going to bring a spare pair of sneakers in case his feet start to hurt.”

His friends had decided to dress up at the Scooby Doo gang and though your son looked the polar opposite of the pale-skinned, blond-haired all-American golden boy, they’d still chosen him to play Fred thanks to the good looks he’d inherited from you and Miguel.

Roommate!Miguel who turns to the door when one of your neighbours pops her head in and calls out to you. 

“Hi everyone!” Sana begins, trying to keep the group of eleven-year-olds behind her at bay. “Is Rafael ready?” 

The woman had moved to your neighbourhood last year with her husband and two sons - the oldest of whom had quickly become good friends with your youngest. She was tall and thin with dark hair that always looked like she’d just come from the salon. Miguel stands and calls up the stairs for Rafa to come down and you don’t miss the way Sana’s eyes travel down your husband’s broad back. 

“Rafa! Rashid is here!” Miguel turns to shoot her an amused look as Rafa scurries back down the stairs and Sana returns it with a practised smile of her own. You lower your head to hide the way your eyes roll, then bend over to give your son a hug. 

“Bye, mami, love you!” Rafa recites before running around the island to tell the same to his dad. 

“Bye, bebito! ¡Te amo, mi solito!” you call after him as he disappears out the door with his friends. Miguel yells the same, then sits back down again.

Roommate!Miguel who jumps up again when he sees his daughter coming down the stairs. 

“Gabriella?!” he exclaims, unsure whether to be angry or terrified. “¡¿Qué diablos estás llevas?! (What the hell are you wearing?!)” 

Gabi stops and stares back at her father with his same deep-set, upturned eyes. 

“It’s my costume,” she replies, folding her arms across the tight shirt she’d put on over a pair of rolled-up shorts and a set of outrageously inappropriate fishnet stockings.

“What are you supposed to be?” Rio asks, narrowing his eyes in thought as he puzzles over his sister’s ‘costume’. You move to stand beside your husband and your features melt into a frown when you see what your daughter intends to leave the house in. 

“A witch?” Gabriella replies, gesturing to her pointed hat as if it should have been obvious. You cross your arms and raise an eyebrow at her. 

“I thought witches were supposed to look scary?” you muse out loud. “Not like a teenage boy's wet dream.”

“¡Mamà!” Gabi screeches in horror at the same time that Rio groans, “¡Ay, mami! ¡Por amor de Dios! (For the love of God!)”

You shrug, unbothered by your children’s complaints. “If you're embarrassed to hear me say it, you should be embarrassed to let me see it. Who's the boy?”

Gabi furrows her brow in confusion. “What boy?”

“The boy you’re trying to impress with this outfit?” you reply. “Which you should never be doing, by the way: that’s a red flag. The guy should always be trying to impress you.”

Roommate!Miguel whose eyebrows shoot up at your words. 

He thinks back to the time before you’d started dating, trying to recall if he’d worked to impress you any more than you had. Maybe you were right: he could remember doing a few extra reps every time you’d joined him in the gym and he had shown off a little whenever you guys had studied together in the library or your shared living room. And there was that time he’d learned how to make your favourite dish so he could see the adorable smile that would light up your features when you came home to it after class. Ay, mierda. Maybe he really had always been trying to impress you. 

“There’s no guy, mami,” Gabi sighs, rolling her eyes at your implication. You fix your daughter with a challenging look and she finally starts feeling self-conscious. 

“There isn’t!” she insists, shifting awkwardly in position. “It’s just … Everyone else my age dresses up like this now!”

You turn to Rio in question. “Rio? Does everyone in Gabi’s year dress up like this?” 

“We wear school uniforms, mamà,” Rio replies exasperatedly, not wanting to be dragged into the conversation. 

“Outside of school?” you question, mimicking his sarcastic tone. Rio shrugs and glances at his phone again. 

“I dunno,” he replies, coolly “I don't go around looking at fourteen-year-olds outside of school.”

“Right answer …” Miguel supposes, confused by his son’s response. “Wrong situation.” 

You let your hands fall back to your sides, then you start walking up the stairs towards Gabriella. 

“Wait.” You stop suddenly and quickly return to the kitchen to grab the bowl of candy. Gabi furrows her brows at you, but holds a hand out to help you. 

“What are you doing?” she asks, helping you carry the bowls up to her room.

“I am making sure your brother stays healthy and your father stays hot,” you reply, prompting a wince out of your daughter. 

“Why do I keep asking you questions I know I don't want to hear the answers to?”

“Because you're your father's daughter.” 

Roommate!Miguel whose entire body warms at your words. 

How could you still call him ‘hot’, even after all this time? After seventeen years of marriage and three kids? Rio jumps up as the sound of his friends’ voices float through the doorway. 

“Bye, mami! Bye, Gabi!” he calls up the stairs, prompting you to rush out of his sister’s room and back down the stairs. 

“Wait! Let me see your costumes!” you screech excitedly, gesturing for Miguel to get your phone. He grabs it from the kitchen island and turns on the camera as he joins you. “Oh my god! You boys look so good!” 

You lean over to look at the photos he’s taken and Miguel wraps his arm around your waist. 

“Thanks, Mrs O’Hara,” Nick replies, flicking his shaggy wig out of his eyes. He takes in your costume: a long-sleeved black dress that exposes your collarbone and clings to your figure. “You look good too! The Addams family?” 

He shoots you a cheeky wink and Miguel pulls you a little closer into his side. 

“This is why I don’t invite you guys over anymore,” Rio says, smacking his friend on the back of the head. 

“Oh my god!” Gabi squeals, joining the two of you on the porch. “You guys look amazing!” 

“You look,” Shawn begins excitedly, his features lighting up when he sees Gabi. He pauses quickly, calming himself down so he doesn’t come across as too eager, then he finishes coolly, “nice too.” 

Gabriella smiles, oblivious to Shawn’s sudden shyness in her presence. “Thanks! My mum helped me!” 

Roommate!Miguel who breathes a sigh of relief when he sees his daughter’s new outfit. 

You’d made her roll her shorts back down to her mid-thighs and gotten rid of the fishnet stockings beneath. Then you’d switched her two-sizes-too-small shirt to an oversized black band tee you’d tucked into her shorts and rolled up the sleeves of. Finally, you’d clipped a section of her hair back, revealing her kohl-lined eyes, cherry red lips and two small fangs that peeked out from between her lips whenever she smiled. 

“Whoa, are you … shining, honeybee?” Danny asks, squinting to check that he was seeing right. Gabi frowns at the nickname, but holds her arms out for everyone to see. 

“Yup!” she confirms delightedly. “But it’s a secret.” 

“Hey, bee!” Mayday calls, walking through their gate in almost the exact same outfit Gabriella had had on earlier. “Are you- Oh! Hi, Rio …”

Rio grimaces as she lowers her head, letting her curly hair fall over her shy smile. You press your lips together as Miguel digs his fingers into your side and reach up to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. It was pretty obvious that his best friend’s daughter had a crush on your oldest son, but your husband had insisted time and time again that though he loved Peter, he did not want to become his brother-in-law. 

‘I don’t think that’s how it works, cariño,’ you’d supposed, amused by your husband’s horror at the very prospect. 

‘Good,’ Miguel had responded firmly. ‘I don’t want it to work.’

“Bye, guys!” Rio exclaims, pushing his friends out the gate before Mayday could say anything more.

“Bye, papito! ¡Te amo!” you call after him quickly. Mayday waves at the group as they rush past, then she jogs over to her best friend. 

“Wow! Nice dress, Aunty X! And you look really good in that suit, Uncle Miguel! Oh my god!” She stops suddenly when she notices Gabriella’s outfit. “You look so good, Gabi! How did you …?” 

“My mum helped,” she explains, pulling her friend in the house behind her. “Come on! I’ll help you get changed, then we can still match!”

Continue

Tags: @sukunash0e @safixiovi @amberbalcom14 @shack-wheel-oneal

[wolfpants]

Tucked between a greasy spoon caf and an empty retail space with boarded-up windows, Chariot Books makes absolutely no secret of the fact it’s a gay bookshop. It’s small, but mighty; Sirius and his business partner Fabian have only had it for a couple of years, and before then, their business had run out of both their flats, a mail order service that kept Sirius’s home stuffed full of boxes and paperwork. A clandestine but well-oiled machine, Harry always thought. Sirius took great pride in it too, always seemed to be working, always seemed to be taking delivery of a new title or import from San Francisco or somewhere else Harry has never been to.

Harry still remembers the day they opened, this tiny shop with its floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, wire rotating stands full of paperbacks, posters and notices tacked to the walls wherever there’s space, advertising everything from poetry readings to weekly interest group meetings to helpline and crisis information.

A riot of colour. A riot of community.

Back then, Harry had been fresh out of secondary school in the suburbs, wandering aimlessly toward UCL and a psychology degree he’s still not entirely sure he wants, two years down the line.

He’d gotten the train to London with his dad. A multipurpose visit: to catch up with his godfather, his dad’s oldest friend, and to visit the halls of residence for university because his dad wanted to sus them out before committing.

Nothing like my place at Cambridge, he’d said with an approving, delighted laugh as they looked around the common room together with its vending machines full of pop and crisps and sweets, and the groups of casually dressed kids listening to American pop music on a portable record player set up on one of the plastic dining tables. And later that night, before they went back home to Surrey, the launch party for the shop: Harry staring up at the pink triangle on the sign above the door and feeling a huge sense of pride and admiration for his favourite relative in the world, who had finally made it all happen, after all those years.

--

Today I got to visit one of my favourite bookshops in the world - Gay's The Word - the shop Chariot Books in Pages of You is based. It's a gem of a place, rich with history, with an amazing stock of LGBTQ literature, erotica, and nonfiction. I spent an enormous amount of time researching its history for this fic, my first ever Drarry fic. I haven't been back since before I even conceived that fic, so getting to browse the shelves today was amazing for me! So joyous to see places like this stand the test of time and display their legacy so proudly.

[its-in-the-woods]

Coyote Head - Part 8 - Dancing in Thunder

master list

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Pairing: Cooper Howard x Lucy Maclean 

Includes many other characters from Fallout

Synopsis: The spring dance end in a storm

MINOR GET OUT. Rating/Warning:  Animal/people death, dead animal mutilation, Blood, Gore, Violence, Alternative Universe, Slow Burn, Death, Aging, Family Feuding, Older Man/Younger Woman

Note: that I will not be spoiling any of the reading. So you have been warned. I will keep my tags relevant without spoiling what is happening in the story.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

*please mind the tags, this one gets a bit gross

Lucy sat on the toilet trying to calm her breathing, the music could just be heard through the wood wall beside her. The level of anxiety she’d been feeling lately was supposed to be tempered by the Friday night dance, instead, it had just made her feel more out of place. The week had been a non-stop run. The cows had finally finished calving, two needing assistance, Lucy wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to having her entire arm inside a cow. Thankfully with Lucy’s help, both calves had come out healthy. Then there was the fencing issues, John Roth had come over asking about fencing at the border between Lucy’s property and his. An additional calf and three more cows had been injured, driving up the fence Lucy could see the concern. Several posts had been broken at the base, wires tangled in a mess. What was most concerning was the dozens of tufts of hair stuck to barbs, something had dragged the cows across the barbed wire and into the bush. Something big. 

The door opened and Lucy’s head popped up, realizing that she needed to get a move on. Taking a breath she stood and straightened her dress, it was blue, snug under her bust, and flared out to just below her knees. The top had a square neckline with mid-length sleeves that covered just enough to ward off the spring air. The bottom was covered in floral embroidery, a hand me down from her Aunt Marge, it was beautiful, light, and fit her perfectly. 

