#|| somebody has to do something ! || { muse list }

[livesinthebalance]

A multimuse for canon, adapted, and original characters — all set within the Overwatch universe.

CARRD // VERSES // MEMES

carrd template credit to poohsources.

#|| thousands of stories still to be told || { promos } #|| somebody has to do something ! || { muse list } #// As with buscarparamivida: I might one day add the verses into the carrd. #// For now this is enough. xD #// This blog is so self indulgent. xD #// Most of my favorite babies adapted to one verse for one big world building experience. #// And so that I can write some of my old favorites again despite the lack of fandoms. #// I am a Menace.

[chronically-ghosted]

Little Monsters

rating: 18+ Explicit

pairing: dieter x f!reader

word count: 5K

summary: A phone call home to your family has you missing them desperately . . . especially your husband, who always knows exactly what you need.

warnings/tags: pregnancy, Dieter has children and is actually a really good dad, director!reader, 1st half is mind numbing tooth rotting FLUFF, 2nd half is straight filth and dieter has a nasty nasty mouth, masturbation, camera/phone sex, slight breeding kink, one single use of ‘Daddy’, if I had an ounce of shame left in me I would not have posted this

a/n: special shout outs go to @spookyxsam for showing me about how babies work and to @lunapascal and @mysterious-moonstruck-musings for talking me off the daddy dieter ledge. this is my first pregnancy fic and i do not know what came over me (she lied, knowing damn good and well what happened to her brain chemistry)

from @yoursoulsunbreakable 's request: Hello sweetie, congratulations on your milestone <3 Here's my request for the little drabble: 5. “Tell me what you would want to do, if you were here right now.” With our precious Dieter and smutty? Hope it'll inspire you 😘

🤍Masterlist

“Tell me what you would want to do, if you were here right now.”

“Oh, Dieter, I’d – I’d –,”

“Yeah?”

You let out a burst of air from your lips, flopping back against the pillows. “I’d ask you for a foot rub,” you whine into the camera. 

He chuckles, the sound a bit garbled through the speakers. He leans forward into the camera, as if trying to see down your body, the angle of the phone against the hotel’s lamp not quite right. 

“Is Bravo Baby number three giving you trouble?” 

You eye your swelling feet over the steadily swelling bump. Well into your second trimester and the list of shoes in your closet you could still wear is shrinking rapidly. This also happened with your second child and when Dieter made one joke about keeping you barefoot in the kitchen, you nearly threw a butcher’s knife at his head. You stroke the left side of your stomach to preemptively soothe the little brat before they start wailing on that spot all night, sighing into your husband’s sympathetic, pixelated face. 

“They’ve been grouchy all day. Tom had to leave me in the car for a bit after we scouted a potential place for the exterior shots to finish taking pictures because somebody was having a grand old time wearing me out.” You narrow your eyes at him through the camera. “As if there was any doubt this was your child.” 

This is a constant inside joke between you. Your first kid, a girl, was a beautiful blend of both you and Dieter. His eyes, but your hair, your cheeks, and his nose. He also got to name her – said it came to him after he bought some chocolate and water at the hospital lounge –

“Zelle, Dieter, ‘Zelle’?? Like the money transaction service?” 

But you had been too zonked out on painkillers and endorphins to object (you thought it was beautiful at the time), and he signed the papers anyway. Neither of you had come up with a fitting name before then and he swears the instant he held his baby girl in his hands for the first time, it came to him, as if the stars rearranged themselves in the sky with that name. Incurably a romantic at heart – your husband – you found it sweet and also idiotic, but it was too late now. 

Your second one, Orion, had his name written down on a post-it note you carried in your purse for months and you made sure to show the nurse when you were admitted. Not that Dieter would intentionally go against the name you had agreed on if the baby was a boy, but there was a slim chance he’d get so caught up in the moment and, with watery eyes, tell the nurse to write something like Mars Bar on the birth certificate. 

And, for all that, Orion could have been a carbon copy of you.

The joke started when Dieter picked him up from his crib one night and brought that gurgling little mouth right up to his nose. “Are you sure you didn’t just spontaneously create this one? I don’t see a single hint of me in this little guy.” To which Orion giggled around a drool-damp fist and promptly bopped his father on the nose with it. 

“Are you saying you don’t remember what happened the night he was conceived?” You asked with a smirk over your shoulder as you returned some baby bibs to the drawer. 

Dieter snorted and slid Orion into the crook of his arm, those onesie-white feet seen kicking over his forearm. “Now Mommy is just being plain silly.”

That was five years ago and you couldn’t exactly deny you were excited for the smell of newborn to be all over your husband again. 

“I’ll be glad when we hit the last trimester,” he says, chin propped up on his wrist to stare down at you in his other palm, “so I can wave that doctor’s note in your face when you try to work too hard . . . like you are now.” 

You shift onto your side to face him, rolling your eyes. “You only like the third trimester for the sex hormones.” 

After spending most of your first pregnancy, and at least half of your second, trying to claw Dieter’s eyes out if he so much as breathed in your direction, he was delighted to find that by month seven, the hellcat who had taken over his wife’s body turned into a needy, whiny little kitten. 

Some of the best orgasms of his life come from those months, he swears up and down. 

“I’m not going to complain,” he grins, peering down at you from those prescription sunglasses. The Dieter you used to know wore them because he was constantly hungover; your husband wears them because he keeps accidentally misplacing his actual prescription glasses. “All I’m saying is you better be back in time so Daddy can play house with Mommy.” 

The shrill cry is heard through the phone, the closed bedroom door, and at least one hallway:

“Is Mommy on the phone?” 

Barely a second later, you watch over his shoulder as the door flings open and a wild blur of arms and legs dogpiles Dieter onto the bed. You hear him grunt, the camera flips up to the ceiling, as Zelle and Orion clamor for the phone. Chuckling to yourself, you take up the phone from the bedside table and hold it in your palm as you lean back against the pillows and your children’s faces flash over the small screen. 

“Mommy, I made a bug out of noodles and string today.”

“Mommy, I saw a cat that looked like a cow today.”

“Mommy, Daddy’s broccoli tasted funny - you cook it better!”

“Hey!” He lunges for Zelle’s little ankle and pulls her up around her waist as she giggles helplessly. 

You can barely see them, Orion’s pudgy little finger over most of the camera, Dieter’s hair and Zelle’s kicking feet visible only in flashes. 

“You better go help your sister, Orion!” 

Needing no other prompting, he drops the phone against the pillows and leaps onto his father, squealing at the noise Dieter makes. Where Orion got your looks, he had all of his father’s mannerism. You blinked twice when as a toddler Orion’s purposeful pout had looked so similar to his father’s, you wondered if they had practiced it together. Orion is ruthless when it comes to the tickle wars and immediately goes for Dieter’s neck. 

“Help!” he chokes, “I’m being overrun by tiny monsters!”

Zelle roars at his hip and Orion howls – he’d be a werewolf for Halloween a third year in a row if the tradition continued. Despite more frequent and loud protests about his poor back, Dieter lunges forward and yanks Zelle under his arm like she’s a football. He does the same to Orion and faceplants with both of them successfully pinned. It’s the oldest trick in the book and you muse what he’s going to do when they are too big to do that to anymore. But, as Dieter likes to say, one colossal nightmare at a time. 

“Peace treaty?” His voice is muffled by the blanket. 

“Stand and deliver,” they repeat, breathlessly and red faced. He lets them go and the two bodies barely move, grins still plastered to their faces. Cheeks pink, Dieter crawls over and snags the phone.

“See, darling?” he says between heavy breaths, “this parenting stuff is easy.” 

“Mommy, when are you coming home?” Zelle pops her head between Dieter and the phone, her cheek pink and her little hands pushing her hair off her face. 

“Yeah!” Orion pipes up, crawling over Dieter’s back, hooking his tiny hands over his father’s throat. Dieter’s eyes bug out for a moment before adjusting the five year old’s grip. “Are you done chasing the dragon?”

At that, Dieter snickers and you can’t glare with fire in your eyes like you’d like to so you plaster on an overly sweet smile on your face. 

“Rori, we asked you not to say that. It’s a stork, remember?” 

Orion frowns into Dieter’s curls. “But I want a baby brother or sister that comes from a dragon’s egg.” 

“Yeah, Mom, a dragon baby is way cooler than a stork baby.” 

Oh, you are going to kill him. 

This was another ongoing joke . . . for Dieter. Orion’s teacher called home one night after Orion proudly announced that his mommy was off chasing the dragon. Understandably concerned about the phrase, she called to make sure everything was alright, only to find out what he meant was that his mother was expecting a new baby and instead of a stork, his father told him that Mommy was going to find a dragon to put a new egg inside her tummy, and then the new baby would eventually pop out from the egg. 

This was something you had to relay through the phone to the teacher . . . because Dieter was curled up on the floor, laughing so hard he went mute, tears rolling down red cheeks. This had been his ‘stork’ story for Orion, and apparently unaware of just how impressionable a five-year-old is, told him that Mommy was chasing the dragon for a new egg. Dieter says his greatest regret in his life is that he wasn’t there to see the look on Orion’s teacher’s face. 

After that, you (and Dieter once he recovered) tried to alter the story enough so that he wouldn’t accidentally imply his mother was off on a drug binge, but evidently too much stuck. 

“I’m meeting with the dragon tomorrow, okay? I’m not chasing after anything. We’re having lunch. Right, Dad?”

“Absolutely.” He nods seriously at Orion and kisses that fat little cheek. 

“When is the dragon gonna give you the egg with my baby sister in it?” Zelle asks, matching Dieter on her stomach. Dieter’s confidence manifested perfectly in his daughter; you and him had told her many times that the baby might be a little brother, but she just stuck her nose in the air. “I know it’s a sister,” she said, with a characteristic roll of her eyes. 

“A couple more months, baby,” you smile, unconsciously rubbing at your stomach again. Baby Bravo is suspiciously quiet. Not soon enough. “But I’ll be home tomorrow, but you two have to be good for Dad until then, okay?” 

Orion nods from Dieter’s shoulder, but Zelle smirks up at her father in a way that is well beyond her six years.

“I promise to eat all of Daddy’s nasty broccoli!”

Dieter’s own impish nature, thrown right back at him. The one solace you found is that your husband might have finally met his match. 

He grabs her, flips her on her back, and blows a strawberry on her tummy as she shrieks with glee. 

“Alright – that’s it – it’s bath time for all naughty monsters!” He hikes Orion over his shoulder and picks up Zelle by her waist. He glances back over at you, his eyes bright and a giant smile on his face. 

You swear every time you see Orion, there’s less and less baby in his pudgy face, his little hands. Zelle is constantly saying and doing things that surprises you with the depth of their awareness and you know it doesn’t all come from you or Dieter. 

Your heart actually aches from missing them so much. 

“Monsters, say goodnight to Queen Monster–,” more yelling, roaring, “I’ll call you later tonight, okay, baby?” 

You nod, your eyes suddenly hot and tight. “O-okay – love you all.”

“LOVE YOU!” The three-headed monster yells in unison as it lumbers out of the bedroom.

You end the call, just before the tears spill. Again on your back, you stare at the ceiling feeling incredibly sorry for yourself when the baby rolls over and kicks you in the ribs. 

Hey, I’m here too!

You laugh, a little watery, and you wipe your eyes with your palms. Just get through tonight and you’re home. 

“Okay, okay, I’m up. Let’s get ready for bed, would you like that?”

It’s late. You know you should be asleep already, but the shower had taken longer than expected. The phone call with your husband and children lingered in your mind when you turned on the water and stripped down. Your heart was so full to see Orion’s pout and Zelle’s mischievous grin, especially after such a long day on your feet and for all his teasing, Dieter’s own ease and confidence as a father, as well as a husband, left you feeling . . . warm. In fact, your mind’s eye lingers on him in the memory of the call: his beautiful, rich curls – those square black glasses that made him look annoyingly mysterious and so goddamn hot – his biceps flexing as he throws around his children with ease, his shoulders broad and straining against his shirt — his bulging forearm making his triangle tattoo pop – his wedding ring that replaced all the other rings –

The good news is the baby was almost here. The bad news is that you’re suddenly irrationally horny and your all-too-eager husband was a plane ride away. 

Entirely naked besides the white hotel robe around your shoulders, you sternly ignore the plush tingling between your legs and try to focus on rubbing in lotion into your legs, your hips, over the old and new stretch marks over your stomach. Your fingers rub underneath the curve of your stomach and accidentally brush the damp curls, sending tiny shock waves up your pelvis. You gasp lowly, freezing, eyes tightly shut, fighting back that wave of arousal. 

Goddamn it. 

At first you think the ringing is between your ears, your blood rushing hard and fast, and then you realize it’s actually your phone going off.

Daddy Dieter, the screen reads.

You frown at the clock – if it’s late for you, then it’s very late for him. When he said he’d call you later, you didn’t think he meant literally later tonight. Still frowning, you put down the bottle of lotion and answer the phone.

“Dieter?” 

“Hey, baby. How’s your night?” 

He pulls back the phone and your mouth flushes with spit. He’s shirtless, sunglasses replaced with his actual glasses, that silver earring glinting in the low light. In the center of your bed, he’s propped up on several pillows with his arm tucked behind his head. He has thickened over the years, his chest and shoulders taking on a new weight as if he physically grew into fatherhood — and God, if his bicep was bulging before –

“Dieter –,” your voice is hoarse at first and you have to clear your throat to get anything out of your mouth that isn’t a whine. “Dieter, what are you doing up?”

He shrugs like he’s just been bored at home. “Bath time was easy. Orion wanted just one story and Zelle didn’t put up a fight when I told her it was bedtime and she had to put away the crayons.” 

You narrow your eyes. “Did you slip them Benadryl?” 

“Wow! No! Did you ever think that maybe I’m just that good of a dad?” He scoffs, mildly offended. And then he smirks. “I told them you’d come home sooner if they were good.”

“Ah, the old Santa Claus trick.” You nod sagely and sit down on the edge of the bed, the movement tugging the robe slightly. “Always a classic.”

“Yeah, I –,” Dieter’s eyes widen, edges going dark. “Are you naked?” 

You swallow, his sudden shift in tone causing your thighs to clench. You cross your legs as tightly as your belly will allow, your chin held high.

“I’m in a robe, Dieter. Took a long shower.”

His eyes glitter with interest, the tip of his tongue running on the edge of his bottom lip. “How long?”  

Feeling hot and swollen for months now, you flush pink, an overripe peach beneath the slightest pressure of his thumb. 

“Dieter–,” it’s a whine but you shake your head. “Please don’t tease. I’m so . . . sensitive right now, and I won’t be home until tomorrow and–,”

“Baby, baby, breathe. I know it hurts.” He sits up, his eyes big and dark. “I remember how wet you get around now.”

Your cunt drools onto the robe below you, thighs sticky, his words ringing in your ears. 

“Dieter, don’t –,”

“I know I can’t help you but what if I showed you how to help yourself?” 

You whimper, arousal now hot and warm in the pit of your stomach. The strength of it makes your pelvis ache. You know it won’t be the same as him, but his voice, it might be enough. You nod, your heart pounding, hand holding the phone shaking. 

“Then lie back, baby.” Dieter purrs and it’s almost like he’s pushing you back with his hands. You shift up the bed, careful to not step on your robe with your heels as you center yourself in the covers. But Dieter’s moving, off the bed, and he’s adjusting something behind his phone.

The baby inside you can feel your heartbeat racing and they turn, uneasy. You soothe them with small circles just above your hips, your lips between your teeth. But that touch on your skin, the look in Dieter’s eyes, you brush lower on your skin and immediately you shudder. 

“Baby, please, hurry, whatever you’re doing, hurry –,” 

You drop your fingers over your thighs, curling and uncurling, drawing imaginary lines like he does in the mornings against your shoulders and back. 

“Just a second, sorry, almost got it.”

Then he steps back, the phone hovering in the air. Dieter sits on the bed and the camera holds the entire bed in view. Dieter is nothing if not a performer, bringing a tripod into the bedroom when he knows you need him the most. He’s so fucking hot.

“Can you see me, baby?” 

You nod stiffly. “How do you want me?” 

“Whatever way is comfortable,” he smiles and it’s almost as hot as his smirk. Fuck, he loves you so much. You slide the robe off your shoulders, exposing the tops of your breasts as best you can and still keeping your phone up. “Perfect, baby, that’s perfect.” 

Your hand drops to your thigh again, dragging your nails up under the swell of your belly and you twitch. 

“T-tell me what you would want to do,” you begin, your voice shaking, arousal smooth as it licks up your spine, “if you were here right now.” You feel warm all over, the sheets cool against your calves. 

This far away, you can’t see his eyes clear enough to watch them darken entirely, but his low grunt is enough. It’s time for him to perform for his pregnant and insatiable wife. 

He slips his glasses off and tosses them onto the bedside table, where they land with a clatter. You can’t even think of scolding him when he lifts his hips and yanks his gray sweatpants down his knees, then to the floor. He’s half-hard as he shuffles back to the pillows, nearly in the same position you are. You shift to match him entirely, needing the immersion to be total and complete. You’d cry if he could actually touch you.

“Are you comfortable?”

You nod again. But Dieter shakes his head, his fingers digging into his thighs. “I can’t see you this far away, baby. I need you to say it. Talk to me.”

He was usually the one vocal enough for both of you, any coherent language impossible with the mess he makes out of you. You can’t imagine what you’re going to sound like, not when you’re this needy and desperate already.

“O-okay, Dieter, I’ll try.” 

“Good girl.” You whimper again, trying to restrain from touching yourself before he tells you to. But you’re throbbing, the heat blooming from your cunt rushing to the rest of your body, the baby in you restless. As if mother and child can only be soothed by their father. “Now, breathe, darling, you’re flushed.” 

You inhale, the air notching on every bone in your spine, and exhale, your lungs shuddering, eyes shut. “Dieter, please, tell me what you’d –,” 

“I’d touch your thighs,” he says with such immediacy, your eyes spring open. He’s got the knee farthest from you bent up, as if putting himself on display, turning his hips towards the camera slightly. His other leg is stretched out long beside him and his left hand strokes his cock. Hair and shoulders backlit from the far lamp, the image of him like this alone — just for you — has your cunt clenching, a moan spilling from your lips. “Touch your thighs, baby.”

You can’t grab as much skin as he does, but you try. You lift your knees, and massage the backs of your thighs, then up to your knees, and back down. You can almost feel his breath on your calves and you shudder. “What else? W-where else?” 

“I’ve been thinking about your tits for days,” he groans, the sound strangled, his cock now fully-hard and red. He cups himself, twisting as slow as he can take it. “Tell me what your tits feel like.” 

“Sensitive,” you gasp as you draw two fingers across your nipple and squeeze gently. Dieter only uses his mouth now on them, so you wet them with yours and return them to your swollen bud, slowly twisting and pulling. 

He’s watching you through the camera, eyes wide, breath sharp when you suck your fingers into your mouth. “Fuck, yeah, that’s right. Get them wet. What are you thinking about?”

“You. Your lips around my nipple, under my breast. Your teeth. They’re so heavy, Dieter.” 

His hips jerk under his hand, his fingers moving faster now. You can’t quite hear what he’s muttering, but you catch weak mumblings, “gonna feed our baby”, “yeah, your tits”, the baby” —

“Dieter, please–,” 

“Touch yourself with your fingers wet from your mouth. T-t-tell me what it feels like.”

With a relieved cry, you slide your hand down from your tits, over the swell of your belly, and in between your thighs. Wetness clings to the curls, to the curve of your ass, your body so ready to take him, and it locks up when you slip a finger inside.

“So wet. Warm. How many fingers can I put in?”

“One, but – can you already do two?”

You nod, the huff arching into a whine. “Yeah, baby. You have no idea how wet I am. I can slip in two with no resistance.”

“Jesus,” he pants and slows down, his hips rocking of their own accord. “You’ve got me so hard.” 

You curl your fingers inside of you, searching for that spot made and found and praised by him. Your folds plump and achy, you twist your wrist, scissor your fingers, but it’s not the same. It’s not the same as his three fingers plugging you up, readying you to take so much of him, it’s enough to ease the sharp ache for a bit. You moan, fucking yourself more. He hears it, sees it, and grunts. 

“You can come wherever you want, baby,” he murmurs, his own hand hesitant to match your speed. He tugs on his balls and his toes curl, his neck long and tense. “Fuck, I need your hands.”

“Me too,” you sob, real tears pricking the corners of your eyes. It feels good but it’s not the relief you need. It’s pathetic but you don’t want to stop. You can’t get in deep enough, even if you could get around your big belly. “Dieter, I can’t reach. It’s – I’m –,”

“Breathe, love, it’s okay.” His voice is soothing, calming. The same one he uses when you’re in labor and the sweet honey warmth of it sinks into your bones, easing the panic. You slow, gasping, tears pooling down your temple. Your orgasm is harsh, sunken in the dark, waiting for you to draw it out.

“What can you reach?”

“My clit.” 

“Then touch that. Can I see?”

You nod, angle the phone down as you rub that electric nub. 

“Oh, fuck, baby. I know it’s frustrating and I know it hurts, but you look so fucking good. So wet for me. Your pussy is perfect, pink, just how I like her.”

“Yeah?” you spin your fingers faster. That hot arousal returns steadily, melting back the resentment towards your own body the longer he praises. 

“Oh yeah.” You can hear the slap of skin on the other end of the phone and you can picture Dieter flat on his back jerking himself off to your pulsating cunt and you moan, loudly, tension evaporating from your body. “How do you feel?”

“Good. Tight. I just need a bit more.” 

“Me too. Let me see your face, pretty girl.” You turn the camera and gape at the sight on the screen. 

Precum drips out of his now-purple cock, his chest flushed and neck sweaty. He’s twirling the head around with his thumb at the pace you’ve set with your fingers against your clit. 

“Look at what you’ve done to me. You’re so fucking gorgeous. Can’t wait for you to be home so I can eat you out for hours.” 

“I want your cock in me, Dieter,” you gasp, furiously rubbing on your clit, sending wave after wave of pleasure coursing through you. Your cunt clenches in time with your thudding heartbeat. ���You’re so thick. I wanna feel the stretch.”

“Oh, I’m gonna fuck you hard.” The confession is a low snarl, a promise made between the ridges of his teeth. He fucks his fist faster, the noise over his labored breathing obscene. “Gonna put your hands on the headboard, your pussy in my lap and I’m gonna fuck up into you until I fill you full again. Wanna make you pregnant twice.” 

Arousal floods your veins, your thighs a gooey mess. You toss your head back, back arching, and you moan as loud as you can. 

“Oh– shit, oh, oh, shit–,”

“You’re gonna leak all over my thighs and when you’re done coming so hard you can’t see straight, I’m gonna lick it up all off you, my wife. Mine. My baby. Mine. Fuck, you look so good full of me.”

He’s never this possessive, never angry that he can’t have you but he sounds livid. He fucks his fist, his hips bucking into nothing, his other hand squeezing his thigh so hard his knuckles go white. 

You circle your clit one more time and finally — your orgasm crests, your body locking up, your cunt gushing – and it leaves your mouth before you can stop it –

“Oh, Daddy–,”

You hear him gasp as if electrocuted, and you have to drop your phone to steady yourself as the weight of white-hot pleasure explodes across your body. You rock, breath gone from your lungs, mouth open in a silent scream, and everything slams back into you and you gasp, high and loud, every inch of your skin hot and trembling. You don’t realize you’re sweating until you feel it drip off your neck.  

All you can hear is Dieter panting from your phone amongst the covers, the sound muffled. Your eyes flutter as the warm waves languish, then curl, and finally, you sigh as the last waves drain out of your body. If you weren’t lying down you’re sure you’d be dizzy.

“Oh my god,” you mutter breathlessly to no one in particular.

“B-baby, you still there?”

You blindly feel around for your phone, arm so weak it’s trembling as you pull the camera towards your face

Dieter looks about as fucked out as you feel. Cock limp and still dribbling, his stomach and chest are covered in cum. He pushes his damp hair off his forehead, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling. 

“Holy shit, baby, that was …”

“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing your dry tongue, wishing again he was here so he could get you a glass of water. “I hope that wasn’t all of it because I really want you to say all of those things again tomorrow when you’re inside me.”

He groans and adjusts his limp cock. “You say that now but wait until Baby Bravo kicks you in the kidneys. You’ll be feeling a lot less generous towards this,” he gestures aimlessly to his naked body, “then.”

You chuckle. “Let’s just hope for the best. Besides,” you say, groaning a bit as you sit up to wipe the sweat off your neck with the robe, “I’m pretty sure I can have you eating out of the palm of my hand. Now that I know your secret . . . Daddy.” 

Dieter groans as you laugh. He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t be so surprised by now when you make me discover new kinks.” 

“Mhmm hmm.” 

He rolls his eyes as he gets up and picks the phone off the tripod. Holding the phone to his face, he wipes the cum off with his sweatpants before turning his attention back to you.

“How are you? Feel better?”

“Much better.” You stretch and lean back in the bed. If he was here, you’d probably be asking to eat you out, but at least the knife’s edge of desire has dulled. You can at least wait until nap time to jump your husband’s bones. 

“Good,” Dieter sighs, satisfied. “I’ll be there to pick you up from the airport tomorrow, okay?”

He always gets like this the nearer the due date comes, as if he can’t stand to see you lift a finger unnecessarily. You smile and nod, never wanting it to be any other way. 

“I’ll text you when I land.”

“Okay. Good night, my biggest love. I love you, so much.” 

“I love you too, Dieter.” Goddamn hormones, making you cry again. 

“Now lemme say goodbye to our little traveler.”

You wipe your eyes with your thumb as you tilt the phone to your swollen belly. 

“Good night, Baby Bravo. Can’t wait to have you around.”

And, at the sound of their father’s voice, they stir. Not kick or hurt. Just a tiny foot against your tight skin.

You are officially crying now. 

“They said hi, didn’t they?”

You’re nodding, crying, and he can’t see a damn thing. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “They said good night, Dad.”

He’s patient with you as you wipe your eyes, cheeks flushed again. 

“Baby, don’t cry, you’re breaking my heart.”

“You’re just a really good dad. And I’m so lucky,” you blubber. “This is it! I’m never leaving to go scouting again. I can’t take it.” 

“Mhmm. Let’s revisit that when you’re about two months postpartum and clawing at the walls.”

You laugh with him, your own sticky and goopy. “Fine.”

“Go to bed, love, and for the record, I’m the lucky one. Don’t forget that. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night.” You blow a kiss and he catches it. You roll your eyes. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You stay like that for a bit, cradled by the pillows, and your phone on your chest, thinking about everything from Dieter to the next school picture day, to the next family vacation, and of course, the zillion things you have to get done with work before the baby comes — hopefully all from the home office.

She kicks. 

You smile, wondering how you and Zelle both just know it’s a girl. Dieter has his own suspicions, he says, but he’s saving them. Orion would probably be thrilled to have a dragon in the family. You snort, hand over the place where she put her little foot.

“I miss them too, sweetie. And once you’re here, we’ll outnumber those silly boys. Maybe we’ll have to get a dog. You’ll like dogs.”

She’s silent, maybe sleeping, maybe thinking about what the heck a dog is. You smile, turn off the lamp, and peel back the covers. The sheets are cool and soft.

You fall asleep, dreaming of little feet, and hands, and wedding rings.

#dieter bravo #daddy dieter #gonna make this an official tag if its the last thing i do #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x oc #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfic #the bubble fanfic #the bubble #100 followers event

[comic-relief-side-character]

Dating Connor Stoll Headcanons

· This man. This gorgeous man. I love writing for him so much

· He’s literally so pretty

· And adorable

· The list goes on

· Anyways, moving on.

· I think at this point it’s just unanimously decided that Connor’s love language is physical touch. It’s also gift giving, but that’s more like a secondary thing.

· He constantly has his hand on you. If not his hand at least some part of his body is touching you.

· Like if you guys are just going somewhere, even to another room he has to grab your hand while you walk

· Also, loves linking pinkies with you.

· It seems like a pinkie promise that he’s right here and not going anywhere, which is good reassurance considering your lives

· Also…. Hugs. Lots and lots of hugs

· Hugs where you have your hands around his waist and your head is on his chest. (its easier to imagine if you’re kinda shorter than him)

· He likes those hugs because feels like he is protecting you

· Don’t get me wrong he knows dam well that you can protect yourself. He just feels better when he’s the one doing it

· He also loves the hugs when he wraps his hands around your waist and gets to lay his head on your chest

· He likes hearing your heartbeat in those moments

· LOVES it when you play with his hair

· Or just touch his hair

· Which is actually very soft

· Also be ready for back hugs. And also surprise back hugs

· Like you’d have just been talking to your friend and he sees you from a little far away and sprints towards you to give you a hug

· There have been incidents earlier where you punched him cuz you felt like you were being attacked

· He’s probably a very deep sleeper

· Like once he falls asleep it’s nearly impossible for anything to wake him up before he’s ready

· His sleep is extremely precious to him.

· But if you’re a person who gets inspiration at the most random times (like me) and absolutely NEED to do your work, he’ll stay awake with you even if his eyes are drooping and he barely can sit straight.

· But once you’re done, he’ll help you keep your things away and hold you tight causing both of you to go straight to sleep

· Also if you’re a type of artist (like writer, poet, musician, etc etc.) he’ll love it so much if you do something keeping him as a muse

· Like if you’re an artist and draw him, he’ll be so flustered

· Or if you write a poem, like dedicated to him, he’ll feel so freaking flustered

· He’s a huge blushing mess

· Can’t think straight for the next five minutes and has trouble breathing.

· Not gonna lie the first time you gave him an artwork (or written piece) he started tearing up because it was so dam beautiful and thoughtful and he never would’ve thought that somebody would do something like this for him

· You were so scared you thought he was crying because it was terrible

· He told you ‘no it’s beautiful’

· Didn’t let you go for the rest of the day

· Lowkey insecure, so be sure to tell him affirmations.

· And also he turns into a blushing mess whenever you compliment him and its very adorable to watch

· It’s a win win situation

· Ok hear me out, naps together.

· Because you get tired

· There also are days when he’s tired

· So you two just hold each other and try to sleep your problems away (me honestly)

· I feel like he’s more of a big spoon

· And if he’s spooning you he’ll probably have his hand up your shirt rubbing circles on your stomach

· There also are days when he’s the little spoon

· That’s mostly when he can’t sleep because of his nightmares

· Spooning him is a little hard considering how freaking tall he is, but you make do

· Sometimes Connor will just scoot a little lower and lay his head near you heart and go to sleep.

· It’s also the other way round a lot of times

° He absolutely loves it when you wear his shirt or just clothes in general. So cuddling while wearing his clothes

· KISSES

· Lots of kisses

· Cheek kisses

· Forehead kisses

· Hand kisses

· Kisses where he knows he has to stop but he really doesn’t want to

· Little pecks when one of you has to leave

· Kisses where both of you are smiling so hard because you make each other so so so happy

· Before ya’ll started dating and there was this constant tension in the air, you often caught Connor sneaking glances at your lips

· He just couldn’t help it

· He really wanted to kiss you and he hated that he couldn’t

· Also, surprise kisses

· At this point you’ve just trained yourself to be ready for surprise kisses

· Imagine you’re walking back to your cabin and you hear a “hey darling” with a little peck on your lips

· Also, he either calls you love or darling, with the occasional babe sprinkled here and there. You can’t convince me otherwise

· If you speak another language other than English, he’ll learn some nicknames in that language to call you.

· He loves how happy you get when he calls you ‘his love’ in your language

· This is sorta an au where you guys are allowed to use phones

· His phone is filled with multiple photos of you

· Some are really beautiful

· Some really are not. Or so you think

· “Connor please delete that photo.”

· “But you look so pretty in it.”

· “I look like an idiot. Delete it.”

· “No, you look like a cute idiot.”

· Despite many protest he still didn’t delete the pics

· He sometimes cooks for you, while you look cute on counters

· Although mostly the cooking is done by you

· After one too many incident with uncontrollable fire you both decided its best for you to cook

· He’ll probably also feed you while you’re very busy paying attention to the show you two are watching· Dancing together

· Its sometimes just stupid dances together where you’re too busy having fun

· Other times it’s really romantic with both of you swaying along with romantic love songs

· Stargazing dates

· If you don’t know a lot about constellations he’ll tell you stories about the stars

· If you do you just end up talking about life and everything between everything and nothing

· Long drives or walks together

· Kissing at the stop signs darling

· Connor seems like the type of guy who really likes 5 seconds of summer and arctic monkeys

· So there’s a lot of their music sprinkled throughout the drives

· There’s two ways to cheer Connor up when he’s upset

· Cuddles

· Or long drives

· And pranks

· Look just because you’re his lover, whom he loves very much, does not mean you get a free pass

· He’ll still prank you but it’s pretty mild stuff compared to the landmines set on the wrong hill

· There have been multiple occasions where you woke up with dyed hair

· And all the walls of your cabin painted the most ridiculous colors which didn’t match the aesthetic at all

· I don’t feel like he’s the kind of guy to get jealous really easily

· He trusts you

· He also supports anyone who gives you a genuine compliment

· ‘Yes. This is my gorgeous and talented partner and they deserve to be complimented.’

· Likes it when anyone lifts you up

· But if he sees a guy openly flirting with you and sees that you’re uncomfortable that’s when he gets mad.

· He gets so mad

· Won’t openly fight that person since he knows you’re more than capable of doing that and would have done it if you wanted to hurt them

· But he’ll purposefully get touchy and make it clear for them to back off and the glares he gives them are enough to kill

· And if that person still doesn’t get a hint Connor will probably somehow get you out of that conversation

· And the next day the first thing you hear is that the person who was flirting with you last night, has blue skin now

· But that’s only the beginning, Connor doesn’t stop there. For the next two day, that person gets the worst pranks

· He loves making you smile

· He also loves making you laugh

· Your laugh is pretty much his favourite sound in the world· And don’t tell me that your laugh sounds like a baby goat being strangled

· Or a car engine which won’t start

· He still loves it· He wants to get drunk on it every night

· Also whenever he’s like super tired, he’ll get so so so sappy· He’s literally telling you the cheesiest and sappiest things· Loves taking care of you

· He’ll constantly make sure that you ate enough, or that you drank enough water, and that you’re sleeping enough

· He isn’t the best with feelings

· So whenever he sees you upset he tries his ultimate best to cheer you up

· Or to hear out what’s making you upset

· He’ll give you a hug if you want

· He’ll give you space if that’s what you want

· Heck he’ll even kill someone if you want

· He doesn’t know that just the effort makes you feel better

· Did I mention that he looks at you like you literally are the most beautiful person on the planet (you are tho, he ain’t wrong)

· Travis teases him all the time

· Connor retorts saying that he isn’t any better and that he’s seen the way he looks at Katie

· Connor loves your hair

· Connor loves your eyes

· Connor loves your smile

· Connor loves your laugh

· Connor loves your hands

· Connor loves your personality

· Connor loves your body

· Connor loves you so freaking much that it genuinely shocks him sometimes, what he would do for you

#connor stoll x you #connor stoll imagine #i love connor stoll #connor stoll x reader #connor stoll #connor stoll x y/n #Connor stoll x you #connor stoll my beloved

[writers-hes]

Hallmark Holiday (e.munson x reader)

SYNOPSIS: You love holidays, especially Valentine’s Day, but Eddie thinks that Valentine’s Day is a made up holiday to increase chocolate, card, and flower sales. REQUESTED: no (working on something really cute tho…) WARNINGS: fluff, angst, really really tooth rotting fluffy ending, not proofread PAIRINGS: Eddie Munson x Reader WORD COUNT: 3.4k+ helpful links: navigation | master lists | rules and guidelines | tag list | fic recs

A/N: To my yearly valentines, Happy Valentine’s Day!

“It’s Valentine’s Day soon,” Dustin Henderson says, putting his tray down on the lunch table. “What are your plans, gentlemen?”

“I’ll probably try giving Max some chocolates or flowers. I don’t know what she really likes,” Lucas replied. “I think a new cassette tape?” 

“Hm,” Dustin nodded, and then looked at Mike for his input. 

“I mean, my girlfriend is in California,” he shrugged. “I’ll probably send her a letter.”

Eddie listened in as everybody talked about their Valentine’s plans. Gareth was planning on asking someone out. Jeff was taking somebody to the movies. 

“You’re all so lame,” Dustin groaned, taking a spoonful of his chocolate pudding. “I’m going to build a small radio system for my Suzie. It will play all her favorite songs all night long,” 

“Turn around…look at what you see,” Lucas teased, earning a shove from Dustin. 

“Is that even possible? She’ll probably get sick of you, dude,” Gareth chimed in. 

“Not my Suzie-poo. She loves stuff like this. Radios, technology, and all that,” Dustin replied. “It will be perfect and I will be the best boyfriend ever,” 

“Nope, not gonna happen,” Jeff chimed in. “Eddie here prides himself as the best one, hm?”

“You have a girlfriend?”

“Who’s your girlfriend?”

“Do we know her?”

Questions from his juniors floated around the air and Eddie chuckled. 

“Yes, if you’re so curious,” he told them. 

“But we’ve never seen her,” Gareth added. “We don’t even know her name,” 

“Well, what are you doing for Valentine’s Day?” Dustin asked. 

“Nothing,” Eddie shrugged, his eyes confused. “Valentine’s day is just a fake holiday Hallmark made up to increase sales,” Upon the disbelief on his friend’s faces, Eddie continued. “Besides, she’s not that kind of girl. She doesn’t like holidays.”

“I’m so excited for Valentines,” you gushed to Robin. “Eddie’s so sweet, I know he’ll do something. Obviously, I don’t expect something grand or whatever but you know, it would be nice to go to the movies or have a dinner date,”  

Robin still couldn’t believe that one of her best friends was dating Eddie Munson. According to you, you met Eddie at work. You were busy shelving the latest-released books when he came up to you, asking for any stocks of The Lord of the Rings. You told him you’ll take him there and you did and then, he took you out on a date. 

Being a reader, you were such a romantic at heart. You’d have no problem reading the day away as long as it was a romance book. Eddie would always groan but you knew that he never minded. In fact, you both loved to spend the day reading together in your room, in their trailer, or somewhere else. You loved big gestures and small gestures—you loved how romantic and silly Eddie is. He’d hold your hand at the mall and surprise you with flowers. You loved it all and Valentine’s Day, when every single mushy thing was allowed, was your favourite. 

“Hm, I wonder what to get for Eddie,” you mused. “He’s been looking at this dice set that had a matching guitar pick. Should I get that? It has the detailing of his guitar,” 

“That sounds nice,” Robin replied. “What are you getting for me? It’s galentines too, you know,” 

“It’s a secret,” you said. Every year, on the fifteenth, you, Robin, and Nancy would hold what was called a “Galentines” when you spend the night over at home with chocolates and ice cream. You’d end the night with gifts for each other and it was another tradition that you looked forward to. 

“Fine, fine,” Robin said. “Can’t believe I’m spending another Valentine’s Day single,” 

“Or…you can ask a pretty girlie named Vickie,” you teased. 

“Ugh, no! Vickie doesn’t like boobs,” Robin complained.

“But Steve said—“

“Steve doesn’t know anything!” she said. “Trust me. Vickie likes lots of things except boobs,” 

-

“Eddie!” you squealed, caught by surprise as you opened your car. You felt his familiar curls and warmth behind you, wrapped around you. He chuckled, kissing your head before detaching himself. “Are you coming along with me?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I saw you just as I was about to enter the building and decided to say hi,” 

“Hi,” you greeted, smiling up at him. 

“Hi, baby,” he replied, kissing your forehead. You raised your head higher, towards him and he chuckled before pecking your lips lightly. “Well, I gotta go. The boys are waiting for me,” 

“Bye, Eddie!” you said. “I’ll call you later okay?” 

“Yeah,” he said before running off, warmth flooding your chest. You couldn’t help it but you were sure that Eddie was going to surprise you for Valentine’s Day. It was your first Valentine’s together and it was so important for you to let him feel loved. The matching dice and pick was heavy in your purse and you drove off to the next store. 

You arrived at a record store just outside of Hawkins. You had the manager, Piper, help you with a playlist you’ve carefully curated for Eddie. She sometimes accepted playlist commissions, personalising multiple playlists for people. You were lucky that you found her, she was very hands-on and passionate about music.  

“Hey, kid,” she greeted, a smile on her face. “Here to get Eddie’s mixtape?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. Excitement showed itself on your face as she unwrapped a special cassette before you. On it was a sticker of Eddie’s Hellfire design stuck on the plastic. Instead of dice and flames, Piper opted for pink and red hearts—something that reminded her of you. 

“Piper, this is so beautiful,” you gasped. On the back of the cassette was your name and Eddie’s. It was beautiful and you were so excited to see Eddie’s face light up. You paid her and left the store, going to the local supermarket to buy chocolates and candies for your boyfriend. You even bought heart-shaped chocolates and biscuits for Steve, Wayne, Mike, Dustin, Max, and Lucas. Robin and Nancy’s gifts were already tucked away separately in your home. 