Once her hands were washed, Lucy made her way back into the hall. The building wasn’t huge by any stretch, it had a small dining hall and kitchen, which then attached to the main dance hall. The building had been built in the nineteen-sixties and hadn’t changed much since then, besides a coat of paint. Along the far wall were several tables with chairs, then on the other wall was a band singing, and in the middle of the room were dozens of pairs dancing to the tunes.

Lucy gave a small smile as she moves across the room, to the table Cooper was sitting at. He smiles up at her, before getting up to pull her chair out. She graciously sat down taking a sip of water out of her glass. Sorely wishing she had some wine to relax the last of the nerves. 

“What’s on your mind, beautiful,” Cooper asks, his big hand engulfing her own, she could see the worry lines popping around the edges of his brows.

Lucy put on her best smile, hoping Copper wouldn’t notice how tense her shoulders were. “Probably just need another spin on the dance floor.”

Cooper’s brows didn’t relax, Lucy inwardly groaning at how easy she was to read. He didn’t say anything, instead standing and reaching a hand towards her. Lucy, grateful that he didn’t press things here, standing, and smoothing her dress again before grabbing the man’s hand. 

A riotist country tune twanged onto the speakers, causing more people to come to the floor. The sound of cowboy boots and heels stomping to the beat, Cooper twirled Lucy around dipping her down before swinging her back around. A cheer rose up from the crowd as they moved their feet in time with the beat. Lucy couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face as she continued to move with him, the man dragging her back into his arms so she was back to chest. The feel of his strong arms wrapped around her, the heat rising against her back easing any lingering anxiety. 

The tune continued, more shouts and laughter as another couple came in, the man swinging the woman up into the air. Twirling around, Lucy and Cooper cheering as the woman came to swing down in a deep swoop. Lucy grins and claps her hands as the pair bows. Everyone smiling at the show in front of them. 

After the upbeat tune, comes something a little softer and slower, the lights going down just enough for it to feel like each couple is in their own little world.  Cooper gently spins Lucy towards him, one of her hands on his hip and the other on his shoulder. Cooper does the same as the melody spins through the air. Lucy leans her head to rest against his collarbone, Cooper kissing the top of her head. The two slowly move back and forth in circles around the other couples. 

Lucy, taking in how nice he smelt, he always smelt good even after working all day, now he smelt like wood smoke and warm spices. His shirt is clean, blue jeans pressed, and boots shining in the low light of the room. The calm slowing Lucy’s heart, just for a moment the fencing, the cows, the farm, the forest, were now just background noise. She could just focus on how softly Cooper held her, despite how strong they were, how their bodies fit together and swayed to the music. 

Lucy - LUCY

Her head shot up, looking around the room for the voice, hands moving from Cooper as she turns in circles. Pushing past people and moving towards the groups, looking for a familiar face, trying to find him. Trying to figure out where the sound had come from, how had it sounded like her Grandfather? How was that even possible? 

“Lucy?” Cooper asks, his hand finding hers as she madly keeps searching. 

Lucy’s heart was pounding, her eyes wild as she searched each person’s face for the one who called her name. She tried to break herself free from Cooper’s grip but he pulled her back towards him.

“I heard him,” Lucy says, her voice carrying across the now silent room. Eyes finally focusing in, everyone around her stopping to stare at her. She froze, stepping back towards Cooper, a few other couples had stepped away from her, their eyes looking over her face like she had sprouted horns. 

Cooper brings her back, “It’s okay, little tired's all.” He says, the music coming back on as he firmly steers her towards the hallway. Lucy was suddenly in a daydream, the world going fuzzy. Her body moving on it's own without much thought.

“I heard him,” Lucy says again, her voice quieter as Cooper tucked them into the kitchen. The light just bright enough for them to see each other, the stainless steel appliance seeming so harsh compared to the wooden building.

Cooper stands Lucy in front of him so he can look right into her eyes, his brows scrunched together as he looks her up and down. “What did you ‘ear?”

“Grandpa Tim. He was calling my name.” Lucy said quietly, trying to hold

Cooper’s gaze. Her mind a blaze with the distinct sound of her late grandfather's voice. “It sounded like he was right there.”

Cooper let out a low whistle at that, his hand rubbing against his face, others squeezing her hand. “Ya sure?”

Lucy nods, looking towards the door, hearing people moving down the hallway. Almost certainly talking about the little stunt that just happened. “It sounded as if he was right beside me like we are talking now.” 

Cooper hums, pulling his bottom lip against his teeth, “Like the stuff in the journals?”

She worried at her lip, “I've barely read one, but something like that yah. I am not going crazy Cooper, I heard him. I heard my name. The journals barely touch on the subject-”

Cupping her face Cooper stops the ramble before it starts, “I don’t think you’re crazy, Luce. Just tryin’ to wrap my ‘ead around it, is all.”

Lucy's brows furrow as she tries not to let herself spiral. “Can we go home?” 

“Absolutely, let me go get yer purse,” Cooper leans down to kiss her, squeezing her hand again before leaving. 

***

They made their way to Lucy’s truck, in the distance the sound of thunder rumbled booms across the grassland. Lucy’s head popping up, looking southwest of where she stood she could see the distinction swell of white and black thunderheads. Looking eerily similar to scooped ice cream piled onto a black haze. Cooper looks towards it as well, as he holds the door open for her to get inside. Lucy thanks him as she settles into the passenger seat.

Lucy grabs her phone, skimming through the apps to find the weather. Not that they were ever accurate, it was more wide guestimate. Instead, she swiped over to the radar, having lived in the prairies long enough to be familiar with it. Taking a look at the giant bloom of green spreading up and moving towards them. It eerily looked like a big bird of prey flying straight at them. 

“Looks like a good thunderstorm system moving towards us,” Lucy says, as Cooper gets the old beast going, moving into reverse to pull out of the hallway parking. Before heading straight towards the ever-growing storm.

As they head south towards her home, Lucy mentions that she wanted to grab a box of journals from the place. Halfway there the rain hit hard and fast. Groaning Lucy squirmed in her seat and Cooper flipped on the whippers, squinting through the downpour. 

A large animal drats across the road, Cooper slamming on the brakes as the tires squeal. The slick road causes the tires to slide, Cooper trying to correct them; as they start to slide and spin toward the ditch. Lucy lets out a small scream, closing her eyes and waiting for impact. But it never came. 

Chest heaving Lucy opened her eyes to see they were facing north now instead of south. Letting out her held breath as she looked around, happy that they had somehow made it without a crash. Cooper turns the truck back south to drive the rest of the way home. His hands gripping the wheel a little tighter.

***

The door was still closed, all the windows unbroken, yet the heavy ball of dread sat in Lucy’s stomach. The same feeling she had had when the place had been trashed. Similar to the feeling she'd felt walking on the edge of the forest.

Clenching her hand in Cooper’s trying to decide what to do. It was still pouring down rain, Cooper watching her closely as she looked over the house. Lucy feeling silly that she was struggling to go into her own home.

“We don’t have to go in. It can wait till tomorrow,” Cooper says, trying to soothe her. 

“No, I should go get the box, I need to start really looking through them. Make some notes, trying to figure out what is going on.” Lucy says, repeating to herself that she was safe and Cooper was here. Nothing was going to happen. 

Lucy gets out of the truck striding, as confidently as she can, to the front door. Putting her key into the deadbolt and turning it with a satisfying click. Another repetition of her mantra before she turned the handle. Doing everything in her power to keep her eyes open as she pushes the door open, Cooper following just behind her. She turns on the hallway light and toes off her rain-soaked shoes. She went to the living room and flicked on the light. 

Letting out the breath she was holding as she scanned the space. Nothing out of order, everything in its place. Cooper takes his shoes off before he goes and sits himself down at the dining table. 

“Get what you need, and then we can go back to my place,” Cooper says calmly, Lucy opens up the fridge to grab a beer and slides it to him, popping open her own. She turns and walks towards her bedroom. 

A scream leaves Lucy’s mouth as she tumbles out of the doorway onto the floor. The bottle of beer hits the floor with a loud thud, as she lays there in horror looking into her bedroom.

The desecrated corpse of a coyote was laid out on her bed. The head lay in the center of Lucy's pillow, the pelt stretched out with bones carefully placed in the right order. Heart laid closest to her, tail and paws placed where they'd have naturally been. It would have been almost artful if it was so brutal. Out of all of it, what spooked her the most was the fact that there was not a drop of blood to be found. 

Scrambling backward from the horror in front of her, Lucy feels Cooper reaching down to pick her up. His yells echo through the place as he sees what is laid out on the bed. 

Lucy

Her eyes going wide at the sound of her Grandfather's voice, again. Feet frozen to the floor as she looks into the kitchen and living room. Cooper tries to hold onto her as she turns towards the voice.

Lucy. I am right here. Come help me.

The voice was further down toward where the spare bedroom was. It crackles almost as if it was coming through an old ham radio set. Lucy started to move towards, Cooper’s hand slipping from her wrist. She had to go, he was there, just out of reach out of sight. The pull around her naval making her take two more steps before her brain screamed for her to stop.

“Lucy, Lucy, stop.” Cooper's voice breaks the mesmer, that hung like thick fog all around her.

“Cooper?” Lucy said quietly, looking around confused as to where the sound could be coming from.

“Don't go to the voice,” Cooper calls out, Lucy unsure why he was even in the house. Cooper wasn't supposed to be there, not now. The voice? What was he talking about? Why was she so scared?  Lucy looked down at the dress she wore, why was she in a dress?

LUCY

It screams right into her ear, like a thousand voices saying her name over and over. It wasn’t right, the letters, and syllables were all wrong. As if it was trying to sound human but the word didn't fit in its mouth. Lucy covers her ears, a scream ripping out of her throat as she falls to the ground. Trying desperately to get it to stop calling her name, her hands banging against the side of her face. Her body curling up on the floor, eyes screwed tight as she screams for it to stop. Something was banging, banging? and banging. As if someone was beating her over the head with a hammer. Lucy desperately tries to fend off the unstoppable noise. 

Something in the back of her mind broke through, telling her she needed to move, to get out of the house. Lucy whimpers, rolling onto her knees and crawling to the door. Every bang, noise, sound, made it feel like her ear were bleeding. The door felt like it was a lifetime away, her vision nearly blacking out with every movement she made. Her body trembling as the sound continues to pound against her brain. 

Blood was dripping on the floor, as she finally came to the door. Looking up at the nob as if it was as far as the sun, she reaches up and turns the knob, before falling towards the deck outside.  The cool night air was the last thing she felt as the world went black.

***

The world was fuzzy, a vaseline-like filter over everything, the light too bright as she tried to move her head. Lucy blinks a few times, as she tries to cover her eyes with her hand. It was stiff and something was stuck into the top. 

“Lucy, stay still.” Someone whispers, Lucy tries to see who it is but it is so blurry.

She attempted to wipe at her eyes with less success, she was so confused. Where was she, and how did she get here? Why did everything hurt so much? 

“Hold on, we are going to give her something to help calm her down.”

***

Lucy woke to the soft sounds of beeping, a warm hand holding hers, opening her eyes the place was clear. The white and green walls of the hospital, machines beeping next to her, Cooper sitting in a wheelchair beside her, dressed in loose-fitting black sweatpants, and a grey v-neck t-shirt. His eyes were closed, his hand held hers, his thumb rubbing over the top of her knuckles. 

“Coop-” Lucy croaked out, her mouth and throat so dry that it was hard to sleep.

Cooper sat up with a start, eyes blinking a few times. “Lucy,” He gasped out, immediately pressing the call button that sat on his lap. 

He let go of her hand grabbing a glass of water from beside him. “Here take a sip.”

Lucy swallows down a few gulps, the water burning as it goes down. She scrunches her brows, forcing herself to drink another couple of sips, coughing as it went down.  Swallowing several more times, trying to get her throat coated.  