At home, you poured your entire time on cutting up hearts and wrapping the gifts in themed wrapping papers. You added a note on each of them, looking forward to giving them to your friends on Monday, Valentine’s Day. 

-

Monday comes and you smile at the plate of heart-shaped pancakes your mom made for you. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart,” she greeted, kissing the side of your head. “Dad and I are going to have a lovely dinner tonight. What are your plans with Eddie?” she asked before sitting beside you. 

“I don’t know but I’m so excited. He’s been acting suspicious lately and I know it’s a surprise,” you said, telling her about the time when you saw Eddie rush to the mall. 

“Whatever it is, I’m so excited to hear all about it!” she said. “Except for the parts I don’t want to know, of course.” 

“Mom!” you groaned. “It’s nothing like that, I promise,”

“Okay, okay!” she laughed and you chuckled. Maybe the reason why you loved Valentine’s Day so much was because of how your parents celebrated it. Your mom always made heart-shaped pancakes with berry syrup in the morning. She and your dad would have a special Valentine’s day gift for you. It was always a great time when you watched them reveal their gifts for each other. A watch that your dad liked. A cooking class that they’ve been eyeing. It was always heartwarming and you knew that it was something you wanted to share with Eddie. 

You were bummed because Eddie didn’t pick you up but it was fine. He didn’t have to do it all the time…it’s just that it was Valentine’s Day. 

Walking in the school corridor, you smiled when Nancy linked her arms with yours. 

“Happy Valentines!” she greeted. “Where to?”

“My locker! I’ll get some stuff for the next subjects. You?” 

“Going with you,” she replied. “I wonder what Eddie has up on his sleeve for Valentine’s. How are you guys spending it?”

“I don’t know yet,” you told her. “He’s so secretive about it,”

“Really?” Nancy asked. “Maybe he has some big surprise for you! I’m so excited to see all of it,” 

“You think so?”

“I know so,” she shrugged. “Eddie adores you. There’s nothing that man won’t do to make you happy,”

“How about you and Jonathan? How are you guys spending it?” you asked. 

“I’ll call him later,” you heard her say.”But he sent a package of pictures that he collected over the years, some chocolates, and a sweet note! I’ll let you read them tomorrow,” 

“Nancy! That’s so sweet,” you gushed. You stopped in front of your locker, bracing yourself for a letter that could fall when you opened it. You breathed as you unlocked it, shoulders falling when you found that it was empty. No roses, chocolates, or a sweet note. Come to think of it, Eddie didn’t wait for you by the door. 

“Don’t worry,” Nancy said upon seeing your crestfallen expression. “I’m sure there’s something,”

“Y-yeah,” 

-

You watched as couples celebrated by surprising each other during lunch time. Eddie seemed to be determined to ignore you for the rest of the day but you brushed it off—maybe there’s a surprise. 

Meanwhile, Eddie looked puzzled. In front of him, Dustin, Lucas, and Mike were all rushing to get wrapped gifts from their pockets. 

“Dude! Your gift sucks,” Dustin snickered, seeing Mike’s crumpled gift paper. 

“I didn’t have any space in my bag because some asshole asked me to keep his jersey because he forgot his bag,” Mike replied, scowling at Lucas who only seemed to shrug. 

“Anyways, doesn’t she sit with Nancy?” Lucas asked, a box of chocolates tied with a pink ribbon in his hand. Dustin replied with the affirmative while Eddie looked at them, wondering who this girl is to receive such thoughtful gifts from his juniors. He continued to watch as the juniors ran towards Nancy Wheeler’s table; to you. He leaned in, trying to make out the conversation but he couldn’t. 

“Hey, guys!” you greeted. Dustin, Lucas, and Mike all said hey, shy smiles on their faces. “Happy Valentine’s Day. I got you something.” You rummaged through your bag until you found three red boxes all with personalised names and messages. “Dustin, Lucas, and Mike…here you go,”

“Thank you!” Dustin beamed before giving his gift for you. The others did the same and you chuckled at their excitement. In Dustin’s box was a baseball hat in his favourite colorway, Lucas got a shirt that he could use for practice, while Mike got a cute polo for his next Californian trip. You heard more expressions of appreciation before they walked back to the Hellfire table. Your smile dropped when you saw Eddie frowning before turning away, looking at the kids’ best attempt to wrap their gifts. 

“You’re really close with them,” one of your friends commented and you nodded. 

“Yeah, well, I used to babysit them alot and we kind of just stayed friends,”

“You know her?” Eddie asked the trio when they sat back down. 

“Yeah. She used to babysit us and Valentine’s kind of became a tradition,” Mike replied. “She makes sure we get things like these every year especially because we had no girlfriends back then,”

“Oh,” Eddie nodded, a soft smile on his face. “That’s nice of her,”

“Yeah. She gives these things to all of us. Robin, Nancy, Steve, Max, and everyone else,” Lucas added. “I don’t know. Somebody slipped that she has a boyfriend now so maybe she’ll get something big,”

Eddie scoffed. You weren’t like that…right?

-

The bell rings and students of Hawkins High fill the corridors. It was Valentine’s Day and there was love in the air. Couples were more affectionate than usual and everyone received flowers, chocolates, and everything else for the holiday…everyone except for you, it seemed. 

You smiled when Eddie ran towards you in your meeting place, the benches by the woods. 

“Hey,” he said, smiling at you before kissing your head. 

“Hi, Eddie,” you greeted, a blush on your face. 

“Why did you ask to meet here?”

“Well…it’s uh, Valentine’s Day and—“

“and we don’t celebrate it, right?” he asked. 

“Oh,” you nodded, swallowing and slyly putting away the gift box you’ve been hiding from him. “W-we don’t?”

“I mean, we don’t celebrate holidays,”

“We do, though…” you replied weakly. Your heart dropped at Eddie’s teasing smile.

“Come on, princess. We don’t. We didn’t celebrate New Year’s Day or Christmas,” he countered before chuckling. 

“We baked cookies on Christmas day and spent New Year’s Eve with the kids,” you offered. “But…um, anyways…I know we don’t celebrate holidays,” you replied bitterly. “but I thought it’d be nice to get something for my boyfriend,”

Eddie’s teasing smile drops when he hears the waver in your voice. You were trying so hard not to frown, blinking the tears away when you bent down and retrieved a red and black box from your bag. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Eddie,” you smiled weakly. You ran off with your bag before Eddie could even say anything. He was just dumbfounded. He groaned before plopping on the bench, opening the box and seeing everything you’ve gotten for him—a guitar pick, a dice set, a mixtape, and a note. 

Happy first Valentine’s day, Eddie. I love you. 

Your boyfriend ran a hand on his face. It was the first time you told him that you loved him and he tanked it because he thought you weren’t the type to celebrate Valentine’s. What stupid reason made him believe so? You baked cookies for Christmas and exchanged gifts but Eddie thought that it was obligatory. You spent the New Year’s Eve together but isn’t that what couples do? Wasn’t Valentine’s Day just a small holiday? A holiday that greeting cards made up to increase sales? 

He felt stupid—of course you’d celebrate Valentine’s Day. It was going to be your first Valentine’s Day and you loved to celebrate things. Your first month anniversary, Eddie passing an exam…you loved to celebrate. So, why didn’t he think of celebrating this with you?

“Jesus Christ!”

-

“He said that we weren’t the type to celebrate Valentine’s day,” you told Nancy and Robin. As soon as you got home, you asked them if it would be okay to celebrate your Valentine’s together. They immediately agreed, bringing with them gifts, chocolates, and snacks. 

“He’s so dumb,” Robin replied. “Sorry. I was the one who planted that he might have a big surprise for you,”

“It’s okay, Robs,” you assured her. “I just…it kind of sucks because I was really looking forward to spending more time with him but I’m really thankful that you guys agreed to celebrate a day early. I don’t want to spend Valentine’s alone,”

“It’s alright,” Nancy replied. “Jonathan and I already called each other. We have the whole night free,”

“Pizza and cheesy romcoms?” you asked them. 

“Pizza and cheesy romcoms,” Robin replied. “Let’s watch the cheesiest ones! I brought some tapes from Family Video,” 

-

It’s not like Eddie could call anybody else. Hellfire was doing something and he hoped—at least that Steve Harrington didn’t bring anyone to a Valentine’s Dinner. 

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” he mumbled as he listened to Harrington’s phone ring. 

“Hello?”

“Steve!” he exclaimed. 

“Huh, you’re not on a date?” Steve asked. He was confused. Didn’t he have a girlfriend?

“I wouldn’t be calling if I was!” 

“Geez, sorry. Just wondering because you have a girlfriend and as far as I’m concerned, she’s really big on celebrations,” Steve explained.

“Look, sorry—I didn’t mean to be rude but can I come over?” 

“Sure.”

-

“So you’re telling me, you didn’t get her anything or do anything?” Steve asked. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t know she was the type to celebrate! I mean, I really thought that we only celebrated New Years and Christmas because it was an obligation since it’s such a big holiday,” he rambled. “I mean, I should’ve figured out that we’re supposed to celebrate it because it’s our first Valentine’s but I didn’t and now I feel terrible because she told me that she loves me and had this beautifully elaborate gift and I gave her nothing!” 

“Hold on,” Steve said. “She told you she loved you? You’re fucked,” 

“I know and I really love her and I don’t know if she’ll believe me because I gave her nothing!” 

“Just…explain everything, man. I’m sure she’d understand,” Steve assured. “I mean, obviously you fucked up but if you’re honest and you explain everything, I’m sure it’d be fine,”

“You really think so?” Eddie asked. Steve nodded. It was amusing to see Eddie so worried. He never usually worries and it’s true that Eddie had never had a girlfriend before. He’s been on a few dates, sure but never a girlfriend. It was quite entertaining, to say the least—the metalhead falling head over heels for Hawkins’ Sweetheart. 

-

The lights are on, but you're not home

Your mind is not your own…

“Jesus Christ, who’s playing songs in the morning?” Robin groaned, burying her head to the bed.

There's no doubt, you're in deep

Your throat is tight, you can't breathe

Another kiss is all you need

“Quit it!” Nancy added. “It’s like…five in the morning,”

Whoa, you like to think that you're immune to the stuff, oh yeah

It's closer to the truth to say you can't get enough

You know you're gonna have to face it, you're addicted to love

You groaned before checking to see where the song came from. Who in their right mind would play a love song at eight o’clock? You groggily waddled your way to the window. The sound came from outside, that you were sure. 

“Oh my god,” you gasped, altering Robin and Nancy.

“What? What?” Robin asked, sitting up.

“It’s Eddie,” you told them. “He’s outside!” 

Your friends ran towards the window and sure enough, Hawkins’ Eddie Munson was outside, standing on your porch carrying a boombox. 

“Oh my god,” 

“Oh my god,”

A teddy bear hugging a red heart was sitting on a foldable chair. Eddie’s black van was adorned with red and pink balloons. A big “I love you bear-y much” sign could be seen leaning on the van. 

You left your friends standing with their mouths wide open, running towards Eddie.

Eddie felt warmth on his cheeks when he saw Nancy and Robin but he didn’t care. He’s done worse things to get attention and this one would actually take the cake. His arms were wobbling but he didn’t care. He waited until you got out of your house, hair sticking out everywhere. 

“Hi, Eddie,” you greeted, a shy smile on your face. Eddie puts the boombox down before smiling at you. 

“Hello, princess,”

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, I wanted to apologize to you,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t celebrate Valentine’s with you yesterday. I, uh, didn’t know how to celebrate it and I didn’t know that you celebrated it. It’s all on me, though because it’s our first Valentine’s and we should’ve done something together and I just—I didn’t know. I’m really sorry,”

“Eddie—“

“Look! This teddy bear says I love you bear-y much and I love you bear-y much. I looked for the biggest bear I could find in Hawkins but if you don’t like the bear, I have these berries,” he stopped when he picked up a container of chocolate-coated strawberries that he and Steve made last night. “and it’s supposed to say that I love you berry much and I do love you. Please don’t break up with me. I promise to celebrate every holiday with you and make you feel important and special and—“

“Eddie! It’s okay,” you laughed. “You’re forgiven,” 

“I’m really sorry I have these chocolates—wait, I am?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Just…talk to me about things next time, okay? If we’re unsure about something, let’s talk about it and find a common ground,”

“Okay,” he nodded. “That…that’s actually good. I’ll learn everything about you…how to treat you the best and stuff,” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,”

“Question—were you gonna camp out here if I didn’t go out?” you asked.

“Yeah but I’ll definitely have to put the stereo down at some point. My arms almost gave up. It’s a good thing I have my charm with me, huh?” he asked, taking a step closer. 

“Yeah, really good thing,” you nodded, taking Eddie’s face and kissing him where you wanted to kiss him the most. 

TAGLIST: 

@rayodesol97 @moistmocca @munsonology​ @sadbitchfangirl​ @bebe0701​ @tayhar811​ @aol19​ @eddiesprincess86​ @undeadgirlsworld​ @rosemarythl @rosemary_thl @eddiethesexy​ @sister-cirice​ @weaslyslut01 @himynameisjeff​ @captainweirdo42​ @alyisdead​

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fan fic #angst #fluff #fan fiction #fan fic #fanfiction #fanfic #imagine #oneshot #one shot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #writers-hes valentines week

[cordyce]

hello ollie ollie…i picked “stop saying i’m jealous.  i’m not—  i just.  i don’t like having to share” from the prompt list and im thinking with either jake or joel !!! yiu can choose from the two kisses ur wrinkly brain

containing your–excitement? giddiness? thrill of finally having dirt that will weigh in your favor on a scuffed up scale? the specifics aren't important–is not easy. you're just catching your breath from dancing, something joel has opted out of doing in favor of playing a game of poker with his brother and a few others. so, really, if anything he's the reason for his own demise.

"a little birdie just dropped a message in my pretty little hands," you muse as you plop yourself across his lap. and he doesn't hesitate to snatch his arm around your waist so you don't fall backwards, but he doesn't look up from his cards.

a tell, if you've ever seen one.

"grimy, more like," he huffs, and it earns him a few chuckles around the table. not in the notion of poking fun at you, but because they, much like yourself, can see through his little puckered up facade.

(you bet it's because they've already gotten a grumbled out earful of it before you made your way over here. in fact, you'd put money on it. maybe the boys would let you borrow a few of their poker chips.)

"rude. anyways," you move right along, fingernails making work of scratching at the nape of your lover's neck. something like his achilles' heel per se. though you'd argue you're the entirety of his heel alone, regardless. "a little birdie told me you've got your panties in a wad over me. maybe stirred yourself a little bit jealous?"

this time, it's tommy who snorts out a laugh, placing his cards on the table and looking over to await his brother's response. joel's jaw ticks, the permanent crease between his brow deepening. you fight the urge to lean forward and kiss it.

"y'tell ellie to mind her own," he differs, placing his own cards down and sliding a single chip to the middle of the table, "and i ain't jealous."

"aht aht, i said birdie, not ellie. i won't incriminate my source," and out of the corner of your eye you can see said source listening in from the edge of the dancefloor herself. "and it's okay to be a little jealous. it just goes to show how much you love me."

he clenches his teeth. "i'm not."

"you sure are, and that's okay. i mean, jealousy is a totally normal feeling when seeing someone else dance with your partner. especially when it's someone like marcus. he's so good on his feet. did you see? the spin move he did with me? yeah, i'd probably be jealous too. in fact, i think i'd be so jealous that–"

"stop it," joel interjects, low voice cutting through in a way that sends shivers all the right places. you've done it; poked the bear until he roared. how uncouth of you. and joel wonders where ellie gets it. "stop saying i'm jealous.  i’m not—  i just.."

he takes a breath, tightens his grip on your waist and slides his free hand up and over your thighs that are draped over his legs. he levels you with a stern look, but it isn't mean, or callous, or overtly commandeering. it's grounding.

"i don’t like having to share."

and somebody else, a lesser person maybe, might find it hard not to shrink under his stare. but not you. no, you simply wind your arms a little tighter around his neck, lean in real close. you test the waters like you have no fear of drowning. and maybe you don't—not in the deep abyss that is joel.

"you wouldn't have to share me if you would simply come and dance."

honestly, it's meant to be just another tease. so maybe that's why a yelp squeaks out of you as joel stands up from his seat with zero hesitation, your weight being nothing to the arm he still has secured around you.

there's hoots and hollers from the poker table as joel whisks you off to the (previously forsworn and abhorred) dance floor, and ellie bubbles up a laugh and shout of her own as joel side steps a little awkwardly to the song they have playing. and you, well. you find that jealously is ironically a bit cute coating his worn and dejected features.

#ohhhh he makes me sick #blurb #joel miller x reader #joel miller blurb

[lewdiverse-archive]

Fetish Alphabet ask

After seeing quite a few of these floating about I've decided to make one myself, though for more taboo/extreme kinks as well as situations not commonly found on asks like these~

These are designed to be asked for both Mun and Muse/Muses alike (at the discretion of the person reblogging). Each letter comes with questions though feel free to ask more as well as ones which are already stated~

Please remember that anything discussed from these are purely based within kink and fantasy, not a reflection of the views of myself or anyone whom reblogs this. As such the receiver has the right to refuse to answer.

A - ageplay: Do you enjoy it? What kind specifically? Do you prefer playing older or younger?

B - bimbofication: Is this something you enjoy? To what degree? Are you the Bimbo or the one making them?

C - cuckold/quean/cake: Which of the four roles are you; Cuckold/quean or Bull/Cuckcake? What level do you enjoy this to? Who do you enjoy cucking/being cucked by?

D - dehumanisation: To what degree do you enjoy this? What do you enjoy being instead?

E - events (raves, festivals, ceremonies): Are there events you particularly enjoy being lewd at, such as weddings or ceremonies? What about raves or festivals, both small and large?

F - foodplay: Is there any food you particularly enjoy?

G - gags: What's your favourite kind of gag? Do you use these purely in the bedroom or elsewhere?

H - hypnoplay: Are you the hypnotist or the patient? What do you enjoy being made to do/making your patient do? Is hypnosis about control to you, or more?

I - intoxplay: What's your pick of poison? Is there such thing as taking too much?

J - jizz: Do you enjoy giving or recieving cum? Is there a favourite place you like shooting/taking cum? Do you enjoy cumplay?

K - knife play: Do you prefer holding the knife or having it held to you? Do you have a favourite blade, if so what is it like?

L - licking: Do you enjoy using your tongue/having a tongue used on you? Where do you enjoy being licked/licking?

M - molestation: Are you the molester or the molested? Where do you like to feel/be felt? What kind of setting do you enjoy?

N - nails: Do you enjoy natural or fake nails? Do you prefer good looking fingernails or toenails? Do you enjoy a particular colour/pattern?

O - orientation play: Do you enjoy your orientation being involved in kink? Do you enjoy changing a persons' orientation/having yours changed?

P - powerplay: Do you enjoy the changing of power in a scene? Do you prefer going from top to bottom or bottom to top?

Q - question: A free space to ask about a kink not listed here (because what kink starts with a Q anyways)

R - raceplay: Do you think there's one superior race or that one in particular is inferior? Do you enjoy using your race as a reason for dominance or submission? Do you enjoy any particular race, either real or fictional?

S - somno: Do you enjoy being the sleeping person or using the one who is sleeping? Do you enjoy purely sex or teasing?

T - tattoos: Do you find tattoos attractive? Are there any in particular you like? Would you get/have somebody get a tattoo for purely kink/sexual reasons?

U - unusual toys: Do you enjoy using objects that aren't exclusively designed as toys? What are some things you've used? Do you have a particular favourite?

V - villains: Are you a whore hero or a sultry villain? Do you enjoy breaking heroes/being broken by villains?

W - worship: Do you enjoy being worshipped or worshipping? What is your favourite thing to worship/have worshipped?

X - X rated places: Have you ever been to an X rated place i.e. sex shops, adult cinemas, brothels, ect? What is the Likelihood you would go to one? Where would you want to go?

Y - your choice: The reciever of the ask picks one of the letters to answer. The one asking chooses who the ask is for.

Z - zombie apocalypse: Do you enjoy the idea of a lewd apocalypse? What creatures would you want to see besides zombies? Would you rather be a survivor or part of the horde?

#prompt #prompts #alphabet ask

[purgeturbia]

i've been working on something for... quite a while. i'm not ready to share the whole thing yet (read: it's not even close to being finished), but this part of it, while mostly unedited, can stand pretty well on its own, so have a little bit of smitten obi-wan. as a treat.

*eta bc i forgot the first time: ~2k, canon-typical mentions of death but nothing graphic, mostly fluff

the rest of the work is not like this.

-

XXXVII. START WARS AND BURN CITIES

When he and Cody and the 212th had liberated planets from the Separatists — although he muses, now, that they had not done much liberating at all, if the end result was the desolate fear-space the galaxy has become — there had often been more time spent cleaning up the aftermath of their battles than there had been actually fighting. The machine of war was not a tidy one, and Obi-Wan hated to leave innocent people in a worse state than he had found them. 

Often, during these pseudo-recovery times, he was excluded from the physical labor. Cody tended to push Obi-Wan off into the command tent to fill out the hundreds of forms that came with successful completion of a campaign, saying, “There are thousands of vod’e, sir, and only one of you,” but Obi-Wan saw it for what it really was — a chance (an order) to rest “for once in your kriffing life, General.”

Obi-Wan, after the first few campaigns, never argued. Crash would be on his ass for trying to help with cleanup anyway, and he did so despise being hauled to the medbay. 

Though his stack of requisition forms and reports to write and casualty lists was always far larger than he cared to admit, Obi-Wan was, despite his field ban, never one to sit idle in command after a battle. He would, instead, crank out as much flimsiwork as he could before his body began to ache with the stillness of it all, and then he would mingle with the troops. The shinies, especially, were emboldened by his presence among them. They were so young, even the veteran troopers, and anything he could do to ease the pain of a life defined by war was an obligation, even if it was just a kind word here or there. 

He was never content with the mental state of his men. Even after a decisive victory, or a battle with minimal casualties, or a skirmish with none at all, there was a sharp edge to their presences in the Force. Their hands shook ever so slightly and their smiles were never quite genuine and their eyes were constantly moving, observing, calculating. 

The war lived inside all of them, himself included. The thing was, though, that Obi-Wan had had those few glorious years, before Qui-Gon and Bandomeer and Melida/Daan and the rest of his life that had come crashing down around him and never stopped, where there was no war in his bones. 

His troops had been born with the war in them, and that was a pain he could not take away.

Even so, he would move through the camp like a fish through water, dropping hands to pauldrons and calling greetings across the expanse of tents. He would bring rations and fill canteens, and linger around medical looking for tasks until Crash told him to stop lurking and go bother somebody who would appreciate it. He’d always wiggled his eyebrows afterward, though, and told Obi-Wan very dramatically where Cody had gotten off to, so it was easy to see that he was never truly upset. Obi-Wan, in return, would blush about sixteen shades of red and very pointedly stalk off in the opposite direction of wherever Cody happened to be.

It was on one such occasion, on a forested planet Obi-Wan can no longer remember the name of, that he had turned away from Crash (and, he’d thought, Cody), only to stumble upon his commander preparing to direct half of Phantom Company through the process of removing a fallen tree that had crushed a house and blocked most of the packed-dirt road stretching through one of the little settlements they’d come planetside to defend. Obi-Wan could have moved the tree himself in a matter of seconds, but. Cody had told him to stay out of the cleanup, and one of his least favorite things in a time with many unpleasantries was upsetting Cody.

So he’d lingered on the outskirts, observing. Phantom acted, of course, as a well-oiled machine, and though fierce pride for his men bubbled up in his chest, Obi-Wan allowed himself a moment of indulgence. He leaned against a still-standing tree just behind the houses across the way from the crushed one, and watched Cody work. He was a study in professionalism, in genius, even when faced with a task so simple as moving debris. Cody burned with a focused intensity that matched the sunburst on his armor as he paced around the tree, and they had spent long enough nights hunched together over sims and holotables that Obi-Wan could easily guess the questions being mentally asked and answered in quick succession: how heavy is the trunk? How many troops do I need to lift it? If we apply more leverage here, will the house be more damaged or less? 

It struck Obi-Wan then that he had not had time for fanciful things like poetry since the war’s beginning — but then again, maybe he didn’t need it. Maybe it had been right in front of him all along.

It was in the midst of this realization that he was pulled out of his thoughts by a presence at his elbow. When he turned, it wasn’t a clone, as he’d been expecting, but one of the locals; a wizened old woman leaning on a painstakingly carved wooden cane. She was not looking at Obi-Wan, but at the troopers as they worked. She was looking at Cody.

She had spoken before Obi-Wan could. “Strange, isn’t it.”

He waited a beat, and then another. She was silent beside him. “That would depend on what it is, I suppose,” he said eventually.

She laughed, though it was more of a huff than anything. The indulgent sort of laugh that comes from a person who knows a joke has been made but who doesn’t really feel like laughing. “All of this. The war, the clones. The Jedi, leading them. You’re not meant for this, are you.”

It wasn’t a question, so he didn’t answer it. “You know,” he murmured, “you’re the first person … outside of all this, to notice that.”

She laughed again. It was no more sincere than the first time. “Am I really on the outside, Master Jedi?” she asked. “Are any of us?”

Obi-Wan knew she was right, so he merely inclined his head. Cody was positioning Phantom around the tree. It looked like his plan was to heave it up and over the houses and the road using applied leverage from the base, and dismantle it for lumber once its position was no longer an immediate problem. It was a good plan, very practical, very Cody, and Obi-Wan couldn’t quite keep a small smile from creeping across his face. 

He startled when the woman spoke again. “Is it worth it, then?”

Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed and he hummed, confused. To protect the innocent, of course the war was worth it. He wasn’t meant for it, none of the Jedi were, but he would fight it a thousand times over to save those who could not save themselves. Why would she ask him that? Why else would he be here?

He felt eyes on him, then, and turned to see the woman finally looking at him and not at his troops. Something in her face reminded him of Yoda, like she had lived a dozen of his lifetimes and known more than he could ever hope to learn. “Is it worth it,” she repeated, and continued, “for him.”

All of the breath left Obi-Wan’s body in a rush. He suddenly felt exposed, uncovered, though he was sure of his safety in the saber hung at his belt and his trusted men not forty meters away. Little gods. Two words was all it took to undo the great Negotiator. But he supposed nobody had ever come so close to his soul with two words before. He was, for the first time in a very, very long time, unsure of what to say.

“I —” he started, and stopped just as quickly, because he’d been about to defend himself, but there was no need to defend in a battle that was already over. He settled on, finally, “He is … very dear to me.”

“You would not have met him without this war.” Something in her voice was sharp, and he knew the words he spoke next would determine whether he passed a test she didn’t even know she was setting. “He would not even exist.”

He chose his response carefully. “No. But sometimes I think — perhaps it would have been a gift, for them, to never have lived at all.” He took a deep breath, steadying. “They have never known anything but war. They were bred for it, raised on it, and now they breathe it and eat it and it haunts their dreams. As much as the idea of it pains me, a galaxy without him in it, he would not exist without his brothers, and they would not exist without the war in their bones.” He turned back, toward Cody, who was helping lift the base of the tree, readying to swing it out away from the road. “How can that be worth it? The misery of millions for the happiness of one?”

The tree was suddenly standing again, propelled into the sky by Cody’s careful placement of force and the sheer brute strength of battle-hardened troopers. It wheeled above them for a moment, rotating, before crashing into the ground and sending up a cheer from the men. Obi-Wan was caught momentarily in the sunbeams of Cody’s victory smile, radiant, glorious, beautiful even from a distance. 

“You love him,” said the woman.

To hear the words out loud tore at something in him. He would never be able to say them himself, but he’d stopped denying the truth of them long ago. “Yes,” he said simply. “He deserves more than this, better than this. I would never wish this existence upon him, and in another life I would never claim this war to be worth it just so I might have the honor of —” the word loving stuck viscerally in his throat and he swallowed around it, “of knowing him again.”

Obi-Wan folded his arms tightly, wishing he had thought to bring his robes with him then, if only for something to do with his hands. Cody, having finished delegating the deconstruction of the tree, had spotted the odd pair and was heading over, bright with his success. 

The woman, looking at Cody and then back at Obi-Wan, huffed that strange not-laugh again. “If you win this war, Master Jedi, will it have been worth it?”

With Cody striding toward him, Obi-Wan was stuck between the sensations of a heart full to bursting with the pain of a love he could never truly have and the gut-punch realization that maybe, someday, he could. He barely managed to gasp out an “Oh, I —” before Cody was upon them, saying, “General, sir, I thought I told you to stay at camp,” but his smile betrayed him, and Obi-Wan found himself grinning back, breathless, and for a brief moment there was no war and no winning and no losing; there was only them, together, and the galaxy was theirs for the taking.

Now, the surface of Tatooine is dark and chilled. Wind whistles around the hut on the edge of the Dune Sea — a sandstorm will hit in the next few days, and in the morning they’ll need to start preparing. The memory of that woman comes back to him, unbidden, and he clings tighter to Cody, wrapped in his arms on Obi-Wan’s lumpy old bed. He thinks of Anakin, as much as it hurts to, and of the thousands of fallen Jedi, and of every clone forced to take the life of innocents, their bodies their own but not their minds. The war lost him everything, everyone, and everywhere he’s ever loved. But little gods. Cody is alive. He’s here, and safe, and they’re together again, his sunshine returned to him. Obi-Wan hates himself for it (hate leads to the dark — please, stop, please), but the worst parts of his soul are screaming it: maybe for this, this small salvation in the ruins, everything had been worth it after all.

#star wars #codywan #cody x obi wan #my writing #i made a whole ass spreadsheet for the gar including ocs for this fic #crash is my 212th medic. i love him #and phantom company is real TO ME. my baby children <3 #this fic is gonna be so fucking long when its done #please let me know what you think! don't be a dick but otherwise tell me things :)

[foxes-that-run]

Do you think Conplicated Freak is Haylor

Hi, thanks for this ask, it has been ages since I wrote one of these as I've been busy and I enjoyed it.

I think so because of Little Freak and the themes and because the muse is with someone else. Kendall was around that time, but I don't think she fits as well. I really like it too.

Complicated Freak

When was it written, what was going on

It was written between 19 February and 7 May 2016:

Harry said Sweet Creature was the first song he wrote "for the album" and it was a few weeks after his birthday, he was pictured in the studio 19 February.

It is one of the songs listed on the white board behind Harry when his hair was still long. He posted to Instagram that he cut it 7 May 2016.

This post about April 29 and the 2016 timeline which fits this song.

When it leaked

It was in the large leak with Trouble, Already Home, Anna and Medicine during Coachella 20 April 2022.... We all agree Harry should be paid for his music and I would love an album of his unreleased music. This large leak had interesting timing. Taylor had written YLM in December, in 17 April Harry played Boyfriends "To BFs everywhere F U", 19 April (2 years before TTPD) Drake randomly tweeted support to Taylor and then several Harry-Haylor songs leaked on 20 April.

Lyrics

[Verse 1] She got wrapped up in somebody else I'm wrapped up, stuck in love with myself I never saw this coming around But I miss her skin on me now

This verse reminds me of these photos. The first photo of the left was taken and extremely widely publicised 16 March 2016. He left LA and looked miserable in London that week, he got a parking ticket too. I would guess the song is written after he and Taylor both returned to LA 25 March, he was near the studio on 20 April, (after Coachella) and in a mood.

Harry had been tweeting, writing Sweet Creature and sounding very interested in Taylor x, x, x and x. (The second photo is 4 July 2015)

[Verse 2] Tip of my tongue she's pulling my hair I do what she wants anywhere Back seat of the car and up in the air But I miss how she kissed everywhere

This verse Harry is thinking back to when he was with the muse. The references to (hella good) hair, cars and planes are Haylor themes.

There was something in these early HS1 songs I tell you. Without You, is an earlier song, possibly from 2015, but has a really similar reference "Now you’re with him i must admit I’m missing / The part of your skin / You always liked me kissing"

[Chorus] I can't get you off my mi-i-ind I can't get you off my mi-nd I still crave it, complicated freak I still crave it, complicated freak I still crave it, complicated freak

Can't get you off my mind:

Harry has this exact line in Late Night Talking "Now you're in my life / I can't get you off my mind"

Adore you "Lately you've been on my mind"

Where do Broken Hearts Go "Mind is running in circles of you and me"

More on minds

Crave it - Harry and Taylor have linked their relationship to a drug, or addiction as a theme.

Also the title is like Little Freak and Pop Tarts "You're a dirty little monster"

[Verse 3] Turned up too late one too many times Bad choice of words in my alibi I guess I love crazy, out of your mind You lost your head, so I'll give you mine

I love the playful end to this verse. It's a nice furthering of the story from Pop Tarts "Walked you home but you said "Bonne nuit" / Should have known you don't give head out for free"

Crazy is a Haylor theme

#Haylor #Harry Styles #Unrelased #Complicated freak

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 28

Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board!

Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note.

I was lying last time. That wasn't a biggun. THIS is a biggun.

'Be careful, Dad.'

'I will, baby.'

I realize the others. 'Oh. And you too, I guess.'

'Real funny,' T-Dog signs, unimpressed.

The strongest of our group spare us no last glances as they turn away, with only five bullets and a handful of bolts between them. I sit next to Lori on the small bench, watching their backs retreat. The Thanton Memorial hospital. There it is, tall and beige like a school, but really more of a Hellbox filled with nasty surprises behind each one of the hundreds of little black windows. Glad it ain't me.

God. Nine miles. Two days. Sharpsburg, East of nowhere. We really made it. I guess I knew we would.

'You know this place.'

Herschel's already looking at me when I turn to him, his moustache curled around a smile.

'Just a feeling,' He adds.

'You're a mind reader,' I decide, regarding him with suspicion.

Herschel Greene; a wizard disguised as a Georgian farmer. I knew there was something up with him.

He doesn't respond, because I guess he don't want his cover blown. That or... Well, he's waiting for an answer.

'My Momma lived in this town.' Is all I supply him with after a time, because it ends the same way most stories do.

'I'm sorry.'

I shrug. It ain't anybody's fault. 'I don't know why I didn't tell nobody.'

'This town means something to you. We don't always share things like that.'

I guess. 'What about your Momma?'

'My Mother died when I was fairly young.' He admits easily, like somebody at peace. 'One day, my brother and I noticed she'd gone out into the rain to water the plants, and things were never quite the same for a long time after that.'

Oh. I've heard of that. People getting old, forgetting where their bedroom is, who their kids are.

It's hard to imagine Herschel as just a boy with a Momma.

Some days, it's even hard to imagine myself as just a girl, even though that's what I still am.

I offer him a lame smile.

'Let's talk about something a little happier,' He suggests, while over his shoulder, a flashlight glares across the inside of one of the second storey windows. 'I'm starting to think it's the end of December. That would mean it's Christmas soon.'

The light disappears.

I ignore it.

If only them pharmacies we checked this morning had anything in them besides rat shit and dust.

'Jesus' birthday party,' I muse.

That gets him to laugh. I think he's tryna distract me. 'Yes. It could even be tomorrow.'

'Really? How do you know?'

'Well, I suppose I don't. Do you like Christmas?'

Everybody likes Christmas. That is, at least, everybody likes presents.

'Yeah. My Meemaw had a really pretty tree.'

'The minute it turned December first, Maggie and Beth would always force everyone to put up ours.'

'Do they believe in Santa Claus?'

'Not anymore, I'm afraid.'

'And you?'

His eyes glint mischievously. 'Of course I do.'

I consider it. 'I don't think I do. I don't believe in the Easter Bunny, neither.'

Or God, but that's a different story.

'They didn't ever come to your house?'

'They came a few times, but I think they forgot about us. My friend Dylan said they're made up. The Christmas after that, I stayed up late to spy on Santa, but I just saw Merle and Dad carrying presents in from the truck. I never told them.'

'I guess Santa was too busy that night.'

'If he is real, I hope he's okay. The Easter bunny has lots of chocolate to eat, but... Santa might be hungry.'

I wonder if the walkers have made it to the North Pole yet. Knowing those assholes, they definitely have.

'You forget; — Santa has magic.'

'That's how he makes the sleigh fly, right?'

'Right. And all those cookies and all that milk... Well. He's got more than enough to last a lifetime.'

'So, you think he's okay?'

'I'm sure of it.'

'I would like some cookies and milk, too.'

The old man only laughs again, giving my knee a gentle pat as Carl leans forward, his mouth moving around some words.

When the boy gestures to me, Herschel translates.

'He asked me what we were talking about. He wants to tell you it's okay; Santa forgot about him too, one year.'

Carl sends me a thumbs up, trusting that the message got across well enough.

It did. I feel my smile widen.

It's wiped away when Lori suddenly lurches forward between us. Her chest wracks, wracks, wracks, a soft wad of phlegm flying past her lips and landing at her feet. My hand goes to her shoulder, squeezing reassuringly, as if that's gonna do anything useful. Her lungs, they must be clogged up like sponges filled with yoghurt, all that sickness and junk coming back up the way it went in.

Herschel's on his feet, bringing his thin hand down on her back, knocking the phlegm out of her.

I glance over my shoulder.

Lights; more of them, swooping over the glass, appearing and disappearing and reappearing.

A gunshot lighting up a window.

Please be okay, I think. Lori won't make it like this.

Facing forward again, Lori's got her hand splayed over the base of her throat, coughing dryly. She takes the water bottle Carol is offering to her, and gulp, gulp, gulps down the last of what's inside, deflating when she's done, cradling her big belly.

Are you okay, I ask aloud as I loosen my grip on her, hoping it sounds how it's supposed to sound.

She smiles at me in the slightest of ways, putting her hand over mine before I can pull it away.

She nods, I'm okay, honey.

I nod back, because that's good. I don't believe her for a second, but that's good.

'There was a gunshot,' Beths signs to me, then.

'I know. I saw.'

She continues signing even as she turns to Herschel, a habit by now. 'That was loud.'

'Don't worry. Anything that heard it will be too slow to make their way over here.'

'I hope so.'

We sit without talking after that, watching the windows of the hospital light up with gunshots every now and then, as if it were a football game on TV. I count them, the flashes. The one I saw while Lori was coughing, that's one. That one there, that's two.

Rick used to talk about the day he woke up in the Grady Memorial Hospital sometimes. Right now, the only parts of the story I can remember are the ones where he'd hesitate to continue, staring at something in the fire the rest of us couldn't see, before he muttered about the way there wasn't one wall in the entire building that wasn't dirtied with blood, not even in the children's ward.

Hospitals just ain't what they used to be, is what I learned from him.

There's definitely more than just rat shit and dust in there.

I glance at Beth, asking her, 'Any noise?'

Her lips crumple into a thin line as she answers, 'Nothing.'

Just when I swear Herschel is about to bow his head and start praying, the front doors swing open.

Mouse perks up, his tail ramrod straight.

That's Dad, T-Dog, and Maggie walking out.

Where's Rick and Glenn?

The three of them are panting, dishevelled, but nobody hurt. Nobody bit. That's always the first thing I look for.

Thing is, though, they're all looking at me like I've won a shitty prize and I just don't know it yet.

What now?, I almost feel like saying, but don't.

The further in we walk, the darker it gets.

Does anybody really like the dark?

The flashlights carve out pockets in the walls and floors around us as we make our way down corridor after corridor. My heart skips a beat each time we pass the body of a patient or a nurse or a person in regular clothing, all with a bolt or a bullet buried somewhere inside them. We sidestep their limp arms in turn, their puddles of blood. I ain't ever been in a horror house before, but I imagine this is worse. I imagine it'd prolly feel a whole lot less like you're being walked to the gallows for execution, and that the blood would be fake.

If I had my locket, it would be clutched between my fingers right now, but the soft spot beneath my throat is completely bare. When I woke up this morning to my empty palm, I knew right away what'd happened. I didn't bother to ask what he did with it.

Passing another body with a bolt skewered through its face, my Dad reaches for it, pulling it out.

Clicking it back onto his bow, he notices me watching him.

'Keep going, baby.' He signs to me, black blood smeared down the side of his neck. 'Not far, now.'

T-Dog comes to a stop in the middle of the corridor a minute later, his flashlight revealing Glenn and Rick standing together just up ahead. Not hurt. Not bit. They look up from what they've been doing, which looks like taking turns kicking the wall.

T-Dog lowers the flashlight to their feet.

There it is.

The Harley-sized hole in the wall.

Now that I'm looking it, I can see what they meant. Nobody else is fitting through that thing, not even Carl.

Still no use, is the sentiment written all over Rick's face.

It looks like they've tried their best to widen the gap, but it's made out of solid brick and we're fresh outta jackhammers.

Will she fit? 

Yeah, I think so, Is the gist of what I can tell they're saying to each other.

We got this piece off here, but it the rest isn't budging. We don't have any bullets left to shoot it.

Maybe... we can do what I said before? Find another pharmacy?

Sure. When you find one within twenty miles of here, you let me know.

You're right. That was dumb. Sorry.

There are no other options. The medicine Lori needs is in that room, and it's like I said. She won't make it, otherwise.

'Listen. There are keys on the desk.' Dad explains to me, his stern expression contoured harshly by the flashlights surrounding us. He takes my wrist, guiding me to crouch with him at the base of the wall, pointing through the cracked bricks. I strain to make out the desk with the keys at the back of the room on the other side, before I meet his gaze again. 'Do you see them?'