“What happened?” Lucy sighed laying back on the bed, a few nurses coming in to fuss over her. Vitals were taken, they checked her eyes, grip strength, reflexes, and a bunch of other stuff that made her head spin.

“We went to your place,” Cooper swallows, wheeling his chair so he is closer to her. “I don’t really know, I saw what was on the bed when you started to scream. Then it goes hazy.”

Lucy’s whole body went stiff as she remembered her name being called out echoing through her head. The heart monitor beeping as her brain ran, fragments of the evening washing over her like a cold shower. The coyote lay spread on her bed, the way not a drop of blood was anywhere to be seen.

“Harris dragged us out, we’re both bleedin out of our ears. The lights flickering, you were still screaming when he arrived. Neither of us co-heritant.” Cooper takes a moment sipping from his glass. “He managed to get us into the truck and drove us to hospital. They airlifted us to Swancity,” 

She swallows, tears burning at the corners of her eyes. Lucy barely remembered any of it, bits and pieces slotting into her mind. The image of the coyote, the voice, burnt into her mind. “Did anyone go in the house?”

Cooper looks away, turning towards the door. “Yes, Lucy. Harris called the police once we're safe, they didn’t do much. Said t'wasn't a sign of forced entry and no fingerprints. Not, sure why we bothered callin'em. I’ve never seen anythin' like that and they just shrugged it off. ” His hazel eyes wide as he looked at her, “It was so strange, there was no blood. Besides ours.”

Lucy leans back in the uncomfortable bed, scrunching her feet in the sheets. A petite woman in a white coat walked in, glasses perched in her graying hair.

“It’s good to see you up, Ms. MacLean.” The doctor said, a badge on the front read Dr. Kallians. “You had quite forty-eight hours, thankfully all your tests came back normal. I would like you to follow up with your primary- ah. You don’t have one.” The doctor sighed, looking over the paperwork. “Are you able to go to the clinic in Roseville?”

Lucy nods, her hand still gripping Cooper’s as she listens to the doctor. “I think I can do that.” ’ 

“Nothing showed on the scans?” Cooper pressed, looking between Lucy and Dr. Kollins. “She’s okay? We’re okay?”

The doctor shrugged a little, rubbing her eyes, “Medically speaking yes. Both you and Ms. MacLean have a clean bill of health. If anything should happen again, please go back to the hospital.” Cooper nods his head, Lucy doing the same. “You can go after the nurse comes to take out your IV..”

The woman turns on her heels and leaves before either of them can say much. Lucy taking it as her cue to sit up, her blanket falling to reveal the dressing gown she was in. 

“Oh god, please tell me that I have clothes,” Lucy let out a burst of laughter at the situation they're both in. 

Cooper reaches behind him and pulls a bag out, “There's some clothes here. But let’s wait till the nurse comes in.”

Lucy sighs, taking the bag from Cooper and placing it on the bed. “I don’t know if I can go back.” Lucy rubs her hands together, suddenly feeling completely out of place. “I just can’t stop thinking about it, I can still hear it. It kept calling my name. Whatever it was sounded like my Grandpa.”

All the blood drained from Cooper’s face as he listened to Lucy’s words. He swallows, looking back towards the door. His body rigid, as his hands twist around each other. “I heard it too, Lucy. But it wasn’t your Granddad, it was my wife, Barb.”

Lucy’s skin crawled, ears pounding at the thought, tears leaking out the corners of her eyes as she looks at Cooper. “I am so -”

The nurse walks in, and they both fall quietly. She looks between the two of them, sighing before busying herself with removing both IVs. Reminding them both to do follow-ups at the local clinic. 

Lucy turns back to Cooper, watching him carefully get out of the wheelchair. He stretches and groans, Lucy hears pops and cracks. 

“I am sorry, Cooper,” Lucy says quietly, sorry feels so empty, but nothing else comes out. 

Cooper turns to her, as he slips a worn sweater over his head, “It’s nothin,” He comes over to grab both of her hands in his,  “we can’t handle together.” 

Lucy gives a weak smile but nods her head. “You know. You don’t have to-” she looks down and away from him. “You have so much going on in your life. I can figure this out on my own. Or Dane can help-”

Cooper tips her chin up so that they’re looking eye to eye. “Nothin. We.” He leans in and kisses her gently. “Can’t handle.” He kisses her again. “Together.” 

Lucy flushes still looking at him. “Thank you, Cooper.”

“Now go on, get your pretty self dressed.” Cooper kisses her forehead, gesturing towards the small bathroom in the room. 

Part nine

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tag list: @toogaytofunctiondangit , @hiddlebatchedloki , @whatsorceressisthis @dichromaniac @autumncryptids

@therealcozyaxoltol

**As always likes, comments, shares are soooo appreciated, you can find me Ao3 as well

** Want to be on the tag list let me know

[whatitshouldvebeen]

Johnny, Baby

Summary: Based on the lore release, this short is written from the perspective of Johnny as a toddler when his mom knocks on Nancy's door.

Word count: 970

Warnings: Johnny is a toddler and watches his mom die... So there's that

Mama’s left eye is fluffy and purple. She tells me it's okay, but daddy says it isn't. Daddy says mommy is a bitch. Daddy says he wishes we weren't his problem to deal with, that he'd be better off without deadweight like us.

Mama is crying, she takes my hand and I barely have time to grab my stuffed dog Blackie before she lifts me onto her hip and storms outside in a flurry of tears, refusing to look back when daddy yells, “Where the hell do you think you're goin’, dumb slut?!”

“Away from you!” She screams in return. The key to the beat-up old car forms an indent in her palm as she hurriedly buckles me into my car seat.

“Not with my son you ain't!” The angry rumble of my dad's baritone rattles in the back of my skull. I clutch Blackie tighter.

“Mama?” My lower lip trembles, fear reflected in my dark brown eyes.

Mama hurries into the front seat, slamming the creaky door closed and locking it. She turns on the car then looks back at me, her dark hair wild.

“It'll be okay, baby,” she says in a soft, soothing tone.

And I believe her, my nerves slowly untangling.

CRACK! The sound makes me jump in place. When I look up, the windshield is sprayed with a collection of delicate spiderwebs.

Daddy stands outside of the car, jiggling the handle. In his left hand, he holds a baseball bat. When the door fails to open, he reels back to hit the windshield again.

Mama slams on the gas, peeling out of the driveway. Daddy throws the baseball bat at us—it glances off the left rearview mirror, which now hangs by a wire.

Before now, I felt frozen, in a daze. But now, the feelings bowl me over. I scream and wail, and mama tries to help but I can't hear her over the blood rushing behind my little ears. It's a good thing Blackie isn't alive or I would be squeezing the life out of him right now.

“We'll find help baby, I promise, please Johnny stop crying,” she says, her own tears beginning to flow. She drives too quickly for someone half-blinded without any real direction, but she can't slow down. We aren't safe yet.

After a while, my tears subside to sniffles. Blackie is covered in tears and snot, but I cuddle him anyway.

“I'm lost, baby. We need to stop for directions,” mama says, pulling up in front of a beautiful house with rows of flowers.

“Mama!” I cry, holding out my chubby arms desperately. It took me so long to stop crying, mama doesn't want me to cry anymore. She reluctantly takes me from my car seat, and I cling to her so tightly she barely has to help hold me. Blackie dangles by a paw from my fist, swinging as we approach the front door and knock.

Almost instantly, as if she'd been watching us from the window, a woman with curled black hair and glasses answers.

“Lost, sugar? Wouldn't be the first to stumble up to my house,” she says.

“Yes ma’am. We just need directions, then we can get out of your hair.”

The woman's eyes dart from mama's purpled face to my still-red one. “Sure, sure. I can help you. Come on in!” She steps aside, her eyes glued to me as we enter. “I’m Nancy. And who is this little cutie?”

“His name is Johnny, I'm Judith. Nice to meet you,” mama says, but Nancy didn't seem to register her name. She's entirely engrossed in me, to the point where mama shifts me to her other side, trying to provide a barrier between her and I while looking around the house.

This visibly upsets Nancy, who gives mama a scowl she barely manages to conceal before mama looks back over to her as she finishes locking the complicated door lock. “Go on and sit down. Want some tea?” She asks, heading for the kitchen as mama takes a hesitant seat at the dining room table, me on her lap.

“We just need directions to the nearest hotel, no tea thank you,” she says, her leg bouncing anxiously beneath me.

Nancy comes back with a tray and two teacups. Mama raises her hand to wave Nancy's tea glass off, but instead Nancy pulls a knife from under the tray and slices her palm open.

Blood pours onto her pristine carpet, and I burst into tears.

“Gimme that baby and I might let you die quick!” Nancy hollers, lunging for me. Mama quickly turns me away, and when Nancy misses, mama jabs the car key between her knuckles deep into Nancy's left eye.

Nancy howls like a banshee, eye jelly running down her cheek. She starts swinging wildly, and Mama throws her chair back and stands, clutching me and backing away from Nancy.

“You get back here you stupid bitch! Ain't no way you can open that door lock!” Nancy screams, stumbling over the chair in her path.

“Johnny,” mama says, setting me down. I look up at her desperately, my entire body shaking. “Johnny baby, you have to hide. Someone will see our car and-”

Nancy’s hand reaches around mama’s shoulder, dragging a blade across her neck. A red streak follows the knife, and red rains down on me, splattering over my blue truck shirt and soaking Blackie even worse. Mama's eyes go glassy, and my little legs give out as I collapse to the floor.

“It’ll be okay, baby,” Nancy says, picking me up and cradling me against her chest.

And I don't believe her.

[writing-yarn-goblin]

HELLO DECEMBER!

It’s my account and I POST WHAT I WANT!

This was based on a morning after image my dear friend @quinloki showed us, and I thought it would be funny to share the mishaps of you and your four boyfriends.

Modern! Kid Pirates x Reader

Relationship: Polycule

It’s cute.

Warnings: Cussing

Drawing by @DeniseFanta on Twitter

~*~

“Kid?”

“Hm?”

“Get the fuck up, the fender’s falling.”

That’s all the red-headed gym rat could hear. A lot of grumbling and a few groans later and the leader of their rag-tag band was up and putting away the delicate instrument in its rightful pedestal as he just felt the uneasiness of his stomach torment him once more.

He rushed to the bathroom, thankful that he only had to slither his way out without interrupting Heat throwing up his guts as Wire grabbed a fistful of teal threads and gently pull it up in a loose bun, running small circles against the tattooed man.

Kid was already hunched over the toilet, cursing and mumbling as his stomach emptied itself down the ceramic bowl.

Pledging to never drink again but he knows that promise is short lived after a week or two.

“Please tell me Babydoll is on her way here…” he groaned between breaths, puking his guts out once more.

“She’s parking Vicky. She brought “everything we need”. Said it’ll help ride it out.” Killer said as he walked into the bathroom as Wire and Heat shuffled out. Conscious enough to start cleaning a little before their lady and savior got here.

The redhead groaned and was about to say something about his car, Victoria, and stains but Killer interjected by saying that he willingly gave her the car’s Keys and groaned his warning.

With a hum, he flushed the toilet, jumped to the faucet to wash his face and teeth, feeling a lot more refreshed after that harrowing experience with the toilet.

Once he finished, he was pleased to hear the door’s ringer sound off as you stepped inside with the much appreciated food.

“Good morning, lightweights!”

The collective tired groans didn’t seem as much as a welcome, but that rapidly changed when they organized the dining room’s table and you laid out the food for them to devour.

You already had a coffee and breakfast while you waited for their food, so it worked out.

Once they were busying themselves with the food offering, you got into comfortable clothes and went to work. Kitchen was now cleaned and now you were making your way to fix the bathroom as they struggled with their breakfast.

Killer was the first one done, Heat second and Wire third. Before Kid could complain about his head, the pills were already next to his hand with a tall glass of water and a soft spoken command of ‘Drink up’ managed to reset his senses and did just that.