'Yeah. I saw them.'

The desk ain't the only thing in there.

'We need you to grab them and unlock the door for us.'

We both know I also saw the walker standing idly in the corner, head bowed to the floor, waiting.

'We'll be able to kill it when the door is open.' He adds when I don't respond, as if he needed permission. 'I can't from here.'

'My heart is beating fast.'

He nods. 'That's a good thing. And this meathead is dumb. Are you dumb?'

I puff my chest out, shaking my head.

'That's right. You don't need to hear them when you're smarter than them. You're always smarter than them. Okay?'

'Okay.'

That's what he's told me ever since I went totally deaf. I don't need to hear them when I'm smarter than them. It's not as if we've had the opportunity to test the theory out, since there's so little walkers that I ain't had to kill one yet, but I trust him.

Twisting around, he gestures for Glenn's flashlight and catches it easily, giving it a few test clicks.

He hands it to me. 'Remember what I taught you?'

I give a nod, feeling the weight of Merle's knife sitting in the sheath on my thigh.

'Good. And be careful of the glass on the floor, okay?'

'Okay. I got this.'

I can do this. I gotta, for Lori and the baby. It'll make for a funny story one day, anyway. I can do it.

'You got this.' He agrees. 'It's gonna smell you, but you're not gonna panic. Easy stuff.'

'Easy stuff. Okay.'

'Okay?'

'Okay.'

With one last look at the group, I take a deep breath and grab onto one of the exposed bricks, contorting myself until my head and one of my arms is through the gap. I pause for a moment, trying not to breathe too much as I watch the walker follow invisible patterns along the floor with its eyes. Once its head is tilted away from me, I brace my hand on the floor, pushing myself through.

Oh, God. What was it I just said? I can do this?

The flashlight blinks on and off as I land on the other side, grabbing it, giving it a shake.

The desk is illuminated in a circle of light, centre stage.

The dead body twitches in the shadows. I slowly get to my feet, silently warning it to stay right where it is if it knows what's good for it. I'm smart. I can read and write now, and my Dad taught me how to stab the thigh first, so the walker will collapse and make it easier for me to reach whatever cavity I can stick my knife in. If this thing gets too close to me, it's gonna get the Dixon treatment.

Uh huh. That's right, I scold it, chin held up. The Dixon treatment. Ain't nobody want that!

The pieces of glass on the floor glint in the light as I tip toe my way through them, stepping up to the desk.

Dad said the keys are here. I saw them. They should be right here amongst these dusty papers — Ugh, God, don't sneeze. Don't. — or maybe even on this folder? What about the shelves above the desk? How could they just disappear?

When I turn the light on the walker, it's looking at me, eyeballs wet, reflecting the light.

It's smelt me.

That's okay. I'm okay. We knew it would.

It starts its slow shuffle towards me as I turn my attention back on the desk, casting about it twice as quickly now, batting the alarm clock, the pen pots, the stethoscope, everything out of my way and following all the pencils and random office supplies down to the floor. Kneeling, I look around, making sure the keys haven't gone down with them or fallen between the desk and the cabinets.

A glint of metal.

I gasp. They have!

I must've accidently knocked them off while I was choking back all that dust in my face.

I stick my hand into the slim gap, but — Ugh. — I can't get it any farther than my knuckles!

I'll have to make it wider.

Abandoning the flashlight, I grab the side of the desk, using all my strength to shove it even just one inch to the side.

Shit, it's heavy. They got bowling balls in here, or what?

The wheelie chair bumps into my ankle. I act on instinct, my hands shooting out, bracing against it. I look up. The walker's slouched over it, reaching for me. My elbows, they buckle. Shit. The seat slams into my shoulder — Ouch! — but you know what. This'll do. This works. I just need these stupid keys. I ignore the walker and its stench of old meat, focused on nothing but the keys.

I'm not gonna panic. It's what I used to do, but I've learnt since then. I'm better!

A couple shoves, and the gap is just wide enough, wide as it's ever gonna be.

Easy stuff. Easy stuff.

The seat suddenly gives way. The body rolls, cracking its cheekbone on the floor. Don't matter. I got the keys. I'm back on my feet and running to the door, feeling out a random key and shoving it in the lock, twisting it. It's the right one. The door opens.

Maggie pulls me out by the arm. It's if there's a fire blazing behind me and I'm about to go up in flames.

That's it. I'm out!

I fall into her stomach, protectively held there.

Thank whoever's still up there. Or maybe, just thank me.

Rick and Dad push past my shoulders, marching into the room and unsheathing their blades, powerfully driving them both into the walker's skull. Blood splatters as they yank them out, droplets landing across the glass cap of the flashlight on the floor. It tints the light and everything it's cast onto a bright red, flickering. Dad picks it up, wipes it on his thigh, and hands it back to Glenn.

Grinning proudly to myself, I hold up the keys up like a trophy head for everyone to see.

Maggie releases me, smiling breathlessly down at me in relief.

'Well done,' T-Dog exclaims with his hands, sharing a high five with me.

Kneeling in front of me, Dad cups my face in his hands. He don't give a damn about the keys. Are you okay?

'I'm okay. The keys were down the side of the desk. I couldn't reach them. I had to—,' Shoving at the air, I enthusiastically mime the struggle, making Maggie chuckle behind her hand. 'The walker was trying to get me through the chair.'

He smiles, wagging his thumbs across my cheeks before lowering his hands. 'I told you. Meatheads. But not you.'

'Not all the time, anyway.'

'You should've come back out when you couldn't find the keys.'

'Sorry.'

'It's alright. There won't be a next time. You did good.'

Then, taking the keys from me, he stands back up and returns to Rick's side in the dark room.

I stay right beside Maggie and Glenn as they make quick work of the storage room door, pushing it open. Their torches illuminate the shelves on either side of them, which to everyone's relief, are completely untouched, lined with all kinds of medicine. It wasn't all for nothing. Without bothering to read many of the labels, they swoop their arms through the masses of bottles, catching everything in their open backpacks and zippering them back up, before nodding to each other and stepping back outta the small room.

Let's go, Rick says as he shoos us forward. We're all eager to get the Hell outta this place.

Stepping through Thanton Memorial's broken glass doors, daylight breaks across my face.

The fresh, cold air floods into my dusty lungs.

When Carl spots me, it's like the bench burns his ass. He's calling my name as he comes running at me, crushing me in a hug that almost sends us both toppling over into the snow. A giggle is squeezed from me as I hug him back, feeling my bones creak under the pressure. Wow. For somebody who ain't eaten anything other than a bit of rabbit for the past two days, he sure is strong.

Pulling away, he holds both my shoulders as he worriedly exclaims something to me.

You're the coolest, bravest person ever, I'm gonna assume is what he's saying, I don't know how you did it!

He pulls me in for another, quicker hug.

When Herschel appears over his shoulder, I get the real story. 'He's telling you we were all very worried.'

Oh. Is that right?

Ow!, The boy scoffs as I land a punch to his shoulder, forcing him offa me.

'Tell him he's talking to Harley Dixon,' I say.

As the sentiment is passed on, Carl rolls his eyes at me, making a retort.

'He wants to remind you of the time he hugged you after you cried from a nightmare.'

Ow!, He complains again when I punch him.

As he rubs sorely at his shoulder, he can't help but giggle along with me.

'Come on,' Herschel interrupts us, herding the two of us back toward the group. 'Very well done, sweetie.'

'I was only a little scared.'

'Of course. This is Harley Dixon I'm speaking to, isn't it?'

Too right. 'Yes, it is!'

Stepping up to the crowd, we gather around the bench as Rick takes a seat next to his wife, uncapping the bottle of water in his lap. Her face looks awful pale-like, paler than the snow packed under our boots. Still, despite the effort it must take, she manages a smile. Her hands shake as she takes the water, watching Rick tap a small bottle of pills against her open palm until two tumble out. 

Being trapped in that room was one of the scariest things I've done. I can say that, now. But as she tips her head back and swallows the pills down with a gulp of water, I'm hit with the feeling that I would do it all over again if I had to.

She sighs, body swaying. We can only hope that it works.

As Rick soothes circles onto her lower back, his gaze accidently meets mine.

'Thank you', He signs, looking like he means every bit of it.

His blue eyes start to water just like they did last night, except there ain't no fire I can blame it on this time.

I only give him a single, shy nod, grabbing onto my Dad's hand. He don't need to thank me. I love Lori, too.

Then to everyone else, he says it again; Thank you.

Carl's hugging me again.

I don't bother punching him this time. I don't wanna do it, anyway.

Being back in Sharpsburg is different to what I thought it would be.

Aside from the old blood smeared across the roads, the way everything seems to have gone through a nightmare and fell back asleep shortly afterward, Sharpsburg is the one place we been that has not bothered to rot away quite yet. There ain't no bombing craters where parks or stores used to stand, no toppled police barricades, army trucks, no bruises from the week everything ended.

Petey's general store is still exactly where it always was, right next door to the news agency, the record store, the locksmith. I don't keep my head down like I planned to. I don't pretend I never knew this place, or the people in it, because I did. I hold my chin up to the light of the setting sun as we walk through the forgotten town, unafraid of the memories I can see behind each and every door.

You know this place. I did. I do. For a long while, it was pretty much the only thing I knew.

Each weekend, I would jump out of Dad's truck the second he pulled up on the handbrake, door slamming as I ran into my Mama's open arms. It would be late afternoon, sometimes twilight. There was no school the next day, no quizzes or beatings to worry about. Not on the good days, not when I was cruising down the sidewalk on my bike with a dollar note in my hand, on my way to Petey's. He would always insist on letting me pick an ice cream out for free, but it never worked. Have-it-her-way-Harley, he always called me, the nickname a hearty chuckle in his mouth. The wind was in my hair on the way home, because I had one back then, dollar note replaced with a fruity-flavored glob of ice cream frozen to a stick. Sugar melting onto my fingers, washed away in the play pool after dark.

I used to do things like that. We all did, I suppose.

As we pass by an empty parking lot, I notice the rainbow streamers of a lonely, fallen bike blowing around in the wind like a white flag. I wanna ride a bike again. Just for a minute. Maybe two, I think, as I hold my gaze on it for as long as I can.

Eventually, we make it to a park. Of course, I recognise this place as well, and so does my Dad.

That's why I can feel him staring at the back of my head.

I never stopped to think about how he knows Sharpsburg, too. He was right there with me on the porch of Petey's store, most the time, smoking cigarettes in the sun with melted ice cream drying out on his collarbones. He remembers it, too.

We used to come to this park all the time; me, Momma, and Dad, on the rare days they got along.

I got to pretend I was a different kid looking in on the three of us and thinking, What a nice family. I wish I was her.

Now, the monkey bars look more like the giant ribcage of an old beast rather than something I'd wanna play on.

A shrivelled walker, curled over the seat of one of the swings, lets the wind brush its fingers along the ground.

Everyone has a Before.

Even that walker.

Even if our Befores were all very different, at least our Afters are all the same. We're all here, sick, hungry, tired.

The park's trees and fences fall away after a while of more walking, making way for a suburban street.

Coming to a stop in the middle of the road, the ache in my feet worsens to a pang, pang, panging.

'Everything alright?' Glenn's asking me as a wave of tiredness suddenly washes over me.

'My feet hurt.' I answer. 'And don't say sorry.'

'I think we're going to stop soon. Don't worry.'

Rick considers the houses lined up in front of us, hands on his hips, as Dad walks up to us. 'What's wrong?'

'Her feet hurt. And are you tired?'

I could fall asleep right here in the snow. 'A little.'

Even when I was lost in the woods outside Herschel's farm, I still don't think I ever walked this much and for this long.

Giving me a regretful look, Dad offers, 'Do you need me to carry you?'

'I'm a big girl,' I tell him, yawning.

'I know. I asked you a question.'

They wait on my answer. I think about fighting it a minute longer, but I just don't have it in me. I'm reaching up for my Dad before I even realize it's what I'm doing, letting him lift me onto his chest as I wrap my arms and legs around him.

I could've definitely handled it. Yeah. It's just that, maybe it's okay if I don't for a while.

I can already feel my eyes drooping shut. I'm gonna fall asleep right here.

It's suddenly a lot easier to feel like just a girl, now.

My chin hooked over his shoulder, I watch through my heavy lids as Rick does a double take on something laying on the ground, turning to pick up what looks like a fallen street sign. The moonlight swells over the clouds, spilling onto the metal.

Brushing the frost off, he reveals the words, Bolton Drive.

Bolton Drive. To me, this was always just Dylan's street.

If we turn left here, there's some bigger houses down the way. I think it's prolly what my Dad's telling the group right now.

We're on the move again right after that, heading further into the suburbs. I'm saved from walking, instead snuggling into my Dad. It's almost impossible to shield my face from the oncoming winds as I peek out over his shoulder, the moon a silver ball in the sky behind us. I bet it's just about the only place left without any walkers, including the North Pole. If I were a bird, maybe I would forget all about Earth and just fly up there. I could look back down on it all like from a faraway window, watching as it slowly spins.

At a harsh gust of wind, I close my eyes, and the moon and all the stars vanish.

Sleep sweeps me up quickly. My mind floods with murky colors, then black, swirling like a shower drain.

When I open my eyes next, we're approaching a house I don't recognise.

'Shhhh,' Dad's soothing me, looking about as exhausted as I feel. 'It's alright. I'm putting you down.'

My feet slowly setting on the ground, Maggie takes my hand before I get the chance to feel the loss of Dad's warmth. We wait shivering at each other's side as the men clear out the house. Rick eventually sticks his head back out, waving us inside.

Climbing the porch, we huddle into the narrow corridor and spread out into the nearest room, the lounge room. Dad's already got a fire going for us as we make ourselves at home on the sofas, the hot breath of the flames quickly starting to melt the frost stuck to my coat. I hug myself, breathing deeply and slowly to try fight off the urge to fall right back asleep. As I notice Carl approaching, I scoot over to make room for him and his Momma, who settles her weight down on the sofa with the help of Maggie and Glenn.

I feel a little bad for being carried, even if I needed it. Lori made it all the way here on foot, deep into a sickness and carrying a baby inside of her. A lotta people might think a lady like her is weak, but they'd be wrong. There's many ways to be strong.

My Dad stands from where he was knelt by the fireplace, peeling off his beanie and sitting beside me.

As I look around the room, all I see are tired faces.

Mouse plops himself between my feet, the poor guy's fur ice-cold beneath my hands as I give him some pats.

We'll be warm soon, buddy, I think.

Everyone's attention is stolen when Rick steps up to the front of the room, fiddling with his beanie in his hands.

He gulps on nothing, nodding to himself. 

'I know we're all very tired,' Herschel translates for me as the words come, even though his arms must feel like they weigh a thousand pounds. 'Been tired for months. But let's just make the most of this and try to relax tonight. We've got a fire. We've got walls. Medicine. It's a Hell of a lot better than those garages back in Newnan. T and I will melt some snow for us to drink, and we got some food we just found in the kitchen. We'll take turns for watch through the night, but there's not much out there. You saw.'

Carol hesitates to raise her hand, shaking her head as she asks a question.

We turn back to Rick. 'I don't know. I don't like staying in one place long, but I'm thinking there's only a few more weeks left until Spring. It's not impossible to think we can tough it out here. There's not many other options right now.'

It looks like we're staying in Sharpsburg for a few more weeks, then. At least until the cold dies down.

There are worse places to end up.

'Try to warm up in the meantime.'

Leaving us to stew in thought, Rick and T-Dog pull their coats on tighter and disappear through the archway.

'You know something?' Beth asks after a minute or two, the only light in the room coming from the fire. It lends her face a pretty, dim glow as she glances at her Dad sitting next to her.  'Daddy thinks it's gonna be Christmas tomorrow.'

Oh, that's right. I'd almost forgotten.

Glenn sends him a, No shit?, sort of look.

'I just figured it would be about that time.' He explains, making Maggie light up. 'I have a sixth sense for it.'

My Dad scoffs, shrugging. 'Well, I don't have a calendar. Why not.'

Wait? Really?

'So, it's Christmas tomorrow?', I ask him, as if we ain't just making all this shit up.

Something so simple, the prospect of waking up on Christmas morning tomorrow even if it ain't in no official way, even if we ain't even got a tree, let alone a star to put on top of it, sparks excitement throughout the room. Yes, it's Christmas tomorrow. From the smiles breaking out on everyone's faces, Maggie giddily gripping onto Glenn to give him a shake, I can tell it's Christmas tomorrow.

Feeling just a little bit more awake than I did a moment ago, I exclaim again, 'It's Christmas tomorrow!'

My Dad seems to find this very amusing, smirking side-long at me.

There ain't much to say in the way of how our Christmases used to go, especially the ones after my second birthday, but I still remember seeing the church all lit up with decorations at night whenever we happened to drive past it. I always liked that.

Carl must exclaim the same thing I did with almost twice the energy, because Lori and Rick laugh.

'I can't believe,' Maggie gushes, 'I forgot about Christmas!'

'It's not your fault,' Glenn jokes, petting her shoulder. 'We've been busy trying not to die.'

'Good point.'

'I'm sure the Lord will forgive you,' Beth says.

'Yeah. He started all this shit, anyway.'

Maggie waves her hand around. 'Hey. A little respect for the Atheists in the room?'

When everyone turns to look at me and Dad, a round of laughter breaks out.

'We're only in it for the presents,' He agrees.

I nod. It's true.

'Me, too,' Glenn says.

'I just wish I we had some,' Beth pouts.

'We're alive,' Herschel argues, looking around at each person in the room. 'There's no present better than that.'

Aww. That cheesy line earns him a funny look from Maggie, who pulls him into a deathly-tight hug.

'I think there actually might be something better.'

Glenn sticks a finger up, standing and disappearing into the kitchen.

When he returns, he's cradling a bunch of shiny wrappers in his arms, dumping them all onto the coffee table. Snack packs. Crackers and cheese, salami and cookies, bread sticks, peanut butter. Those really are snack packs! What a lucky find!

Nobody hesitates. We all grab one, ripping the seals off and huffing the tasty smell that comes out.

'You just found these in there?,' Asks Beth.

'Yeah,' He answers, flopping back onto the sofa. 'They were in the pantry. There's cans, too.'

'I'm in love with whoever lived here.'

Mouse is staring at me as I pick up a piece of salami, so I toss it into his mouth.

I save the next one for myself, groaning at the nostalgic taste of school lunches.

'Better?' Glenn signs to me like a smartass, knowing damn well this is the best thing I ever tasted.

I stick my food-covered tongue out at him.

Blehhh!

Unexpectedly, he does the same thing back. Eugh. Gross!

When Carl notices what we're doing, he sticks his tongue out, too. Even grosser!

'Come on. Enough,' Dad tries to warn me, buts he regrets it a second later when a wet glob of salami lands in his lap.

This is what Rick and T-Dog walk in on as they come through the archway, holding cookware filled with chunks of snow and ice in front of them. My Dad's smacking the salami onto the floor as if it were fresh dog shit, Carl and I trying not to choke on our food, laughing at him. Mouse spinning in circles like a lunatic, spurred on by the chaos, making Carol laugh like she means it. Not that puny, polite little chuckle she does sometimes; a full belly laugh, holding onto Maggie for support. They was only gone a few minutes.

Rick smirks as he shakes his head, deadpanning something to the effect of, I see you found the food.

They set the cookware in front of the fire and join us on the sofas. 

'Why's everyone so happy?', Rick asks as he sits on the ottoman, confused, delighted, because there has to be a reason.

'It's Christmas tomorrow,' I gladly tell him.

'Oh, really?'

T-Dog asks the others, 'Wait, what? How do you know?'

'We don't.' Herschel admits, throwing Mouse a cube of cheese. 'But we deserve a Christmas, don't we?'

Yeah, I see the word slip from Rick's mouth.

'We deserve some eggnog, too,' T-Dog adds, making himself laugh just like he always does.

'Tell me about it.'

'Cover your ears, kids,' Carol tells us, even though she's laughing, too.

I hear that right? As the deaf one outta the two of us, I jokingly gesture to my ears. I can't hear shit, anyway!

As everyone laughs all over again, my Dad reaches out to try and cover my eyes, but I bat him offa me. Nice try.

'You got the card, now, kid.' T-Dog tells me, like it's some secret club I've joined.

'I got the what?'

'The card. I got mine, too. 'Oh, yeah? Is it because I'm black'?'

Carol smacks him. 'Whatever.'

'Next time your Dad gives you in trouble, you can pull the, 'Oh, yeah? Is it because I'm deaf?'

That's silly!

'Don't give her ideas.'

'Too late,' I grin devilishly. 'I got the card, now, Dad.'

He rolls his eyes, trying his best not to laugh, too.

'You can't do that, Harley.' T-Dog mimes. 'Oh, yeah? Is it because I'm deaf?'

'What did I just say?'

Sorry, man, T-Dog chuckles, biting on a tiny bread stick.

What's eggnog, Carl asks his parents curiously, reminding us why we're talking about 'cards' in the first place.

Eggnog is a milky-lookin' drink that got booze in it, which is why Rick and Lori brush off the question. I tried it once, during a party at my Meemaw's, after one of my Uncles shrugged and said, Fuck it. Tasted like garbage sprinkled with cinnamon.

'Let's just stick with what we have,' Herschel suggests. 'There must be some other traditions we can do?'

'Our family used to share a favorite moment from that year,' Beth says. 'Maybe we can do that?'

'That's a great idea, Beth.'

'I got one.' Glenn raises his hand. 'Finding that car in Atlanta.'

'Oh, that was good.'

'Sad we had to leave it.' He agrees. 'I also liked the time I fell into a dumpster after we left the CDC.'

'What?,' Maggie scrunches her nose at him.

'Looking back at it, it was pretty funny.'

God dang, I remember that day. I was sitting off to the side with Sophia, watching the scene unfold together.

'Morales had to grab your ass to pull you out,' I tease him.

Rick tries to hide the fact that he's chuckling, as Maggie asks him what he was doing in a dumpster.

'We'd lost everything. We were searching for supplies, but I saw some yellow boots and I wanted them for Harley.'

Everyone croons, Awwww.

'I remember those boots, actually.' Beths recalls. 'What happened to them?'

'I fed them to the cows,' I shrug, so I don't gotta bring up the farm, where I left them in our tent the night it all burned down.

'Hey. I risked my life for those boots.'

Rick corrects him, 'I think you risked your ass, is what she just said.'

'It's what I said.'

'I got one.' My Dad says, dipping a cracker in some peanut butter. 'The day we put Glenn in the well.'

'Remember how he squealed?,' T-Dog giggles.

'No,' Glenn tries to convince us, doing a very bad job of it. 'I don't remember that. Never happened.'

'That walker was next-level gross.'

Next in the line to share, I decide, 'My favorite moment is when I found Mouse.'

'He loves you, doesn't he?,' Maggie smiles.

I throw him another piece of salami, hoping that the answer would be yes.

Carl tells everyone his favorite moment from this year was sneaking off into the woods with me, but his parents both give him a look, so he wisens up and changes his answer to something a little less totally forbidden; going to shooting practice.

When it's Lori's turn, she mentions a time she pushed Carl on the Greene's swing.

Rick's favorite moment is beating Herschel at checkers, something that the old man lets him get away with sharing.

'Gotta be seeing Daryl wake up after surgery,' T-Dog says after that, startling me with how suddenly sentimental it is.

The firelight flickers back and forth on the rug for a few moments.

My Dad subtly replies, Thanks, man.

'I was gonna say that, too,' I say to be funny.

'Yeah,' Glenn backs me up. 'You totally were. In fact, I change my answer, too. Favorite moment; Meeting Maggie.'

The woman pouts up at him, grabbing his hand, threading their fingers together.

'I change mine, too.' Dad says. 'The moment I found out Harley wasn't bitten.'

'That's mine, too.'

'Me, too,' Just about half the group nod, agreeing.

Then, everyone's coming up with different answers, talking over the top of each other. Bringing Harley back safe from the gas station, is T's second answer, but he also has a third and fourth and a fifth, because he just can't pick one. Making it outta the CDC alive. Finding the farm. Saving Glenn after he gave blood. Herschel's favorite moment is all the moments he's kept his daughters safe, an answer that earns him a big hug from both Maggie and Beth this time, because, I don't know what I'd do without my girls.

Rick and Glenn finding Daddy safe, Beth says, and then Maggie; That's mine, too.

I find myself with a hundred new answers, too. The moment Jacqui and I kicked up all them butterflies outta the grass as we ran to the house, after she told me my Daddy was alive. The morning Maggie made us scrambled eggs and tea for breakfast. All them times I shared a peach with someone while we sat in the sun. Lori making that joke about Maggie and Glenn being in love, and how I gagged at it back then. I can't forget about the time Carl hugged me as I cried, as Dad cut my hair, as I petted a cow's nose or fed a chicken.

All the little things and the big things, but also all the sad things. In a way, I'm grateful for them, too.

If Jacqui was here, or Sophia, or Momma or Meemaw, or my cousins, who could be anywhere by now, dead or alive, or Morales or Eliza or Louis or Miranda, who I ain't sure if I'll ever see again, or even our dog Tank, I like to think they'd be grateful for me, too.

'I told you, didn't I?,' Herschel smiles. 'No better present.'

After that — After Glenn starts to tear up and we all tease him for it — We decide to wrap it up for the night.

'I love you guys,' He blubbers, like we didn't already know, like we haven't almost died for each other a hundred times over.

Okay, buddy, Dad's saying, reaching to pat his shoulder.

'I think it's time to turn in.'

Beth covers her mouth as she yawns. 'Yeah. I'm so tired.'

'Tell me if anybody sees Santa Claus,' T-Dog says non-committedly.

'I'm going to grab the blankets and pillows from upstairs.' Rick announces, standing up. 'Who's on first watch? Me?'

I'll do it, My Dad offers, letting Maggie comfort Glenn, but he's turned down.

He was frostbitten from head to toe only yesterday. I wouldn't let him out there, neither.

I can do it, T-Dog decides, and that's that. 'Maybe it'll be me that sees him.'

No fair, Carl whines.

Rick leaves and brings back down a whole bunch of bedding that he plops on the floor, giving everyone free reign to pick out what they want as T makes himself scarce. I pull out a small pillow and what must be a toddler's blanket, letting Dad help me get settled on the sofa. I lay with my head against one arm rest, Carl resting his against the other. Both our Dads tuck us in.

'Goodnight,' He signs to me, knelt just beside the sofa. 'You still hungry or thirsty?'

I shake my head, yawning. 'Just sleepy.'

'You were very brave today.' He tells me, earnest eyes boring into mine. 'Not many kids would do what you did.'

'I just wanted to help Lori and the baby.'

'I know. They got a better chance, now.'

'Does that mean I get to name the baby?'

He smirks a little bit. 'We'll see.'

I glimpse Beth muttering to Hershel over Dad's shoulder, sharing a big blanket. I sign, 'Would Momma be proud, too?'

His face falls. The words hit him right in the heart, a poisonous bolt. All he says is, 'Yes.'

'Good,' I manage to reply, right before my eyes start to droop closed.

'Goodnight,' He signs again.

Placing a kiss to my cheek, my Dad pulls back and lays his own blanket down on the floor in front of me, laying facing the fire.

Rick was right. This is a Hell of a lot better than those garages back in Newnan.

I would like to help T-Dog spot Santa, I really would, but I just can't stay awake even one moment longer.

I'm being shaken gently.

Groaning, I open my eyes. Dad's face is inches from mine, all the windows behind him filled with grey daylight.

Adjusting the crossbow on his shoulder, he signs, 'Good morning.'

'Good morning.'

Sitting up, I groggily take in the sight of the group still laid out across the room, fast asleep. All except for Dad, and also Rick and Carl. I see them standing in the archway, both dressed for the snow just like Dad is, whispering to each other.

'Get your coat,' Dad says, and before I get the chance to ask what's going on; 'We're going searching for presents.'

We're what?!

After waking Glenn and putting him on watch, the four of us set out into the neighbourhood. The sun slowly rises from behind the falling snow, eclipsing the roofs of the houses around us and washing the morning in a soft, pink and yellow hue. It's quiet, peaceful, just how it always is before the day fully starts. Carl, Mouse, and are rowdily running down the sidewalk, disturbing it all.

It's Christmas. According to us, it's Christmas, and ain't nobody here to tell us otherwise!

Dad and Rick follow after us until we make it to the park, the two oldies totally left in our dust as we make a beeline for the playground and pounce on the metal merry-go-round. It's been so long since I went on one of these. It feels like we're breaking a rule, a rule that nobody said aloud, but we ain't. Our Dads told us loud and clear that today, we're allowed to do whatever we want.

I'll spin us, Carl's laughing as he pushes on one of the handles, Mouse wisely standing back.

I still remember to hold on tight. Here we go!

Once he's picked up enough speed, he makes a jump for the platform. He skids around like a drunk, landing on his ass. He hugs the closest handle. The world spins into a multi-coloured smear. I just can't stop laughing, not even if I tried.

As the ride slows down, it feels like I'm 'bouta hurl up all that salami I ate last night.

Again!, I shout.

The next time we come to a stop, we round on the sight of Dad and Rick standing off to the side, watching us.

'Wanna get pushed?,' My Dad asks us, nodding to the swings.

I jump off the platform. 'Yes!'

Rick effortlessly peels the dead walker I saw yesterday offa the seat, throwing it aside and helping me on. I'on know how long we swing for, but the warm, pink sun spills and spills between the trees until it's on my face, making me forget the cold.

Spring is right around the corner, now.

This whole nightmare is almost over. I can just tell.

One of these days, the sun will crest the horizon and the snow just won't come.

It doesn't take long for us to make it back to town square.

'Where should we start?', Rick asks.

'I want to look in Petey's,' I answer right away, pointing to the storefront. 'But Carl can't come.'

Obviously, it's because I'm gonna be picking something out for him, which is why he starts giggling when Dad translates.

Rick ruffles the boy's hair, nudging him in the opposite direction. 'It's a plan. We'll search over here.'

'There's a toy store that way,' Dad adds helpfully.

'We'll check it out. Good luck.'

'Good luck. Watch out for elves.'

He laughs a bit as I whistle for Mouse, who runs after us. 'We will.'

Passing barrels of wrinkled flowers, Dad sticks his fingers between the automatic glass doors and forces them open, pulling his crossbow down as they roll apart on the tracks. Out of the darkness, a human-shaped shadow stumbles toward us.

It drops to the floor before it can even open its mouth.

Lowering his crossbow, Dad nods me forward, tugging his bolt outta the walker's wet face.

Look around, He says, wiping the blood off on his thigh.

The first thing I check is the comic section, of course. I'm hoping they got the series Carl likes, the one with the kick-ass astronauts and the evil aliens on the cover that I can't remember the name of. Captain Noel and the Astronauts, or something like that. I read it just the other week while he was dozed off, just to see what all the fuss was about. Weren't hard to see why he likes it.

As I step over a fallen sale sign, Mouse sniffs around the shelves, skulking around the corner.

Approaching the display stand, I skip right over the magazines and check out the comics, flicking through the covers. There's pictures of supervillain scientists, monsters, ninjas in impossible poses, wielding metal stars. They's all dumb-looking, so I'm sure Carl would eat them up like hot cakes for breakfast, but I really want the alien one. He been after the next volume since we met him.

There's a tap on my shoulder.

Hm?

Glancing up at Dad, I watch as he pulls a comic down from the highest rack, holding it out for me to see.

Captain Nate and the Awesome Eight, The quirky logo reads. 

Grabbing it up like it might disappear before my eyes, I feel the pages crinkle under my fingers. This is the one!

Volume Four, It says at the bottom. The final mission.

I hold up three fingers to Dad.

Understanding, he flips through the comics again before handing me the third volume.

I take it, hugging them both to my chest before signing, 'These are for Carl. He loves them.'

'Really? I thought they were for Beth.'

Pssh. He ain't funny. 'Let's keep looking. We need something for her, too!'

He puts the comics in my backpack for me, following me around the store to continue our hunt for the perfect presents.

For Beth, I find a couple bottles of nail polish in the tiny makeup display, throwing in a black tube-thing that reads, Mascara, along with them for Lori, or maybe for Maggie. I ain't sure. I ask Dad what he thinks, but he got even less of a clue than I do.

I decide to throw in a second tube and some eyeshadow thingies just to be safe.

For Rick and Herschel, we decide on a pair of woolly socks for each of them. You just can't go wrong with socks.

When we find some shirts with silly phrases on them, I know instantly that they would be perfect for Glenn and T-Dog.

Lastly, Dad makes us grab a bunch of random things that we need, like canned food and lighters, before we turn into the pet aisle. Mouse is there, nosing a package of tennis balls along the floor. He looks confused when they roll under the shelves. I crouch down, pulling them back out. It looks like he found his own present. He watches me stash them in my bag, pink tongue lolling happily. 

On our way out, I pass by the rack again, stealing a girly magazine off it that I think Carol will like.

Carl and Rick meet us back on the street, both their backpacks suspiciously fatter than they were the last time we saw them.

'How'd it go?'

Good, Rick says, as Carl tries to get a peek inside my bag. 'Want to swap?'

Before the boy gets to close, I fend him off, giggling as he wrestles me.

'Sure.' Dad pulls him offa me. 'Hard to get a present for your kid when they're right beside you.'

'Exactly.' Rick chuckles, offering his hand to me.

I take it, blowing a raspberry at Carl's back as he walks off with my Dad in the opposite direction.

The store Rick and I check out is the record store, Jameson's Jams, just across the way. After he scopes the place out, coming up empty, it's safe for us to go in. The smell of dust and plastic swarms us I look around at the tubs of record sleeves and CDs.

'It used to be tidy in here,' I sign to him, even though he could prolly guess that.

The doors close behind him, shutting the snow out.

' Did you go here often?'

'All the time.' I meander up to the nearest bin. 'My parents loved music.'

As I pick up an edgily-decorated sleeve that catches my eye, Rick steps up to my side.

'Something tells me their music taste clashed,' He jokes. 'Am I right?'

No. 'They both had bad taste.'

Scoffing, I throw the sleeve back, walking around to the other side of the tubs.

Chuckling to himself, he glances down at the record I'd been holding. It fits my Dad to damn T. I don't take it with me, though, because we ain't got no way to play it. It'd just be a waste of space, so I crack open a CD instead, taking out the paper.

Tossing the useless part back in the bin, I look up to see Rick already looking at me.

He's frowning, his brown hair poking out from underneath his beanie, curled over his faint wrinkles.

'What?,' I gesture impatiently.

What's he want?

I hate to admit it, but there's a little stain of bitterness left inside me after what he did to my Momma's photo.

It weren't like it was on purpose, but it didn't have to be.

'I'm sorry,' He signs, the tubs separating us by at least ten feet feeling more like a hundred.

'It's okay,' I brush it off. 'I'm not mad at you.'

'I know. Trust me, I can tell when you're mad at me,' He smiles for a fleeting moment. 'I'm apologising, anyway.'

'That was the only photo I had of her, you know.'

'I know.'

'Her name was Lindsey.'

'I know. Your Dad talks to me about her, sometimes.'

'Why did you throw it?'

He pauses, picking at a sticker on the wood before fessing up, 'Shane makes me angry, honey. I was angry. I threw it.'

'Angry? Not sad?'

'No. Not sad.' He shakes his head. 'We were all past that when we saw the truck leaving the farm.'

'He gave me the locket. My Dad threw it away the night you burned the photo.'

'Yes, I know. He talked to me about that, too.'

'He did?'

'He was going to let you keep it.'

'Why didn't he?'

'You know why.'

Yeah. I do. I don't even know why I asked that. He threw it away for the same reason I'm not allowed to talk about Ronnie.

Rick changes the subject, the tension in his shoulders melting away as he signs, 'Thank you. Again.'

'For the hospital?'

He nods. 'You were brave.'

'Dad said the same thing.'

'It's true. Even I would have been scared, and I'm thirty-four years old.'

'You're never scared.'

'I'm scared all the time.' I'm pretty sure he didn't mean to say that. I wait until he says something else. 'Thank you.'

Hell. He shouldn't make me laugh like that. I'mma breathe in all this dust. 'You're worse than Glenn.'

'What do you mean?'

'You can't stop saying 'Thank you'. He can't stop saying 'Sorry'. Feet hurt. Sorry. My ears ring. Sorry. It's funny.'

'He's sensitive,' Rick agrees fondly.

'I know. He cried last night.'

A muted chuckle. 'That's right. He did.'

As I look off to the side, something on the wall catches my eye.

Guitars. A lot of them.

Abandoning the piece of paper, I run over to them, stepping onto a chair and pulling down an electric guitar.

Rick is eye-level with me when he comes over. 'Your Dad said he knows how to play.'

Nodding, I give the strings a dramatic thrum.

It must be painful, going by the way Rick looks like he's just heard nails going down a chalkboard.

I can't help but laugh, turning to hook it back up. Like the record and the CD, it would just be a waste of space. Electric guitars don't sound so good if you don't got anything to plug them into. Acoustic ones, however, they're perfect anywhere.

Hopping onto to the next chair over, I pull down a classically wooden guitar, cold to the touch. 

When I strum this one, Rick gives a thumbs up. It'll need tuning, but that's a piece of cake.

Jumping down, I have a thought.

'How the Hell do we hide this from him?'

He looks the thing up and down. 'We might have to give it to him now.'

Aw. 'That's not as fun.'

'How about this — You hide behind me. When we see him, you jump out. Is that fun?'

Hmmm. 'Okay. Let's do that!'

Carl's a lot harder to appease than I am, which must be the reason Rick lets out a little sigh of relief. 'Great.'

'It needs a shoulder strap,' I decide, grabbing one from the rack nearby and ripping it outta the plastic. I try to figure it out, turning it over to get a good look, but then I just pass it off to Rick's mittened hands. 'You know how to put it on?'

'Let me try.' He accepts the challenge, kneeling in front of the guitar.

Buttoning each end of the leather strap to the metal attachments, it looks like he's got it.

He hands it back, raising his brows at me. 'Remember to jump out. We have to get him to crap his pants.'

'It's a plan.'

Before we meet back up, we stop by the thrift store next door so that Rick can grab the shirt he'd had in mind for Carl, a simple thing with a superhero he likes on the chest. As we leave through the front doors, Rick herds me in behind his back.

We're only waiting in town square for a minute or two before he signals me that they're coming over.

When I feel the time is right, I jump out!

Rahh!

Dad don't quite crap his pants, but his eyes do widen ever so slightly. In Dixon terms, he's chilled to the bone.

My back-up man watches on, laughing.

I hold out the guitar once the moment's passed, hoping it's obvious that this is his Christmas present.

Woah, breathes Carl as my Dad takes it carefully, Mouse's tail batting around wildly at his ankle.

We watch as he drags his thumb down the strings, remembering what it feels like. Slowly, he starts to smile.

Looking up at me, he seems very, very pleased. 'Thank you. I love it.'

'Merry Christmas!'

'We knew we couldn't hide it from you,' Rick explains, 'So we scared you instead.'

'Did it work?'

Dad nods, frowning as he mouths the word, Terrifying, before kneeling to wrap me in a hug. I kiss his cheek.

'Did you get everything you wanted?'

Nodding again, Dad stands and passes the guitar to Rick, seeing as he's already wearing his crossbow.

Pulling it on, Rick nods in the direction we came from. 'Let's head back, then.'

We make it only five feet before we notice Carl isn't following us.

Looking back at him, he points at the parking lot across the street.

We follow his finger.

Across the street, the lonely bike with the streamers still lays there in the snow, next to a couple other bikes.

We glance between each other, a glint of something cheeky in our eyes.

We're all thinking the same thing, ain't we?

It's a long walk, anyways.

Who the Hell bikes in the snow, is what a sensible person would ask themselves as they saw us race past their house.

We do!, is what I'd shout back at them.

We're zooming down the streets of Sharpsburg like we're late for a wedding, the most ridiculous sight the apocalypse ever did see. Rick, taking the lead just like always, with a guitar bumping around on his back as he pumps the peddles of a pink bike. Carl on the little one, its rainbow streamers blowing out on either side of him without a care in the world. Mouse, sprinting to keep up.

He's going so fast; I think his ears might just fly off and smack me in the face!

It's a challenge to not fall off the handlebars of Dad's bike just from laughing so hard.

I clutch onto it harder as we crest over the top of a hill. Rick goes flying down first, then Carl. Dad wraps an arm around my stomach, hugging me to his chest as we both laugh against each other. We're next. My stomach lurches. My toes go numb. Then we're free-falling, and the tyres are shaking beneath us and the handlebars are jiggling all over the place, the wind racing past us.

Sucking in a deep breath, I let out a shriek of, Wuh-Hooooooo!

My heart's beating outta my chest like when a walker's got me in its grasp, when I feel most alive.

Whatever day I've said is the best day of my life — This is it, now. Hands down.

Rick reaches the bottom first, doing a fancy little skid in the snow and glancing over his shoulder at us to see our reaction.

Carl gives him a thumbs down, making him laugh as he turns back around.

The hill flattens out into more suburbia.