By the time that Kid was done: the affected areas of the house were cleaned, bathrooms were spotless and it smelled like a mild detergent.

Good on the nose and stomach.

The silence that permeated the air was soothing as everyone was starting to feel like their normal selves.

After a bit more reviving and another nap, Kid grabbed yo by the side with a grin and pulled you to him.

“Who you callin’ lightweight?”

Ah yes, he was finally back to normal.

But now you had to scramble, giggling all the way as your boyfriends decided to chase you around, promises of many things dripping from their mouths while you squealed and giggled.

It was just another Saturday morning.

[martassimsbookcc]

• .package • Base game compatible • Collection file included • • 𝔻𝕆𝕎ℕ𝕃𝕆𝔸𝔻 • Ad-free as always at my website! 🤍𝕂𝕠-𝕗𝕚 𝕥𝕚𝕡𝕤 𝕛𝕒𝕣  | ℙ𝕒𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕠𝕟🤍 

【 ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕥𝕤 】 Mesh and textures: @pinkbox-anye​ | Original Sims 4 post: ⚪

• Polycount, buy category, price § and more useful information ↓ •

* Basket with Dried Flowers: 9634 verts | 8070 faces >> Found under Miscellaneous decor | 20§ >>> Not recolorable - 1 preset

* Bowls: 1876 verts | 3154 faces >> Found under Miscellaneous decor | 30§ >>> Not recolorable - 1 preset

* Candle: 127 verts | 200 faces >> Found under Table lamps | 3§ >>> Recolorable - 1 channel

* Candle Holder: 1014 verts | 1702 faces >> Found under Miscellaneous decor | 10§ >>> Recolorable - 1 channel >>>> 2 slots to place the candles

* Concrete Table: 676 verts | 612 faces >> Found under Dining tables | 399§ >>> Recolorable - 1 channel

* Cupboard: 1356 verts | 756 faces >> Found under Miscellaneous surfaces | 275§ >>> Recolorable - 2 channels >>>> 25 slots for Small/Medium/Large objects

* Cups: 1374 verts | 1968 faces >> Found under Miscellaneous decor | 5§ >>> Not recolorable - 1 preset

* Dining Chair: 1708 verts | 2578 faces >> Found under Dining chairs | 120§ >>> Recolorable - 2 channels

* Fringed Basket: 660 verts | 984 faces >> Found under Miscellaneous decor | 25§ >>> Not recolorable - 1 preset

* Large Basket: 1220 verts | 1829 faces >> Found under Miscellaneous decor | 30§ >>> Not recolorable - 1 preset * Plant: 2339 verts | 3629 faces >> Found under Plants | 90§ >>> Not recolorable - 1 preset

* Plates: 2563 verts | 4207 faces >> Found under Miscellaneous decor | 15§ >>> Not recolorable - 1 preset

* Small Basket: 3567 verts | 3484 faces >> Found under Miscellaneous decor | 15§ >>> Not recolorable - 1 preset

* Spools: 2376 verts | 2956 faces >> Found under Miscellaneous decor | 11§ >>> Not recolorable - 1 preset

* Two Baskets: 2102 verts | 2958 faces >> Found under Miscellaneous decor | 40§ >>> Not recolorable - 1 preset

* Wire Basket: 5952 verts | 6917 faces >> Found under Miscellaneous decor | 55§ >>> Recolorable - 1 channel

[sweaterkittensahoy]

CleganMarge Wedding Stuff

The night before the wedding, there's a party at the house Buck and Marge will share after they're married. Buck's been living there since he got back and Marge picked it out. She comes over every day to put up wallpaper and place furniture and laugh at Buck's attempts to paint a straight line.

John looks around the house and sees them both all over it. A blue he knows Marge prefers because she has dresses that color. A living room set in a masculine tan but with overlarge cushions so Buck can nap to his heart's content. Books everywhere, all propped up by little wooden bookends that Buck made himself in the little shed in the yard.

The dining room sparkles from the fancy lighting fixture to the floor, and John grins at the fixture as he takes his seat at the table. He'd helped Buck wire it in yesterday evening when he'd arrived, Marge supervising for a few minutes before running to her mother's house to put the parachute silk John had brought to its intended use.

"You absolutely sweet man!" Marge had crowed when she'd unwrapped the tissue paper from the bundle.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get it here before now," John had replied, feeling Buck's happy, warm gaze on his profile like the sun. "But the only way I could get it brand new was to take it just before I left."

"Oh, this is beautiful," Marge's mother had said. She'd been there when John showed up, helping Marge finish centerpieces. "Honey, I can make you a dress lickety split, but I'll need my sewing machine. Yours is packed up."

Marge had looked at Buck, blushing in excitement. "Do you think you and John can handle the light fixture, Gale?" she'd asked. "I really do want it up before the dinner tomorrow."

"We can figure it out," Buck had said, then leaned down to kiss Marge, touching her cheek lightly as he did so. She'd murmured something in his ear, and he'd beamed at her.

Marge had turned and stood on her toes, pulling John down by his tie to kiss his cheek. "You are truly the best man," she'd said, and John and Buck had laughed while Marge's mother had looked mildly shocked by indulgent.

The moment they'd left, Buck had put the lighting fixture on the table, taken John's face in his hands, and kissed him within an inch of his life. "That's from me," Buck had said.

"You got one from Marge ready to go, too?" John had asked. And that kiss pushed him against the nearest wall as Buck got both hands on his hips. "Well, damn, I think she outdid you," John had gasped when he could breathe again.

Buck had grinned and nuzzled John's neck. "She said to make sure I gave you a little extra to thank you for the silk."

"Shit, Buck. If that's all it takes, I'll raid the shed at base when I get back."

And now here he sits, the night before their wedding, at Buck's left hand. The fixture they'd asked him to choose lighting up the room as he looks around the table and finally to the end, where Marge sits beautiful and smiling in her spot as hostess.

She catches his eye and touches a finger to her chin. A little signal she has to tell him she loves him.

John rubs his thumbnail along his moustache, sending his own signal back.

Under the table, Buck's foot touches John's, and above the table, John lifts his glass to make the first toast to the happy couple.

"I was surprised when anyone caught Buck's eye," Bucky says when everyone's paying attention. "Hell, I had to give him most of my name for him to even talk to me, and we were co-pilots in training."

It gets the laugh Bucky wants. He catches the gleam in Marge's eyes that calls him a danger and a treasure. "But, then I met Marge, and well, it was easy to see how it had happened. She's smart. She's beautiful. She's funny. And she puts up with me."

And this time, it's Buck's eyes that have the look, except he's calling John exasperating and ridiculous.

"I can say I've never seen a happier couple, and I am truly pleased to be able to be here to watch them tie the knot. You are two of my dearest friends, and I couldn't want more for you than each other."

There's a cheer, and a smattering of applause, and John sits down. Marge's maid of honor stands to say a few words, but John doesn't hear them. He's feeling Bucky's hand brush his on the table as he shifts his water glass, and he's seeing the tiny edge of a private smile in the corner on Marge's mouth.

When Marge leaves that night to stay with her maid of honor, Marge makes the excuse she forgot her hat and ducks back into the house. She kisses them both and holds John's face for an extra second.

"You know this wouldn't be right without you here, right?" she asks. "You know we'd marry you tomorrow too, if they'd let us?"

John picks her up by the waist and brings her level so he can kiss her again. He pulls Buck in and kisses him, too. "You let me pick the fixtures. I know where I'm wanted."

Marge and Buck both laugh, and Marge hurries out the door.

Buck and John sleep together alone for the last time, and it's nice, but John misses Marge along his back.

"How lucky are we?" Buck asks.

"We're damn lucky," John replies.

The next day, John opens his best man gift. It's a signet ring, his initials done in a lovely monogram on the face. On the inside of the band, there's a heart, and on either side, "M" and "B."

"B?" he asks Buck even as he blinks back tears.

"That's who I am to you," Buck says. "That's who I want to be to you."

John has to dab his eyes. "You son of a bitch," he says. "I never cry at weddings."

Buck laughs and slips the ring onto his left pinky. "Yeah, Marge says that, too."

[petalruesimblr]

Download Link: Sim File Share 30x30 | Sim File Share 30x20 | MTS Name: Victoria's Abode Description: Once known as Victor’s Abode, this Victorian masterpiece holds the echoes of a family's journey. Sold by the son who traded a life of crime for a fresh start, the house stands as a testament to their history. The timeless charm of the house lingers while the son’s room, a showcase of punk rock influence adds a rebellious touch. With 2 bedrooms and 1.5 bathrooms, this Victoria's Abode offers a cozy retreat with tales woven into its walls.

30X30 Lot Price Furnished: 50,049 Price Unfurnished: 33,714

30x20 Lot Price Furnished: 49,429 Price Unfurnished: 33,094

Lot Size: 30x20 (Original Lot Size), 30x30 Version: 1.42 Store Content: He's a Live Wire Radio CC Used: None Packs Needed: The Sims 3 File Type: Package

I am back with a renovation of a residential lot from Sunset Valley once called Victor's Abode. This lot has been in my saved files for a while and has been moved to different worlds hence the different lot sizes. Initially, I renovated the 30X30 lot but realized that some may prefer the original lot size so I included both of them in separate download links.

Click on the Keep Reading below for more information and pictures on this lot.

Both have the same wallpapers and furnishings; the only thing that is different is the terrain paint: the Mowed Lawn (30x30) and Short Dark Grass (30x20).

This is base game compatible so no expansion packs were used. I only used one store item linked above, which is not included in the download but the game will automatically replace it if you don't have it.

This property is owned by the Clavell family thus it is heavily influenced by them. It is a fully furnished house that contains two bedrooms, a guest bathroom, a main bathroom, a kitchen dining room, a small rec area with a chess table and desk, a parking area and a small backyard for a breath of fresh air.

The Clavell family has 53,058 of family funds thus they will be able to afford it if you decide to place them in this house.

📣 Terrain paints will shift if a lot is rotated during placement and unfortunately even if I advise to avoid rotating it, The Sims 3 sometimes will not cooperate. I already set the front of the lots so hopefully that will help but if not then try to repaint it instead if you like.

[scryarchives]

𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫 - 𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢 𝐲𝐮𝐮𝐣𝐢

much to yuuji's surprise, a new girl from kugisaki's childhood joined their little class of three. unfortunately for him, she's as silent as a ghost, and as hostile as one, too. thankfully, itadori yuuji isn't one to back down from a challenge.

masterlist | next !

–pairings: itadori yuuji x oc

– warning: fluff, canon divergent, pre-shibuya arc

– author’s note: after watching jjk recently, you can count me obsessed.

disclaimer: i’m not of japanese descent and am unfamiliar with japanese honorifics, etc. feel free to correct me!

“What great news you bring us, Daichi!” 

An elderly woman clapped her hands, her greying hair tightly tied in a neat, sleek bun. Her husband smiled alongside her, his hand on her back as the two sat at their dining table. Their grown son stood before them, his wife sitting across his mother as she gently held her swollen stomach.

Daichi’s wife beamed away, her eyes so full of love and hope that it was clear as day that the two were meant to be, nothing but warmth filling household at the joyous news.

Now, Daichi was nothing short of ordinary, he was a man of simple tastes, but based on his choice of outfit being a smart pin-striped suit and wire-frame glasses that rested on the high bridge of his nose, one would’ve thought otherwise. His short, dark brown hair was combed neatly as his warm brown eyes gazed deeply into his wife’s obsidian ones.

“How long more until you’re due? I can’t wait to have a little one running around the house again,” His mother hummed, a pleased smile on her wrinkled face.

“In two months Chizuru be due, Okaasan,” Daichi turned to his wife, a soft-loving look washing over his features as he rubbed her back, so gently, one must’ve thought she was made of glass.