We slow down to a more leisurely pace for the rest of the ride back, and simply enjoy the morning together, trailing the sidewalks like a bunch of kids. The sun is well into the sky now, shining through the frigid air without any clouds to cover it up.

When I spot the house in the distance, I'm almost sad.

As we pull into the driveway, bumping over curb, Glenn stands from his seat on the porch steps.

Hey, guys, He's laughing, perplexed.

Rick answers him with a few flicks of his bell, braking to a stop.

Where'd you go?, He asks, as I jump down from the handlebars.

Carl dumps his bike on the ground and holds up his backpack, shouting, Presents!

He gawks. No shit?

No shit!, He exclaims, running straight past him and up the porch.

I catch Rick sharing a funny look with my Dad, but he lets the swear word go. It's that type of day.

The adrenaline-high don't leave my body even as I follow everyone inside the house, stepping into the busy lounge room. We're greeted by the rest of our group, who are more than awake by now, hugging us as we come through the archway. They're completely beaming. It's obvious. They've heard the great news — We went out in the early morning to do Santa's bidding, for no other reason than because we managed to live long enough to the today, and because we deserve it. For once, we can ignore everything else.

Shrugging off my backpack, I set it down on the coffee table. Carol and Herschel tidy away the empty snack packs as Dad, Rick, and Carl set theirs down, too. Everybody's eyeing the bags excitedly, tryna see if they can make out the goodies inside.

'You guys are sneaky,' T grins, wide enough to show off the gap between his two front teeth. 'Sneaky!'

'Where did you go?!,' Maggie wants to know.

She lounges back on the sofa, Mouse jumping into her lap.

'Town square.' Rick's looking livelier than he has all Winter; all year, maybe. 'We left while you were all asleep.'

T seems to have an epiphany. 'It's you guys!'

'What?,' He asks.

'You're Santa!'

Realizing the man is pulling our legs, Rick rolls his eyes.

Carl goes on to ramble all about our adventures. By the way he's miming it all out, I can tell he ain't leaving out our visit to the playground. Everyone's watching him with nothing but joy in their eyes, adding comments here and there, laughing.

When Beth notices the guitar, my Dad proudly shows it off to the room.

'Harley found it,' He signs, reigning everyone back in, reminding them to use signs. 'Pretty, ain't it?'

Herschel turns to look at me. 'What a wonderful, wonderful gift.'

'I got more,' I tease, giving my backpack a tempting wiggle. I can't wait to give out the rest of the presents!

'Let's just get right into it then, right?,' Rick suggests. 'Go crazy.'

That's all the permission anyone needs.

As the three of them open their backpacks and start handing out presents left and right, I get to opening mine.

The first things I pull out are the stupid shirts for Glenn and T-Dog, walking over to them and putting them in their hands. Maggie's laughing her ass off as they hold them up to their chests, cluelessly peering down at the text. I step back to admire my work. Sorry I'm late, T's shirt reads, and Hell, it's even funnier than I imaged it would be, I was doing my hair! I think he's laughing something like, You little punk, before he glances over at Glenn's to see the damage. I'm with stupid, His says, except the arrow is pointing at his face.

Aw Hell naw!, He unabashedly laughs.

'Put them on!,' I demand, taking the fabric in my hands. Glenn helps me out, pulling it over what he's already wearing and straightening it out so the message is on full display. T-Dog does the same thing, even if he does call me a punk again.

'How do we look?,' Glenn asks me and Maggie when they're done, giving a stiff twirl.

'Don't answer that,' T-Dog says.

I give Maggie her gift next, the Mascara. She plants a kiss on my cheek and pulls me in for a tight hug, releasing me so I can head over to the other ladies. Carol gratefully takes the magazine, Lori and Beth Oohing and Aahing over the makeup.

It's no 'Electric Spring Citrus', but Beth still seems very touched by the bottle of yellow polish.

Next, I pull out the tennis balls. Boy, does that get Mouse's attention. I rip off the seal, sending them all bouncing across the living room floor, almost tripping some people over. Mouse darts after this one and that one, chasing them all over the place as I hand the socks to Herschel and Rick. They're both delighted, taking turns giving me a hug. We was right. Ya can't go wrong with socks.

'Carl and your Dad have something for you,' Rick tells me as he pulls away, pointing over to them.

I tap Carl on the shoulder, and when the two of them turn around and realize me, his face lights up.

Harley!, He's exclaiming.

He digs through his bag and holds out my two presents. 

'Thank you!,' I sign, taking them. Oh, wow. A diary and a packet of colored pencils. I don't gotta squeeze my thoughts into the margins, no more. I got fresh, blank pages, enough to prolly last me a whole year. Giving Carl a hug, I hold up a finger; Wait.

Reaching into my backpack and feeling out the comics, I pause just to be dramatic, before I pull them out for him to see. His jaw drops as he snatches them up. All them months hearing him complain, and watching him read the same volume over and over, makes it all the more satisfying to see him flick through the pages, realizing with mounting horror that it's everything he dreamt of.

Thank you, He's shouting, Thank you!

'Wanna see what I got you?,' Dad says next. 'You can both play with it, but it's for you, okay?'

'Okay! Show me!'

Carl and I crouch down with him as he unzippers his backpack. What he pulls out is not like anything I would've expected.

A big, flat white box with a photo on the front of some kids kicking a soccer ball into a little pop-up goal in the sun.

'Can't play soccer without a goal.' He smirks as I take the box in my hands, ready to tear it open with my teeth if I gotta.

They both help me pick the tape off the cardboard, pulling it open and turning the whole thing upside down. The goal slides out. Having finally been broken out of the confines of its box, it immediately springs into shape, almost smacking us all in the face.

Dodging it with a laugh, I exclaim, 'Thank you, Dad!' 

'Do you like it?,' He asks.

'I love it! How do we set it up?'

Looking about, he finds a small baggie of metal stakes that fell out with it, and a page of instructions.

I lean in closer to take a peek as he skims over them, but it all looks simple enough.

'Easy,' He decides. 'We can set it up in the front yard, yeah?'

'Yeah. I'm gonna smoke you both so bad.'

Dad thwacks my arm with the piece of paper. 'Hey. Who said I'm playing?'

'Oh. So, you're scared.' I nod empathetically, feeling smug. 'That's okay. I'm rusty, too.'

'Seriously?'

'I only won three medals when I was in school.'

'I'm old, kid. I'm in my thirties. I'm pretty much dead.'

'Loud and clear. You're scared of losing.'

He rolls his eyes. 'You're a brat. Don't cry when you lose.'

'I've never cried in my life, Dad. Ask Carl.'

As soon as he passes on the question, Carl levels me with the most, Get serious, expression I ever seen in my life.

Whatever. 'I'll still win!'

'We'll see,' He says as I glance at the rest of the group.

'This was so thoughtful of you guys,' Maggie signs from her seat on the sofa, doing that little pout she does.

With all the presents handed out, I take my time looking around the room. T and Glenn are still wearing their t-shirts, of course. If I could have it my way, they wouldn't ever wear anything else. It looks like Rick and Carl gifted Glenn a magazine about race cars, and T-Dog a flashy, gold chain necklace that he manages to make look cool. Lori and Herschel are wearing new matching jackets, the material purple and puffy. They look like father and daughter, sitting there like that, Lori's head resting on the old man's shoulder. Beside them, Carol's blowing air onto Beth's painted nails, while Mouse lays on the floor, gnawing at the tennis ball he must've decided is his favorite.

And Rick. He's not pouring over a map. He's not frowning to himself as he cleans a gun. He's not snapping at one of us to, Stop that, We need to stay focused. He's just smiling faintly next to Glenn, refusing to reveal to anyone this was all his idea.

'I'm just glad there's no wrapping paper to clean up this year,' He chuckles, looking at Lori.

The woman smirks, shaking her head. Bad memories, I guess.

'Every year,' He continues, gesturing to an invisible pile in his lap, 'We would end up with this much.'

'You're not the only ones.' T-Dog scoffs, like this is a lifelong issue he's faced.

'Oh, yeah. You were a garbage man, weren't you?,' Glenn remembers.

'Minimum wage, brother,' He agrees, bringing the pizza-boy in for a bro-hug.

'What have you got there, Harley?,' Maggie asks as they pull apart.

'A soccer goal,' I excitedly answer, before holding up Rick and Carl's presents. 'And a diary and pencils!'

'I don't want you to think it's for schoolwork with Lori,' Rick says. 'Carl just told me he's seen you journalling.'

'I love it,' I shake my head. 'Thank you.'

That bitterness that I'd been feeling toward him, it disappears just as quickly as it came.

'You haven't been writing anything bad about me, have you?,' Glenn asks threateningly.

'Just a little bit,' I shrug.

'She's a brat, isn't she?,' My Dad jokes.

'She's a total brat.'

'Hey! I don't like you, either.'

'Well, Merry Christmas, everyone.' Maggie says to wrap things up. 'Time to take this outside. We got a game to play.'

'Sounds like it,' Rick agrees.

'Come on.' Dad stands back up, grabbing the soccer goal and the stakes.

Jumping up and pulling on Maggie's sleeve, I exclaim up at her, 'We should be on the same team!'

'Girl power,' She agrees, frowning stubbornly as we descend the porch steps.

Mouse goes running out into the snow with his tennis ball. Dad heads over to the fence, setting down the goal and pushing the stakes through the rubber loops to secure it to the ground. I tell him I hope he did a good job of it, because me and Maggie are gonna be making every goal we shoot for. It's Dad and Carl versus us two girls, so the competition is even fiercer. We gotta win!

'We got this,' Maggie goads as T-Dog takes up the goalie position.

Carol pumps her fist in the air. 'Let's go, girls!'

Everyone starts cheering us on as Maggie kicks the ball straight over to me. The game's begun! I stop it with my foot, watching as she skirts around Dad, shouting for me. I boot it back to her at just the right moment, running forwards.

Maggie dukes Dad, left, right, left, before she kicks it right between his feet and back to me.

I stop it again with my foot.

Carl's on me, suddenly. He tries to use his foot to steal the ball away from me, but I don't let him!

Keeping him at arm's length, I line up my shot with the goal. I've done it a million times before. What's one more!

I rear my foot back, and—!

T-Dog's far too big and slow to see it coming. The ball shoots right past him — Goal! — and crashes into the meshing.

'Point for the girls,' Rick announces from the sidelines.

Maggie runs up to me, grabbing my hands and squealing happily, with the boys sulking together in the background.

We end up winning. There's a few close calls here and there, but we're just too quick on our feet for them to really get any smooth moves in. As the winning goal is made by Maggie, Carl stomps his foot into the snow, complaining, Aww, man!

We use every last bit of energy we have left in us to play for the rest of the morning. For once, not just for getting out of bed, or making it through the day. We manage to get a couple more rounds of soccer in before somebody throws a snowball at my Dad while he's trying to kick a goal, and then it all devolves into a snowball fight. There's no teams or rules; just clumps of snow flying across the yard, people falling over, Rick laughing, and Glenn getting dogpiled to the ground until Dad has to come and rescue him from us.

Nobody's really winning, but I don't think anyone's keeping count, anyway. Nobody's losing, either.

Except maybe Carl, when he tanks a snowball directly to the face.

I gasp. Youch!

He wipes it off with a grin, scurrying off to start preparing some returning fire.

I hurry to join him behind the wall of snow, bulking up my snowball before launching it at one of the adults.

It hits Glenn in the jaw. He lurches; falls onto his ass.

Me and Carl share a high five!

To think I was dreading coming back to this town, when it's actually given me one of the best days of my life.

Is it bad I'm happy the world ended?

Probably, but I don't care.

FIVE MONTHS LATER.

I can hear light birdsong in the trees.

We've stopped again, on some highway or other. I'on know. They all look the same to me. Grey road, winding up a hill, flanked on both sides by a strip of dirt and twigs. While the others get outta the cars, slamming their doors shut and grouping together to discuss what's next, I turn my head away from them and gaze out the passenger side window. The sun warms my face. I remember back during the Wintertime; we hardly ever saw the sun. Hell. That was forever ago. Nowadays, we been fending off heatstroke, feels like.

I close my eyes, relishing in the sounds around me. Leaves brushing, idle engines rumbling.

There are a lot of moments like this for me, where I'll just ignore what everyone else is doing and listen. I'll listen to anything. The car radio, if anybody's got it playing, even if it's a song I don't like. A river flowing. A deer trilling. It's the best part of my day.

"We got nowhere else to go," Herschel's suddenly saying, and then I'm opening my eyes again.

The group is gathered around the hood of the car I'm sat up in, splaying a map out for them to study.

"When this herd meets up with this one," Maggie points, "We'll be cut off. We'll never make it South."

"What'd you say it was? About 150 head?" Dad estimates.

"That was last week." Glenn's shaking his head, squinting against the sun. "It could be twice that by now."

I've heard this exact conversation about thirty times over by now.

That herd from last year; It's thawed and split into two, and neither are getting any smaller. The more they walk, the more they pick up. It's how it's always gone. They been following us, and we been running. That's how that's always gone, too.

We had a couple places we holed up for a while. Sharpsburg served us well while it lasted, but we had to move, eventually.

Now, we're back on the run.

"The river could've delayed them," Herschel suggests. "If we move fast, we might have a shot to tear right through here."

"Yeah, but if that group joins with that one, they could spill out this way."

"So, we're blocked."

We're always blocked, I want to tell Maggie. You know this by now.

In moments like these, I think back to the day we had that snowball fight and try to remember what everyone's smiles looked like.

"Only thing to do is double back at 27," Rick says, "And swing back this way."

Rick's different. For Rick, I think back to the bike ride.

T-Dog's getting frustrated. "We picked through that place, already. It's like we spent the past five months going in circles."

"Yeah, I know. I know."

"Is this what we're doing, then?"

When Rick nods, T-Dog asks him, "Is it alright if we head down to the river to fill up on water, then?"

"Sure. Knock yourself out," He says as they disperse, Maggie rolling up the map.

Herschel whispers something to Rick, then, and I can't quite catch it. My hearing aids ain't that good, but I know it's about Lori because they glance over at her in the car behind me. It's probably the, She can't keep doing this, conversation. Like always, Rick's wiping his sweaty forehead, bullshitting his way through an answer, and like always, Herschel is patient with him. They know he's right.

Lori's about to burst, way her stomach's been looking these days. She's gonna give birth any day now.

I'm just glad she got better and stayed better.

That was a nasty sickness.

Herschel leaves Rick to think about what he's said, making an opening for Dad to ask him to go hunting.

I'm surprised when he turns to me. "You wanna come, chicken?"

There's that Southern twang I once forgot the sound of.

'Come hunting with you?,' I sign, just outta habit. Sometimes, my voice is just too loud for me to bare.

"Yeah. You can stretch yer legs a little. How 'bout it?"

Not wanting to spend one more second in this car, I agree by opening the door and jumping onto the tarmac.

He whistles for Mouse, and then we're walking into the treeline.

"Carl says it was blue, but the boy's blind," I ramble to Rick as we walk along the train tracks, keeping an eye out for animals.

"Between the pair'a ya," Dad muses from in front of us. "You almost make a full vegetable."

"Shut up, Daddy. You ain't funny."

He snickers a little before facing forward again, crossbow at the ready. "Sure I ain't."

"Anyway." I sigh as he pushes a leafy branch outta the way. Rick ducks under it, and then me. "Like I's sayin'—"

When I look up, the sight that greets me has all words dying on my tongue. I slowly catch up with Dad and Rick, who have also completely forgotten about the story I was telling. It weren't very interesting, anyway. Something about a frog Carl and I found the other day. The sun beats down on us as we look out over the sheer drop just in front of us, and at the rolling, green hills in the distance.

Well, I'll be goddamned.

That right there is a whole ass prison.

End Notes.

Okay that's it. I cannot edit this chapter any longer. What's done is done!!

WE ARE FINALLY IN SEASON 3 !! It only took a year and 28 chapters.

I'm very glad to be back in canon again, but writing Christmas with the group was so fun. Also very glad to be able to write Daryl's accent and slang properly again haha. It just didn't translate into sign language. I know some of you will also be relieved that we're not using it much anymore.

As always, I really hope you enjoyed!

Thanks for reading! Until next time! 💙 :)

#the walking dead #twd fanfiction #twd #fanfic #daryl dixon #daryl dixon daughter #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #angst #rick grimes #glenn rhee #maggie rhee #twd daryl dixon #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl twd #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #rick grimes x reader #fluff #the ones who live

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

prepare (1)

Riven exhaled as she shut the door to Sunward. Wuk Lamat had been set up at the Baldestion Annex. For the forseeable future, there was a great deal of preperations to be made...but first things first.

"What did you all think?" She asked, turning around to face the others.

"Green." Reinhardt, Mathye, and Augustine said in unison, causing Sebastian to blink in surprise.

"She is green." Mathye said. "Fresh out of the training hall and running about in new-made armor green. If it weren't for the fact that she does have skill in combat, I'd doubt she'd even gotten any type of first blood."

"She's got smarts, however." Reinhardt added. "And bold. I imagine she probably was the only contestant who had the idea to approach foreigners and ask them for help. It means she's flexible in her thinking and can adapt quickly to a changing situation."

"But something's wrong somewhere." Augustine mused. When the others looked at him, he gestured.

"Think about it. It's one thing to hire foreign adventurers--mercenaries even. But instead she pings directly onto us--Erenville's stories aside. It's one thing to want our battle skills--but with everything else? We're overkill. And while she's being honest about her reason to win--I can't help but feel there's something more to the story."

"That was my thought as well." Riven admitted. "But Tural may not know about us. And from the little I read, I don't think they had any effects of the Calamity, or the Final Days."

"I would suggest we talk to Alphinaud." Sebastian said. "He can handle the politics of the situation much better than any one of us. In fact, when we make it over there--let's leave anything dealing with governmental affairs to him. As far as everyone's concerned, we're just the hired help to Wuk Lamat." Riven hummed at that, crossing her arms.

"With everything we've been though, it never occurred to me that someone would want to threaten Eorzea's peace from the other side of the world."

"Honestly I don't think anyone has." Augustine replied. "And now that I think about it...we never saw anything with the Empire considering going that far out."

"Nor the Allagans now that I think about it." Sebastian added. Mathye frowned.

"...That...does seem strange. The Garleans made inroads to the farthest reaches of the east, but not the west? It's not like they didn't have the ability to do so."

"Technological constraints?" Reinhardt offered. "Airships only have so much fuel."

"No. I've seen plans that can turn them into nothing but flying ceruluem tanks." Augustine mused. "And it's a known fact that there's plenty of untapped wells in Tural. And an Agrias-class airship can fly though almost anything."

"Might be something worth asking Jullus about." Riven offered. She exhaled. "At least we've got some time to prepare. I've got to get my requests in to the Arcanists' Guild library, and quickly."

"All done with Aloato Island then?" Sebastian asked. Riven offered a weak grin, shrugging.

"Not really, but my rotation turn to go out there won't be for a few weeks. And I'd rather not fight someone for their spot--or have somebody challenge for mine." The Arcanists' Guild had been forced to create a rotation research schedule for their students and members who wanted to study the still-unknown arcane geometry of the Thavnarian island. And in true Limsan fashion, academic combat had been decided as a way for one to possibly advance to a higher spot in the rotation schedules.

"If it's alright, I'm next on the supply delivery list for Garlemald." Reinhardt offered. "I'll poke Jullus's brain, see if he heard or knows something."

"I'll come with you to Limsa." Mathye said to Riven. "I need your Mastery clearance anyway for the medical libraries. I think we'll need updated vaccinations and I'd like to know what diseases we'll need to look out for."

"I'm going to track down Nero." Augustine said. When the group blinked at him, he continued. "I think getting you a backup leg might be a good idea, Mathye. We don't know how long we'll be over there. And we have to discuss ways for your maintenance to be easier on you." His older brother started.

"I--"

"No." Riven interjected. "That's actually a good idea." Mathye flushed, crossing his arms and looking away.

"If it's alright, I'll go speak with Wuk Lamat and do some research in Sharlayan." Sebastian offered. "She might be willing--or let something slip around me." He paused, chuckling.

"This is actually strange, preparing for something that isn't world ending."

"It's a little unnerving." Riven admitted. "But...exciting. And I'm glad we're all doing this together."

#ffxiv #wol riven #riven fortemps #dawntrail #ffxiv dawntrail #mathye bishop #augustine bishop #reinhardt sauveterre #sebastian astralyas #wuk lamat

[revisms]

NERDY PRUDES MUST DIE PROMPT LIST - PART 1.

prompts taken directly from the transcript of the musical - please go support starkid and their work! this list covers the first two songs of the musical and the surrounding scenes.