Chizuru however, contrasted from her husband’s formal wear, choosing something more comfortable as she was accompanied by her growing stomach. A soft, and light blue loose sundress covered her form, her long jet-black hair tied into a loose ponytail for her comfort.

“Oh, it would be such a joy to have a little boy to chase around the garden again, wouldn’t it, Akhito?” Daichi’s mother chuckled over at her husband, the family patriarch humming in satisfaction. 

“And he would grow big and strong under the guidance of his grandfather!” Akhito barked out a laugh, the elderly couple unaware of their son’s stiffening smile.

Daichi’s hand stiffened against his wife, and Chizuru, carefully placed her own, smaller hand to rest atop her husband’s. The two eyed one another before Daichi cleared his throat, adjusting the glasses to push them up slightly higher up his nose.

“Uh, yes, of course. A boy,” He smiled, his mother looking at him with a quizzical glance.

“You do know the baby’s gender, don’t you? It’s extremely important to pick the perfect name for a firstborn son, Daichi.”

“Your mother is right, son,” Akhito nodded, voice gruff in thought. “Fumi and I took a lot of care thinking of a name suitable of you and look at you now! One of the best businessmen in Tohoku.”

“Of course we know the baby’s gender, Otousan,” Chizuru smiled gently, rubbing her husband’s hand reassuringly.

“Our little one is quite the listener, it’s like he listens to Daichi when he tells him to not kick me so hard,” She joked, Daichi letting out a little humoured scoff. “So he and I were thinking of ‘Tadashi’, it would be fitting for a boy who’s devoted to his family, wouldn’t it?” 

“Tadashi…” Akhito hummed, eyes shut in thought as his wife’s smile grew brighter.

“Why, it’s the perfect name for the little one!” Fumi beamed. “Oh I can’t wait for his arrival, I know he’d be a beautiful baby boy!”

And beautiful the baby was as it wailed in the doctor’s arms, Chizuru’s brow beaded with sweat, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. While their child was washed clean with the nurse’s gently care, Daichi smiled proudly at the small, red child before them.

“Congratulations,” the doctor grinned as the smiling nurse passed the crying child to its parents.

“You have a beautiful baby girl.”

gif by @kakiriyo

taglist: @mooncleaver @underwateredwrld @mcmisbehaving @neteyamrealgf @khany2026 @tinkerbelle05 @iheartamajiki < comment/dm me if you’d like to be on the taglist! >

[a-killer-obsession]

Whoops, you got hit by a bus, and now you're in the world of One Piece. But not everything is quite as you remember it...

General Tags: afab reader, she/her reader pronouns, isekai, monsterfucker reader, vampire!kid, werewolf!killer, wyrm!heat, minotaur!wire, everyone has a human form, smut heavy, unhealthy relationships, dubious consent, serious violence, spoilers for Wano arc, starts pre-timeskip. There will be a lot of more intense kinks, please check AO3 for all current tags.

Chapter 4 - Toy Mouse

Heat is being greedy, so Kid puts him in his place.

WC: 3.6k

Masterlist | AO3 | Chapter 1

At first things seemed fine and normal with Heat. He was clingy, definitely, but at first you just chalked it up to him being a little touch starved. It wasn't until he refused to leave when you needed to use the bathroom that you realised something might be off, not even turning away to give you privacy. It was difficult to do your business like that, but something about the dark look in his eyes when he watched you made you aroused and more willing to do what he wanted. He kept you by his side 24/7, with no chance of going off on your own even at night, when he kept his tail coiled around you like a boa constrictor with its prey. He never hurt you, but the lack of privacy was starting to get grading, not to mention your cunt hurt from how many times he'd mounted you. Sometimes you woke up with him already inside you, which you didn't mind so much, except for the fact you were exhausted and he was interrupting your sleep constantly. If you tried to scold him, he'd just give you sad little puppy eyes, and you couldn't help but give in. By day three it seemed like all you did was eat, sleep and fuck. He barely left the bed or let you leave, instead having someone bring meals to the bedroom so he could keep you to himself, and you were beginning to feel like you had no agency in your own life at all. As much as you enjoyed being used like a personal fleshlight, some fresh air would've been nice.

On day four of Heat keeping you captive, the others decided they'd had enough. Heat was slacking off on his chores to play with you, and Kid was sick of his insubordination. He had warned Heat right from the start what would happen if he acted too possessive, knowing full well it was in the wyrm's nature to act like this, and with Sabaody on the horizon he decided to do something about it. Both you and Heat were summoned to Kid's room, where he had his own private dining room he sometimes used for meetings.

As it turned out, the stairs in the stern castle led to the captain's quarters, in other words: Kid's floor. Only the commanders and whoever was responsible for cleaning his chambers were allowed up those stairs unless invited, so you felt highly intimated as Heat led you up. At the top of the stairs was a short hall with two doors, the first of which, Heat explained, went to Kid's workshop, and the other to his living quarters.

The main part of Kid's quarters was made up of two rooms, separated by a large archway. The first chamber held the dining room and bar, a similar setup to the commander's table on the stage downstairs in the galley, while the second chamber held his bedroom. Another door led through from the bedroom, you would learn later that these led through to a walk-in closet, and beyond it a bathroom which also connected to the workshop, making one large loop that took up the entire expanse of this floor.

Kid's main chambers were decorated as you had expected in reds and blacks, with deep scarlet wallpapers decorated with an embossed baroque pattern that was glossier than the base, but the same colour, giving a subtle texture to the walls where the light caught it. The lower third of the walls were shiplapped with a deep ebony wood, almost black, the doors, framing and much of the furniture being made of a matching wood. The floors were a slightly brighter wood, with large black and red ornate rugs with purple accents laid out under the dining set and bed. The bed itself was a gothic styled canopy bed, with an ornate headboard and deep red sheets, set with red velvet blankets and a red fur much like his coat draped over the end. At the end of the bed was a long purple ottoman, and the room also held several dressers that matched the bed; side tables, a purple velvet loveseat and matching armchair, a small glass topped coffee table in front of the sofa, and wrought-iron faux candelabra lighting fixtures scattered around the walls of each chamber. Each chamber also had a grand matching chandelier in the centre of the room, both sections lit in warm orange light. The dining section also held two china cabinets with glass panelled doors, one one either side of the room. The first held a multitude of expensive looking liquors and crystal glasses to enjoy them with, while the other seemed like a collection of antique weapons, a variety of well kept guns and knives of all kinds.

Kid, Killer and Wire already sat at the dining table as you and Heat entered, Kid in a throne-like seat at the end of the table that was taller and more ornate than the other chairs. Heat pulled you into his lap as he sat, wrapping his arms around you protectively. The others rolled their eyes at the overly possessive action.

“Come now,” Kid tutted, “come warm my lap instead, mouse.” He pushed his seat a little away from the table, patting his knee to invite you over. You made to move to him, wanting to be obedient, but Heat made a growl behind you and held you tighter. “Heat, what did I say? Do I need to take your toy away from you permanently? Prove to me this wasn't a mistake to let you take responsibility of her”

Heat grumbled but let you go, knowing that if he didn't give in then Kid would have to send you back down to the brig, and he didn't want to give up having you warm his bed. You spared Heat an apologetic look as you walked to the head of the table, and Kid quickly pulled you into his wide lap, the large, jewel encrusted belt buckle he wore digging into you as you tried to get comfortable. His hand rested on your inner thigh as he held you still, the other against your waist to pin your back to his chest. You could feel the vibrations in his chest from his deep voice whenever he spoke, while Heat watched on with a deep, unhappy scowl on his face. Kid's hand was so high on your thigh that he could swipe his thumb over your slit, making you bite your lip and squirm as he put pressure against your clothed cunt.

“Wipe that fucking look from your face, snake, she offered herself to everyone, quit being selfish,” Kid barked at him.

“Don't call him a snake,” you said quietly, a slight quiver to your voice, “that's not nice. He's a dragon, not a snake”

“Damn, you showed her your full form already?” Kid laughed, “no wonder she fuckin’ stinks of you. I'll just have to put my own scent on her,” he jeered, running his sharp canines over the pulse point of your neck, making you shiver. Heat made a growl, black smoke leaking from his mouth, and Kid openly laughed at him, running his hand further up your thigh to cup your cunt while his other hand grabbed a tit, making you let out a surprised squeak. “Sounds like I'm gonna have to put your boyfriend in his place, mouse. Be a doll and bend over the table for me.”

You moved to do as he asked, apparently not moving fast enough for his liking as he suddenly manhandled you, pushing your front down against the table and yanking down your borrowed sweatpants and oversized briefs. You couldn't help but let out a whine as he ran two fingers between your folds before bullying them inside you, finding you already wet from just his earlier teasing. “Little mouse is already soaked, you want this don't you, whore? Want me to use your greedy cunt? It's sucking my fingers in.”

“Y-yes captain,” you whined, blushing heavily and trying to ignore the other three men in the room who were watching you discerningly, most of all Heat who was growing angry as Kid played with his toy. There was wet squelching and the metallic jingling of gold bracelets as Kid finger fucked you, showing no mercy as he scissored his fingers to stretch you out as quickly as possible, adding a third thick finger and curling them down to press against your g-spot. “Ahh- hnng- Kid-” you moaned, writhing against the table, one of his hands still pressed to your back to keep you from getting up. He forcibly ripped an orgasm from you, not letting up even a little as he felt you clamp down around his fingers, and you heard the soft pattering of fluid hitting the rug as he made you squirt.

“Fuck, now there's a good whore,” Kid praised, pulling his fingers from you and licking them clean, savouring your sweet taste. If he had more time he'd eat you out, but this wasn't about making you feel good, this was about putting Heat in his place. “You didn't say she was a squirter, Heat. Sweet little mouse, making a mess on my rug. I'm gonna make a fucking mess of that pussy. See who you dream of then.”

You heard the unbuckling of his belt behind you, his blue sash thrown to the floor beside you as he yanked down his pants. You turned enough to see his erection, gasping at how impossibly thick he was, somehow even thicker than the base of Heat's dragon form cocks, though not as long. The man was built like a fucking soup can. Kid gave Heat a shit eating grin as he pushed your head to face forward again, lining himself up and pushing his cock into you far too fast, knocking the air from your lungs and making you sting from the stretch. If it wasn't for how regularly Heat had been mounting you, the stretch would have no doubt made you scream in pain, but thankfully Heat had been giving you no time for your cunt to recover fully.

“Fuck, so tight,” Kid growled, grabbing your hips hard enough to bruise and immediately starting a brutal pace, his heavy balls slapping against your thighs with every snap of his hips. He couldn't care less if you came again, his only goal was to cover you in cum so Heat would smell him on you for days and remember you didn't belong to only him. He was enjoying your tight cunt though nonetheless, seriously considering keeping you around for a while just to fuck even if you turned out to be full of shit.

You squirmed and moaned at Kid's rough treatment, moving too much for his liking. He made a frustrated growl and lifted a leg to the table, pressing his boot against your head, threatening to crush it. “Stop fucking squirming bitch,” he barked, “take what I fucking give you.”

You could smell the dirt and dried sea salt on the sole of his boot, as well as the polish he used to shine the leather (or more likely, that another crewmate used). You couldn't help the string of moans that left you at the degrading treatment, your nails digging into the wooden table top as your clothed tits slid back and forth against it. You made the mistake of looking ahead, making eye contact with Wire, who looked highly amused, his eyes dark and hungry as he twirled his trident on its base. You whined at his expression, he was watching you like you were nothing more than a plaything, practically seeing the cogs in his head turning as he considered all the things he would do to you when he got his turn. Killer's face was of course unreadable, but he watched you with crossed arms, sitting in a relaxed looking slouch with his mask pointed right at you. You expected Heat to look upset, but instead his eyes were wide and blown out with lust, finding surprisingly that he actually enjoyed watching Kid fuck you. He could get used to this, he thought. Possessiveness still prickled in the back of his mind, already planning on coating you in cum the second he got a chance, maybe he'd even piss on you for good measure, but for now he was enjoying watching Kid use you, and seeing the way your eyes rolled back at his merciless pounding.

“Oi, you two,” Kid pointed at Killer and Wire, “jerk yourselves off, we're gonna paint this bitch with our cum so Heat knows to share in future.”

The two of them didn't hesitate for a moment, already rock hard from watching as they each unfastened their pants and pulled out their cocks. You couldn't see how big they were from this angle, but just knowing they were fucking themselves while they watched you was enough to make your legs shake, clamping down hard around Kid's cock and near screaming as you came. “Oh you like that huh? You like seeing them jerk off while they watch me fuck you?” Kid laughed, “you were born to be a whore. That's the real reason you ended up on this ship, a perfect little whore, made just for us.”

Heat made a move to touch himself, but Kid growled and snapped a finger at him. “Not you, selfish cunt, you're just gonna sit there and watch. You've had enough turns already.”

Heat whined, putting his hands on the table, his fingers twitching and shifting nervously as he struggled to control his urges, black smoke puffing out of his nose with every strained breath. Kid removed his boot from your head and pulled his cock out of you, flipping you onto your back unceremoniously before he grabbed your thighs and pulled your ass to the edge of the table, reshealthing himself with a grunt. He grabbed your shirt and tore it open easily, exposing your breasts which bounced with every thrust. He tweaked and pinched your nipples, making you whine and your back arch of the table. “Fuck, look at those tits, these natural baby?”

“Y-yes captain,” you whined, thighs squeezing around him involuntarily as he started rubbing your clit hard with a calloused thumb.

“Fucking nice,” he growled, groping your tit hard before his hand moved further up and squeezed around your neck. The restricted air flow made you light headed, adding to the dizziness you were feeling after two hard orgasms. You vaguely registered the creaking of the table behind you and the striped mask hovering over your face, before Kid released your neck, only for Killer to grab your face and tilt your head back, shoving his cock in your mouth and giving you no time to adjust before he was gagging you with it. You had to keep your eyes shut as they watered, trying hard not to gag as Killer's cock choked you, so you didn't see how Wire stood at your side, playing with the tit that Kid wasn't already occupying as he continued to fist himself, rolling your nipple between his fingers and slapping your soft mound. Your hands came up to grab at the lacing on Killer's jeans for support as you slid back and forth on the dining table, unable to concentrate on anything except for breathing through your nose.

You moaned around Killer's cock as Kid pulled at your clit and you came again, your gummy walls squeezing him and pulling him to his own peak. He pulled out just in time to coat your pussy with cum, thick ropes beading between your labia and dripping to the rug below as he panted. The other two took that as their cue, Wire spraying hot ropes over your tits while Killer unloaded over your face, leaving you thankful that your eyes were shut. The three of them left you whining and panting on the table, leaving you cold as the three hot bodies around you suddenly disappeared. You felt used but in the best kind of way, running your hands over your body and playing with the cum, pushing Killer's into your mouth and moaning around your fingers as you sucked the frosting from them.

“What do you say, mouse?” Kid purred, sitting back in his chair, pushing his cock back into his pants.

“Thank you captain,” you whimpered, touching your oversensitive clit with gentle circles. You couldn't help yourself when you felt unbelievably lewd covered in the collective cum of three different men.

“Look at her, can't get enough, she's jerking herself off with my cum,” Kid laughed, “go on then mouse, make yourself cum, show us how much you like being our little cum rag.”

You whined as you touched yourself harder with purpose, knowing it wouldn't take much to get yourself off given how sensitive you were right now. You dipped your fingers inside yourself, curling them the way you knew you liked best, zeroing in on the spot you knew would make you squirt, wanting to impress Kid. You sat up a little to reach better, seeing Kid's shit-eating grin as he watched you, looking pleased and amused as you fingered yourself in front of him. “Good girl mouse,” he purred, “you gonna cum for us sweetheart? Show us how much you love being the ship whore.”

“Ahhh- Kid~” you whined, your torso falling back to the table as your back arched, pumping your fingers fast in and out of your overused and gaping cunt as you felt the coil in your abdomen pull tight, your free hand running over your breasts and spreading Wire's spend over them. “Gonna- gonna cum- can I cum captain?”

“Good mouse, you can cum,” he purred, impressed by your naturally submissive behaviour. You did so immediately, squirting hard with a scream the whole Grandline would hear. With nothing for your release to catch against you almost got Kid with it, which pleased him greatly to watch as your release sprayed out over the rug and tabletop. You collapsed against the table with your legs draped over the side, shaking and twitching with aftershocks, entirely spent. Kid pulled your fingers from your cunt and licked them clean, making you whine as he gave your pussy a playful slap. “Good girl, mouse, you did good. You can go back to Heat now sweetheart.”

Heat helped you off the table, pulling you into his lap where you could feel his raging erection straining in his pants under your ass. He buried his face in your shoulder with a needy whine, and as exhausted as you were you couldn't do much to comfort him, so you just pressed your face against his. Killer and Wire had already returned to their seats, acting like nothing had happened, like there wasn't a puddle of fluids on the table or a stain on the rug, and like you weren't still covered in cum, not that Heat or yourself minded. He hated smelling the others on you, but he was too turned on to complain.

“Right,” Kid cleared his throat, “now that we've gotten that out of the way, Sabaody is a few days away.” You did your best to show him you were paying attention, but it was difficult given your half asleep state. “So you better have a plan for how you're gonna prove you're not full of shit. As tight as that pussy is, you ain't stayin’ on the ship if you can't prove your story.”

“Mmm, I have a plan, Captain,” you replied with a half-lidded gaze, “I can write down everything that'll happen, give it to one of you so you know I'm not changing it. Then afterwards you'll see everything I wrote down happened. I don't think you should read it till you're back though, I don't know yet if telling you will change things, so while I'm proving myself it would be best to play it safe.”

“Hmm,” Kid hummed, “alright then. But Heat is coming with us, so you're gonna have to come too. I don't trust anyone else to babysit you when we have no proof right now that you don't have powers.”

“Ah, I'd rather you lock me in the brig, to be honest,” you replied anxiously, “not to spoil things but Sabaody will not be… uneventful… and I have no way of defending myself. I'm a decent shot with a rifle from a stationary position but I have no experience with fighting. I only know how to shoot because my dad used to take me hunting, I'd be no good in a real fight. I'll just be a burden out there.”

“Fine, but if you turn out to be full of shit, don't think we won't drag you straight to the closest human auction house,” Kid threatened.

“Noted,” you shivered, hoping like hell that you just being in this world hadn't already fucked up the series of events due to play out. You weren't keen on getting branded and sold off to some Celestial cunt. Being used like a sex doll was only fun if it was with your favourite boys.

“Heat, get her cleaned up,” Kid barked before standing, “you're dismissed.”

Heat quickly picked you up bridal style and carried you out of the room without another word before Kid could change his mind, eager to have you to himself again. He'd clean you up, for sure, but not before he put his own mark on you.

[Next Chapter]

Like my stuff? Consider buying me a ko-fi

Taglist: @chershire23 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @nocturnalrorobin @eyes-ofhell @hellcatsworld @miyomoko-sora @loserbee14 @tzimiscequeen-blog @lansy-4 @luvnistuff @bbnbhm @fanaticsnail @ocean-mochi

[stabbyfoxandrew]

mafia restaurant? :3

WIP Wednesday (4/3) | Mafia Front Restaurant AU (Part 126)

When Andrew arrives at the restaurant, after a particularly long and annoying walk— courtesy of having no cash to pay a cabbie— he finds the parking lot empty as it was the day before. That’s to be expected, he thinks. No one in their right mind would ever try to eat here. Andrew snorts, what does that say about him? He not only ate here, but came back a second time alone. And… here he is again. Alone.

He steps up to the front door and gives it a try, only to find it locked. Of course it’s locked. This is where Andrew would go for his pick, however that… is in his wallet. Which is inside this building. Fuck. Andrew raps his knuckles against the wood of the door frame once. Then again. Nothing. 

“Hey Neil, let me in.” Andrew says close to the door. But that gets him nothing either.

Andrew walks down the sidewalk to the end of the building and looks around the corner. The big black sedan that had been parked in the alley yesterday and the day before is gone. Well, double fuck. Andrew continues down the alley, feeling like a video game character looking for clues. He finds a backdoor on the side of the building and tries its handle, but it’s also locked up tight.

Luckily, Andrew has a few tricks up his sleeve. He just needs a bit of luck. 

He ends up finding a fairly long bit of wire in the alley, which is more suspicious than he’d like to admit. But it makes for a decent lock pick and Andrew’s got the door open a few minutes later. He tosses the wire back into the trash heap and steps inside. He’s not surprised to find a kitchen, but it is sort of strange for everything to look so clean.

Andrew makes use of the faucet to wash the alley dirt off his hands, then dries them on his jeans before heading through the door that leads to the dining area. It’s dark in here, even darker than the kitchen. That’s due to the pulled-down blinds, he guesses. Andrew slaps at the wall for a light switch he recalls seeing yesterday and the room illuminates. But when he glances over at his table, he doesn’t see his wallet. Or anything else.

He’s gone to the trouble of breaking and entering and his wallet isn’t even here? 

Triple fuck.

Andrew supposes he’ll just have to wait for the crime buddies to arrive to retrieve his wallet. Because they’ll be here soon, right? After all, this is their headquarters or secret base— or whatever they want to call their shady front for their shady business. Andrew flips the lights back off and goes to sit down. While he’s waiting he might as well call the airport and change his flight, he’s definitely going to miss it.

[sprnklersplashes]

fic comissioned by @willofadeadgirl thank you for your generous donation to esims for gaza! to find out about commissioning a fic from me, the info is here

based on this idea I had a year (?) ago:

JD spiralling shortly after he and Veronica get engaged because he's scared to hurt her the way his dad hurt his mum. Claire is there to remind him that he's okay.

getting to delve back into nbr universe again and this relationship specifically was so rewarding and I also got to sprinkle in a bit of claire's backstory which is neat.

The party is amazing.

Claire has outdone herself. While JD was out with Veronica she single-handedly rearranged all of the tables and threw white rugs over the bare wooden floors. Then she either robbed a florist or had one owe her something, because they came back to the most amazing centrepiece on the dining room table, along with garlands of lilies and white roses hung around the doors and stairway. And of course, no function thrown by Claire Munroe is complete without food, and holy hell, did she deliver. When the party is for him and Veronica’s engagement, but all anyone can talk about is her espresso martini cheesecake, that’s how you know it’s a winner.

It’s wonderful. Although the event is small, a strict family and friends affair, the house feels alive, the two stories teeming with pure, unfiltered happiness. He couldn’t ask for anything better.

He hates himself. He really fucking hates himself.

With a bitter sigh, JD tosses the empty bottle he’d been fidgeting with. It crashes somewhere in the garden, followed shortly by a frantic rustling in the hedge. He might have just frightened the shit out of some poor raccoon.

And that thought should not scare him the way it does; shouldn’t cause the pit in his stomach to plunge deeper. He closes his eyes, locks every limb, pulls himself inward like he can ward off the thoughts invading his mind.

It was like someone had flipped a switch. One minute he was standing in the kitchen, his arm securely around Veronica’s waist, listening to her laughing and feeling like the night would never end. Then he went to the kitchen to get another drink and just like that, everything stopped. Once he wasn’t surrounded by bodies and the laughing and chatting was muted, the protective barrier dropped. Suddenly, all he could think about was the blood in his veins and where it came from, and then he was 8 again watching his mother wave at him through a window and then he was 9, 10, 11, 12 smashing plates to get his dad’s attention and he was 3, 4, 5 and 6 and 7 listening by the stairs because his dad was yelling again, again, and his mom wasn’t saying anything-.