PROLOGUE.

" Help! Somebody help me please! "

" Wait’ll you get a load of this mess. "

" I leave Chicago cuz of the blood and guts, and what do you know? They got ‘em here too. "

" That’s not all. Killer left a little love note for us. Penned in his victim’s blood. "

" We’re a little out of our depth! "

" Jesus… How the hell did this happen?"

HIGH SCHOOL IS KILLING ME.

" The nightmare started there but now has spread. "

" Someone comes for me, I'm unprepared. "

" You can’t cut through all the tension. "

" It’s a hell on earth you know, "

" It’s a cruel and unusual brutality, "

" I'm so fucking dead! "

" I was up so late last night, "

" And I can survive it for only so long! "

" And I’m just realizing, I’ve never introduced myself. "

" We’re friends. Aren’t we? "

" I don’t know. Are we? "

" I got left behind this morning. Bus driver’s a fucking asshole. "

" Please. Don’t you wanna help me out? "

DETENTION.

" That little snitch! "

" I don’t need this kind of attention. "

" So you don’t want to be bullied? "

" No! I want to be invisible. "

" Then why do you come to a public school dressed in suspenders and a fucking bowtie? "

" Ugh. I’d rather starve to death. "

" You’re, like, famous! "

" This outfit is a tapestry of my trauma. It is designed to provoke as little teasing a possible. "

" Huh. I didn’t know you were funny. "

" I can’t let him see me talking to you! "

" Who are you running from? "

LITERAL MONSTER.

" You’re not him you’re a loser, "

" It’s best to drop and play dead, "

" You better leave your hopes behind, "

" No one's gonna stop him, "

" You better hope you're out of sight "

" Never look in the eye, "

" He's a literal monster! "

" I swear to god he has fangs, "

" No one to blame if there's no accuser. "

" I've gotta get to remedial algebra. "

" Meaning I’ve gotta walk through this hallway. And I don’t need you stinkin’ it up. "

" Well, there’s a difference between intent and impact. "

" I think for this hallway infraction, I’m gonna have to issue a Flick-It Ticket. "

" Sorry. I’m fresh outta your favorite food. "

" She’s, like, uh… a total two-bagger! "

" Nobody, and I mean nobody, talks that way… about [muse name]. "

" You don’t know me very well, do you? "

" I know behind closed doors, repressed chicks are the biggest freaks. "

" Watch some porn, you'll see. "

" Don't call me that. "

" I'm the reason you run and hide. "

" You all look disappointed, "

" So keep on judging me, "

" That comes with infamy, "

" You can watch as I rise! "

" I will claim what is mine. "

STEPH, MAYOR LAUTER AND MISS TESSBURGER.

" This is politics, learn to multitask! "

" We are within the margin of error, and you are doing everything you can to fuck things up! "

" It's like you don't care about this campaign at all. "

" Next time you're going to cheat, do it like a [surname] and don't get caught. "

" I'd like to have an intelligent conversation, if you don't mind. In other words, shut up. "

" There's nothing you can threaten me with. "

" I'll be careful with it. I'll carefully smash it with this hammer. "

" Not even you would do something this evil... "

" It'd be funny if it wasn't so pathetic. "

" I don’t care if you have to lie, cheat, steal, or shock-of-all-shocks: read a book for once in your life. "

more to come!

#rp prompts #roleplay prompts #rp prompt #rp memes #rpc #prompt list #roleplay meme #rp meme #nerdy prudes must die #starkid #npmd #hatchetverse

[livesinthebalance]

Would anyone like anything from Raymond Reddington? Because I literally just wrote my friend a starter on discord that almost hit the Nitro character limit and–– 

He is apparently LOUD.

His bio blurb:

A RIDDLE WRAPPED UP IN A MYSTERY INSIDE AN ENIGMA IS HOW SOME MIGHT DESCRIBE RAYMOND REDDINGTON. OTHERS MIGHT REFER TO HIM AS A CONCIERGE OF CRIME, POSSESSING ALL THE INFORMATION, CONNECTIONS, AND ABILITY TO FACILITATE MOST ENDEAVORS LACKING LEGALITY––AND EVEN THE ONES HE DIDN'T AID ARE ON HIS RADAR. CURRENTLY, IT SUITS HIM TO BE ALIGNED WITH TALON, BUT THESE CIRCUMSTANCES ARE ALWAYS SUBJECT TO CHANGE. SELF-INTEREST AND ALL THAT.

#|| out of chaos || { ooc } #|| calling all agents of overwatch ! || { starter call } #|| somebody has to do something ! || { muse list } #// Consider this a starter/inbox/plotting call.

[cwarscars]

🤩 Who is someone in your rpc that you admire?

Unconventional munday asks!

🤩 Who is someone in your rpc that you admire?

(( aside from yourself? owo. whose positivity and passion is ALWAYS inspiring? well, i'm gonna limit myself to listing a few people here because if i list everyone, i will be here ALL day -

@midgarwhispers | amazing plots, mature & down to earth discussion, incredible writing, interesting muse, great GREAT dynamics, lovely ooc chat. i have so much admiration for this sweet lil carbuncle ( i say lil, she a giant ) - i've just had so many fun discussions and plots this year with her & ooc-wise, i cannot stress how kind & lovely she is. i just - urgh - 10/10 - massively recommend.

@stingslikeabee | when wont i waffle on about mari and how much i love her? you want mature, well-written content? you want an interesting oc who can squeeze into any kind of universe? you want a down-to-earth, interesting & intelligent mun with whom you can chatter everything from adult chat to films & culture? mari's a legend. i will forever simp.

@cloudvii | anything sayj touches turns to gold, honestly. not to say cloud wasn't already gold but - look - i admire sayj's passion and interest in their muses. their headcanons are in depth and powerful, but they're never without reason. like - they always make sense & make you do a double take and a little 'ahhhh!' when you read them because they're so interesting & in tune with the character. i just really adore what sayj does with the characters that they pick up. and their respect / appreciation for og? *mwah*.

@phoenix-flamed | hot damn, vonny. where do i even begin? i didn't follow vonny until fairly recently-ish. i jumped on them on my sylv blog and was barely there so HAD to grab em with heid and i just- the rpc should consider itself blessed to have such a wonderful write & a wonderful person in their midst. vonny's elwin is so incredibly weaved that i would read a book about him written by them; i always admire someone who picks up a side-character but someone who then gives that side character a well-crafted story, interesting headcanons and pushes it all with infectious enthusiasm and passion? sign me the F up. like, GODDAMN. and as a person? vonny is so incredibly sweet, someone i'd love to bug more honestly because wow. & on a personal note, someone who did something recently for me that really helped me in a great & personal way. i just - <3 - so much love and respect in my soul for this one.

@svnsworn | light is somebody who if you say to me 'recommend a user', im gonna recommend her. she jumps to the forefront of my mind like a lil froggy. i always mess up when trying to run multis but she makes it look EASY. the AMOUNT of times that light has told me a headcanon about a character and i've gone 'holy shit! of course!' she has that knack for spotting those details, and then expanding on them. and no matter who she chooses - from leon to luna - she injects this love & insight into them that they truly deserve. she's really incredible and there isn't a day i wouldn't recommend her. and as a person? light is always lovely. like, alwAYS.

@rikelusshinra & @ofgeneticperfection & @ivory-paragon & @steeleidolon | I DIDN'T WANNA KEEP LISTING EVERYONE CAUSE IF I DO THAT I'LL CRY CAUSE THERE'S SO MANY AMAZING PEOPLE TO WRITE AMAZING THINGS ABOUT BUT I DID WANNA MENTION THESE GUYS -

i look at them and i see original final fantasy vii. i see a love and passion for the media that has spanned years. i see these unique insights into characters / ocs & i just admire them a lot. i see them as being like, the people that all ffvii rpers should look up to and aspire to be. i just admire them a lot & love seeing them on my dash.

#(answered) #i WAFFLED #sorry for the tag spam i ly all #(ooc)

[arpmemething2]

MCU Sentence Starters

Send one for my muse’s response!

“I don’t fly man, that’s your thing.”

"This is our home now, I want us to fit in."

"A father's first responsibility to their kids is to provide a beautiful lie for them to live in."

“She was literally one split end from cutting her own bangs.”

"He's a friend from work!"

"No prison can keep me, you know that"

“I’m Mary Poppins y’all!”

"If you want to do something right, you make a list."

"Why?  Does he have bad breath?"

"You rely too much on technology."

“We’re in the endgame now.”

"You never know. You hope for the best and make do with what you get."

“You know, I keep telling everybody they should move on and grow. Some do. But not us.”

“I’ll get you all the cheeseburgers you want.”

"Do you not truly feel the gravity of your crimes? Wherever you go there is war, ruin and death!""

“Nothing goes over my head. My reflexes are too fast. I would catch it.”

"Compromise where you can. Where you can't, don't."

“I don't know if you've been in a fight before but there's usually not this much talking.”

“The hardest choices require the strongest wills.”

"The wheel constantly turns. We must adapt to its position, or be crushed beneath it."

"Trying to get you to stop has been one of the few failures of my entire life.”

“He may have been your father, but he wasn’t your daddy.”

“I am Inevitable.”

“Let me go. It’s okay.”

"At some point, we all have to choose, between what the world wants you to be, and who you are."

“I beat some guys up. Saved the dog. Some light B and E”

"That man is playing Galaga! Thought we wouldn't notice, but we did."

"You're ancestors called it magic, and you call it science."

“Well let me know if real power wants a magazine or something.”

"We all know the truth: But in times of crisis, the wise build bridges, while the foolish build barriers."

“You're the one who just kidnapped me. What's wrong with you people?“

"We are an unusual couple, you know?"

"People think that torture is pain.  It's not pain, it's time."

“Everyone hates losing.”

"I love you 3000."

“If toast is cut diagonally, I can’t eat it.”

“I should not be left in charge of stuff like this. I don’t get paid enough. I don’t get paid, period.”

"Dumb men like little girls. Me? I ponder a woman."

“This is the fight of our lives, and we’re going to win. Whatever it takes.”

"The past is the past. And the only direction in life that matters is forward. Never backwards."

“Can’t have a revolution without somebody to overthrow, so you’re welcome, and uh, it’s a tie.”

"I like following the rules and doing what's expected of me. It makes me feel nice."

"If we can't accept limitations, then we're no better than the bad guys."

"Hands up.  You're coming with us."

"I’m going to have to ask you to exit the donut.”

"It's a working theory."

"No man can win every battle, but no man should fall without a struggle."

“This drink, I like it. Another!”

“You’re in a relationship with me. Everything will never be okay.”

"Part of the journey is the end."

“I was already slipping when you happened to punch me in the face. The two events are not related.”

"I've come to bargain."

"The world has changed and none of us can go back. All we can do is our best, and sometimes the best that we can do is to start over."

"But a thing isn't beautiful because it lasts. It's a privilege to be among them."

"I love you in every universe."

"I can do this all day."

“Ah, she left me. And my mom died too. And my dad got deported. But I got the van!”

“You want a juice box and some string cheese?”

"On your left."

“Sacrifice is part of the job.”

"Darling, you have no idea."

“Pain is always a surprise. I try to avoid landmines. Avoid caring. I can even see it coming. But until it hits, you have no idea what pain is.”

"I had him on the ropes."

"The scarf looked better."

“I'm sorry, did I step on your moment?”

"In a real magic act, everything is fake."

“They say everyone’s born a hero. But if you let it, life will push you over the line until you’re the villain. Problem is, you don’t always know that you’ve crossed that line.”

"The point of these things is to remind us that... There is no going back, there's only moving forward. You feel different because you are different."

“One thing I've proven is that you can count on me to pleasure myself.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, officially. I sort of met you, I mean, I watched you while you were sleeping.”

"You wanna get to them? You gotta go through me."

“Funny how annoying a little prick can be, isn't it?”

“I’m gonna have to rain check that dance.”

"I could do with a hobby."

"I need a horse."

“Not to be rude, but it's been one of those days, so produce some credentials or I'm gonna put you in handcuffs. “

“Vengeance has consumed you. It’s consuming them. I’m done letting it consume me.”

“I’m a piece of shit, and shit stinks.”

“You haven’t changed a bit. And I’m aware that statement makes no sense.”

"If we can't protect the earth, you can be damn well sure we'll avenge it!"

“No amount of money ever bought a second of time.”

"Higher, further, faster, baby."

"I know you were only doing what you believe in, and that's all any of us can do, it's all any of us should."

"The city is flying. We're fighting an army of robots. And I have a bow and arrow. None of this makes sense."

“You’re gonna suffer for what you’ve done. And I I plan on being a very big part of that.”

“So…you got detention.”

"It's not about saving our world. It's about saving theirs."

"You really wanna go back in there? After everything she's put you through?"

“Time, Space, Reality. It’s more than a linear path. It’s a prism of endless possibility. Where one single choice can branch out into infinite realities, creating alternate worlds from the ones you know."

“I think we must learn from our mistakes and do better. You must not give up hope.”

“Where I come from, history has never looked kindly on those who lock men in cages.”

“Sorry, I tend to process traumatic events with dad jokes.”

"Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"

“Can you believe they call us criminals when he's assaulting us with that haircut?”

“Love is a dagger. It’s a weapon to be wielded far away or up close. You can see yourself in it. It’s beautiful until it makes you bleed.”

“It’s not enough to be against something. You have to be for something better.”

"I think purple might be your color; it really matches your eyes."

"I once stood in your place. And I, too, was disrespectful. Might I offer you some advice? Forget Everything that you think you know."

"Don't do anything I would do, and definitely don't do anything I wouldn't do. There's a little gray area in there, and that's where you operate."

"I have a terrible idea!"

"Filthy? She has no idea. If we had a black light, it would look like a Jackson Pollock painting."

“Boom! You looking for this?”

"How we deal with disappointments is what decides the person we are."

"What is grief, if not love persevering?"

“I thought you were smaller.”

"I'm not hugging you."

"Don't waste it. Don't waste your life."

“I told you, I don't want to join your super-secret boy band.”

“The price of freedom is high, it always has been. And it’s a price I’m willing to pay. And if I’m the only one, then so be it. But I’m willing to bet I’m not.”

"Hope.  It's all about hope."

“Yeah, the past won’t leave us alone.”

“You’re the head of security and your password is ‘password?'”

“Drop your socks and grab your crocs, we're about to get wet on this ride.”

"Whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are, not a perfect soldier, but a good man."

"Being good isn't always enough to keep you alive."

"That's it?  You murdered him because you could?"

"Oh, man, are we being mind-controlled to see that right now?"

"You will never be a god."

“When you said you would take me to California for the first time, I thought you meant Coachella or Disneyland.”

“Never let the enemy choose the battlefield. Always work from a position of strength.”

"Of course...  We won the war."

“I’m not sure you understand the concept of a getaway car.”

"Does anybody have any orange slices?"

“You get hurt, hurt ‘em back. You get killed, walk it off.”

"Last time we saw you, you were trying to kill everyone. What are you up to these days?"

"Because that's what heroes do."

"Have you ever seen that before in a gift shop?"

“I can feel the righteousness surging!”

"There's chaos in you."

"You guys are breaking down walls, you're healing. It's important."

“Before we get started, does anyone want to get out?”

“‘Boh’ is my new superpower. It’s like the anti-Aloha. I was born to say this word.”

“Does he need CPR? Because I totally know CPR.”

"Every time something gets better for one group, it gets worse for another."

“You’re repeating yourself! You’re repeating yourself!”

"Are you always this rude to people trying to help you?"

“It’s alright, you could never hurt me. I just feel you.”

“The only decision I’m qualified to make is bourbon or more bourbon.”

“Today we don’t fight for one life, we fight for all of them.”

“Well, if you don’t have any nice words, I mean, anything nice to say, just, you know, lie.”

“I have nothing to prove to you.”

"Have fun in prison."

“Such a poser.”

"I don't flirt.  I just say what I want."

“That's not a question I need answered.”

“Oh my God, that was really violent.”

“I made macaroni if you want some.”

"Just bury me in the ocean with my ancestors that jumped from the ships, because they knew death was better than bondage."

“I don’t like bullies. I don’t care where they’re from.”

“You think life takes more than it gives, but not today. Today it’s giving us something. It is giving us a chance.”

"There’s one thing in this world that makes me feel more alive. And that’s you."

“Let me tell you. That kid’s not even here yet and, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.”

“Sometimes the best weapon in your arsenal is just a good argument.”

“What is this thing? Look how it thinks it’s so cool. It’s not cool to get help. Walk by yourself you little gargoyle.”

“I do what he does, just slower.”

“I can’t control your fear, I can only control mine.”

“If you try to escape, or play any sort of games with me, I will taze you and watch Supernanny while you drool into the carpet.”

“Everyone fails at who they are supposed to be. The measure of a person, of a hero…is how well they succeed at being who they are.”

“I would rather be a good man than a great king.”

“Sacrifice? That would imply I had something to lose.”

[imjustanauthor]

🩹 Your muse takes care of my muse after a bad injury + reverse FBI Fish has a concussion, Charlie takes care of her 😌 @imprvdente

Injuries, Old and New Prompts

"Are you feeling okay? Do you have everything you need?"

Ever since they'd got back from the hospital, Charlie had been practically hovering around Fish. He had been given the task of keeping an eye on her, and he was taking it very seriously. Charlie had made a list of everything that the nurse had told him to do - make sure she doesn't sleep, check if she's feeling dizzy, and so on - and he was making absolutely sure that he followed it exactly. Nobody would be taking any chances with this concussion - not on his watch!

It was good that Charlie had been left in charge, he had decided. After all, who better for the job than somebody with intimate knowledge of head injuries? He knew exactly what Fish was going through! Well, sort of. Not really, to be honest. His own injury had been very different to a concussion, but hey, it was the thought that counted, right?

"Would you like a drink?" Charlie went on to ask. "Water? I could get you a water. And something to eat, maybe? Or do you not feel hungry?"

#imprvdente #queued; #charlieposts;

[greypetrel]

3 & 4 for all the ocs :3 (or just the ones you want to do if it’s too much 😅)

Nah, not just the ones, we die like heroes and do all of them >:3 (I have collected playlists for each of them, finally)

Starting with 4 which is shorter and adding 3 under the cut.

Thanks for asking! <3

Tis the prompt list

4. a song lyric that describes my muse

Alyra: I'm laying down, eating snow / My fur is hot, my tongue is cold / On a bed of spider web / I think of how to change myself Keep the streets empty for me, Fever Ray

Raina: Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby / And I'm a monster on the hill / Too big to hang out, slowly lurching towards your favourite city / Pierced through the heart, but never killed. Anti-hero, Taylor Swift

Aisling: Oh the Queen of Peace / Always does her best to please / Is it any use? / Somebody's gotta lose. Queen of Peace, Florence + the Machine

3. a boss battle song for fighting my muse

Alyra: Mordero'Sheen (Bringers of Death), Lorne Balfe I am very normal about the Wheel of Time show. You should watch that show if you haven't, this is your signal to watch it. Anyway: very syncopated rhythm, relentless, gives you a pause? Yeah well, it's starting again stronger. She'll keep up with a serrated rhythm, won't give you time to breathe if not to study you better and trick you, won't get down until she'll be dead. It'll be a hard fight.

Raina: L'Arlesienne Suite n°2 - 4. Farandole, Georges Bizet A mix of heavy and light-hearted and lively, very quick, you can almost dance on it, but it's too fast to follow. And then BAM the whole orchestra jumps in right at your head and it's fucking horns and trumpets screaming the main theme instead of strings for a super power boost. A duel that starts light, she's cracking jokes and playing with you, putting you at ease... and then something switch, when she understands how you fight and... Well, good luck with that, she's agile and strong and doesn't follow a clear strategy that's very easy to read.

Aisling: Thunderstruck, AC/DC A big classic, but the intro... She knows she has the lower hand physically. She's short, she's a Mage, she doesn't have armours that allow her to tank. So she'll try to start before you can see her. You're walking to the duel. Clouds start to gather above you. The air's crackling and electric. All birds are now silent. Thunder starts to boom above, jumping between clouds. It gets more. and more. And more in a crescendo until. BAM, one very precise lighting strikes right in front of you, missing you by maybe 5cm. It's done on purpose: you get screamed to yield, to lower your weapons, as many more lightning circle you, one after the other. She may not be the stronger or quicker... But she moves like she's dancing, is terribly precise with her hits, and oh, yeah, you came with a metal armour? Your bad, metal conducts electricity you know. :) (and, she is also proficient from up close. You think you got closer and you gained the upper hand? Well, maybe not.)

Special mention for Dark Lady Shenanigans: Sanctuary! Alan Menken

#oc ask game #music tag #aisling lavellan #raina hawke #alyra mahariel