And then he was running, and he was on his knees in the grass. 

He lets out a steady exhale, white smoke stark against the night sky. Shadows blanket the garden; the greens of the grass and the rainbow hues of Claire’s flower bushes are smothered in greys. Behind him, the house is still glowing from within, gentle oranges making its own sunset in there. He doesn’t want it. He never wants to see it again.

With a cold pang, he hopes Claire never leaves the house to him. Some of the best memories of his life are in that house. It’s lovelier than he would ever deserve, and he would just ruin it like he will ruin Veronica and like his dad ruined him. Claire said she moved into that house alone and renovated it with her own bare hands. Giving it to him would feel wrong, backwards. What will he do other than destroy it? That’s what his hands were made for.

Breathe Jason a voice in his head says. He tries, opens his mouth but nothing comes in, because there’s barbed wire around his throat and his lungs and it hurts when he tries. He tries, and he chokes, and hot tears are racing down his cheeks and he bites his hand before he can start screaming. Breathe Jason.

I can’t! I can’t! The darkness presses in around him and it’s hot-since when was darkness hot? His dad’s voice-his voice-is roaring in his ears, it sounds like his dad but it scrapes his throat like its him and it’s burning. He needs to get out and-

“Hiding out here?”

Crap. 

Trembling, JD turns around, squinting against the brightness. At first, all he can see is the small frame, the chunky knit sweater hanging off it. His eyes follow her as she comes over, but he looks away as she settles herself on the grass beside him.

“We miss you in there.” He nods, slowly. If he was still seventeen, he would shoot a sarcastic remark at her in the hopes that she would leave. But he knows better now. Or more accurately, the idea of her leaving pulls at a very specific part of his heart. So, while his instincts still protest, he lets her stay.

“Well I hope it wasn’t my lasagne that made you leave.” That gets a half-smile from him, even if it feels foreign on his face. Behind his back, he can feel her eyes bore into him. He used to think he could hide anything from anyone, and then he met her. “Jason? Everything okay?”

How does he answer? He takes a deep breath in, slowly. Pulls at the grass and lets it fall between his fingers. Listens to the pounding staccato rhythm of his heart. 

“I just freaked out,” he mutters. Claire nods behind him and, carefully, as if he’s made of glass, places her hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she tells him. “I’m here.” He squeezes the grass in his hand. “Anything in particular freak you out?”

He doesn’t want to say it. He wants to keep it inside and find something to numb it. If it stays inside, he can freeze it, escape from it. 

He can’t though. Because he’s come too far and owes Claire and Veronica too much. There’s only one good way out.

“My dad,” he whispers. Claire inhales sharply and her hand tenses against his back. 

“Did he-did he try to-”

“No.” He cuts her off with a shake of his head. “No, he hasn’t contacted me.” Ever. He hasn’t heard from his father since 1984. He laughs, short and bitter. “I just can’t stop thinking about him. And my mom. And everything.”

“Oh kid,” Claire sighs. Her arm comes around his shoulders, her small frame presses into his side. “I’m so sorry.”

“And suddenly it was…. Everywhere.” He hears the tremble in his voice and he hates it. In that moment, he wonders why he ever stopped numbing himself. It made everything so much easier. He looks down at his hands. The ring Veronica gave him glimmers on his finger, silver winking in the half-light. He gives a self-deprecating scoff. “I don’t know how to be married. I don’t-I can’t be that to her.”

“You’ve been a pretty spectacular boyfriend so far,” Claire tells him matter-of-factly. “And from what I can tell, being married is just a longer version of that. That it’s you and her forever.” She squeezes his shoulder. “You’ve been with her three years and you haven’t messed up yet.”

“You don’t know that I won’t!” he tells her, voice rising sharply, and then everything spills out, a putrid ugly mess in front of them. “He’s my dad, Claire. I’m 50% him. My whole childhood I just sat and watched as he wore her down and she was hurting and I didn’t do anything about it! I just let him keep going and keep going until one day-” He closes his eyes. The library explodes behind his eyelids. When he opens them, he can still see the smoke. “What if it’s just a matter of time before I do it to her?” He looks back at the house. He can’t find her; she’s lost in a maze of other people.

“I might do something worse,” he says. The admission is broken and cracked on his tongue, terrified to step into the light. But it’s here.

“Oh, Jason,” Claire breathes. Her touch is gentle, loving, against his skin and part of him wants to shove it away and put as much distance between her and him as possible. He hates that he still feels that way, even as he leans into her touch. 

“I know you were dealt such a bad hand with your dad,” she tells him. “But you are not him, Jason.”

“I’m his son.”

“And I’m my parents’ child,” Claire says firmly. “Do you think I’m anything like they are?”

That gets him. Like a lighthouse beacon, it cuts through the fog in his mind and catches him.

He’s never met Claire’s parents-his grandparents, he supposes. They know about him, but the contact never goes past the ‘To Claire and Jason’ on the annual Christmas guard. Claire won’t delve into the specifics, just that her parents wanted her to have a life she never intended to java. Years before he came into the picture, it came to a head over some argument and when she declared her intention to move out, they didn’t stop her. 

They communicate via Christmas cards. When Claire’s dad was in hospital, she didn’t find out until weeks later.

So, his response is a small shake of his head. Claire is nothing like her parents and never will be. She is warm and loving and generous, she understands him without him having to say anything. How her parents created a person like her he will never understand.

“You’re not like your parents.”

“And you are not like your dad, Jason.”

“I am,” he mumbles. “I get angry. I think about… I think about running away.” He presses his thumb into his palm. “I pull away from her.”

“And then you go back,” Claire says. Slowly, her hand comes over his. Her skin is warm, her palm calloused and rough. “That’s what makes you different from your dad, JD. Your dad never cared about the damage he was causing. You do. You get knocked down and you get back up.” Her fingers curl around his. Startled, he squeezes her fingers. “Look how far you’ve come in the past few years. That’s something he never ever did.”

JD doesn’t know when the tears started but they’re here, running like rivers down his face. 

“And to be honest, I’ve never seen a person love someone else the way you love Veronica. You love her like she’s the last person on Earth. You love her like you’d never love anyone else.”

Well, he wouldn’t. It’s just a plain fact to him. No matter what happens, Veronica exists and he’s in love with her. Simple as that really. After everything she has done for him, it feels like the least he can do.

“And,” Claire continues, reading his mind again. “Don’t you owe it to her to keep trying?” Before he can even respond, she scoots closer, rests her chin on his shoulder. “Maybe you owe it to yourself too.”

There. That’s when she does it, that magical thing where she looks inside him and pulls out something he never thought existed. 

If he walks away now, he leaves Veronica at her own engagement party. He leaves her in the dust after promising to stand by her forever. And doing that to her… it hurts him more than anything else could.

He turns. Claire is still beside him, pressed against his side. 

“Maybe I owe it to you too.” She smiles then, laugh lines creasing her face.

“You’ve never owed me anything, kid.”

(It isn’t true. He owes her more than he’ll ever be able to pay back. But that’s okay, she’s not expecting him to).

Looking out at their garden, he lowers his head onto her shoulder. It’s a little awkward because at some point he got taller than her, but neither of them mind. She rubs her hand up and down his arm and they sit there, listening to the muffled sounds of the party behind them.

“I love you,” he tells her. He doesn’t need to look up to see the way her face softens at that. 

“I love you too, kid,” she whispers. She tugs on his arm. “Come on. If we hurry there may still be profiteroles left.”

JD laughs; the feeling is solid and warm in his chest. He offers Claire his arm and together, they walk back into their house. 

Before he goes in, he gives it one last try. He breathes in. The air is cold and crisp and it fills his lungs. He breathes out, slow and steady, and the white smoke disappears into the orange porchlight. Claire squeezes his hand, firm and rough and more real than anything that came before.

He’ll be okay, he thinks. They’ll be okay. 

[twigg96]

Ashes

Negan x Reader

Song fic based on Ashes by The Longest Johns

POV: You/Negan

Pronouns: You, Wife

Warnings: Negan being Negan, Angst, Loss of Self, Death, Character Death, Major Character Death, TWD realness, gore, blood, emotional abuse, physical abuse, cheating, adulatory, misogyny, loss, grief, the use of Lucile, Glenn and Abraham scene, Spoilers for OG show, Major Canon Divergence

Summary: The story of the love you and Negan had and lost. The rise and fall of Negan and the Saviors to Rick as taken from your perspective as his first wife.

Watch that old fire as it flickers and dies

A strong arm wrapped around your waist guiding you to safety as heavy sobs ripped through your body. The flames burned your skin as you buried your face in the wet rag you husband provided you. The smell of burnt wood filled the air and your lungs making you both cough and gag as you ran as fast as you could. The feeling of your clothes singing and catching with the flames was a pain miniscule compared to the emotional pain.

That once blessed the household and lit up our lives

Looking to your once bountiful dining room table you tried to imagine when was the last you both felt happy. Before the illness rolled through the town and took the lives of your neighbors and you had to board up your doors. Before you had to ration what you had and the heating oil had run out. Before Negan started using the fireplace to heat the house in the winter with the wooden furniture you had in the house. Bursting through the threshold Negan and you turned to the house you both once called a home. Memories rose with the smoke. You tried your damnedest to hold back your wails but they slipped though.

It shone for the friends and the clinking of glasses

Singed photographs fluttered down in the wind as if taunting your despair. Your wedding photo, photographs of the two of you graduating together, your daughter's baby picture all turning to ash in front of you. The glass windows of your home burst out with the heat and you could hear the glass inside your house shattering as the wood holding it gave out. The roar of the flames was all encompassing and even from several feet away the heat was too much.

I'll tend to the flame, you can worship the ashes

From deep within the white flames that licked and ate the home you and Negan once built for yourself, emerged a small figure. It's skin badly burnt. It's eyes glazed over. You screamed trying to run over to it, to her. But Negan's strong arms held you firmly in place. His face was twisted in heart wrenching anguish as he pulled you to the ground with him. "It's not her." He chanted like a prayer to you despite the way his voice cracked and broke with pain. Pushing your head down so you were facing the damp ground he ran his hands through your hair. "Stay here... I-I'll be back."

Capture the wild things and bring them in line

Your husband was never the same after that night... but neither were you. Negan's heart for anyone besides you had hardened. The two of you searched the area for anything you could use. Negan found a bat that he lovingly named Lucille and wrapped in barbed wire. Together you made a name for yourselves. The Saviors. It started off innocently enough. You went around offering your services to take down walkers and... people that were causing problems to those that gave you both shelter for the night. Over time you realized... you were good at what you did.

And own what was never your right to confine

Negan... gathered the souls of people who were the most helpful to him and his cause. It started by recruiting. Offering jobs and expanding his little empire. Soon you were traveling with twenty to thirty people at a time. All of those that swore their loyalty to Negan, even going so far as to take his first name. It unnerved you some. But you would never say it out loud. Not when the fear of loosing so much was at stake. But the first time came that Negan wanted someone. Their family, or a group holding them back from coming between them following him and leaving. Negan became irate. He made his men hold the "recruit's" family down, guns at the ready. You felt sick watching.

The lives and the loves and the songs are what matters

When it was all over, the blood still warm and fresh and your adrenaline still high you pulled your husband aside. "This isn't right." You tried to reason. "We need to stay unified. focus on the good. Not tear apart other families." You begged. But your pleas fell on deaf ears. He just squinted his eyes at you. "Are you questioning me? After everything I did for you?" He asked, his voice dripping in a venom that you heard him use with his men but never you. Flinching away you tried to stand strong.

I'll tend to the flame, you can worship the ashes

"No I would never..." You whispered, turning your gaze to the ground as he stepped closer, the light of the camp fire eliminating his figure. Leaning closer you could feel his breath hot and heavy on your ear through your hair. "Prove it." He whispered. Your eyes widened as the men all around you both jeered and snickered. "W-What?" You asked blinking up at him confusedly. Negan sneered down at you. "You heard me. I want you my wife, to prove your loyalty to me..." He muttered confidently, pointing that nasty bat at you. But you stood tall glaring at Negan. "C'mon, darling. I had all my boys say it. Now. It's your turn. If you don't..." He took a practice swing that made you wince away, hot tears stinging your eyes. You felt your bottom lip quivering as you tore your eyes from Negan's. "I-I am your wife Negan." You whimpered. But that wasn't enough. Stepping closer Negan grasped your hair. "Say it." He growled, his eyes glimmered in the flames. "I am Negan." Your voice wavered in fear as he released you.

Do you feel heavy? Your eyes drop with grief

Staring in terror and grief down at the closest thing you made to a friend in this hell you tried your damnedest not to let your sobs escape your throat. You tried to ignore the way his blood soaked through the all too tight black dress Negan forced you to wear. His mangled corpse laid still bleeding as his widow was held back by her hair and body. Her wails and screams echo against the empty alley you all stand in. Negan pranced around his corpse for a moment. "Damn what a pretty picture." He said coyly, pointing Lucile at you. "Look at how hot my wife looks right now... that's right my. wife... Keep it in mind when anyone wants to try and touch her again." He growled turning to the widow. "Take her home. I think I want to make that hottie my wife too." He said a smirk blooming across his face as his eyes meet yours and your heart breaks ever the more.

Your spirit is wild and your suffering is brief

Changing into more comfortable clothing within the confines of your little room in the Sanctuary you sighed. You had never thought it when it when it first started but once Negan took on more wives, and more communities his attention had been split more ways than he had time for. There were often times you didn't see him for days now. Confined to your room in the Sanctuary, along with the other wives. In the beginning you would never had dreamt of this. You had thought you would have been crumpled to the ground, wailing or whimpering begging for him to come home if he ever left you. But now as you stood before your full length mirror, holstering your knife to your side you felt stronger and more sure of yourself than you have in a long time.

So never you buckle and bend to the masses

Slipping out of the door as silently as you could you crept to the side door hoping to avoid the front gates covered with walkers and guarded by Negan's recruits. A strong hand grasped your shoulder, halting you in front of the solid metal door. A small gasp escaped your lips as you turned to face the man with the fresh burns on his face. Dwight... the poor man. You pitied him just as much as he did you. His wife was captive by your husband. Pulling the key to your rook from your lanyard you handed it you him. "Give it to your wife when you leave. I don't know when he'll be back. Just don't be seen, and tell her I'll knock when I return." You order taking the side door key in return. With a silent nod he exchanged your room key for the door key letting you slip by seemingly unnoticed.

I'll tend to the flame, you can worship the ashes

When Negan was away the prisoners and recruits all turned to you for leadership. At first you turned them away. You hated what your husband had done to them and refused to be apart of it. But as time wore on... you felt obligated to give them guidance and hope when it seemed like there was none to be had. You tried to keep up a facade around Negan's most loyal followers. You threatened punishments equal or more extreme than your husband. But you were never pushed so far. You helped those around the prison do their chores so that they wouldn't be punished when Negan returned tired and ready to use his fists. You treated the sick and patched the wounded. You made a name for yourself in the prison. The Kind.

Get round the fire with a glass of strong ale

If there was one thing you admired about your husband it was his ability to provide for the people he had accumulated. It wasn't right the way he did it... but it wasn't right to let good food go to waist simply because it was stolen either. And so you tried your best to cook and provide for the people. Your people you came to realize. Those that looked up to you. When it was your turn you always had the least on your plate. You always wanted to make sure everyone's bellies were full before your own.

And tell us a story from beyond the pale

The children who ran around all day came to sit around at night. Those who had only known of the dead that rose asked you and others what it was like before. You tried to give them stories to dream to. To dream to and thrive to. You told them of Great Libraries with their knowledge of plenty. You told them of movie theatres where pictures larger than life that moved on the wall and showed of life in other far away places. Restaurants with all the food they could ever wish for. Some of the children refused to believe such a reality ever existed. Others stared in awe telling you that they would make the world better so that they could get back to that dream.

Bury some seeds and expect some strong branches

When Negan brought back seeds instructing you to use them up by the time he returned. You knew just what to do with them. You instructed the prisoners that worked inside the prison to follow you to the back of the Sanctuary. Digging down as deep as your fingers would let you into the cold earth you instructed them to plant the seeds in lines of like veggies. All day the prisoners worked, planting the seeds and sewing them into the earth. Rain fell from the sky, watering the hope you held for the future as you ushered the prisoners back inside.

I'll tend to the flame, you can worship the ashes

Watching the plats grow was one of the most fulfilling feelings you felt in a long time. The children ran and played in the gardens. The little vegetables while too early to pick were good to look at and good motivation for the others to do well at their chores and eat well in the evening. But when you awoke to the smell of smoke rolling through your window you knew that your hopes were shattered and the future was irrevocably changed. Walking out into yard you were met face to face with your pissed off husband. "Which one of you idiots planted these?!" He yelled pointing to the roaring flames that once was the garden. "I did." You muttered stepping forward. Negan glared at you eyeing you seriously. "And what, pray tell did you do that?" He hissed stepping toe to toe with you. But you didn't back down. You refused to. "You told us to do something with the seeds... so w- I did." You said trying to keep your expression as neutral. Negan's face contorted into one of anger and rage. It looked forced. His once bright eyes were dull and emotionless. "Don't do it again..." He muttered, pushing past you to let you watch your future burn in front of you alone.

Now show me a man that can meet all his needs

When you first heard of the man known only as Rick you had believed he would meet his end the same way so many others had before. That his head would be crushed. His community shattered. Or worse. He'd kneel with no issue and his people used as cattle to provide for Negan's ever growing greed. But as time went on and some of Negan's right hand men started to go missing. The outposts raided and destroyed. You had to admit that you felt a little hopeful that someone lived out in the world that could really and truly stand up to your husband. But as his group was stopped, people slaughtered and he was brought to his knees you turned away trying not to let your tears fall for people you didn't know.

For what we need most now is unity's seed

Rick's right hand man was brought back as some sick prize for Negan to parade around the Sanctuary. Daryl Dixon. He was strong willed and even more loyal to his brother. Even when Negan offered him a positions by his side by simply uttering the words you had so long ago, Daryl refused. And for it he was tortured and mutilated. You were relieved when you heard Dwight was his guard. You knew he wouldn't be as harsh as some of the others especially when you offered some time alone with his wife to take it easy on the newcomer. With Negan around more often it was more difficult for you to move around undetected. But you still managed to bring real food to Daryl whenever you had the chance. He didn't trust you and why would he? You didn't trust who you had become either.

A common old song for all creeds and all classes

Sherry had come to you long ago with her wants to escape. It was something she had been planning since the beginning of her capture but with Dwight's torture it was hard for her to break free without him. The day Negan left to face Rick alone, you set the plan in motion. Sherry would take Daryl and run. Just them. You would stay and be an alibi for Dwight. The man would be hunted and killed if all three of them left. Daryl ran into you on his way out. "Why?" He growled. "Because... I believe in you."

I'll tend to the flame, you can worship the ashes

When Negan returned, to say he was pissed was an understatement. But he hid it well. You explained your alibi to him for Dwight. And while it worked for the mean time, when D. went missing looking for Sherry, Negan didn't seem too pressed to find him. His eyes were trained on you. Keeping you close to him for the first time in years he told you at night when you both laid under the covers it was to keep you safe. That he was thinking about you the entire time. But you could see the caged look in his eye that an animal gets when trapped. But still, ever the good wife, you held your husband close and stroked his hair trying to sooth him even when the hatred burned inside of you like a raging forest fire.

I'll tend to the flame

When Rick came with all of his men and all of his people ready to attack the Sanctuary you met Daryl's eyes from where he stood hidden. You worked tirelessly to prepare the men in the Sanctuary to fight. To be ready. When the first shot broke the anxious silence you simply snapped your fingers and the guns on the side of the Saviors turned. Negan stood wide eyed in their sights. "W-What-" He stammered, trying to clammer his way out of it. But it was over. You were over. "It done." You muttered, pointing to Rick's people you raised your hands in surrender. "We're done fighting." In return for turning over those who were still loyal to Negan and the man himself, you were given your freedom. "A life for a life." Rick had said. A policy you yourself didn't believe in anymore. Silently you wished they had killed you and your husband. Only you knew the horrors that you both had committed. But they were firm on their decision of repentance. You were still a prisoner and had to prove your worth but for now... in a sense you were free.

What will we do when the world it is ending

Standing in front of the makeshift prison they had in Alexandria you glared down at your husband. Years had passed since you last seen him. You had no real urge to until now. The Whisperers were moving in fast. Crossing your arms in front of your chest defensively you refused to ask for help. But instead, sat in the icy cold rusted metal that sat across the basement from Negan. "You should be in here with me." He tried to blame you. But you knew this for a fact. "I know..." You whispered back, your breath catching in the cold and floating all around you. "I heard that there is someone bigger out there now... heard it through the bars." Negan muttered pointing to the window. "There is." You said pointedly. "Got a plan?" He asked a smirk blossoming on his face. "Don't think you could'a handled them, Ne..." you stated honestly shaking your head solomly, using your old nickname for him. It halted him. He stared up at you with wide eyes, realision crossing his face. "I never-" he started, but you cut him off. "Don't." You shook your head, standing up. "Listen... let me help." He urged, scrambling to his feet. But you shook your head walking over to the doorway to let Morgan back in. "I'm sorry this was a waist of both of... well my time."

And time it is halted for friend and for foe?

Years and years passed still. Negan never once saw you in his cell. Every time he asked for you he was denied. He believed that truly you hated him. And why wouldn't you... after all he did. He hated himself too. When he was released from prison by Carol and told to bring her the head of the one they called Alpha. He hated being told what to do... but he knew this bitch. The Saviors had a run in with them when they were a little piss ant of a community. They were tough even then and he was ready for payback. Doing as he was told he returned expecting to be thrown back in his cell. But when they give him the second chance he is taken aback. Days pass in his new life. He wasn't expecting you to just run into his arms but when you never showed up at all it worried him.

Try to hold on to the time as it passes

Walking up to Carol he cleared his throat announcing his presence. "Hey." he muttered to the grey haired woman. She didn't smile or greet him instead she nodded, eyeing him warily. "Was wondering if ya seen my wife around here somewhere..." Negan muttered, wincing away at the glare Carol sent him. "Which one? None of them want to see you." She bit back. Negan nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. He supposed he deserved that. "[Y/N]." He stated softly, watching as Carol's face softened some. "Oh..." She whispered so softly it was barely audible. "No one told you yet?" She asked. "Told me what?"

I'll tend to the flame, you can worship the ashes

Walking side by side through Alexandria Carol escorted Negan to a large but beautiful expanse of land. The grass and flowers grew vibrantly but it was all dulled by the makeshift crosses scattered across the field.

I'll tend to the flame, you can worship the ashes

Leading Negan by the wrist past various graves marked with crosses and carved names Carol stopped by a large but old evergreen tree. It cast it's shade over the graves cooling the heat of the day making it barrable to stand.

I'll tend to the flame, you can worship the ashes

Pointing to a little grave directly under the tree Carol frowned. "She died protecting everyone. She went a hero." Carol tried to console him. But the burning in his chest was overwhelming and the cry that escaped his throat was inevitable as he crumbled to his knees. Gripping the grass around the grave he begged and pleaded for you to come back. For it to be a joke. But when only the whistling of the pines responded he knew... He only had himself to blame.